#if you play past act three and still manage to call him that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chosai · 4 months

Text

miss communication.

synopsis. just as you were beginning to believe that you were simply incapable of finding love, fate had other plans for you in the form of an app called heartchat.

pairing. gojo satoru x fem!reader genre. s2l + office au tags. 18+ content mdni! quick paced, phone sex, public sex, cunnilingus, rough sex, overstimulation, annoying ex word count. 14.6k

sora's note. a repost from my old writing blog! def one of my longer works so far (and one of my favs)! also note that this is also inspired from the manwha "superstitious nine".

THROUGHOUT YOUR TWENTY SEVEN YEARS of living, it was fair to say that you had little to no luck with men, although it was something that you’ve long grown accustomed to, or at least, tried to. Usually, it would’ve been easy to shrug off your misfortunes by telling yourself that you’d only be saving yourself from further disappointment, but nowadays, it’s gotten harder to ignore the vexatious turmoil steadily building up within your chest while you watch all your friends, one by one, get their happy ending and starting their families with their first love. You’d only gotten into three relationships, however none of them turned out successful – your first one being in your last year of highschool and your second being in your first year of college – none of which lasted more than a few months and kiss on the lips was the furthest thing you’d gotten. However, if your first two relationships disappointed you, then your third one would be a complete understatement.

Zen’in Naoya was a man of many facades, and you were a fool to believe that there’d be good in any of them.

Zen’in Naoya, heir of the ZEN corporate, also known as the general manager of your silly office job, was popular amongst the ladies for his good looks and charisma. The mere mention of his name gave a sour taste on your tongue. If you could describe this man in one single word, it would be suffocating. Beneath that charismatic exterior of his was a serpent ready to pounce on his prey when it was the time he deemed as fit.

In your pathetic, desperate attempt to chase after the love that you yearned for, you believed that he loved you. You believed that he loved you despite keeping your relationship a secret, his excuse being that he couldn’t allow himself to be seen romantically with a commoner. You believed that he still loved you when he’d act as if you were invisible as he entertained the other female workers. You believed that he still loved you when he’d sneak jealous glances towards you while you spoke with your other male coworkers. You believed his sweet, empty lies and you always ate them all up as if they were candy. Being with him felt suffocating – the mere idea of being kept as his secret lover, his toy – it was too much for you to bear, wishing for something more with someone who’d easily toss you to the side after playing with your emotions.

A damned fool, that’s what you were. If present you could smack past you, you would’ve and made sure that it left a warm, red print on it, too.

It was about time that you ended things with the Zen’in heir, after being involved with the snake for six months. If someone were to ask you why you hadn’t left earlier, you wouldn’t be able to tell them – not that anyone would ask anyways, your relationship with that man was something that you’d keep to your grave, entertaining him for half a year straight was already too humiliating to bear.

You shook your head rapidly as if it could swat those inappropriate and intrusive thoughts away from your mind. ‘It’s wrong to be thinking about these damn things during your best friend’s wedding, get a grip of yourself!’

Your fingers danced around the empty wine glass, your other palm resting on the sides of your cheeks as your gaze surveyed the reception hall. The music was blaring and you could make out the sight of your best friend, Riko, having the best time of her life dancing with her newly wedded husband. You cracked a small smile at the sight. She looked absolutely beautiful in the gown, and she definitely shone the brightest in the room. She glanced over to you, smiling widely as she blew multiple kisses and hearts your way and you laughed at Riko's adorable burst of energy.

You returned your attention to your empty wine glass, silently contemplating whether or not you should get a third glass.

“Y/N, babe, what are you doing out here drinking alone?” Ren, one of the bridesmaids – and one of your childhood friends, chimed in. You jumped a little at her sudden appearance, and then you followed with a light giggle. “It’s been a while since I drank something, I was honestly craving for some wine.”

“Is it just cravings?” She questioned, leaning towards you with her palm propped against her cheek and she stared at you intently. “You usually don’t enjoy drinking alone when you’re bothered about something. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Am I that easy to read?” You complained jokingly.

Ren rolled her eyes at your response before grinning. “Yes. Now spill.”

“I recently ended things with someone,” you said, keeping it fairly vague. “I just wish I did it sooner, you know? Instead of making a fool out of myself…”

Right after you said that, you could tell that she wanted to know who the mystery man was but she relented. For a minute she stayed silent, and it seemed like she was trying to formulate the right words in her brain and 50 different combinations.

“He already sounds like a pretty shitty guy,” Ren muttered under her breath before glancing back up at you with curious eyes, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what do you plan on doing next? Like, do you plan on being sad forever or…?”

“Being sad forever sounds good enough to me,” you joked, only to receive a light smack on the shoulder.

“Bad!” Ren laughed before pausing once more. “Anyways, I was just about to ask you if you were okay with trying something new. I think it could, you know, be entertaining for you.”

“New? And what do you mean entertaining—?”

“—Give me your phone, and I’ll show you!”

You were getting curious now. Raising a brow, you handed her your phone and she snatched it away from your grasp while cackling evilly. Minutes later, she handed you your phone and all that you could make out is a bright pink background and a heart in the middle. HeartChat, it reads. “What’s this supposed to be?” You questioned your friend.

“It’s something fun,” she replied, laughing giddily. “After work, when you get home, have some beer – and once you feel yourself getting drunk, use the app that I downloaded before you go to bed. Got it?”

“This looks a lot like tinder,” you remarked, not looking very convinced with your friend’s words. You weren’t the type to use dating apps, after all.

“I promise you, you’ll be far more entertained.” Ren winked.

The blaring sound of your alarm resonated across the room, and you emitted a heavy, gruff sigh. Seven o’clock, it reads on your bright phone screen. You continued to stare at the screen for a couple more seconds, your body feeling lethargic and overall heavy from fatigue. You shouldn’t have left the reception so late. Groaning in disdain, you forced yourself up from the comfort of your bed and began your morning routine. It was around seven forty five when you finished, and with quick fingers, you grabbed your work ID, wallet and keys and shoved them into your bag before rushing outside your apartment. The walk to the nearest bus stop should take around four minutes, you thought to yourself.

Myriads of thoughts slipped in your mind as you walked closer to your bus stop, ready to consume you whole. You hadn’t seen Naoya for a week already since the day you left him, and needless to say that week had been one of the most peaceful weeks you’ve ever had since stepping foot in that workplace.

Sighing, you sat down on the bench and fixed the hem of your pencil skirt. Glancing at the time on your phone, seven-fifty, it read. The bus should be arriving very soon.

It was eight-ten when you arrived at work, and you rushed across the building — making a beeline towards the elevator.

Just as the elevator was about to close, a hand peeks out through the gaps, thus the elevator opening and it took all your self-control to stop yourself from scowling.

“It’s been a while,” Naoya walked in, feigning a smile. “It’s been a week, Mr. Zen’in.” you returned the smile.

The elevator closes, leaving you confined with the man you desperately wanted to avoid. He turns his head slightly to face you, his eyes boring into yours. There was an uncomfortable tension lingering in the thick air. It seemed like he had many things to say to you but he relented, and you’d rather he keep it that way.

You looked away from the man, grabbing your phone in your bag. You pretended to scroll through your phone to pass the time.

After what it seemed like an eternity, the door to your floor opened and you rushed to your desk.

The Zen’in heir followed suit, heading towards his office. You could hear the whispers from your colleagues, theorizing as to where he might’ve gone in the previous week. You continued to set up your desk. You could honestly care less about the man’s business, though.

The rest of the morning was spent with you answering phone calls, typing, printing out papers, organizing files – the usual, might you add. Occasionally you’d stare at Ren’s empty desk and silently make wishes that she’d just appear – you already knew that she was probably having the time of her life sleeping in on her day off.

It was already time for your lunch break, if it weren’t for your two coworkers practically dragging you out of your desk you would’ve actually continued working until evening.

“Y/N, you gonna join us for dinner and drinks next weekend?” Your coworker, Haruto, questioned. You chewed on your lunch silently, thinking of an answer while he and Hirumi. waited with an eager expression. “I’m down,” you replied before teasing your friend, “is it going to be on you?”

“You wish,” Haruto rolled his eyes before taking a bite out of the onigiri he bought from the cafeteria, “boss said that everything’s going to be on him.”

You paused briefly. “That’s a first.”

“Right? This is the first time he’s actually gone out to join us for dinner. All it took was for Emi to invite him and he actually agreed.” Himari added.

A part of you wanted to turn around and tell them that you had plans, but a part of you already knew that there really was no point avoiding Zen’in Naoya. He was your boss after all, and as long as he didn’t give you a hard time at work, you were content. You were sure that even after you ended your questionable relationship with him, he’d still act indifferent. It was already a given that his status and reputation were the two most important things to him, so you convinced yourself that acting as if nothing had happened was the best possible solution.

“Hi,” a sudden voice caught your attention and you quickly glanced up from your meal to meet gazes with Emi, your new colleague. You remembered when she was first introduced, she was immediately loved by everyone due to her kind and bubbly nature despite the young woman being a little clumsy at her job. She appeared shy in front of your presence and she gave you a soft smile. “Can I join you guys?”

“Yes, yes! Come sit with us!” Haruto replied, almost immediately and almost too enthusiastically. Emi took a seat next to him and she exchanged polite greetings with everyone.

“Emi, just curious, how did you manage to bring Mr. Zen’in along? This is actually the first time he’s ever agreed to come join us for dinner and drinks.” Himari asked almost immediately and Emi’s cheeks were flushed a pale pink, surprised at her sudden question. You almost felt bad for Emi, watching her immediately getting put on the spot by your friend. Himari had always been the curious and nosy type, always needing some fresh gossip or anything to satiate her curiosity.

“I didn’t know about that,” she replied, laughing shyly before locking eyes with yours. “When I asked him while we were getting coffee, he agreed immediately. But now that Himari told me that, I’m just as surprised.”

“Also,” Emi said, “Y/N, are you going to come too?”

You nodded your head in response while you took a small sip from your water bottle.

“That’s great!” She clasped her hands together. “This would be both Y/N and Mr. Zen'in’s first time joining for dinner and drinks, then!”

You raised a brow at this. The way she put so much emphasis on you and your boss seemed a little uncanny – and you weren’t going to ignore the way she looked at you when she talked about him, either. You waved it off, though. Perhaps you were overthinking things and still felt somewhat cautious around the topic of your ex — if it was even right to be considered one, as embarrassing as that sounded.

After all, she was the flower of the office.

“Yeah, our Y/N’s been too much of a hard worker.” Haruto added before turning over to you, too. “I’m even surprised that you agreed. Imagine if you didn’t go – that would’ve been the third time this year.”

“She is someone that I look up to a lot,” Emi said briefly, giving you a soft smile. Not long after, she excused herself from the table. You silently watched her figure disappear the farther she walked. You glanced at the time on your phone and you sighed softly, you were going to have to return soon.

It was nearing seven in the evening when you arrived back at your apartment, immediately plopping down onto your couch and grabbing your phone. For several minutes, you boredly scrolled through your phone before you suddenly remembered what Ren had told you last night: “After work, when you get home, have some beer – and once you feel yourself getting drunk, use the app that I downloaded before you go to bed. Got it?”

After changing into your pajamas and bringing your can of beer with some pork cutlet along with some dessert, you plopped back down on the couch. Opening the app on the phone, you raised your brows at your phone being bombarded with pink hearts before revealing the introduction page.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚WELCOME TO HEARTCHAT˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ if you're looking for a little bit of spice, you have come to the right place! before proceeding with the app, please confirm your age and date of birth: [date]/[month]/[year]

You followed the instructions, and surprisingly, that was all it took for you finish making your profile — if it was even considered to be one. There was no name, no profile picture, or no biography asked. "Interesting," you muttered to yourself as you explored the app.

Not even a minute later, your phone pinged.

M 0524454: you married? proceed to chatroom? yes | no

Not even a hello? You decided to ignore the message, taking another sip out of the beer can. You turned the television on, watching a drama that Hirumi once recommended you while you ate your pork cutlet bowl. It wasn't until nearly twenty minutes that you received another text, and this time you could only stare at your screen in pure confusion and disbelief.

M 0497205: ntmy, hoay proceed to chat room? yes | no

"What the hell do those even mean?" You mumbled to yourself, staring at the screen with heavy eyelids as you declined the person's request. Looking at all those abbreviations were about to give you one hell of a headache, combined with the beer.

M 0529485: age? proceed to chatroom? yes | no

"Entertaining, my ass." You muttered as you pressed your cool palms against your flushed cheeks, swiftly declining the person's request to chat. At this point, you were beginning to question why Ren downloaded this app on your phone in the first place. There was nothing entertaining except for the confusing text abbreviations appearing on the screen.

Just as you were about to close the app and call it a night, your phone pinged once more.

M 0337411: Hello. proceed to chatroom? yes | no

'He speaks normally,' you thought to yourself, your finger hovering over the 'yes' option. 'If this person's not any good, I'll delete the app.'

F 0236113: Hello. M 0337411: Have you eaten dinner, yet?

'Oh, he's polite and formal too!' You grinned, and you got yourself more comfortable on the couch -- laying on your stomach as your feet dangled in the air. You took a bite out of your kikufuku, munching happily as you texted the stranger.

F 0236113: I just had some pork cutlet. What about you? M 0337411: That's funny. I also had pork cutlet for dinner. M 0337411: I'm eating kikufuku right now for dessert. F 0236113: No way. That's crazy because I'm also eating kikufuku. M 0337411: Imagine if we have the same flavour too F 0236113: Okay in three seconds we'll tell each other the flavour of our kikufuku F 0236113: Zunda and cream M 0337411: Zunda and cream M 0337411: It appears we have something in common.

You giggled a little, feeling your cheeks flush even more, unknowing if it was from the beer or from the excitement of clicking so quickly with a stranger -- or both.

F 0236113: Can I ask you something then? F 0236113: Which do you prefer: shoyu or tonkotsu ramen? M 0337411: Tonkotsu. F 0236113: I prefer tonkotsu, too. F 0236113: I promise i'm not copying you. M 0337411: Let me make sure. M 0337411: Do you like dorayaki or warabi mochi? F 0236113: Warabi mochi. Especially with the syrup! M 0337411: Ah, me too. The syrup makes everything better. M 0337411: I wasn't trying to copy you either. F 0236113: Would you consider yourself to be a sweets type of person? M 0337411: I'd consider myself one, yes. I mostly eat sweets because they stimulate my brain. F 0236113: I think sweets also gives me the same effects. They help especially when I’m working late. M 0337411: You sure you're not copying me this time? F 0236113: I'm not!! M 0337411: Hard boiled egg or soft boiled egg? F 0236113: Soft boiled M 0337411: Soft boiled F 0236113: Hot soba vs cold soba? M 0337411: Cold F 0236113: Cold!

You kicked your legs in the air, giggling. Who could've expected that you'd have so many things in common with a stranger. You continued to text the stranger for what it seemed like an hour, or two. Any remnants of fatigue from work had evaporated like water.

F 0236113: What else do you like? M 0337411: Can I say something a little strange then? F 0236113: Sure, what is it? The stranger didn't text right away, this time. It was silent on your end for almost two minutes. You were about to open your second can of beer until you heard your phone ping. M 0337411: I like phone sex. M 0337411: Do you want to try having phone sex with me?

You almost choked on your spit, staring at the screen with wide eyes. If your cheeks had gotten any more hotter, it definitely wouldn't have been caused by the beer at all. Phone sex. Has this man gone mad? Your stomach churned a little and you felt your heart rate steadily increasing. You could only stare at his response, completely flabbergasted. Was this was Ren meant by entertaining?

F 0236113: Sure, why not?

However, it wasn't like you hated it. You were unsure if the main source of your arousal was from the beer or simply from the excitement you felt towards engaging in such acts with a man whose face you've never seen -- let alone know their name. Nevertheless, you didn't want to miss this chance. It was thrilling.

His response was almost immediate, your phone ringing against the oak table -- the sound of the app's ringtone playing repeatedly as you slowly brought your phone to your ear and pressed 'answer'.

"Hello?" A deep, baritone voice filled the silence and you swore if your cheeks weren't burning hot before -- they definitely were now. His voice was definitely your type.

"H-Hello," you stammered, an immediate wave of shyness hitting you.

"Your voice," he began, "were you drinking?"

"How did you know?" You questioned him. Was it that obvious?

"You're stalling your words a little bit.” He commented before, a soft laugh leaving his lips soon after.

Stop. Even his laugh is sexy.

“I-Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “your voice sounds really good. It’s cute, too.”

'It's cute, too'

You felt your body heat up even more. Something about his voice made you feel like melting in a pool of your own heat -- perhaps it was the way he drags his voice, or perhaps it was because of how deep his voice is, or perhaps it was the way he sounded like he came out of a porno or drama CD -- and as much as you hated to admit it, it was so obvious that this stranger had reduced you into a horny and nervous mess.

"I like your voice too," you confessed.

"Oh? Is that right?"

"Yes."

You could hear the man chuckle a little before speaking again, "You'll hear much more of it very soon."

You blushed even more at his words. Was this man teasing you?

“Then, where are you right now?” He questioned.

“Um, I’m on my couch right now in the living room.” You replied back to the man.

“The couch is pretty boring, don’t you think?”

“What makes you say that? I personally think it’s pretty comfy.”

"I do too, but the space's pretty narrow for you to be thrashing around while I fuck you, no?”

“T-that’s true,” you stammer out. You were really going to melt right there and then.

“Let’s move to the bed, then.”

The moment you stood up from your couch, you thought you were going to fall right back down. You could practically hear your heart beating through your ears, growing louder and louder, as you neared the bedroom.

"Are you nervous?" The man questioned you.

"Just a little bit," you confessed, "I've never done this before."

"It'll be okay. Just give me the red light, and we'll stop. Sounds good?"

You hummed in response as you entered your room and plopped down your bed.

"I'm guessing you're on the bed now."

"Hm, that's right."

Your ears flushed red when you heard the man’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Well then, want to take your pants off?”

“Actually,” you giggle, “I’m not wearing pants right now.”

“Haah, fuck.” The man groaned from the opposite line. “You’re doing this on purpose, huh?”

“Why won’t you strip out of your shirt then, princess? Do it nice and slow for me.”

You placed your phone down on the nightstand, and you followed the man’s instructions; slow hands the hem of your shirt before you pulled it over your head — you were practically naked now, all that was left were your panties.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice breathless.

“It’s your turn,” you said breathlessly, “to take off your shirt.”

“As you wish.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and pressed it against your ear, you could faintly hear the man unbuttoning his shirt before it dropped down to the ground, and lewd thoughts immediately came rushing into your mind, the heat pooling between your legs becoming even more unbearable.

“Anything else you want me to do?”

“Take off your pants,” you ordered, your voice quiet.

You could hear shuffling on the other end once more, your imagination running wild as the sounds of the belt unbuckling and dropping to the floor resonated in your ear as if it was a mild echo. He must be tall, judging from how long it took off his clothes. You closed your eyes, imagining that you were there with him, watching as he stripped out of his clothes in front of you.

“I’m all naked now,” the man finally said.

A soft moan slipped past your lips almost immediately after he uttered those words, your hips involuntary bucked against the mattress.

“Does my voice turn you on?” He questions you in a teasing tone, but it was evident that he was just as affected as you were.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice breathless.

“Your voice is a huge turn on for me too,” said the man, “turns me on so much that I wanted to things like this the moment I heard your voice.”

How could he sound so composed? You attempted to stifle a small whine — his voice and your imaginations were driving your senses wild. Despite being all alone in your bedroom, you swore that you could feel strong hands trailing their way down your body, travelling lower and lower.

“Now then,” he began, “put your hand in your panties and softly rub your clit for me.”

With shaking hands, you followed his commands in concupiscent obedience, slipping your right hand into your panties and rubbing the sensitive bud with your pointer and middle finger.

“Mhhm, aah.” You were already breathless, despite it merely being the beginning. You could hear the faint noises of the male jerking off in the other line, his soft groans were music to your ears.

“I need more,” you panted, “I wan’ more.”

“Take off your panties, then, and continue rubbing that pretty pussy of yours with more pressure.”

The speed you took your panties off was almost embarrassing, knowing that a stranger — whose name and whose face you’ve never seen before — managed to reduce you into a desperate mess with just his voice. Plopping your back down on the bed, you spread your legs wide as your hand slowly returned to the sensitive bud.

Your soft moans of wanton filled the room, only getting louder from hearing the man groan. You imagined him on top of you, his breath hot in your ear — as he rubs your clit greedily with his large hands. You could feel your body growing lighter the more you continued with the assault on your clit. The pressure in your abdomen continued to build up, and your moans were raising in volume — sounding more lewder. You were getting closer to your orgasm, the sounds of the stranger playing with his cock along with his soft groans were itching you closer and closer to your release.

“I-I’m so close,” you let out a small whimper, bucking your hips desperately against your hand.

“Put your two fingers in,” the stranger said, almost in a pleading tone, “make yourself come like that, sweet girl. Imagine it’s me stretching that tiny hole of yours.”

You complied, inserting two fingers into your sopping wet cunt, sucking them in almost immediately. The wet sound of your pussy taking your fingers in made the man moan almost immediately.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Is that all for me, huh?”

You could only moan in response, your hips thrusting into your hands, trying to reach deeper.

“Go faster.”

You listened to him and you picked up the pace, the pressure building up in your abdomen steadily increasing the closer you got to your orgasm. The sounds of your sopping cunt filled the room, together with the sounds of your needy moans and whimpers as you went faster and faster. In your pornographic imagination, his large fingers replaced yours — toying with your hole as his other hand played with your nipple. “Mhhm,” you arched your back, “I’m so so close, please—Ah!”

“Keep going princess, and don’t you dare stop.”

As if his words had cast a spell on you, your pace increased and your moans gotten even louder. Your imagination getting more and more vivid by the second.

"I'm cumming -- I'm cumming!" you babbled out, crying out in a desperate moan as you arched your back, letting your orgasm wash over you.

“You’re such a good fucking girl,” the man groaned out, and you replied with a soft laugh through your heavy breathing.

“I’m so close,” he spoke through heavy breaths, “get on your knees and raise your ass up for me.”

You followed his words, adjusting your position on the soft mattress so that your chest was pressed against the mattress and your ass high up in the air. You could feel warm hands travelling down your back and up to your breast -- Fuck, you were sensitive all over.

"Oh, how I'd love to fuck you like this." He said, chuckling lowly as he breathed heavily. "Make yourself cum for me, again. Think about my cock fucking your pussy."

You moan at his lewd words, your hips bucking up as you entered your two fingers back into your sopping hole. Your fingers weren't enough to stretch you out. You wanted more. You needed more. Your hips thrusted back against your fingers, hungry for more friction. Scenarios of the stranger fucking you played in your mind like it was a porno movie, you could imagine his nails gripping into your hips, his cock reducing you into a dumb mess.

"Ahh-- Fuckk.. By the way you're moaning right now, I can tell that you're close to coming. I-I'm getting close too -- Ah. Let's cum together. Tell me when you're cumming, please."

There was a certain strain in the stranger’s voice as his pace on his cock quickened, his voice breathy and low as he muttered a jumble of praises. At this point, you felt yourself growing even more lightheaded while another moan leaves your drooling lips.

“I’m gonna cum,” you told the man in a breathless whimper, and you could hear the sound of fapping quickening in response to your words.

“Cum for me.”

And just like that, your mind went completely blank as you came in your hand. A muffled moan escaped your lips, your face pressed into the pillows.

The man lets out the most sexiest moan soon after, almost whimpering as he rode out his orgasm.

There was a minute of silence between you both, shaky breaths filling the room as you both attempted to control it. You rolled onto your back, staring at your hand which was drenched in your juices.

“How do you feel?” He later broke the silence, and you let out a soft laugh. “Really good,” you told him, “I enjoyed it a lot.”

“That’s good, I really liked it too.”

“You know,” you began, “you talk super differently on call compared to how you text.”

“Oh? You don’t like it? I thought you liked it.”

“I-I never said I didn’t like it!” You retorted. “It was just an honest observation.”

“Anyway,” you continued, “I’ve got to go now, it’s getting late now and I have work tomorrow…”

“Alright then,” replied the man, “but can we call again?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

It was a new day with same, old, usual routine. Groggily getting up from your bed as the sounds of the alarm blaring from your phone resonates athwart your bedroom. As if your body was set into auto-pilot, the rest of the early morning spent preparing for work turned into a blur, and it wasn't until now--while commuting to work--that you could feel your phone vibrating in your hand.

M 0337411: Good morning. Did you sleep well?

Oh.

Memories from last night suddenly came rushing in, and you never wanted anything more than to crawl into a hole and stay there, and rot for the rest of eternity. A warm incarnadine flush returns to your cheeks as you recollect the events that passed, the sheer embarrassment washing over you; the images of you -- evidently drunk, horny, and naked on your bed--engaging with such dirty acts with a stranger over the phone. A stranger.

It took almost everything in you to not scream in embarrassment in the bus, your palms lightly smacking your cheeks in hopes you'd cool off the heat in your cheeks. You were for sure going to melt.

Moments later, you found yourself staring at the tall glass building before you in a complete daze. All of a sudden, you didn’t really feel the need to work.

The rest of the morning was spent with staring mindlessly at the computer screen, restless fingers tapping on your desk. The computer was taking its sweet time connecting to the office printer, the ‘retry’ window popping up for the three tries you had attempted. Sighing softly, you slumped your back against your seat as you turned over to Ren, who busied herself with (discretely) playing solitaire on the computer.

Silently, you wondered how she’d react if you told her what had happened last night.

You switched your gaze back to your stubborn computer, eyes glaring into the bright screen — daring it to try defying you, one more time. With focused eyes, you watch as your computer slowly connects with the printer; silently praying that a ‘retry’ window wouldn’t appear this time.

Printer connected. 1 out 8 documents printing…

You clicked your tongue, the corners of your lips curling up into a small triumphant grin. It was about damn time. The weight on the plush of the chair was lifted once you stood up from your desk, adjusting the hem of your skirt as you made your way to the printer athwart the office. You lean your back slightly against the table, and you open your phone to pass time.

F 0236113: Good morning. I’m sorry I didn’t reply right away, I was caught up with work. How are you now? M 0337411: I'm so sleepy. I can't stop thinking about last night. F 0236113: Last night? M 0337411: Don't tell me you forgot... You're despicable

You attempt to stifle a giggle at the man's texts, your hand covering your mouth in an effort (though, it was in vain) to hide the huge grin growing on your face. You knew very well about stranger danger, but for some odd reason, whenever you open your phone, you always --somehow-- get gravitated towards him. Of course, you had your cautions, but if you told Ren that this app wasn't at the least amusing, you'd certainly be a whole ass liar.

F 0236113: I'm kidding. How can I ever forget that? M 0337411: Of course you can't. Care to remind me who said that my voice turned her on last night? F 0236113: ...Who's the despicable one, now? M 0337411: You're not denying it.

Shaking your head in amusement, you stuffed your phone back inside the pocket of your blazer and you grabbed the finished documents out of the machine, and organizing the sheets of paper with one hand while reaching out for the nearest stapler in the other. As much as you were enjoying your silence, it wasn't long before it had to be interrupted. In your peripheral vision, you could make out someone's hand placing a cup of coffee on the table, and your gaze snapped over to a familiar blond male -- his sharp eyes making it much easier to identify the man. You held yourself back from rolling your eyes, and you feigned a smile towards your boss.

"You've been working extra hard these days, Y/N." said Naoya. "Here, I got you one of your favourites."

"Thank you, Mr. Zen'in." You thanked the male as you grabbed the cup, it was your one of your favourites -- one that he'd always get you. "I was just about to hand you these documents."

You handed your boss the finished documents, ready to excuse yourself back to your desk.

"Hold on," Naoya said, "we still have some things to discuss."

What’s even there to discuss? You scoffed in your mind. Beyond a doubt, there was the slightest bit of hesitance into making your decision — however, you were more curious than you were cautious or nervous at this point.

"Okay," you said, smiling softly at the man. "What is it that you want to talk about, hm?"

Your soft words were laced with some form of venom, your eyes staring at the man expectantly.

"We can talk about it in my office," said Naoya before muttering, "follow me."

You followed Naoya compliantly, however, you couldn't ignore the unbearable tension filling the air between the both of you. To be completely honest, you were beginning to regret even agreeing to follow him. Even if he had many things to discuss with you, what exactly could you reply to him with? Should you just stare at him and smile? Whilst rehearsing lines of excuses in your mind, you found yourself in his office, already seated on the sofa across from him.

"You moved on quite quickly," was the first thing Naoya uttered, breaking the awkward silence that had befallen you. "You already talking to someone new?"

"I honestly thought that our conversation would be work-related, was my judgement wrong? Besides, whether or not I moved on shouldn't be a concern to you." You replied, your usual (fake) soft tone now replaced with a certain sternness.

Naoya clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. The usual friendly, charismatic facade that he had always kept on eventually melted off -- his imperturable expression now plastered across his face. He raised an eyebrow towards you, his gaze locked onto yours with such intensity -- at first glance, anyone could've easily mistaken it as some ardent desire

"Is there anything else that you want to tell me?" You questioned him. "If not, I can just leave."

"You know, many days were spent with me wondering what went wrong between us to make you leave." He said before standing up from his couch, inching his way towards you. This ignorant fool. How could he act so stupid, unknowing of what caused the downfall of your relationship. He lowered himself, his eyes meeting your evidently vexed gaze.

"I missed you," he confessed, and you lightly scoffed at his words.

"Naoya," you said his name, your voice harsh, "everything was what went wrong in this relationship. You're my boss. There was no hope for the both of us -- I was practically invisible to you unless you needed something from me. Tell me this, Naoya, do you really mean it when you say you miss me? Or do you miss the woman that was easily wrapped around your finger?"

Naoya stared at you, shocked at your words before his lips curled up into a small smirk. A small chuckle left his lips, laced with contempt. “Now, what are you trying to say, Y/N?”

“What I’m saying is, Mr. Zen’in, don’t spout shit you obviously don’t mean. Besides, I know about you and Emi.”

Emi was genuinely a wild guess, but you obviously had your suspicions with how easily he’d get swayed by her, and how fixated she was on the mere topic of the Zen’in heir, as well as how you noticed how close they’d been getting prior to the breakup — but his reaction told you everything you needed to know and you chuckled quietly.

Naoya’s facial expressions dropped, it was almost cold. You knew all too well that this man had a knack for control, but that gave you even more of a reason to not waver underneath his cold gaze. You knew, coming into his office, that you were going to have to play quite a difficult game with this man. You had already grown a skin of steel (at least you hope you did) from the constant gaslighting you had to endure from him.

"Y/N," he said your name sternly, "what the hell are you even saying right now? That doesn't make any sense--"

"--I have nothing left to say towards you, Naoya." You said while smiling apathetically at the blond male, who seemed visibly displeased at your words. "Were you not even curious as to where I might've went this past week?"

No, not really. Over the course of time chasing after this man's love and affection, you soon realized that trying to save a relationship with a man who wouldn't even bother with you was straight up pointless. Over the course of time chasing after this man's love and affection, you realized that you no longer wanted to be concerned with him.

You heaved a sigh, shaking your head as you stood up from the sofa, making your way towards the door.

"I'll take my leave now, talking about this will only bring us nowhere. I suggest we continue acting like nothing happened between us -- work will be easier for you that way.”

The Zen'in heir opened his mouth to retort, but no words could come out of his throat. He was a man who had grown accustomed to getting things his way throughout his twenty seven years of living, and to say that a mere employee could cast such an effect on him--there were many phrases that were forming in his mind, but he relented, once again.

Once again, he watched your figure getting farther away from the sofa, your hand reaching out of the door.

There was no way in hell that you’d allow to cross paths with him, or any man like him. Your relationship with him was awfully hot and cold — one day, he’d invite you to a hotel room under a false name, and shower you in his so called ‘love’, and the next day he’d treat you like you had never existed, flirting with all the other women who worked higher up in the hierarchy all the whilst giving you false reassurances. However, you knew far too well that your status could never satiate the man’s hunger for climbing up in the social ladder. All the fake love he gave you, and all the time and energy wasted on him — no matter what he chose to do next, for sure wouldn’t affect you.

You attempted to hide your shaky breaths. You had bursted out like that -- not only towards your ex-boyfriend, but your boss. With slightly trembling hands, you twist the knob open, ready to dart out of the office and make a beeline towards the exit.

The door swung open, and rather than leaving immediately, you found yourself frozen in the doorway as you stare into bright, cerulean eyes with your watery ones.

"Oh? Am I interrupting something?"

Your eyes widened. That voice -- his voice. Perhaps you were just overthinking, but it sounded all too familiar. No, you had to be overthinking. His ivory locks framed his pale face, his business formal attire adorning his tall, lean frame — his features, in general, were a literal godsend. He appeared incredibly rich and powerful, much like your boss, the Zen'in Naoya -- if not, maybe even more. You mentally smacked yourself, how could you possibly make such baseless assumptions towards a man you had just seen.

"Gojo Satoru," Naoya said, his voice laced with obvious annoyance. "You should've texted me that you were arriving earlier than usual.”

Almost immediately, you moved out of the way, sending the tall man a small smile of acknowledgement as he entered the room. The white-haired male leaned against the wall beside you, rather than getting himself comfortable on the exorbitant-priced furniture.

“Sorry, sorry,” the man whose name was Satoru apologized weakly; his tone almost apathetic, “my flight arrived way earlier, and I was bored, so why not pass some time?”

The blond male tutted in response, shaking his head towards Satoru before darting his gaze over to you, whom in which made a discrete attempt to escape his office. “L/N,” Naoya called out your last name, his lips curled into a grin, “do you have time to show Gojo around the building?”

It was evident that Naoya wanted nothing to do with his guest, it was all plastered across his face.

Why couldn’t he do it himself? Why couldn't he call his secretary himself? You pondered to yourself as you returned the plastic smile, hoping that Naoya could see the vein that popped on your temple. You weren't in the mood to retaliate any longer, though. If this meant that you could leave his office, then it was fine.

"Yeah, of course." You switched your attention to the taller male, "Is there anywhere in the building that you haven’t seen yet?”

Gojo stared at you, almost surprised, for a moment before grinning. There was something in his gaze that made you want to shrivel up into a ball. As much as you wished to deny these intrusive thoughts that were lingering in the back of your mind, there was simply no way that he could be the stranger that you spoke to. However, the way he spoke — his pronunciation, his tone, the way he dragged his words, his voice — it was all too similar.

“Let’s get out of this office first, and then I’ll tell you.” Gojo said, smirking before shifting his gaze towards the glaring Zen’in.

The walk down the hallway was dreadfully silent. For a man like him who was verbose from the past minute, he was almost silent as you both headed for the elevator. “Mr. Gojo,” you said, breaking the silence, “is this your first time in the building?”

“Yeah,” he replied almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you to speak. “By the way, your name is L/N…?”

“Y/N,” you finished, your pointer finger pressed firmly against the ‘up’ button. Then started the waiting game.

“Oh, Y/N.” Gojo repeated your name, his lips curling up into a small grin. “You know, you sound awfully familiar for someone that I’ve just met.”

“That’s interesting,” you said, your voice suddenly going quiet underneath his cerulean gaze. This awkwardness and tension lingering in the air was going to be the cause of your demise, you swore to yourself.

“Ahem—I suppose you don’t know where the meeting will be held later,” you said quickly, your voice getting higher in pitch, “there’s this huge conference room on the tenth floor, I’ll lead you to it.”

“No need to be so tense,” Gojo laughed, “I promise I don’t bite. So, speak normally with me, like how you would with a friend.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at his words, if someone found you speaking informally to someone as high up in the business hierarchy like him, they would definitely get the wrong idea, and the possibilities of rumours spreading in the office were high. Rumours were always a pain in the ass to deal with, so you really didn’t want to risk it.

“I still have to be careful, Mr. Gojo.” You smiled at the male. “It wouldn’t be a good look for me if I’m seen being informal towards you inside the building.”

“Will you be less tense with me if we talk outside the building, then?”

“I-I don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Mr. Gojo.”

The ding! coming from the elevator instantly broke you out of your thoughts, rushing into the empty space while uttering a quiet, “Come in,” towards the business man.

You stood across from Gojo, your eyes darting across the space — looking at anything, just anything besides him. You crossed your arms close to your chest, almost as if it could give you extra warmth aside from your blazer. Despite after crossing paths with him, you could already tell that Gojo Satoru was an unpredictable man. It was killing you.

You snapped your gaze towards the little screen above the sliding door, watching as the number slowly increased while the elevator lifted higher and higher. Six more floors to go.

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind me making a phone call.” Gojo singsang, pulling out his phone out of the pocket of his trousers.

“Go ahead,” you muttered out, sparing the man a quick smile before your attention returned to the screen above the elevator door. Three more floors to go.

Just as you were about to relax, closing your eyes while waiting for the elevator to reach the tenth floor — you felt your phone violently vibrate inside your pocket, and shortly after, the HeartChat app ringtone echoed in the silent space. You felt your sweat running cold, as you rushed to get your phone out. Glancing up at the white haired male, you realized he had been staring at you the whole time with the phone in his hand, amused.

M 0337411 is calling… [accept | decline ]

All those intrusive thoughts that you tried so hard to ignore were right, after all.

You were simply going to die of embarrassment.

“What a coincidence. So, I was right after all. As soon as I heard your cute voice I automatically knew it was you.”

Everything was literally thrown at you today—first, having to deal with your ex (who wasn’t aware with what he did wrong) and second, being put into the corner of the elevator with Gojo Satoru, as known as the stranger you had phone sex with. You didn’t have a mirror with you to know what kind of expression you were making in that moment, but you for sure felt an overwhelming surge of mortification. Out of all days, it had to be the day after — when the memories of last night were still fresh in your mind. Out of all people, it had to be Gojo Satoru, the new man in the building.

“And given your reaction,” Gojo said, gently tilting your chin to meet his eyes; a hint of amusement present in his gaze, “you also recognize me.”

You swore you were going to melt, not only from embarrassment but, as ashamed as you were to admit it, him — it was even more embarrassing as you had grown aware of the wetness between your legs accumulating, only hidden by your black pencil skirt. Gojo Satoru, he truly was a sight to behold given his godsend features and his voice. The arousal that you had tried to suppress from last night slowly returns -- all those lewd thoughts you had about the stranger, and he was there -- within your reach.

“Not here,” you whispered, lightly smacking the man’s hand of your face. The look of chagrin was plastered all across your face, your cheeks stained with a bright incarnadine hue and your eyes darting away from his. He found it utterly adorable. “The door’s going to open any moment now.”

Right as you said that, the door opened—and thank god there was no one waiting on the other side of the door. There would simply be zero explanation that would be able to save you — his body was close to yours as you were nearly pressed in the corner of the elevator and hot, unbearable tension flooded the thick air.

“A-Anyways,” you stammered out, rushing out of the confines of the elevator, “to the conference room, it’s uh— this way. If you’ll follow me…”

Gojo followed suit, walking in a languid pace as he watched you speed-walk down the hall before stopping in front of a large opaque grey double door You pushed it open, signalling the man to enter.

Shortly after, you entered the room. “To be honest, I never stepped foot inside this room before—until today, that is.”

You traced the tips of your fingers along the sides of the large wooden table, your eyes scanning your surroundings. It actually looked really nice and clean. It was aesthetically pleasing to the eyes, too.

“Are you here for a business project with Mr. Zen’in?”

“I suppose you can say that, but I’m mainly here to speak with Zen’in Naobito .”

“Ah, the CEO then.”

“That’s correct.”

Then returned the silence, as well as the growing tension in the air. Just you were about to turn around and open the door, a strong hand stops you in your tracks. “Wait,” Gojo grabbed your attention, pulling you closer so you could face him.

You frantically glanced toward the door, afraid that someone could walk in.

The tension between the both of you was so strong, anyone could've cut it down with a knife, but there'd still be some struggle to it. You could barely breath; the air between the both of you felt warm, and only increased in temperature the longer you stayed in the room.

“This room will be empty for hour and a half before they arrive and start the meeting,” he assured you before leaning his face closer to your ear, his breath hot as he continued to speak. "Besides I still couldn't help, but think about last night. Does last night still play fresh in your mind?"

Oh, Lord. You swallowed your saliva, the warmth in your cheeks quickly returning as you stared at Gojo with a flustered expression plastered all across your face. He pulled you closer, and you didn't fight against it; the pleasant smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, you could grow addicted to it.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it all," you replied, your voice quiet.

That was enough of an answer for him. "Good," he said, grinning.

You couldn't ignore the utter lack of distance between both your bodies; your chest pressed against his with his one arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand caressing your chin -- tilting your head slightly while he silently examined your lips. You also took this as a chance to stare at his features up close, and you were right when you told yourself that he was blessed by the gods and your eyes lingered to his lips; they looked so soft, it almost made you wonder what it'd feel and taste like. You didn't want him to go.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked you, however, there was something in his azure eyes that begged you to tell him to keep going -- there was a certain desperation to it. You looked at Gojo with a pleading gaze, however you also appeared to be dazed by his baritone voice, your lips trailing down to his lips.

"Kiss me," you told him, your voice dripping with arousal.

There was a stifled groan coming from the man before he pulled your face to his, his lips devouring yours. His lips tasted of honey, sweet and addicting; his hand pressed strongly against the small of your back as he walked you against the table. Large hands played with the hem of your skirt while you softly moaned in his mouth, your hands playing with the soft cushion of his ivory locks.

All rational thoughts had slipped out of your mind like butter, and all that took over was the pent up sexual desire and pure arousal.

You both briefly pulled away, a string of saliva was connected from both your lips.

“What if someone walks in on us?” You questioned the male, your voice nearly breathless.

“Don’t worry, sweets. The doors are locked, and room’s soundproof too.” Gojo replied, his hands slowly caressing up your skirt, “I’m surprised that no one hid the remote, too.”

"And fuck, have you seen yourself in the mirror? It's almost like you're begging to be fucked by me." He said, relishing the sight of your flushed face with your eyes staring up at him in wanton, as well as your cleavage firmly pressed pressed against his chest; the first few buttons had already gotten undone, revealing your black lace bra.

You briefly remembered telling him about how he sounded so different compared from how he texted when you first called him, and now that you were face to face with him — you soon came to realize that whatever words he spat out of his mouth were nothing but prurient, with you at least.

“Dirty girl, we just met and you’re already giving me that look. We’re in the conference room, too.” Gojo continued to tease, the tip of his finger playing with the waistband of your panties.

“It’s your fault,” you bit back playfully, “I bet you’ve kissed many women to be that good at kissing.”

Gojo immediately laughed at your response, “I’m honoured, but this is actually my first.”

“T-That's bullshit,” you said, surprised. “there’s no way that this is your first—Ah!”

Your own words got cut off by a surprised gasp, your head thrown back as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. He had pushed the slick fabric aside, and he easily eased a large finger inside your heat. Fuck. His fingers were far more better than you could’ve ever imagined — they were slender, yet girthy. His one finger could stretch you out more than your own two fingers could. Gojo eased his middle finger inside and fuck, was he about to cum by the way your pussy greedily took him in.

“Holy shit, sweets. So fucking wet that my fingers just keep getting sucked back in.” He said through gritted teeth, a hoarse chuckle slipping past his throat.

You tried to muffle your moans, covering your trembling mouth with both your hands as you succumbed to the pleasure that this man was giving you. You, for sure, had gone crazy — crazy to the max. Just earlier you were worried about getting caught being informal with him, but here you were, getting your pussy fingered by him in the conference room. Not only that, that man currently working his fingers into you, Satoru Gojo, was the stranger you had phone sex with last night. You were absolutely insane.

His pace quickened -- it was almost merciless, his thumb eventually joining into the mix to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves; the sounds of your drenched pussy being absolutely ravished by his filled the room, along with your muffled whimpers. With his empty hand, he grabbed both your hands and held them in a vice grip, dragging them away from your lips. "Hearing you moan in person is so fucking hot. I want to hear more."

And if he wasn’t rough with his fingers before, he definitely was now; desperately trying to draw all sorts of sounds from you — from the squelch of your wet pussy to your pretty moans, he wanted more. You, however, were completely writhing underneath his grip; your body sensitive from how well he was treating your needy hole. You could feel yourself coming close, the taste of orgasm was merely on the tip of your tongue, and all you could think about was how well his fingers were stretching you out. It wasn’t long before you felt the coil in your stomach tighten, and Gojo curled his fingers — making contact with the rough, spongy skin that made your toes curl. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his — moaning his last name softly as you rode out your first orgasm. Gojo groaned along with you, muttering a line of praises as he slowly pushed his fingers in and out, relishing the aftermath of your release; coated with your juices.

Gojo’s patience was already thin, as you could say, it was treading on thin ice.

"Fuuck, you're so hot -- you're gonna make me cum, I swear." rasped Gojo, his breath hot on your ear. He pressed lingering kisses across your neck while his hands traveled to your clothed breasts, giving them a light squeeze, "I just want to eat you up."

With how seductive his voice sounded, you were convinced that you were going to cum for the second time; right there, and then.

With one swift movement, he pulled your skirt down (along with your drenched underwear), threw the thin pieces of fabric at his side and got himself levelled with your pussy, now all bare for him to savour. His mouth watered at the sight; he could see how your hole pulsed, needing something to fill it back in. God, he needed to fuck you.

“You feeling shy now, hm?” Gojo teased, his eyes snapped over to your flustered ones.

You’ve never felt so exposed before, your legs spread wide apart as you leaned further back against the table— you were completely under the mercy of this man, and it only made you further aroused as a result. Something about doing something so lewd in the conference room, at your workplace, let alone with a stranger as handsome as he was — you’ve never felt so thrilled. You were probably going to smack yourself later for being so reckless and irresponsible, but right here at this moment, you were going to savour every sensation; his touch, his taste, his voice, everything.

Without ever breaking eye contact with you, he licked a long stripe of saliva over your already drenched folds and your hips automatically bucked up at the pleasure. He watched as you writhed underneath his touch, a shuddering breath leaving your swollen lips. You were truly a sight to behold, and if it weren’t for the location, he would’ve had you completely naked for him. Thoughts of you never ceased to part from his mind, from hearing your voice to mere imaginations of fucking you senseless. Needless to say, his imaginations could never ever compare to what was unfolding before him.

He let out a satisfied hum against your folds, emitting light vibrations through your veins, just before he dug his face deeper in between your legs -- it was almost as if this man was starved; his tongue and lips greedily sucking onto your clit, twirling the sensitive bud around with the tip of his tongue. You shivered against his touch, "G-Gojo--Fuck."

"Satoru," Gojo corrected you for a moment before returning to his ministrations, "wanna hear you say my name."

This time, he stuck his tongue inside your pussy -- his finger returning to rub on your clit.

"Satoru," you moaned his name, "fuck, that feels so good."

Gojo moaned into your pussy in response, his actions only getting more messier and more carnal the more he tasted you -- he was getting drunk from the mere taste of you.

It wasn't long before you felt your impending release, the second one at that, and you gripped your fingers tightly around Satoru's ivory locks, muttering out a line of curses and 'i'mcoming'imcomingi'mcoming--' as your body shook around his head.

"Good girl. Good fucking girl." You heard Satoru mumble out praises as he lapped up all your juices, relishing in the sweet scent and taste of pure arousal that dripped down his cerise lips. “You taste so fucking delicious, I was seriously about to cum.”

“Fuck,” he hissed to himself, and you could hear the sounds of his belt unclasping — dropping to the floor. He was growing even more needy for you, and his horniness level had honestly gone through the fucking roof at this point. All he wanted to do now was to fuck you senseless.

"Satoru," you muttered his name, voice laced with pure desire, "want you to put it in already."

“There’s no way I won’t fuck your pussy today,” replied Gojo, discarding his undergarment, and almost immediately, his erect cock sprung up and your mouth began to water at the girth and length. Just how was that going to fit inside you?

Your reaction didn't go by unnoticed by the ivory-haired male, and his voice got a little gentle. He rubbed his cock against your slick folds, and you both shuddered at the sensation. "You'll be okay, just relax. You can do that for me, yeah?"

"Mhm," you nodded your head, almost a bit too frantically. Given the limited amount of time that you both had, you needed him inside now.

"Take a deep breath for me, 'kay?"

You complied to his words, closing your eyes as you inhaled deeply -- however, you nearly choked on your spit when only his tip entered. Satoru constantly gave you gentle reassurances; gently rubbing the sides of your hips, all while he pushed himself deeper into your walls. There was simply no way this was his first time, you thought to yourself silently -- but all your thoughts instantly turned into mush once he hit the hilt; his tip meeting your cervix. You moaned his name, your eyes slightly rolling back at the immense pleasure the man had been drowning you in.

Satoru groaned at the delightful sensation before chuckling through strained breaths, "See, it wasn't so hard."

He gave you a brief moment to recollect yourself, three seconds in fact, before he began to roll his hips against yours; pulling his cock back until the tip was barely inside, and he plunged back in. He did all this at an almost rapid pace, making your whole entire body turn into jelly.

"Look at your pussy, sucking me in so greedily when I just started to fuck you. Dirty girl." He rasped, his lips curled up into a grin and his gaze laserfocused on how your pussy was connected to him. It was taking everything in him not to cum right away, let alone cum inside you -- but the sensations of your walls clamping tightly around his shaft was making it difficult to think straight.

He kept up with the relentless pace, relishing in the sweet sounds your wet pussy was making while he fucked you as well as your moans.

He could feel you tightening around even more around him, as if your pussy was trying to milk him dry. The pace of his thrusts began to stagger, and he could feel himself getting closer to his release, however, rather than keeping up with his pace, he slowed down. You snapped your gaze to the Satoru, confused.

"Don't worry princess, I just want to try something new right now."

Just as you were about to question him on what exactly he was planning to do, you gasped in surprise when he lifted you up from the table with ease; your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders as he aligned your pussy with his cock, and steadily, he dropped you down on his length. You both moaned in tandem at the sensation. He watched your face intently, how it scrunched together in immense pleasure, your mouth slightly agape as your lips spilled out a myriad of moans while he lifted you and dropped you on his cock at a steady rhythm.

"Ohfuckohfuck--'Toru, you're so deep." You whimpered, stuffing your head into the crook of his shoulders while he continued to plunge into you. His grip on your ass tightened as he began to pick up the pace, and your moans were continuously broken down each time he thrusted his cock into you. He was relentless, and he was already obsessed with how you clamped down so tightly around him. He could honestly never get enough of it -- of you. And, how he loved watching you getting dumb over his cock, hearing you jumble nonsense all while telling him how badly you needed his cock had definitely done a number on him.

The tightening coil sensation that reverberated in the depths of your stomach returned once more the longer the man had pleasured you and you dug your nails deeper into the man's shoulders. "I'm gonna cum, fuck Satoru, I'm so close...!"

"Fucking cum on my cock," Gojo ordered you, his voice was almost pleading, and he kept up the pace, squeezing his eyes tightly and groaning at how tight your walls were squeezing him. You let out a cry, arching your back and curling your toes, as you came around his cock; your juices creaming around his shaft. He gently brought you back down to the floor, but held the small of your back immediately when he noticed that you were about to lose your balance.

Cumming inside you could wait for another day, he thought to himself as he desperately rubbed his hand on his cock, his lips immediately diving into yours for a passionate kiss. Soft groans left his rose-tinted lips as he melded his mouth with yours. He could feel his abdomen growing tighter, his legs getting weaker, and his mind getting blank. With a deep, strained moan slipping past the man's throat, he painted your thighs white with his seed.

Heavy breaths filled the room, and then came the soft chuckles.

“I’d like to say we’re really compatible,” said Gojo, pressing a soft kiss against your temple before languidly pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers; cleaning the mess he had made on your skin. “Don’t you agree, Y/N?”

You were far too dazed to comprehend most of the words that spilled from Gojo’s mouth, so you chose to nod your head in response to the man’s question. Gojo was quite the gentleman, upon realizing that your legs still felt weak and wobbled, he immediately took action — helping you slide your skirt back on while stuffing your drenched panties in his trousers (to which you gave him a light smack on the shoulder, but he didn’t mind honestly), buttoned your shirt back up, and helped put your blazer back on; he did all that while muttering sweet praises in your ear, almost tickling the skin. Your hair was still a mess, though, and your lips still appeared to be swollen. Gojo ran his fingers through your locks, making a pathetic attempt at fixing your hair. At least he tried, though. He shortly fixed his appearance after; all he did was clasp his belt back on, fix his attire, and ruffle his ivory locks — all within a minute.

“We still have fourty-five minutes left to spare.” Satoru said, staring at his phone screen before he shoved it back inside his pocket (not where your panties are, though). “We should head out now before someone tries to get in.”

“You’re a liar,” you said weakly, your voice almost breathless, “there’s no way that this is your first.”

Satoru chuckled, “Again, I’m honoured, but you’re my first.”

He grabbed the tiny remote and pressed the button, thus unlocking the double-doors. You didn’t really feel the need to ask him why he seemed so familiar with the conference room as you were heavily fixated on his face; his cerulean eyes gazing into yours, a bright smile painted on his pale visage.

“Let me take you out sometime,” Gojo blurted out. “You’re totally my type, and I want us to get to know each other better.”

“And how do I know that you don’t say that to other women using that app?”

“You were the first and only one I texted on the app,” Gojo replied, “and we are alike in so many aspects — especially our compatibility in sex.“

You rolled your eyes jokingly, before smiling at the male. “Okay then, I accept your offer. You know, you’re also my type.”

“And,” Gojo added, “we both get turned on by each other’s voices.”

“Let’s go,” you shrugged off the chuckling male, opening the double-door. Fortunately enough, there was no one present in the halls and there was still plenty of time before the meeting took place.

“Mr. Gojo,” you spoke to him formally, however there was a tint of teasing in your voice as his name spilled out of your lips like honey. “Anywhere else you’d like to go?”

“You. Me. My place, or yours.”

“You— I’m talking about if there’s anything else you’re not familiar with in the building.” You whispered harshly. “And, watch your volume!”

It had been a week since your last tryst with the Gojo Satoru, and needless to say, talking to him was a breath of fresh air. HeartChat switched over to SMS and there came the video calls. Even as promised, he brought you out to his favourite restaurants and cafés. Over the course of those past few days, you learned many things about the handsome man (aka god’s favourite), and he learned many things about you. For starters:

He was the chief executive officer of GOJO Tech, he was once the heir, but it wasn’t too long before his father decided to give him the role at the age of 24 (he’s now 28), and since then, business had been booming for the Gojo clan.

His relationship with the Gojo clan wasn’t the best — despite him being the new head of the clan and CEO, some members constantly preying on his demise. He didn’t really care, though.

He hated the taste of alcohol — he absolutely despised it. He drank it once during a party and immediately “chased” it with a mouthful of strawberry cake. You later questioned him if he really knew what a chaser was.

His first time having phone sex was with you, he tried acting confident since it also was your first.

He was basically good at everything he did—everything that would normally be strenuous or difficult would always appear to be easy on him.

Nevertheless, there were some things that remained unchanged, and that was the phone sex that you both subconsciously agreed to do nightly, as if it was some sort of promise.

You weren’t going to lie, but you nearly forgot about the drinking party with your colleagues — once you remembered, you immediately invited Gojo to accompany you (it was also at that moment where you remembered that he didn’t drink alcohol). Surprisingly, he agreed to come along, and even offered to give you a ride there.

So there you were in the restaurant, seated near the end of the table with Gojo beside you while the rest of your colleagues chattered loudly, it was awfully obvious that there had been alcohol in their system. You had already downed a glass of beer, and you could feel your stomach and cheeks steadily growing warmer. You turned over to Gojo, who busied himself in devouring all the food, even ordering for several new plates whilst your colleagues cheered on for him in a drunken haste. You had almost forgotten point number 6 — Not only was Gojo Satoru a dessert fanatic, he was also a huge foodie.

Emi made her way towards the end of table, where you and Gojo were seated; bottle of beer and sake in her hands. There was absolutely no denying how attractive she was, her eyes appeared innocent yet they relayed something far more different.

“I’m surprised that Mr. Gojo came along,” Emi began, smiling softly as gave the man beside you a playful stare; swiftly ignoring your presence. “I’ve heard that you’ve been incredibly busy these days. So, I’m glad. Do you mind if I pour you a drink?”

“Nah, it’s alright. I don’t drink those kind of stuff.” Gojo waved her off, sparing her a quick and friendly smile.

“Oh! By the way, did you and Y/N arrive together? I never expected you two to be so close, especially at work, considering how you just arrived here less than a week ago.” questioned Emi, tilting her head to one side while staring at him, feigning innocence. This irked you a little, as you could never tell what she was thinking behind those shy and innocent eyes of hers.

“I wonder how that could be,” she trailed off even further, her voice was loud enough so that a couple of colleagues could hear — loud enough for Zen’in Naoya to hear.

Flower of the office, my ass.

You could even feel your ex glaring daggers at both your directions. You took a large gulp out of your glass of beer while Gojo laughed loudly.

“My, you’re a curious one alright.” He said in between chuckles. “We simply crossed—”

“Satoru and I are currently seeing each other,” you cut him off, pointing your nearly empty glass towards Emi’s direction; your cheeks warm from the alcohol streaming in your veins. “Is that enough to make you, you know, mind your business?”

Haruto, Himari, and Ren, who all sat across from you, collectively choked on their drinks, staring at you in utter shock. They all gave you a look that basically screamed, ‘You bitch, at least catch us up!’

“O-Oh,” Emi said, her voice getting quieter while she still feigned a smile, “I’m happy for you both, then. You two make a cute pair.”

“I know we do,” Gojo said, pulling your shoulder closer to his while laughing. His eyes later snapped over to Naoya, who he could tell was trying his hardest to hide his disdain; his eyes were narrowed and his jaw tensed. Not before long, he stood up from his spot and briefly excused himself — reasoning was that he needed some fresh air. Shortly after, Emi followed his trail, and the party resumed like normal.

It was a silent gesture, but you gently squeezed his hands underneath the table as you stared into his eyes; his face still flushed from the earlier commotion — you had been reckless, once again. To your surprise, he squeezed your hand back immediately, only bringing both your hands onto the table, now visible for everyone to see. He gave you a reassuring smile before leaning in to press a soft kiss on your knuckles. The heat on your face only intensified at his display of affection, your cheeks turning scarlet.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered softly, “I did something really reckless, and I didn’t ask you if you were alright with having our relationship out in the open like that.”

“Y/N,” Satoru said, his voice quiet and gentle, “I didn’t ask you out just so I could keep you as a secret. I’ll show you off as much as I want, show everyone that you’re my woman.”

“I swear, Satoru, it’s always you and your words.” You mumbled, covering your flushed face with the palms of your hands.

“You mean voice,” he teased.

“… Shut up.”

Not long after that, perhaps thirty minutes, you bid your goodbyes to your colleagues, leaving the restaurant side by side with Gojo — making a beeline towards the car. Once you both entered, you let all your desires run loose; your lips locked against his, teeth clashing against one another, and heavy breaths filled the tight vicinity. The air quickly grew hot, and the kisses further intensified with fervour.

“W-Wait, Satoru,” you mumbled his name in his lips, your grip on his black dress shirt tightening.

He pulled away, and god, did he look ethereal underneath the moonlight; his white strands shone like silver, his eyes only glowed brighter in the darkness. “What is it, sweets?”

“Let’s not do it here,” you said softly, looking up at him with desperate eyes. “Let’s do it at my place.”

Gojo Satoru never turned his engine on so quickly until now, driving his lamborghini like he was a man on a mission.

The air grew warm the very moment you both stepped into your apartment, lips locked onto each other and arms wrapped around one another. Soft moans left your lips as you could feel the man’s pent up desire grinding against your hips, rubbing deliciously against your clothed heat.

“Your bed,” there was a certain urgency in his voice as he rasped against your lips, and grabbing his large hands, you both rushed to the bedroom. Your back met with the soft plush of the mattress, further sinking in as Satoru also applied his weight, his lips getting a taste of yours for the nth time. His hands instantly pushing up your shirt, his hands traveling up to your your breasts; his fingers sliding underneath the pads of your bra to tweak your little buds. You stifled a soft whimper, your fingers locked in his ivory locks.

Eventually he slid your shirt up, and you helped make go by things faster by unclasping your bra. He took in the moment to appreciate the sight of your nude breasts, a hitched breath leaving his throat while he stared. Eventually, he dove in and showed love to both your mounds; coating your nipples with his saliva as he licked and sucked, leaving a small trail of hickies along your soft skin.

"Satoru," you said his name in a soft murmur, your cheeks warm and scarlet. He hummed in response whilst he continued to play with your tits, his large hands squeezing the soft mounds. In a treacherous pace, he slowly trailed his kisses down your breasts to your lower abdomen. “You’re so cute,” he said in a teasing tone, “you’re already so sensitive to my touch, and I haven’t even started with you.”

He swiftly pulled your skirt down, immediately chuckling at the damped mess you hid in between your legs.

"You're so wet," he mumbled quietly as his arousal immediately went straight towards his dick. He drew a finger across your folds, which were only covered by the thin dampened fabric. With nimble hands, he slid off the fabric off effortlessly, and without wasting time, he inserted two fingers inside -- groaning at how easily he slid in.

He started out the pace with a punishing speed, your toes immediately curling at the sensation as you squealed in unadulterated pleasure. You rolled your eyes back as you drowned in the delightful sensations, arching your back whilst rolling your hips to meet his fingers. It wasn’t until he began to curl his fingers that the volume of your moans began to increase. He pushed your legs farther apart, digging his fingers deeper; eliciting more whimpers and wanton moans that slipped out of your lips effortlessly.

“You close?” He teased you, and you nodded your head frantically in response. He could very well tell how close you were to your orgasm, judging by the way your walls fluttered around his fingers.

“Cum for me then,” he said, and that was all it took for you to succumb to your release, your pussy juices perfectly coating his two fingers. "Good girl," he gave you his praise, his voice deep and heavy.

His fingers parted away from your skin, briefly, before he began to slowly unbutton his midnight dress shirt, revealing his toned muscles and abdomen-- all while staring down at you with a carnal daze. "Like what you see?"

You stared up to meet his eyes, flustered. "Of course, why would I not? You look so... hot. If the word hot and sexy was a person, I feel like it'd be you."

"Is this your way of flirting, cutie?" Gojo said in a teasing tone, his lips curled up into a playful smirk while he unclasped his belt and unzipped his trousers, revealing his boxers and the awfully huge tent that hid beneath the fabric. God, he is so sexy.

"... I'm taking it back now." You said quietly in a stubborn tone.

"You won't," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, "your mouth is literally drooling for me, and even more so when..."

He dragged his words out while he slowly slipped his boxers off, revealing the angry red tip leaking with his pre-cum. Of course he ended up being right, seeing how you stared at his cock with hearts in your eyes.

"Okay cutie! Get on your knees and ass up."

Gojo loved how easily you complied to his commands -- one second you'd show him a little bit of sass and the next second you were begging for his dick. He grinned at the sight of your ass and back arched, your slick juices dripping off your pussy -- this was all for him, just for him. A loud smack resonated in the room when he slapped your ass and played with it, absolutely loving how it jiggled with every movement his hand made with it.

However, he couldn't wait any longer. He needed you, he wanted you -- so, so badly. Rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds, he relished in the sight of your body writhing beneath his grasp; being all desperate and needy for his cock.

It wasn't long before the loud sounds of his cock fucking into your pussy filled the bedroom, your loud moans muffled by the pillows you stuffed your head into. All that you could feel at that moment was pure, unadulterated pleasure; he was hitting all the right spots and his moans were music to your ears.

"Fuck, I've always thought about how I'd fuck you like this." Gojo moaned. "You're gripping onto me so fuckin' tight I might just cum."

A loud cry left your lips when Gojo decided to wrap his arms around you, pulling your body closer to his; his chest pressed firmly against your back as he continued to fuck into you whilst his hand traveled down to your center, lazily rubbing circles on your clit.

"O-Oh--fuck--'Toru --Ahn!" You would moan his name loudly while your body shook under his manipulation.

"Y/N," Gojo said your name breathlessly, all the whilst fucking you dumb on your bed, "be my girlfriend-- I want you to be all mine."

"Y-Yes, yes, yes -- 'Toru," you said in between gasps and moans, "I wanna be all yours. O-Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum -- I'm gonna cum--!"

Gojo mumbled a bunch of praises towards you as you rode out your orgasm, your chest rising and sinking as you attempted to control your heavy breaths while he gently rubbed your hips with his thumb. "You're such a good girl," he leaned over to press a soft kiss over the back of your head.

"You still have some energy, right?" He questioned you, and you now found yourself laying underneath the male; your legs both hoisted up on his shoulders. You nodded your head, staring at Gojo with a heavy-lidded gaze, and his eyes were blown with lust and desire. He pressed a soft kiss to your ankle before staring back down at you with a teasing smile.

"Good, because I'm nowhere near done."

(You definitely made sure to keep a mental note to thank Ren for getting you into the app)

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 !

It was a day after your your risqué rendezvous with Gojo Satoru, who you later came to realize was the stranger you engaged sexual activities with over the phone, on HeartChat — the app that no one other than your childhood friend and coworker, Ren, had downloaded on your phone.

“So,” Ren began, wiggling her eyebrows as she pointed at the phone you were holding in your hand. “How was it? It’s fun isn’t it?”

You and Ren were seated on the bench, eating lunch outside during your break. Normally you’d stay indoors, but the following information you were going to share to her were meant for her ears only — since she was the one who recommended this app, after all. Needless to say, Ren was more than thrilled for you to spill the details.

“You never told me that the app was meant for different purposes,” you said, raising a small brow towards your friend.

“I mean, I only use the app to troll around with other men. Nothing too serious, you know?” Ren said before her face quickly dropped. “Unless…? What exactly did you do, Y/N?”

“I…” you began, but you paused. “You better not tell this to another soul, I swear.”

“Riko?”

“Obviously we’ll catch Riko up from this after her honeymoon, but no one else! Promise?”

“You’re making me nervous, Y/N.”

“I had phone sex,” you admitted. Ren’s face immediately turned scarlet, looking at you — shocked. “No way,” she mumbled before she bursted out laughing. “No fucking way. Those type of things only happen in those spicy novels.”

“Oh, you won’t believe what happened next.”

“Okay. I’m all ears.”

“Don’t react loudly, okay?”

“I promise.”

“I had sex with him the next day.”

“WHAT.”

If Ren wasn’t red enough just moments before, then she definitely was now.

“So… are you going to tell me who it is or…?”

“Nah, it’s a secret.”

“... Babe, what other secret could possibly be more shocking than what you just told me?”

So, colour Ren surprised when she added two and two together once you had confessed that you and The Gojo Satoru were seeing each other a week later.

interactions, comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated! xoxo

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muwapsturniolo · 5 months

Text

✯𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐃𝐢𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠✯

IN WHICH...Y/N meets a biker who gives her the best night of her life, and manages to turn her world upside down.

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!! drinking, public fondling, dom!Matt/asshole!Matt, spanking, choking, knife play, unprotected sex, slight predatorxprey concept, dumbification,, stomach buldging. If I forgot anything please let me know!!!

this is a long one so sorry not sorry <3

“I’m f-r-e-e fuck nigga free!”

My friends and I shout the lyrics to Glorilla's song at the top of our lungs as we fly down the street.

It was one of those nights where you feel like a teenager again, staying out late and sneaking out to go to parties to do lord knows what with your friends.

It was different in my case.

I was grown, 22 to be exact. I didn’t have to sneak out, I could walk out the door and not have to tell anyone where I was going.

“And I’m s- i- n -g- l- e again, outside hanging out the window with my ratchet ass friends!” Buddy stops at a light and I jump out of the car, immediately throwing it back. My girls scream and start recording me, making me act up even more.

We haven’t been out in a long time due to adulting. You know how it is, one of you is free while the other three have other things to do, and then you have to schedule two months out, only for someone else to cancel. it's the rare occurrence where our schedules finally sync up, and we decided to make the most of it, acting out like we have no type of decorum.

“At the red lights twerking on them headlights!”

I hop on the hood of the car and grind down.

“Bitch get in the car!” Buddy shouts while still recording me, her laughter louder than the music.

Suddenly the sound of revving engines makes all of us turn. A group of guys on bikes pull up next to us, clapping and revving their engines in encouragement. One of them takes off their helmet and puts it between his legs, licking his lips before smiling.

“You trynna ride sweetheart?”

I look back at my girls and they are vigorously nodding yes. I climb off the car and skip over to him, “ride what exactly?” He smirks and looks me up and down, “I was talking about my bike, but I could make the other situation happen too.” His answer makes me heat up, although it could be the three shots of Casamigos in my system.

He’s attractive, it wouldn’t hurt to have fun.

Live fast die young, right?

I say nothing as I walk around the bike and swing my leg over, pressing up against him as I wrap my arms around his torso. “You know how to ride?” I ask, taking the helmet from him.

“I’m in the front for a reason.” I can’t see his face but I can hear the smirk. “Bitch where are we going?” Buddy screams from the car. “Trail us! We’re gonna show you girls a good time!” One of the other guys shouts.

It seems like the light follows his words, switching from red to green instantly. The engines rev and soon we are flying down the streets of LA. He pops a wheelie making me scream in excitement and tighten my grip around him. The wind whips past us, the inches on my head flowing behind me.

I look to the side and see Buddy easily following along in her car, music still bumping loudly, filling up the abandoned streets.

It doesn’t take long until he slows down and pulls into a lot. The lot is filled with a bunch of bodies, bikes, and cars. People begin to hoot and holler seeing us pull in.

He parks his bike and climbs off before aiding me in doing the same. “What’s your name pretty girl?” He begins to help me take off the helmet.

“Y/n. You?”

“Matthew, but you can call me Matt.” He lightly squeezes my hip as he looks down at me. He's attractive, nice jawline, a beard, and tattoos going up and down his arm as well as his neck. His piercings fit his features perfectly. I usually wouldn’t go for the punk-looking dudes, it was something about him though.

“Well, thank you for the ride, Matt. You’re a great driver.”

“You’re a great rider, what else can you ride?” He shoots me a look, making me smack my lips and lightly push him. “Boy bye.” He laughs and keeps his grip on me.

“So what is this?” I ask looking around in curiosity. He lets go of me and begins to take his gloves off, “it’s a meet. A bunch of people round up and show off their bikes or cars. We do them every Friday.” I hum and continue to look around. I see my friends by the trunk of our car, sharing our bottle with the new people around us.

“So tell me something, you often get out of cars and shake your ass?”

“You often offer girls a ride?” I shoot back.

“Only the pretty ones.” He winks before grabbing my waist and pulling me towards him. “You’re staying with me for the night.” I quirk a brow at his statement.

“Am I?”

“Yeah, problem?” He seems secure in his words, like he’s daring me to tell him there is a problem.

“No”

“That’s what I thought. Let’s get your pretty ass to your friends.” He takes the lead, guiding me to clean white jeep.

“Girl I thought you were going to fall off when he popped that wheelie!” Lani exclaims. “The way I screamed when I saw that shit!” Mika adds. “I really thought your lashes were going to fly off.” Buddy finishes. I giggle at their over-exaggerated statements. Soon a drink is shoved into my hands, “drink up bitch!”

The night ensued, everyone having a good time. I mingled with a few people, attempting to learn about their bikes and cars. Everything honestly went in one ear and out the other. Matt kept me close, my back pressed to his front, both of his hands resting right on my hips. If it was any other guy, I would have been annoyed and pushed them away, but I’m not. My girls keep eyeing me, mouthing a “You ok?” occasionally. I respond back with a smile and a sip of my drink.

"You wanna get out of here?" His breath tickles my ear as he talks to me. I smirk and take another sip of my drink before turning around, "and go where?"

He gives me a look, "somewhere private." I feel his hands travel from my waist down to my ass, gripping the exposed flesh tightly. He softly kisses my neck, biting occasionally. I sigh out in relief, craning my neck as his beard tickles me.

"Come on sweetheart, you know you want to." He whispers in her ear before pulling away and giving her a look. She bites her lip and looks back at her friends before turning back to Matt. "let me tell my friends." He nods and watches as she scampers off towards the group of girls. She's soon skipping back with a wide mischievous smile on her face.

"Let's go."

Matt puts the helmet on her head and helps her onto the bike before climbing on himself. He starts the bike, revving the engine before pulling off.

Matt's going over the speed limit, pushing the gas to the max so he can get the girl behind him in his bed. Y/n holds on to him tightly, only loosening her grip when they arrive at a red light.

She's not sure how long it's going to take for them to arrive at their destination, so she decides to have some fun. She rests her hands on his thighs, rubbing them softly and allowing her nails to draw random shapes. Matt doesn't think anything of it, taking it as her relaxing at the light.

She slowly inches her right hand toward his crotch, palming him through the rough material. She bites her lip and smirks feeling him tense, noticing the way his hands grip the handlebars tightly. She decides to take it a step further and snakes her hand into his pants, wrapping her hand around the base and slowly jerking.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stop." His threat is oddly calm, his voice not rising in any way. She takes the threats with a grain of salt, rubbing her thumb over his tip.

"Fuck this-" he mumbles to himself. He releases the brake and speeds off, ignoring the flashing of the red light camera.

Y/n gasps and snatches her hand out of his pants, going back to holding him tightly.

After ten minutes of running multiple red lights and speeding, the two arrive at a house, the garage opening as Matt presses a button on the bike.

The bike inches forward before Matt turns it off and kicks down the stand.

They climb off the bike and Matt aids her in taking off the helmet, dropping it to the floor. He's quick to yank her forward by her throat.

"You think you're funny touching me like that?"

"I think I'm hilarious ac-" A whimper of pain and pleasure tumbles from her mouth as Matt smacks her ass. She looks up at him with wide glossy eyes filled with lust, Matt returns the look, a devious smirk coating his face.

"Take your shorts off."

Just like before his voice held no room for defiance, it was a demand that she had to follow,

So she does just that.

She continues to stare at him as she unfastens her belt, dropping it to the cement floor of the garage. She unbuttons the acid wash denim and shimmies out of them, standing in front of Matt with nothing but a bright blue thong on her bottom half.

He quickly turns her around and bends her over the bike, knocking her legs apart. He runs his ring-clad hand over her ass, enjoying the way the soft skin feels.

He doesn't think twice before spanking her, enjoying the choked moan that falls from her mouth. He enjoys it so much that he does it over,

and over

and over.

25 smacks later, she's sniffling and clenching her legs shut, her wetness causing a tingle in between her folds. Matt stands behind her, admiring the number he did on her ass. The soft brown skin was forming purple and blue bruises, ring indentations clear as day. He allows his eyes to trail to the blue material being swallowed by her ass, noticing the change of color.

He pulls the thong to the side, watching as a thin string of her slick attaches itself to the lace material. He puts his index and middle finger together before gliding them through her folds, moving her slick around. Y/n whines softly, pushing herself back in an attempt to chase his fingers.

"Tsk tsk tsk, so eager." He shakes his head as he clicks his tongue, eyes still trained on her wet cunt. Suddenly Y/n is yanked upward by her hair, her body now flushed with Matts. He turns her head and brings her into a heated kiss, their tongues meshing together.

She hears a 'shink' and chooses to ignore it, thinking it was something in the garage. However, she was proven wrong when she felt something sharp and cold against her collarbone.

She freezes as Matt smirks against her lips, pulling away slowly. She looks down and her heart begins to race seeing the pocket knife. He slowly begins to drag the sharp object downward, ripping her shirt in the process. She gulps watching the fabric fall to the ground, her boobs bouncing as they release.

Her breathing speeds up as he circles her nipple with the knife, pressing it softly against her skin. Goosebumps rise along her body as she sharply inhales.

"You like it, I could see it in your eyes," he whispers as he watches the soft buds harden under the coldness of the knife. He quickly pulls it away and forces her back down onto the bike. He leans over her, one of his hands still wrapped in the blonde hair on her head. She trembles feeling the knife move with the curve of her ass. He chuckles feeling her flinch as he cuts the band of her thong. He catches the material before it falls, and holds it in front of her face.

"Look at that, you ruined them."

Before she could say anything, he shoves the wet material into her mouth. Her face burns in embarrassment as her leftover slick touches her tongue.

He drops to his knees and spreads her cheeks apart, his mouth watering as her lips spread. He wastes no time and dives in, licking and slurping through her folds. Y/n moans as her eyes flutter shut, enjoying the way his soft and warm tongue laps at her juices.

He flattens his tongue and moves it back and forth across her clit, his nose softly pressing against her entrance. "F-fuck Matt!" He pulls away from her, licking at his lips as he pushes two fingers into her.

His fingers stretch her out, providing some form of temporary relief, but it's not enough. "M-more, please I need more!" She begs pathetically.

"My fingers not enough for you sweetheart? You need my dick that bad?" She struggles to speak as he relentlessly pounds his finger into her tight cunt, occasionally curling them.

"No they're enough, you're just a greedy girl aren't you? Well, guess what?-" He adds a third finger into her cunt, not slowing down his handiwork by any means. "You're not getting my dick until you cum on all my fingers. So, I suggest you hurry up if you're that eager."

She whines knowing it's going to take awhile for her to reach any type of orgasm if it's just his fingers.

Matt's not dumb, he knows how to pleasure a woman, so he drops the switchblade and uses his free hand to draw endless figure eights' against her clit.

She throws her head back and lets out a deep moan, her walls squeezing down on his fingers. "That's it sweetheart, come on I know you're close." He moves both of his hands faster making Y/n's legs shake slightly.

His finger hits that special spot inside of her and she lets out a high-pitched moan, her whole body tensing up as she reaches her peak.

She's too busy trying to catch her breath, she doesn't even notice Matt undoing his pants and pulling them down.

Her head suddenly drops as Matt slides into her, knocking the air out of her lungs. He's big, stretching her out perfectly and hitting all the right spots. Matt wastes no time snapping his hips, her body lurching forward with each thrust.

She grips onto the bike, her palms becoming sweaty against the metal. Matt is relishing hearing her wheezes as his cock nudges against that sweet spot, his tip pressing tightly against her cervix in the process.

"Fuck!" she finally manages to shout, her eyes rolling back.

It's almost euphoric the way he's fucking her, almost too euphoric.

She reaches behind and tries to slow him down but it's no use. He grabs her arm and folds it to her back, using it to pull her back and meet his thrusts.

"Already falling apart?" He taunts, a laugh exiting his throat as he continues to thrust.

He watches the way she sucks him in, her walls eagerly clamping down and welcoming him,

like he was made for her

like she was his.

"Whos pussy is this?"

She's so caught up moaning and wheezing around the lace in her mouth, she doesn't hear the question. He slaps her ass making her walls squeeze him even more. He throws his head back, his rhythm breaking as he basks in the feeling.

"Answer the question sweetheart. Who's pussy is this?''

"Ymm-Speak up baby, I can't hear you." He removes her thong from her mouth and snaps his hips harsher than he has before making her squeal, "Yours! Oh fuck it's yours!" She sobs out, not being able to handle her current situation.

"Good girl."

He sneaks his hand down and begins to circle her clit once again.

Her eyes roll back as her whole body begins to shake violently, her second orgasm of the night approaching quickly. "You wanna cum? Hm? You wanna make a mess on me and my bike?"

She moans loudly in response, her body getting weaker from his harsh thrusts and her approaching orgasm.

"Go on, make a mess for me, make a mess all over me."

Her body goes limp as her juices splash all over him and the bike, falling to the concrete floor of the garage.

Matt pulls out of her, pulling her up by her hair. Her legs shake as he drags her over to a free space in the garage. He flips her around and pins her against the wall, the cold concrete aiding in helping the welts on her ass.

he takes a moment to examine her face.

Her makeup was messed up. Her eyeliner and mascara were running and making black tears down her cheeks. Her lashes were beginning to loosen as well, somehow managing to keep some attachment to her lids. Her lipgloss was smudged around her lips as well, some even on her chin.

He presses both his lips and body against hers, gripping her sides harshly. His hands travel to her ass, separating the skin from the wall and hoisting her up, both legs wrapping around his waist.

She throws her arms around his shoulders as he pushes himself into her. She struggles to kiss him back, her moans vibrating against his lips.

His fingers dig into her thighs, leaving crescent-shaped marks on the brown skin. He presses her even harder against the wall and proceeds to position his hips upward, using his as an opportunity to claim her.

He dives in on her neck, working diligently to leave the bruises on her skin. He trails the marks all the way to her collarbone, eventually stopping to admire his work.

His eyes burn bright, his pupils dilated as he watches the marks shine in the dim light, spelling out his name.

His eyes fall onto her breasts that are bouncing with each thrust. He takes one into his mouth, softly biting at her nipple and using his tongue to soothe it. Y/n throws her head back, ignoring the ache that follows when hitting the wall.

"Please! Oh go-shhit!" Matt moans and looks down at their intertwined bodies, watching the way her juices splash on his abdomen.

"That's it baby, let it all go." He coos as her trembling body collapses into him, her grip still tight on his shoulders. She tries to put her legs down but he keeps her locked in place,

"I'm not done with you yet princess."

He opens the garage door and quickly rushes to his room, not struggling one bit as her carries the girl in his arms. He slams his bedroom door and throws her on the bed, her body bouncing on the silk sheets.

He stands over her, watching her body occasionally twitch, her chest rising and falling quickly as she pants in a delirious state. Her cunt glimmers in the light, her wetness pulling him into a trance. He falls to his knees and begins to lap at her cunt once again. She arches her back, going cross-eyed at the overstimulation.

She whines and shakes her head, trying to push his head away. "N-no more." She slurs, her mind hazy from the three orgasms she's had.

He yanks her closer by her thighs, and flattens his tongue, shaking his head back and forth. He circles her clit before sucking on the sensitive bud.

Her manicured fingers find their way to his head, gripping the soft brown locks and yanking. Her mind and body are fighting, her mind telling her to stop him before she passes out, and her body telling her to keep experiencing the rhapsodic moment.

Matt closes his eyes as he breathes in the scent of her juices, lapping at her like a dehydrated dog. He could eat at her for hours, finding her sweeter and more delectable than others. Her moans and withering body fueling his appetite even more. he snakes his other hand down and wraps it around his base, jerking himself off.

He moves back to her clit as he inserts two of his finger, moaning at the way her walls clamp down around them. All it takes is a few pumps and the curling of the digits before she releases over his face.

He swallows everything she gives him, making sure not one drop escapes him.

She manages to weakly push him away, her legs clenching as she heaves.

She didn't think her night would turn out like this.

She knew they were going to have sex, maybe one or two rounds, but she didn't expect four orgasms. She didn't expect him to make her squirt either, she's only ever been able to squirt alone and using a vibrator.

She looks over her knees, watching as Matt rises to his feet, his lips and chin glimmering in her mess. He walks around the bed and that's when the girl notices something.

He's still hard.

He hasn't came once.

That's when it finally hits her, she isn't done until he is.

She doesn't know how much more she can take. She's already had four orgasms, if she has one more she's sure she's going to pass out.

She watches with hazy and glossed eyes as he crawls over her, his eyes zeroed in on her as if she were his prey.

And she was, she was the prey and he was the predator.

he leans closer, his breath fanning over her face.

"You're pretty when you cry."

He rubs his thumb across her cheek, wiping away the mixture of makeup and tears. Suddenly, that same hand is wrapped around her throat. It's not tight, but it's enough to establish dominance.

"You gonna give me one more?" She shakes her head, beginning to cry softly. He shakes his head, shushing her softly, "Nuh uh, none of that baby-" He kisses over her face, his other hand running up and down her side affectionately.

He rests his forehead against hers, his blue eyes dark and predatory.

"You wanna be a good girl for me right? You wanna be a good girl and make me proud?" She whines and looks away from him, not being able to handle his gaze.

"Hey, hey, look at me-there she is, my pretty girl." He smiles seeing her dilated pupils, a clear sign that he did exactly what he planned on doing,

Dumbing her down and making her submit.

"You're gonna be a good girl and ride me, hm?" She nods, not thinking clearly in the slightest. He chuckles and taps her face a bit harder than he should have before he kisses her forehead. He flips them over, his hands finding their way to her waist.

Seeing that her mind is a bit hazy, he aids her in sinking down on him, throwing his head back at the familiar feeling of her walls that he has quickly grown to love.

She begins to rock her hips, throwing her head back and mumbling to herself. "You can do better than that can't you?" Matt taunts as he starts to lift her up and down. She nods absentmindedly and does her best to bounce on his cock, wanting to please him, needing to please him.

Her movements quickly become sloppy and Matt decides to take matters into his own hands. He plants both feet on the bed as he wraps his hand around her throat.

She gasps and lets out a choked sob as he begins to thrust upward, her nails digging into his chest. He watches the way her breasts bounce up and down, the way her jaw goes slack, and how her eyes roll back.

He grabs at her breast, twisting and tweaking her nipple.

His thighs become sore so he flips them over once again, missionary.

He throws her legs over his shoulder and re-wraps his hand around her throat. She lets out screams with each deep thrust he gives her, the bed banging against the wall. He notices the small bludge in her stomach and it drives him further.

He removes her legs from his shoulder and pushes them back to her head, his hips ricocheting off the back of her thighs.

Y/n screams go silent, her eyes rolling back and her jaw-dropping as he reaches deeper than he has the whole night.

"There it is, let go for me sweetheart." She lets out a bloodcurdling scream as she reaches her last orgasm of the night, her juices splashing all over Matt and herself. Matt gives 3 more deep thrusts before he stalls inside of her, painting her abused walls a nice shade of milky white.

Y/n lays there a sweaty panting mess, her eyes hallway closed as she remains limp. He looks down as he pulls out of her, the corner of his lips quirking seeing her flinch. he watches as his own seed spills out of her, falling onto the silk bedding beneath them.

He so badly wants to scoop it up and push it back inside her. he already marked her in more ways than one, it wouldn't hurt to mark her in another,

Right?

He's snapped out of his thoughts by his door swinging open, his brother Chris standing in the doorway looking pissed off. "I should beat your ass for keeping me up."

"Shut the fuck up and go to sleep Chris! We're done now so stop your bitching." Matt rolls his eyes as Chris slams the door. He hears a noise making him look back at Y/n.

She's asleep.

He chuckles knowing he truly pushed her to the limit. He climbs off the bed and rushes to his bathroom, cleaning himself up and slipping on a pair of boxers. He returns with a wet rag and cleans her up, slipping a clean shirt over her body.

He takes the sheets off the bed and throws them in his hamper, deciding to handle it later. He shuts off the lights and climbs into bed, grabbing his phone in the process. He checks his notifications and smirks when he comes across a particular one.

He mutes their conversation and throws his phone on the nightstand, ending the night with a smile on his face.

YUHHHHHHHHH!!!!! I DECIDED TO FEED YALL SUM GOOD CUZ I DONT BE POSTING FICS LIKE THAT SO I HOPE YALL ENJOY!!! LEMME KNOW IF YALL WANT A PART TWO!!!

XOXO PEACHES🍑

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @teenagetrash00 @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n

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cupcakesmoothie · 1 year

Text

I did all three backstories for Touchstarved (I have 12 hours on this thing and it's only the demo)

Kuras and Vere don't seem to have red options, but Vere does have a secret ending and Kuras... I don't know, holds you for a bit longer?

For Mhin, it really is just picking The Alchemist backstory. You can call them short or whatever and you'll still get it.

For Leander, you have to take the flowers and keep touching him. It's okay if you hold back the first time even.

For Ais, you gotta tell him fuck you and pet the soulless, and after that red option pretty much all yours.

Differences I found between the three backstories:

It is pretty much like how they tell you, Oracle gets premonitions, Hound has experience with people and survival, and Alchemist has knowledge about magic and science, so there's different things you find out with each one.

The Alchemist:

I may be a little bit biased, but think The Alchemist is the most informative (It's also the first one I picked). There's the expected info of noticing that Vere's collar is enchanted, or knowing about how strong Leander really is when it comes to magic, but it's got the added bonus of MC's mentor having been in the Senobium in the past.

Compared to the others, The Alchemist is more familiar with Senobium, albeit through word of mouth. It's interesting how many times the MC says something similar to "I didn't know the Senobium did that." It calls into question whether MC's teacher was lying, or more interestingly (and what I think might be the case), the Senobium has changed a lot recently. It's talked about, even without the Alchemist backstory, that the Senobium used to be somewhere you could go to for help, but now most of the characters you meet do not like the Senobium, so what changed?

The Hound:

The Hound (the least popular option, apparently) was pretty fun. The Hound notices more about Ais, specifically that he's very suited to be a leader, and that the number of scars he has (one) seems suspicious for his temperament (or "how seasoned he acts", as the MC puts it).

One thing that I found very fun was doing Mhin's route as the Hound. They're somewhat able to keep up! They can (or tried to) recognize tells, and noted that Mhin was one of the few people who was able to sneak up on them. They also weren't sure how Vere managed to get their key. They were also prepared to steal to survive.

The Oracle:

While The Hound notices physical things, the Oracle notices... how do you say, otherworldly things. The Seaspring seems to be hiding a lot (of course it is), but the MC notices a heartbeat. A presence. They feel something from Ais. The name Ocudeus means something, they can feel it. They feel like they can see Ais' tattoo move.

Also, the MC feels something from Mhin and Kuras (in his clinic at least), which is interesting!

If I had to decide which love interest was better with which backstory...

Vere: The fact that the Alchemist thought that they could tell what enchantments were on his collar if only they could touch it feels promising! And both their connections (though I mean connection in the loosest term for MC here) to the Senobium makes it feel like you might very well find something.

The Hound might be one of the few who can actually survive this guy if I'm gonna be honest. (I mean you can still get killed by him but. You know.)

Ais: The Oracle's sixth sense makes going to the Seaspring a lot more interesting compared to the others, and the way they can feel something from Ais is very cool.

The Hound can tell his character better than the others, and I wonder how that will come into play later on.

Kuras: The Alchemist knows their way around spell-crafting and alchemy (When I picked this I wondered if they would be able to help Kuras around the clinic, which doesn't happen, but hey it might).

The Oracle seems to also feel something from him.

Mhin: First things first, their red option literally requires you to have the Alchemist backstory. Mhin's precision is noticed by the other MCs sure, but not to that detail.

Watching the Hound observe where they could be was so fun to watch. It feels like this MC will be able to keep up.

The Oracle feels something from Mhin, something inhuman.

Leander: The Alchemist was able to tell that the flash of magic was a barrier spell, and that most magic (or at least the ones they're familiar with) uses an incantation or spell circle. His didn't.

But either way, there will be things to find no matter the backstory you choose, and all of the character's stories are intertwined, so don't let this dissuade you from a specific backstory! There will always be things to find, you just need to look.

Extra: I found it pretty cool how each MC has a different way of knowing what a Groupmind is. Story-wise this makes sense of course, but each of their reactions to it are slightly different, from I heard this from rumours of people in cults (Hound), to I used to be told I could put people in a groupmind (Oracle), to legends suggest it was possible with a strong enough catalyst but it's never been done before (Alchemist).

Also, it's interesting to know what they each think of surroundings (specifically the Amaryllis district). They all have different opinions from I used to be told bizarre things about this place and now I kinda get it (Alchemist), to it's not that different from the place I grew up in (Hound), to it's VERY different from where I grew up in (Oracle).

And if I'm not mistaken, the reason Vere gives for your desperation is different for all of them!

You can find gameplay from me on my Youtube channel, or watch me getting all the red options and secret ending here:

youtube

I didn't read it out loud cause my mic sorta sucks and sometimes it peaks and gets a bit shrill. Also you see how my mouse moves sometimes? It means I'm screaming. I don't think I'd have been able to keep calm enough for this. Also my reading kinda sucks anyway hope you like it lol

#If you guys watch the 3 hour unedited version and find my friend going online please tell me the timestamp #I cannot find it #There are two and I found one of them #It's a fun little easter egg I guess. If you even care #Touchstarved #Touchstarved game #touchstarved spoilers #I had fun doing this #sweetmountainseeds #Oh btw #I may be wrong #Yes I replayed the game four times #But I might be wrong #There might be things you need/don't need to do #I can't really tell anymore #I mean everything here should be right but do correct me if I'm wrong

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angelisgonnastartchangingurls · 29 days

Text

nina pt. 1

nina and annie's post-work wine sessions became something of a habit. annie slowly told her everything. nina started talking too. of particular interest to annie was the story of the campground nina's family had run for generations...

Nina's father drove her up the camp for the summer a few days after her 16th birthday. Something about that, about her age now, made her sense this summer would be different. For a few years now she and her brother had lived at the camp, and nominally worked for her mother, each year gaining more independence and freedom. Nina could feel it reaching an apex.

The camp had been in her family for as long as she could remember. When she was a little girl, her grandparents managed it. They were retired now, and so her mother and her brother, Nina's uncle Evan, managed it together every summer. Their dad came up and visited some weekends, but he had to work. They didn't see him much in the summer. Nina would miss him, she thought, looking at him as he drove, eyes on the road.

"You looking forward to the summer?" he asked her. "I like being outside so much. And the indepence." "I am sure," he said. "And the indepence is great. Honestly I don't mind having your mother out of my hair." Nina laughed.

The day before, Nina had lost her virginity. She'd impulsively fucked Joe, a friend from school, in his room after going there with him to watch a movie after running into him downtown. It had been so impulsive that Nina wasn't wearing a matching bra and panties, hadn't shaved her pubic hair in a few days. It wasn't at all how she imagined it would be. He'd lasted much longer than she'd assumed he would have--several minutes of real thrusting and moaning and kissing. And it hadn't hurt the way she'd feared it would. Pressure, sure. But more pleasure than pressure. She hadn't had an orgasm, she knew that. She was very familiar with those already. She'd given herself one later, in bed recalling her time with Joe, feeling a phantom emptiness in her pussy as she rubbed her clit.

She felt like she was marked by it, the act of sexual intercourse. She felt like she stilled smelled like his cum, most of which had ended up on her stomach, and had felt pleasantly dry and sticky all day after, even though she'd wiped most of it off. It was fully scrubbed off now, and her vagina felt normal again, and yet she could still feel it. She wondered if her father could sense it. She wanted to feel like it made her different, somehow.

At this point, her mother and her older brother Paul had already been at the camp for a week. Nina had needed to play her last games with the school volleyball team. When they pulled up to the office, which had a trailer behind it where Nina's mom and Uncle Evan slept, Nina's mom waved to them, already very tan, in shorts and bikini top. They parked and Nina got her bags and said hi to her mom and walked her bags down the loop, past the shower house and bathrooms to the only other permanent structure on the campground, a cabin where she'd be living with Paul and their cousin Cassie. There were four metal beds arranged around the room and one electric outlet which would always be charging someone's phone all summer long. The fourth bed was an all purpose storage structure. Snacks, makeup, a conspicuous little box where Cassie kept weed, and, this year, Nina clocked, condoms. Paul and Cassie were out. They were probably collecting fees from the current slate of campers -- one of their few jobs. Picking up trash, selling firewood, collecting fees, cleaning the bathrooms. That was the gig, and the three of them rotated tasks.

Nina changed into a bathing suit and walked back up the path to the front office. Her parents were MIA. For some reason, Nina didn't call out to get their attention. She had a sudden sense of what they were probably doing, and felt a weird curiosity about it. Quietly, she walked over to the trailer and peeked in the window, shielding herself from view around the corner of the structure.

Well, OK, now I have seen that, was her immediate thought. Her mother's bed was near the window. Nina knew that because at night when she'd go for walks she'd often spy her mother dangling a cigarette out the window. She'd "quit" smoking but smoked all summer in secret. Nina kind of thought it was cool.

Now, she was looking at her mom's ass, tanlines already evident, and her father's balls as her mom rode him. Nina was immediately shocked by the size of her father's cock, not so much the length, which she currently could not ascertain, but the girth. He was very thick, visibly stretching her out. It struck Nina as oddly romantic. She was still gripping him so hard after all those years of fucking. Nina looked away and slipped into the woods, crossing the campsite that way instead.

She headed in the direction of the beach, and ran into Cassie and her uncle Evan walking in that direction. Paul was out collecting, Cassie told her. Did she want to come with them to go swimming? Cassie was an only child, and her mother was dead. Nina found this fascinating. Her mother had killed herself when Cassie was 8 and Nina was 7. Nina barely remembered this. Evan had found her -- she'd hung herself in lingerie in the bathroom. Nina only knew about this because her mom had told her recently when she'd asked. Nina didn't understand why it had happened, and her mom told Nina it was because she'd been unable to have more children.

"So what?" Nina said. "I mean, she got Cassie."

"She grew up really religious," her mom had explained. "She felt her purpose on earth was to procreate. So when she lost that too early, she gave up on life.

"That's stupid," Nina said. Her mom had laughed. "I agree, but she was practically a kid."

"She was?" Evan was younger than her mom, but not by that much. "She was 25," her mom said. "Your uncle got her pregnant when she was still in high school. But don't tell Cassie that. I'm not sure she knows. They fudged the numbers a little afterward."

It didn't seem that scandalous to Nina. Her mom had had Paul when she was 20 years old, Nina when she was 22. That wasn't much older than 17.

In pictures, Cassie's mom always looked like a hippie to Nina. Long hair, sundresses, always barefoot. She looked out of place among their family, all dark-skinned, dark-haired Italian stock. These days Cassie sort of struck a balance between both worlds. Like Nina, she was slender and tall and had darker skin, big eyes and a small nose, but with long, wavy blonde hair in contrast to Nina's short dark bob. Nina was looking more and more like her mother every day, something that Evan pointed out as they reached the river and she and Cassie dove in. The water was fucking freezing. They both shrieked. Evan didn't get in. "Your mom and I shocked our systems enough doing that when we were young," he said. "I'd probably have a heart attack now."

"I think my clit froze off," Cassie said. It was a startlingly vulgar thing to say in front of her father. But he laughed even as Nina was scandalized. Nina got out first, and thus watched Cassie slowly emerge from the water. Her cousin was more beautiful than ever. Her breasts were bigger, hips wider, making her thigh gap even more pronounced. Her white bikini bottom clung to her body, and Nina could clearly see the outline of dark sculpted pubic hair. That was new. Nina had seen Cassie naked plenty of times last summer, and she'd been fully shaved like Nina still was. For some reason, Cassie's bush made Nina immediately aware of just how sexual active her cousin had certainly become.

Nina was surprised to watch Cassie walk toward her father making no effort to cover herself -- perhaps she was unaware how exposed she was? She looked at her uncle, looking at Cassie, and certainly saw his eyes go there, and flick back up, betraying nothing. It didn't upset him?

Nina flashed to an incident that spring at home, when she'd come downstairs in a skirt her father had deemed too short. Nina had playfully brushed him off, starting to use that old saying -- short enough to keep things interesting -- he'd cut her off. "You're wearing pink panties," he'd said sternly. "I know because I can see them."

"Aren't they cute?" she'd deflected again.

"You can't wear that," he'd said. "Take it off and and go change."

And he'd held out his hand, asking Nina to give him her skirt. So she did. She unfastened it, took it off, and went back to her room to put on a pair of jeans. No one else had been in the room. Nina was so surprised by the firmness and directness of her father. Her father had fleetingly seen her in underwear before, certainly, but today she felt his gaze very specifically, the heat of it on her skin.

Bizarrely, as she changed in her room, she found herself fantasizing that he'd kept his hand extended after the skirt, asking for more. She imagined herself removing her top and giving to him, and yet still his hand remained. She imagined herself carefully lowering her panties and handing them over to him as well, and then imagined him reaching for his belt, unfastening his pants. She'd stopped herself there, wondering what was wrong with her, wondering why she was soaking wet.

She'd quickly dressed and gone back downstairs and her father had approved. She'd never seen the skirt again.

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zepskies · 8 months

Text

Being Human – Part 1

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: This is technically my first Dark Angel story, since I wrote Part 1 of this before "Bullseye." It will be four parts. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Summary: You’ve managed to keep things playful and friendly with Alec so far, despite his flirtatious nature. But when he asks you for a favor that goes painfully awry, the transgenic has to figure out something that wasn’t in his training: how to apologize. [Set during 2.06]

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Tension, angst, spiciness, implied smut.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: Training Day

As sad as it is, this is probably your favorite place in the world.

Crash is as divey as a dive bar can get. And yet, it still boasts the strongest, cheapest drinks in Seattle. The music is decent, and the company is good. At least tonight it is, because you’ve met up with Max, Original Cindy, and Sketchy after a long day of slinging packages.

The only problem?

The newest member of Jam Pony, slinking up from the corner of your eye and easing into the seat next to you at the bar.

You turn an expectant gaze to Alec McDowell and his flirtatious green eyes. They take in your jeans and halter top with an obvious perusal.

“Can I help you?” you ask dryly.

“No, no. It’s what I can do for you,” he replies. You’re about to roll your eyes when he adds, “Let me buy you a beer. Or whatever you’re drinking.”

Just then, the bartender slides you the beer you’ve already ordered. You thank him and give Alec a smile.

“Got it covered, thanks,” you reply, sipping the froth off your drink.

Alec sighs and crosses his arms. “When are you gonna stop putting the freeze on me?”

“When I’m not part of your internal checklist of Breasts on Legs,” you retort. Glancing around the bar, you note three other girls you’ve already seen him shoot his shot with tonight.

Alec scoffs and holds his chest.

“That’s hurtful,” he claims. “It really is.”

But he shifts toward you in his seat, cutting off your smile. Your face warms at his proximity.

Damn, he smells good, you think.

“Besides,” he says, “I always save the best for last.”

His smile makes your heart beat faster, though you eye him wryly. He opens his smartass mouth to say something else, but you get a reprieve when Original Cindy slides into the seat on your other side. She tosses you a wink.

It gives you just enough confidence to smirk in Alec’s face.

“Keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll lose my mind,” you say, with a teasing raise of brows.

Alec is still amused as he shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. Insulting, yet, still somehow endearing.”

“Don’t wanna get clowned, don’t act like a clown,” you tell him sweetly.

“I know that’s right,” Cindy quips. She orders a Cosmo to upgrade her beer. She must’ve won a bet tonight, if she was able to score enough cash for liquor.

“Hilarious,” Alec says. He pouts a little. “Hey, I’m not some mongrel on the loose. I’m just looking for some honest companionship.”

“Honest?” you laugh. “Now that’s hilarious.”

He gives you a fake laugh, but he watches you go when you slip away from him to join Max and Sketchy in the back room by the pool table. Alec’s smile fades a little.

Cindy raises a brow at him, along with a tan finger.

“No,” she says. “You actually crushin’ on homegirl? For real?”

Alec glances at her. “Where’d you get that idea?”

She gives him a flat look.

“Should I burn some sage?” she asks.

Alec shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“Come on. I think Max is calling us over.”

When the two of them venture over to where you and Max are playing a game of pool, Alec’s cocky smile is back. His eyes catch yours when he sits down at a nearby table. Your lips curve while you lean on your pool cue.

For the past few weeks, this is how it’s always been with you and Alec. Push and pull. A sort of caustic flirtation that you can’t in good conscience take seriously. But to his credit, he always tries.

And he seems to always mean it.

You’ll never admit it, but it’s getting harder and harder for you to resist the pull of him. He’s clearly a guy who doesn’t do attachments, and you have a bad habit of getting attached. Your life is hard enough without adding a dash of heartbreak into the mix.

So Max helps you sharpen your skills at this game while you finish your beer. And…maybe you “unintentionally” tease Alec a little with the curve of your ass when you’re bent over the table, lining up a shot.

In fairness, you’re a bit tipsy.

You spend the rest of the night drinking two more beers and laughing and losing the game—first to Max, then to Alec, and finally to Sketchy. By then, you know it’s time to cut your losses.

You haul your backpack onto your shoulder and start to head out of the bar. But who should slip into your way than Alec freakin’ McDowell?

“Hey, I’ve got a quick question for you,” he says.

You sigh. “Alec, the usual sniping was fun, but I’m tired and I want to go home.”

He stops you with a touch on your arm. He seems slightly more serious.

“It’s a favor,” he says, pulling out a small rectangular package wrapped in plain brown paper. You look down at it in confusion.

“I saw on the work chart that you’re scheduled to go over to Sector 4 tomorrow,” he says. “Would you mind delivering this for me?”

Your brows raise at him. He raises $20 in front of your face.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he smiles.

You take the $20 and the package, though you’re still a little uncertain.

“What’s in it?”

Alec leans in close to your ear. “I’ll give you an extra $10 if you don’t ask.”

His voice washes over you and makes your skin prickle. You’re blushing, but your eyes narrow at him further.

“Make it $20,” you counter.

He scoffs. Though after a moment…he coughs up the extra cash.

“The most expensive damn delivery I’ve never made,” he mutters.

You have to crane your neck a bit, as he stands over a head taller than you, but you smile up at him brightly.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you say.

For him, maybe the expense was worth it to get that smile.

You pull up on your bike to what you think is the right address. You don’t usually come to this side of town, even in Sector 4.

It feels a bit like a shanty town and a meat packing district all at once—complete with dodgy-looking street vendors and unmarked vans loading and unloading cargo behind them.

“Can I help you, little girl?”

You stifle a gasp as your path is suddenly obstructed. A black man and his two white friends have crowded around your bike, but they don’t look normal. Various metal spikes and prods protrude from their faces, neck, and body, but they’re not your typical piercings. The metal is fused into their skin.

Oh shit, you think, as your heartrate picks up. Steelheads.

“I’m just making a delivery,” you tell them. Your eyes dart to your surroundings, trying to catch anyone’s gaze for a little help.

But in big cities like this, everyone knows to keep their eyes down.

Don’t look, don’t tell. Don’t get any trouble.

“I think you might be lost, love,” says one of the other men. He’s British, by the sound of his accent, and is the taller of the two. His skin is pale, though there’s a red ring under his eyes that suggests drugs, or whatever else these three are injecting into themselves.

“Uhh, yeah. I must be. I’ll just go,” you nod, and you start to back up. The ringleader Brit clamps a bony hand on your bike to stop you. He grabs the scrap of paper Alec gave you, which holds the address for your intended delivery.

The Steelhead examines it lazily, before his gaze flicks back up to yours.

“Well, well. I stand corrected,” he says. He gestures to the small package in your hands. “What’s in it?”

You shrug and try to play off your ignorance. Because the truth is, you have no idea.

“It’s not my job to know,” you reply.

“Ah, but you see, it’s our business to know,” the Brit says, leaning in towards you. You lean back with pursed lips.

“This is our little piece of paradise,” says the shortest one. His lips are damn near purple.

“We’re what you call…territorial,” says the leader. He grabs you off your bike while the first man takes the package from you.

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” you say, though you hate the way your voice shakes. “I can just go—”

“Oh, we’ll let you go, little mouse. You’re gonna give a message back to sender,” the Brit says. “But first, a reminder.”

He shoves you back into the nearest wall. It’s solid brick that stuns a gasp out of you. He presses in on you, grabbing your face and dragging a sharp, unnaturally long nail against your cheek, biting into the skin.

It’s painful enough to make you whimper as you feel wetness drip down to your neck. His friends laugh at your discomfort, at your fear. You’re too frozen to reach for the pepper spray in your pocket…

“What’s going on here?” another man asks. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a black uniform. For the first time in your life, you’re grateful to see a cop.

The Steelhead releases you, and the three of them are subtle in the way they back off from you.

“Nothing here, officer,” the leader says. Though he gives you a smirk. “Just accepting a delivery.”

You let them keep the package and pretend that a signature has made it onto your clipboard. You climb back onto your bike and you leave Sector 4 without looking back. All the while, your arms shake and you wipe at the blur of tears in your eyes.

When you get back to the Jam Pony base of operations (a warehouse that feels like a basement), you park your bike out front and head inside.

Your legs still feel precarious. And even though the blood is dry against the cut on your cheek, you know you need to clean and disinfect it at some point.

Of course, you have to run into Alec and Sketchy, who are palling around without a care in the world.

That all stops when they turn to look at you. Their mirth dies on their faces. Alec’s gaze runs over you and stops at your cheek. You dab at your face, tentative and self-conscious. You know you must look like hell. Of course, they can’t let you just go to your locker in peace.

“Jeez, what the hell happened to you?” Sketchy asks.

You shake your head. “Fell into a bush.”

You drag Alec aside by his arm, giving him a warning look that further lets him know you’re lying. He follows you without complaint over to the lockers, where you two have the semblance of privacy. Before he can ask you what really happened, you snap at him.

“What the hell was in that package?” you ask. “Drugs? A weapon? Some other contraband? Do you know what could’ve happened to me if I’d gotten caught with that shit? Do you know what almost…”

Tears burgeon in your eyes all over again, and you have to take a deep, shaky breath.

Alec’s brows furrow in what might actually be concern. He grasps your arm, gentle but firm.

“Hey, tell me what happened,” he says.

Unconsciously, his grip on your arm makes the memory flash in your mind: of that pale, greasy man grabbing you and pinning you against the wall.

You shrug out of Alec’s hold more harshly than you meant to. It makes him raise a placating hand, as his eyes widen a fraction.

“A gaggle of Steelheads,” you say. You breathe tremulously, blinking past your tears. “I was lucky…anyway. Next time you want to ask me for a favor? Don’t.”

You brush past Alec to get to your locker. There you grab the rest of your things and head out, though it’s quite a few hours before closing time. Nothing gets by Normal, who stops you at the reception desk.

“Hey, hey, Missy! Where the hell’re you going?” he asks. “Get back here. I’ve got packages that need homes.”

“I’m taking some much needed PTO,” you quip.

“You don’t have PTO. It’s not that kind of business,” Normal says.

“Then bite me,” you snap. “How’s that?”

Most of the room stills into quiet shock. You feel the weight of their gazes, your coworkers and friends, including Normal’s slackened face.

You’re normally not one to talk back. You accept your assignments without question, not wanting to cause undue trouble for yourself. Like everyone else here, you need your job, and you have nothing to fall back on.

But it’s enough, and you’re thoroughly done with today.

Your saving grace is that it’s plain to see how shaken up you are, even when you leave. Alec approaches the receptionist desk with Sketchy, drumming his hand on the counter absently.

“What the hell crawled up her keister?” Normal remarks. “She’s lucky I’m short staffed right now, or she’d be in the can.”

Despite his strong talk, he resumes collecting paperwork and organizing files to distract himself from how much you’d taken him aback.

Alec frowns.

“She uh, had to deal with some Steelheads,” he offers, and hesitates. “...What the hell’s a Steelhead?”

“Yeah, you know, they’re into implants and biotech stuff,” Sketchy explains.

“She would know better than to hang out with those low lives,” Normal interjects. “They’re amped off their gourds on hormones and who knows what else.”

Alec processes that with a deepening frown. He decides to head out onto his next “delivery.”

He makes it to Sector 4 on his bike within an hour, but he still envies Max’s motorcycle. When he racks up enough cash, he’s definitely scoring a faster ride.

For now, he pulls up near the address he sent you to earlier. He never should’ve given you his drugs to sell, especially when he clearly doesn’t know this city well enough yet.

Poor reconnaissance, Alec, he thinks. Sloppy.

Though when did he start to think of himself as Alec and not by his designation, 494?

He’s soon taken out of his musings when he sees a gaggle of three men outside a cargo van. Each of them is uglier than the last, with metal spikes, among other things sticking out from their bodies. Steelheads. They’ve got to be.

These are the guys who harassed you.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Alec says, climbing off his bike. The men turn to the newcomer with suspicious frowns.

“I’m looking for three fugly Steelheads that hassled a friend of mine this morning,” he says.

One is tall, pale and wiry, and he opens his arms wide. “Well, you found ‘em.”

He has a British accent. The sight of him alone grates on Alec, though all he shows is calm confidence. He teases the short one, who seems to be missing an arm. Apparently he’s “pre-op,” set to get a new cyber arm made of Japanese steel.

Fucking wackos, Alec thinks. Manticore could learn a thing or two from these guys about mutilation.

“Here’s the thing, fellas,” Alec says. “My friend was carrying a package that didn’t belong to her. It belonged to me. You guys took it, and I need to get it back.”

The first man scoffs. “There seems to be a breakdown in communication, doesn’t it?”

He approaches Alec, hands on his hips, with his two cronies behind him. Alec can already smell their stench from where he stands. He doesn’t need them to get any closer.

“Maybe your little bitch didn’t relay our message,” he says, pushing his luck.

Alec’s smile sharpens; a deadly warning in and of itself.

“Nobody around here sells Andy but us,” says another of them.

Androxtamine. Alec didn’t care to be a drug dealer. It was just a means to an end in order to pay Max back for her help a little while back. Now, his buyer is pissed that he didn’t get his damn drugs, and Alec is out $500.

He tries to explain that calmly to this group of weirdos, but the leader is just so damn cocky.

“What’s a puff like you need with $500 anyway, eh?” he asks.

Alec’s smirk deepens. He mimics the guy’s accent and replies, “Actually, I need it for a ride on your mum.”

Well, the Steelheads don’t take too kindly to that. They try their best, Alec will hand it to them. But his genetics and training make the resulting “fight” no more than child’s play. He takes his frustrations out of their asses.

He can’t help being slightly more brutal than necessary when he remembers the fear lingering behind your eyes. The bloody cut on your cheek. The way it could’ve been so much worse…

And it would’ve been your fault. Alec’s lips press into a line.

Logan Cale, Max’s rich non-boyfriend and secret “Eyes Only” vigilante, calls Alec halfway through his venting session to, surprisingly, ask for his help.

Alec agrees, because it’s mainly for Max. A creature has been killing cops in Seattle. Unfortunately, the description of a “man-dog” sounds way too much like Joshua, their fellow transgenic in hiding.

It also means Alec has to spend most of his afternoon in a musty sewer.

The job ends up being a bitch and a half, even when Max finally shows up to help out. The true culprit ends up being Joshua’s brother, Isaac, who Joshua is forced to stop before he kills any more policemen who remind him of Manticore’s abusive guards.

The gentle Joshua ends up having to take out his own brother. Something that’s both familiar, and foreign to Alec. (But he’s sure it’s not so foreign to Max.)

It’s a harrowing scene, and a touch too emotional for Alec’s comfort. He leaves Max to tend to Joshua in the aftermath and catches a ride home with Logan. Somehow though, as bone tired and grimy as he feels, Alec can’t feel right about going home just yet.

Something is niggling in the back of his mind, forcing him to hand Logan a scrap of paper that holds your address. (Alec might’ve snuck into Normal’s office before he left for the day to find out where you lived on your employee file.)

“Hey, can you stop at this address?” Alec asks.

Logan glances at the piece of paper and nods. He then looks over at Alec. They aren’t friends, but Logan is perceptive enough to know that something’s weighing on his passenger.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks.

“There’s something I have to do,” Alec supplies.

When they eventually arrive to what seems like an abandoned building, Logan looks over at Alec.

“Good luck,” he offers.

Alec nods gratefully. They aren’t friends, but he supposes Logan’s not so bad, even if he is a slave to Max’s supposed charms.

Alec gets out of the car and head inside the building. It’s old and dirty, and he really can’t believe you live like this. It lacks security and basic hygiene. If he wanted to, he could kick straight through your door with half of his strength.

Instead, he knocks.

A few moments later, he hears your feet padding cautiously to the door.

“Who is it?” you ask. Your voice is familiar and pleasant to his ears, if nervous.

“It’s me, Alec,” he replies.

It takes a second of your hesitation, but you unlock the door and open it.

He eyes your tank-top and shorts, the thin bra, your damp hair, the smell of your shampoo assaulting his heightened senses.

But the jagged red line across your cheek draws his attention, along with the confusion in your eyes, and the wooden spoon in your hand. Was that supposed to be your weapon of choice?

“What’re you doing here?” you ask. “How’d you even know where I live?”

“Ah, I told Normal I wanted to check on you. Make sure you weren’t going AWOL on the job tomorrow,” Alec says with a teasing smile.

You look a bit skeptical, but you let him in when he asks if he can. He smells whatever you’re cooking, spots the metal pot of pasta sauce simmering on the janky-looking stove, and his mouth starts to water. He’s starving, now that he thinks about it.

He then focuses on taking in the rest of the apartment…and it doesn’t take him long. This place is a shoebox.

At least it’s clean, as much as the peeling drywall can be.

“Why’re you here then?” you ask. Alec turns to see you have a hand on your hip. You’re staring at him like he’s a puzzle you’re trying to figure out.

You set down the wooden spoon on the counter and face him. Alec’s tempted to brush a stray strand of hair out of your eyes, but he keeps his arms down to his sides instead.

“About what happened today,” he says. “Those guys aren’t going to be a problem for you again.”

You tilt your head at him.

“What’d you do?” you ask with furrowed brows. “Something shy of legal?”

Alec starts to smile. “Maybe.”

You hmph in response. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Alec barely resists rolling his eyes, though he knows he deserves that. Once again, he takes in your apartment. It’s cozy, he supposes, if small.

“You live alone?” he asks. “No roommate? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” you say dryly. “But no. To both.”

That satisfies him, and yet there’s a little churn in his gut. This place is questionable at best. Doesn’t exactly boast decent security. He’s not too worried about the Steelheads trying to find you, but after the past few months outside of Manticore, he realizes how rough it’s become for humanity after the Pulse, especially for a woman alone.

“You could use a doorman around here,” he remarks.

You scoff in amusement. “Yeah, well. It may not be the Ritz, but as long as the heater doesn’t crap out on me, it’s a decent day.”

Alec doesn’t know what the Ritz is, but it sounds nicer than this dump.

You catch the silent look of judgment on his face, making you frown and cross your arms.

“I can take care of myself just fine, okay, Dad?”

Alec frowns and gestures to your face. “Yeah. Right. You’re little miss Fight Club.”

That sparks your temper. You glare up at him with a defiant tilt to your chin.

“This,” you point to your marred cheek, “wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you. I’m not an idiot. I don’t put myself in stupid situations, except for that one time I ignored my better judgment to help you!”

Alec glowers back at you, but he knows he doesn’t have a good defense. You take a step into his orbit and tap a finger into his chest.

“And by the way,” you add. Your voice cracks like a whip. “Whoever taught you how to apologize did a bang up job!”

By the end of your little rant, you’re breathing deeply, and Alec is barely holding onto his own temper. What cuts through it all are the frustrated tears brimming in your eyes.

He sighs internally.

They didn’t exactly cover this in training, he thinks, but he supposes that's just…Being Human 101.

All too soon, your anger dims into defensiveness. You withdraw from him and gesture to the door.

“Now if you don’t mind, please get out of my shithole apartment so I can finish cooking in peace,” you gripe.

“Wait, wait,” Alec implores, when you try to lead him out. He lets you back him up a step or two, just to seem human, but now he digs his heels in. He looks down at you with true regret.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His hand finds your unmarred cheek, caressing softly. His thumb swipes across your skin. “I am. I shouldn't have asked you to make that delivery. I'm sorry you got hurt.”

You stare up at him, breathing labored, and making your breasts just barely brush his sternum. Your eyes search his just as much as he is yours.

He isn’t actually sure who moves first, him or you. But when his lips meet yours, it feels like electricity under his skin. It’s magnets that are meant to connect—it’s his arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands and you grabbing his face, sinking your fingers into his sandy brown hair.

It’s teeth clicking and tongues warring as he backs you up to the kitchen counter, and he hefts you up there by your hips.

You squeal in surprise, making Alec chuckle before he swallows your sounds with his mouth.

You start to push his jacket off his shoulders, and he helps you, letting the rest of it slide right off, followed by his shirt and your tank top. His hands smooth up your bare thighs and his thumbs dip in between, squeezing near the apex of your thighs and making you tremble against his chest. Warmth pools in your core even from that simple touch.

“W-Wait,” you whisper.

It makes Alec pause. His muscles tense. Has he read you wrong?

He searches your face for a sign of discomfort. If you don’t want this, it’ll be…hard, at this point (for more reasons than one). But if he has to, he’ll let you go.

He’s relieved when you only twist away for a moment to turn off the stove. You return to him with a smile as your hands come to rest on his chest. You bite your lower lip.

“Shall we continue?” he teases.

His thumb encourages you to let go of your lip. He takes your chin between his fingers and guides you back to him.

The next kiss burns with a slower passion. One that consumes you enough to hook your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips.

He grins against your lips and lifts you again, this time holding you firmly against him. You make another sound of surprise, but you don’t let that stop you from delving deeper into his kiss.

He carries you into the bedroom and slams the rickety door.

Afterwards, the two of you lay together on the wrong side of your bed.

Alec lies on his stomach and you on your back. The night had gotten such that you stopped caring which side you typically put your pillow on. Your hair is fanned out on the mattress in many tangles he took pride in creating.

A shitty show plays on your small TV, but Alec is watching with rapt attention.

He’s kind of cute about it actually, you think. Like he’s never seen a soap opera before.

“Ooh, that one’s my favorite,” you point backwards. “It’s about a sexy doctor, obviously.”

“Right, because I’m sure doctors always have this much sex with their patients,” Alec quips.

You snort and shake your head. You stare at the side of his face for a moment, rather than the TV.

The back of his hand rubs against your shoulder, earning your attention.

“What’re you thinking?” he asks. He’s still looking at the screen.

“That I’m even hungrier now, but I don’t feel like getting up,” you admit with a giggle. He laughs.

“I wouldn’t mind some chow,” he says.

You roll onto your stomach, taking some of the sheets with you when your knee slides over, resting against his naked lower back. You lean your chin on his shoulder as your hand travels across his back.

“Is that your way of inviting yourself over for dinner?” you ask.

He looks over at you then. He’s grinning, but his eyes are a touch softer, you think.

“If you don’t mind me crashing,” he says.

You shake your head and sift your fingers through his hair. Your gaze drifts down the back of his neck and catches on a strange mark. It’s a barcode, you realize, touching it lightly with two fingers.

“What’s this? A prison tat?” you tease.

He chuckles humorlessly. “Sort of.”

Your amusement fades, but your soft fingers along the back of his neck elicit a small shiver out of him. Your touch is gentle. He isn’t used to gentle, and it makes goosebumps spread across his skin. He feels your lips press a kiss to his shoulder next, and he turns his head to look at you.

Beautiful, he thinks, taking in your face again, and the hint of cleavage down the sheets covering you, hiding the familiar curves he had all too much fun exploring.

“You gonna tell me the story?” you ask. “Or save it for a rainy day?”

Alec lets out a sigh through his nose. “Let’s pencil that one under the ‘Rainy’ column.”

You nod in agreement and bite your lip. These days, everyone has a story they’re not proud of. Even something that keeps them up at night. You don’t press Alec for his.

He’s grateful for that. He leans in and kisses you, nice and slow.

From the beginning, he noticed you. Your tenacity. Your quiet confidence. How you’re always willing to help your friends, and how you’ve never taken any of his shit, even if he knew part of you had been contemplating his suggestive offers. That spark always kept him coming back for more…and somehow, it became more.

In the back of his mind, this scares him a little. Being with you feels dangerous in a way that feels both familiar and foreign, but it’s too late. He’s been hooked by the pull of you. It’s a craving he can’t help but try and fill. Hopefully, not just tonight.

“You said something about food?” he grins.

You smile and lean in again, until you’re mere inches from his lips.

“Hmm, impromptu dinner date?” you offer. Alec laughs quietly and nods.

“We kinda went about this backwards,” you say, “but if you like spaghetti and plain sauce, I’m your girl.”

He smirks at that, and thumbs at your chin.

“Then you’re my girl.”

AN: And there's Part 1! It's only my second time writing Alec, so I hope he feels in character. Let me know what you think of this little series so far. 😘💜

There's much more in store over the next three parts, and the next one tackles perhaps my favorite episode (2.11), even if it's the most gutting.

Next Time:

“All right, that’s enough outta you,” Alec says, and he claims you with a more demanding kiss. His fingers sink into your hair tightly.

But you press your hand to his cheek, making him pause for a moment. The amusement fades from his eyes the longer he stares into yours. You’re not teasing or joking anymore.

You kiss him then with meaning. With tenderness.

You don’t know how it makes that coil of guilt grip him like a vice.

Keep Reading: PART 2

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httpscomexe · 11 days

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Ensnared 5

Summary: Your leg is fucked, but so are you. (This is probably the last chapter, might pick it back up, idk)

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Yandere!Logan Howlett x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past injury with some description, anxiety and stress, mentions of medicine, aggressive dog, manipulation, some yandere aspects, violence, knives, attempted knife play, blood, pv, (Individual warnings per chapter) (Logan is an official warning as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Thank you)

Tags: @sammyluvsfics

Word Count: 2838 (Find all chapters here)

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Your leg was healing well, considering the crushed bones, enormous scars, and bloody bandages that had to be replaced at least once a day.

It hurt like fucking shit.

You were constantly stressed. The pain in your leg was unbearable when you weren’t either taking pain medications or in a deep sleep after taking sleeping medicine. Then there was also Logan. He was sweet to you, so you didn’t understand why your body rejected him so much. You suppose it was because you naturally couldn’t be attracted to the man that kidnapped you, murdered someone you knew, and then acted like everything was okay.

The bear trap was your fault, you should’ve stopped when he said it was unsafe.

Spilled hot coffee on yourself? You weren’t paying attention.

It was also your fault that the mailman died. Even though it was his three claws that stabbed into the man's throat. But you shouldn’t have whispered ‘help.’

Everything bad that happened, it all led back to you.

And no, there weren’t any twisted mind tricks, or shit manipulation tricks that were making you believe it was truly your fault. It was just literally your fault.

Everything that happened that was bad could’ve been stopped if you were just more careful, but it was hard to be careful when you were walking on eggshells in front of this man. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, but even if he did, say… backhand you, it would be your fault for provoking him. And that wasn’t easy.

A bark comes from beside you on the couch. The pitch black german shephard was staring at your sandwich, that was the only time Logan ever defended you, because the dog was trained to watch you, and bite you if you’re being an ass.

“Shut up dog.” He didn’t even bother giving the dog a name. He’s settled for calling him ‘dog.’ But the boy still listens, stepping off the couch and moving to lie down in his dog bed upon hearing Logan's angered voice. “You need to teach that dog to respect you.”

“You’re the one that trained him to kill me.”

“No, I trained him to keep you inside and hurt you only if you managed to get out.” He explained for the 5th time this week, you could tell he was starting to get annoyed.

“Well he bit me the other day…”

“Because you raised your voice at me.”

“You were being mean!” Your voice squeaks, and you turn around to face him in the kitchen. He was wearing his white beater and thick jeans, the teddy bear socks you ordered for him were on his feet, keeping him warm.

Was it wrong to admit you still loved and cared for him?

Probably.

But you did. When you had felt his feet on your thighs a few weeks ago because he was using you as a footrest as you two watched Bambi, his feet were absolutely freezing. “Holy shit dude, did you just come inside after walking in the snow barefoot?” You had pushed his feet off your lap, and he eventually let you search online for some socks. It took some convincing, but he eventually ordered the fluffy teddy bear socks. And now he wouldn’t stop wearing them.

You were just happy he was warm.

“Whatever.” You mumble after he doesn’t answer you, but he walks over to sit next to you on the couch. You still had a pillow placed on your lap which you’ve been cuddling all day and night, the word ‘home’ written on it in bold brown letters, making it pretty homey honestly.

“Whatever?” He groans as he sits down.

“What’re you groaning about old man?” You lean forward slightly, and he chuckles, your powers picking up the vibration in his chest which makes you feel fuzzy.

He was so sweet to you when he was in a good mood.

“Come here puppy.” He pats his lap, and you quickly move forward, tossing your pillow to the side to cuddle into him like an actual dog.

The way he wants you to.

You were the puppy, and he was the owner. He told you, followed by your smart ass biting him at every chance you got. He was honestly lucky you still had enough decency to not shit and piss on the floor out of spite.

But for some reason, you grew on him.

“Good girl…” He whispers, holding you close against his chest, not tight, as he wanted you to be comfortable.

He was always warm, especially his feet. It always brought a sense of happiness and comfort to you, even after you two fought.

You look down at the dog, he’s resting already, snores coming from his nose. But you know he’s still watching your every move somehow.

“Are you okay?” You nod, leaning further against him, seeking the most warmth you could as his hand moves under your shirt to start rubbing circles on your back, something he’s learned that you love, considering it makes your face redden.

“I have a question…” You mumble against his chest, part of you hoping he didn’t hear you.

“What’s the question?” You’re quiet for a moment, debating how to ask it.

“Promise you won’t get mad at me?”

“If you think I’m going to be mad, then I’m probably gonna be mad. Ask it.”

“What do you plan on doing with me…?” Your voice shakes slightly, and you begin to pick at your skin nervously when he doesn’t answer. Gently, he sits you up, making it so you look into his eyes. Your faces are just inches apart.

“Are you scared?” He asks, his voice quiet like he’s speaking to a horrified child.

You nod.

You hated to admit it. But you were scared.

He scoffs, shaking his head slightly at your movement. “Why would you be scared of me?” He grins, his hands cupping your cheeks, making you look even chubbier. “I love you, my angel… I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you…” He finishes his sentence with a kiss. His lips feel like poison against yours. “I love you.” He says again, his forehead pressed against yours. “Say it back. Say you love me.” He demands, grip tightening.

“I love you too… Logan.” You say his name with venom laced around every word like a snake choking their next meal. Then you had an idea. “Can I please get some water?” A smirk grows on your face, and you rock your hips slightly against him, biting your bottom lip. You’ve never been a seductress, but the growing tent in his pants tells you you’re doing good.

“Of course baby, go ahead.” He lets go of you, and you slowly stand, making sure to make nice sways of your hips as you move into the kitchen, reaching up and grabbing a glass, which you fill with water from the sink.

Your plan was simple. Though you weren’t too sure how it would play out.

You hear light feet behind you, the dog was going to sleep for the night. That makes you worry less. Looking in the reflection of the microwave, you could see Logan was looking away, so you quickly reach over, stealing a knife out of the knife block, shoving the blade into the back of your panties, making sure not to cut yourself, leaving the handle sticking out.

You take a deep breath, and begin to walk back over to Logan who was now facing the TV, both of his arms draped over the back of the couch. His eyes find you, smiling above your glass of water as you take a sip, your devilish eyes on him.

“That’s a different look.” He sits up slightly, but you keep him down by straddling his lap. “Am I finally winning-?” Your lips attach to his, the glass still in your right hand while your left hand gently grabs his jaw.

“You want me Logan?” You whisper, the sound making his hips jerk up against you, and his hands move to your hips. You had to move before he found the knife. His lips quirk into a smile, then he suddenly flips you over onto your back, the blade of the knife cutting your skin slightly, causing your hips to jerk upwards against him, a moan coming from his lips as they attach to the skin of your neck, his body still grinding against yours.

You try to reach behind your back, but it’s almost impossible to lift your body with his fucking boulder of a body lying on top of you.

“Are you lying on something?” His fists move to the sides of your head, then he leans on his forearms, giving you enough room to lift your back up, reach behind your back…

“Logan…” You whisper his name, the smile on your lips gone.

“Yes love?” He sounded so innocent.

“I fucking hate you.” You chuckle a little, then in the blink of an eye, the silver of the kitchen knife disappears in the side of his neck, a gurgle coming from his throat as he looks down at you in confusion, his face reddening and his mouth hanging open slightly before he collapses on top of you. SHIT. He was fucking heavy. It was like an elephant decided to take a nap on your chest. “Shit, get off!” You shout, struggling to move him, having to use your entire body as you manage to slip out from under him, making him fall onto the floor with a loud thump, the knife still sticking out of his throat as you quickly run into his room, grabbing a jacket and his truck keys before darting back out.

And your stomach turns.

He’s standing there. Perfectly fine.

He stands in front of your exit, his fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife, and he yanks the blade out, blood only gushing from his neck for a moment before you watch as the wound closes in just a few seconds. It takes a moment to realise he’s looking at you now, his key ring around your pinky finger as you stare at him in fear.

“No… Logan- Just hear me out-” You stutter as he approaches you, picking up the knife he threw to the floor as his walking becomes faster, backing you against a wall.

“What the fuck was-”

“I’m into knife play…” You spit it out as if it was a true confession. No, you weren’t into it. Or at least you’ve never tried it.

“You’re into knife play?” You nod your head. “Yea I knew that wouldn’t kill you.”

He stares at you for a long moment before speaking again.

“Well that’s good to know. Get in the bed.” He demands, taking a step back so you could manoeuvre into the bedroom. “Come on, clothes off.”

“Logan-”

“Clothes. Off.” He repeats, pointing towards the bed with the kitchen knife, and you finally listen. You watch from the bed as he lodges the knife between the crack of the door and the wall, pulling the door slightly to see if it could budge, and it doesn’t. “Knife play, huh?” He checks, moving to the bed and pulling your legs closer until they are hanging over the bed, and he settles himself between them. “Sounds fun.” He tells you, then suddenly reaches into the bedside draw, pulling out a pocket knife, flipping it to reveal a sharp blade. “Let me just make sure it’s sharp enough.” He grunts, lifting your arm, drawing the edge of the blade just barely over your forearm, and it easily leaves a paper like cut, making you wince. “Perfect.” He grabs the back of your thighs, and throws you further onto the bed, quickly crawling between your legs, the knife positioned on your stomach, keeping you still.

“Logan-”

“Shut up you fucking liar.” He growls, pushing his lips onto yours as he uses the knife to pull your panties aside, flipping the tool to rub your clit with the handle.

“Shit-”

“No, I said shut the fuck up.” He stops, and his eyes stare into yours.

Now you have a decision.

Let the asshole hurt you, and possibly walk away without getting fucked.

Or give into your desires.

The option wasn’t hard to decide.

“Sorry… daddy…” You moan, rocking your hips slightly, searching for some friction.

If you were going to be stuck here, you might as well enjoy it. But you weren’t too sure he would ever get over the knife kink after he was done with you.

“Daddy, hm?” He smirks, and you feel his body because less tense, less angry as he lies on top of you. “Stay still angel.” He tells you, putting the knife to the side for a moment as he pulls his shirt over his head, and your eyes stare at his body. It was like looking into a bag of freshly baked Hawaiian rolls. You might’ve made it a joke about wanting to bite him before. Being his ‘puppy,’ but now you really wanted to bite him. To taste him between your teeth.

Savour him.

“Mm… Please Logan…” You moan his name. You weren’t sure what had come over you, but now you wouldn’t be able to resist him. You need him.

“Begging too, I like it…” He reaches down, unbuttoning his jeans and removing his belt, tossing the belt to the side before tugging down his jeans slightly, and pulling out his cock, red and angry, already leaking precum. You wanted to just wrap your lips around him, feel him and taste him in your mouth, take him deep down in your throat. “Should see the ways your eyes are growing… Now you definitely look like a fucking puppy.” His lips attach to your throat, biting the lobe of your ear and tugging slightly as his hand rests on your waist, his other arm on the bed, being careful not to crush you this time.

His hand moves, lifting your waist slightly, and you take the hint. Wrapping your legs around his waist and he hooks his finger in the lace of your panties, pulling and breaking it easily before ripping them off completely and throwing them aside.

He pushes into you without any warning, not wanting to waste another second as his lips never leave your skin. You were slightly jealous, but you couldn’t even voice it, the only sounds that came from your throat were the pleasured moans drawn out by the thrusting of Logan's cock into your cunt, giving you to time to adjust as he ruts into you like a starved dog and you’re in heat. You loved it. It felt amazing. You’ve let plenty of larger men fuck you, but barely even thirty seconds into allowing Logan to fuck you, you already felt brainless. Jumbled words of desire, a few ‘daddy’ies and a couple ‘feels so good,’s all leaving your lips as he slams his hips against yours, his hands eventually gripping your thighs and spreading you further as he moves your legs to rest on his shoulders, you barely even notice the movements. Then he forces himself into you harder, his cock lathering your walls with your juices as he makes you cum, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let him use you like a doll.

A few minutes pass, and you weren’t sure when, you weren’t sure how, but you at some point move to sit on top of him, riding him like you had the energy of a twelve year old boy seeing the lego store in a mall,bouncing and rocking your hips like your job was just to fuck Logan, and his hips also rock against yours, his entire dick balls deep inside of you as you both lather what most would consider the most disgusting kisses all over eachother lips, spit and some tears from your own eyes covering eachothers lips as you both slobbily kiss eachother, his own lips eventually finding one of your nipples as he licks and bites it, your hands moving to his shoulders to keep yourself steady before his body suddenly shifts again, now you’re against the headboard, and he’s rutting into you again, the bed shaking viciously while his mouth smothers yours, and your mouth smother his.

Then his constant thrusting seems to get faster, and you feel your stomach tighten. You’re both close, and he doesn’t let up.

“Where, puppy… Tell me where…” He says with emotion laced in his face. You knew where he wanted you.

“Inside… Please Logan, inside…” He moans, his body rippling slightly and you feel his warmth seep through you, covering your walls in white. He thrusts a few more times before pressing another kiss to your mouth, more of a peck, then he rests his forehead on yours. “Does this mean you’re done with your stupid attitude?” He asks, you shake your head.

“You’ve gotta try harder than that…”

#marvel #marvel smut #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #smut #wolverine #logan howlett #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #ensnared

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danny-phantom-slut · 2 months

Text

heavy is the crown (12k)

A rewrite of Season 2, Episode 5, Reign Storm.

Phantom wins the throne through trial by combat.

Danny was in the middle of English class, head down on his desk in the back of the room, trying to hide from Dash and Kwan (it wasn’t his fault they were after his ass – well, okay, maybe it was his fault, because he’s the one that played multiple pranks on them, but still!), when he felt something in his core shudder. It felt like a wave – a tsunami, really – of ectoplasmic energy slamming into his core. Danny froze and tensed up for a few seconds, gripping his pencil so hard that it snapped, damn his ghostly strength. Then the moment passed, and the energy was gone. Danny immediately looked up, startling Star, who sat next to him. She gave him and his pencil a dirty look, but Danny didn’t pay attention to her. He was too distracted by the foreboding feeling in his core. It wasn’t the typical blue mist that indicated a ghost, but somehow, he knew that a ghost was causing his core to cower.

It was strange. Usually, his core reacted angrily to another ghost coming into his haunt, or it reacted happily to his friends being around, but never had it cowered before. Danny didn’t do fear, he got too much adrenaline from the fighting to even consider being scared.

Unfortunately, it was in that moment that Mr. Lancer called on him to read the part of Sebastian in the “Twelfth Night” by Shakespeare, forcing Danny to actually pay attention to what they were doing in class. Danny sighed as he picked up his book – “act two, scene one, Mr. Fenton,” Mr. Lancer said – and flipped to the required page. His core continued to shudder for a moment, then settled.

Danny started to read in a dead voice, “By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me …”

Danny Fenton and Valerie Gray were running as fast as they could – or rather, Danny was keeping pace with Valerie, trying his best to resist the urge to jump into the air and fly away at Mach speed. They both had good reasons for running; Valerie, from her stalker, Nathan; Danny, from Dash and Kwan, whom he had pulled multiple pranks on earlier in the day. Fenton Works was close, but up ahead there was an alleyway that was even closer. Danny and Valerie locked eyes for only a moment before hastily jumping into said alley, pushing each other behind the dumpster that gave prime hiding real estate. Except – there was already someone there. Behind the dumpster sat Sam Manson, one of Danny’s best friends.

All three looked at each other, confused. Danny shoved at Sam to make room for him behind the dumpster, sitting beside her. His recent growth spurt made it hard to pull his lanky legs out of sight, but he managed. Without a word, Sam pointed at Danny, and he shrugged, arms hugged around his legs. “Hiding from Dash.”

Sam pointed at Valerie. “Hiding from Nathan. You?”

Sam only jerked a thumb over at the alley entrance, where her mother, Pamela Manson, ran by. “Sammy-kins!” She screeched; her eyes were wide. She looked around, and Valerie ducked behind the dumpster just in time. Pamela was holding a god-awful looking dress; it was a pastel pink, yellow, and white. It had puffy sleeves, a frilled collar lined with pink hearts, and a ballroom-skirt with lots of pink, frills, and hearts. Pamela looked very distressed. “At least try it on!”

She kept running, going right past their hiding spot.

“Fair enough,” Danny conceded. “But we can’t stay here – my house isn’t far, and we can all hide in it.”

The three of them got up and quickly hauled ass to Fenton Works.

As they ran, Sam frowned over at Danny. “So, what’s up with this?” She asked discreetly, making sure Valerie didn’t hear. “Why are you helping her all of a sudden? After everything she’s done to Phantom?”

Danny knew what Sam was talking about. Valerie had become the Red Huntress in the last month of their freshman year, almost a year after Danny had his accident in the summer before and became Phantom. Ever since getting her ghost hunting suit, Valerie had been relentless in her pursuit of ghosts – and all of it was bad. She absolutely hated all ghosts. The Red Huntress was indiscriminatory and went after both the destructive ghosts, like the Box Ghost, and the local ghostly hero, Phantom. Not to mention that the Red Huntress didn’t care about keeping ghosts safe and alive (heh – alive, ghosts), and that she had the mindset of “tear them apart molecule by molecule,” just like Danny’s parents. So, Danny often had to save the ghosts she went after, only painting him more as a villain in her eyes.

“Well, she helped hide me from Dash earlier,” Danny said, picking his words carefully. He chose not to mention how he may have still held an old candle for Valerie, even after everything that had happened. “I’m just returning the favour. It doesn’t need to mean anything.”

“Well, just be careful,” Sam whispered, just as they reached the steps to Fenton Works. “The last thing you’d want to do is invite your arch enemy into your own house.”

His arch enemy was inside his house.

His father’s hulking figure, dressed in a neon orange and black hazmat suit, sat over a small chess table, his features frowning down at the pieces. For as much as Jack Fenton was a genius when it came to engineering, he was not very bright in other aspects of life – case in point, chess. His sister, Jazz, sat on the sofa reading a book on psychology. Her bright orange hair was pushed back with a teal headband that matched her pants. And his mother, Maddie Fenton, stood above both; she was wearing her teal hazmat suit with her red goggles pulled up over her eyes. She held a teapot in one hand, with her other hand on her hip. She glared down at …

Vlad Masters, otherwise known as the halfa Vlad Plasmius, Danny’s self-proclaimed arch nemesis.

Vlad sat across from Jack, hand on his rook, as he turned to face Danny at the door. “Ah! Hello, Daniel!” He grinned maliciously; his voice way too chipper for all the devious deeds Danny knew he’d done before.

“Too late,” Sam muttered.

“You!” Danny said. “What are you doing here?”

His mother, who didn’t like Vlad anymore than Danny did, and was actually quite obvious in her dislike, ‘accidentally’ poured hot tea onto Vlad’s crotch. Vlad cried out in pain. Maddie narrowed her eyes behind her goggles. “Totally valid question, Danny.”

“Still steaming!” Vlad said, voice cracking.

“You have no idea,” Maddie growled out.

Vlad looked appropriately cowed, up until Maddie left the room, and he turned back to Danny with a smirk. Danny didn’t like that look on his face. “I was just, you know, passing through. And then I saw that marvelous battle suit –” Danny remembered the Fenton Ecto Skeleton his parents were working on, and just how powerful of a weapon it would be … if it actually worked “– and thought, since I can’t just destroy Jack and take it, I suppose I’ll steal its secrets right out from under his nose!” He followed up his words by flicking a finger at Jack’s nose, causing Jack to look up in confusion, too stupid to understand the threat.

Vlad and Jack stared at each other for a good long while, until they both burst into laughter at the same time, as if Vlad had just told a funny joke and hadn’t threatened Jack’s livelihood. They held onto each other like they were good friends and not estranged college classmates.

“Oh, I swear,” Vlad laughed, “I am such a joker! More tea, please?” Maddie poured the tea over Vlad’s head, not even pretending for it to be an accident, and Vlad cried out, “not there, oh!”

Maddie swiftly left the room, along with Jack, who followed her, looking lost.

Danny was quick to jump on Vlad now that his parents weren’t in the room. He got in Vlad’s face. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Vlad, but – well, no, actually, I do know. You literally just told everyone your plans. You’re going to try to steal the Fenton Ecto Skeleton.”

“That’s right!” Vlad snapped, “and say a word about it, and I’ll share your little … secret. I’m sure mom and dad would love to know their son is a freak and – ah, the young Miss Gray.” It was only then that Vlad seemed to notice Valerie standing behind Danny. Vlad’s eyes sparked red for a split second, so quickly that if you blinked, you would have missed it, thinking it was just a trick of the light.

Valerie blinked. “You know me?”

“How do you know her?” Danny demanded, feeling protective.

Just then, there was a loud beeping sound, coming from the bust of Jack Fenton on their fireplace mantle. The eyes kept flashing red as a warning. Jack rushed over to the bust, flipped the head up, and pressed the giant red button underneath. Above the mantle, the TV flickered to life, showing a black screen with “GHOST ZONE RADAR” written in bright red on the top, with a neon green grid below. In the middle of the grid was a giant green swirl, and in the corner, little ghost icons slowly encroached on the middle. It was obviously some sort of map – something anti-ghost that his parents had once again created. Danny had thought the bust was stupid when his father first created it, thinking it nothing but a conceited self-portrait – in the same way his father had to name everything “Fenton” such and such – but now it put him on edge. He hadn’t known it was actually some sort of anti-ghost tool.

“Galloping goblins!” Jack exclaimed, staring with wide eyes at the screen. “It’s the Ecto Exodus Alarm!”

“The Ecto what?!” Danny asked – no, demanded. He needed to know if this was something dangerous, something that could harm him or other ghosts. Behind him, his sister and friends seemed just as confused and concerned. Fenton inventions weren’t exactly known for working well …

“The Ecto Exodus Alarm,” Maddie repeated, looking just as frazzled as Jack, “or the EEA. It’s an alarm we attached to the sensors on the ghost portal, which are linked to this map on the screen. That right there –” she pointed to the green swirl “– is our ghost portal. And that –” she pointed to the ghost blob icons “– are the ghosts. The alarm can sense when large amounts of powerful, sentient ectoplasm encroach on the portal – and it’s only supposed to go off if we’re about to face a massive ghost invasion!”

Danny immediately looked over at Sam and Jazz. “Stall them!” He hissed, then he was off, running downstairs to the Fenton Ghost Portal.

Danny ran downstairs, pushing off the last step and doing a front-flip, transforming mid-air. Familiar blinding white halos flickered into existence at his waist, splitting apart and traveling up and down his body. His skin faded into a light shade of blue, his eyes flashed an ectoplasm green, and his hair was shocked white and started to float. His ears elongated into points, his canines sharpened into fangs, and his freckled started glowing and moving like the constellations. His clothes morphed into his iconic black and white hazmat suit; his boots a glowing white, and his gloves making room for his claws.

Phantom’s core pulsed excitedly, eager to face the ghosts (he couldn’t help it, fighting was just in his ghostly nature), making the room drop several degrees. Adrenaline was already flowing. Right before his feet hit the ground, he automatically started to float in the air, the natural state of ghosts.

Phantom sped toward the portal to try to shut it off before any ghosts could get through, but he was too late. A ghost flew out of the portal, a blur of blue and white, barreling into Phantom, pushing them further into the room … but it was just the Box Ghost. Phantom got up off the floor and reached for the Fenton Thermos at his waist, already laughing.

“BEWARE!” The Box Ghost shouted.

“Oh, Ancients,” Phantom said, chuckling. “It was just you?”

Just then, a bright green beam came out of the ghost portal, hitting Phantom and knocking him back several feet. He was still looking down when a large metal boot slammed in front of him, and Phantom looked up, only to see – “Skulker?” Phantom gasped.

But Skulker didn’t even look at Phantom.

“I told you there was a way out through here,” Skulker said. He turned to face the portal. Behind him, through the swirling green ectoplasm of the ghost portal, multiple heads popped out. Phantom recognised some of them – Ember, Lunch Lady, Walker – and some of them he didn’t recognise – ghost eels, ghost demons, and ectopuses. They all had one thing in common – they all looked scared. Skulker grimaced. “Now, save yourself – go, go, go, go!”

They didn’t need anymore direction. The ghosts all immediately left the poral – not just Phantom’s usual rogue gallery, but hundreds of unidentifiable ghosts, ghost animals, and even blob ghosts. They shot out of the portal like there was something chasing them.

Behind Phantom, he heard his parents cries as they got closer.

They could not see Phantom and these ghosts in their basement, or they would lose it.

Phantom grabbed onto Skulker, turned them intangible, and shot them up through the roof. As soon as they were in the sky and alone, Phantom turned to face Skulker, fists at the ready. “Now, what in the hell is going on –”

Someone grabbed onto his fists, holding him back, and Phantom looked up, surprised. He came face to face with Dora in her dragon form, with Sidney Pointdexter sitting on her back. Sidney frowned down at Phantom. “Phantom, I know this might sound a little fishy, but Skulker isn’t the bully here. Not this time.”

“Bully?” Phantom exclaimed. He backed off, floating a few feet away from Skulker. “What are you talking about? What is going on – what are all you guys running from?”

From the densely packed group of ghosts crowding the sky, Ember floated out. She strummed her guitar, creating a foreboding melody. “His name … is Pariah Dark,” Ember said. “The Ghost King and ruler of the Infinite Realms. Somehow, he’s escaped from the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, and he’s angry. He’s searching for something – but we don’t know what. He declared the entire Ghost Zone as his, though, and that’s why we needed to escape.”

“Pariah Dark? I’ve never heard of him before,” Phantom said. “How could one ghost chase out thousands of other ghosts? He’s just one person.”

“You misunderstand,” Skulker growled. “Pariah Dark is not just ‘one person.’ He is the Ghost King, in possession of the Ring of Rage and Crown of Fire. With both, he has near limitless power. He existed long before all the other ghosts in the Ghost Zone even spawned, and he will exist long after we have all faded. He used to run his kingdom with an iron fist, until the Ancients decided he was a tyrant. It took all of them teaming up to finally seal him away in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep – and now he’s escaped!”

“The – the Ancients had to team up to defeat him?” Phantom thought about the sheer power Clockwork, the Ancient of Time held, just on his own, and then imagined that tenfold. And even that had barely been enough to defeat this ‘Pariah Dark’ guy? His throat ran dry.

“Yes, and now he’s really angry, and really powerful,” Ember said.

“You said he was searching for something – what? Maybe if we give it to him, he’ll leave the rest of you guys alone?” Phantom said, grasping for straws. “Because you guys cannot stay in the Living Realms. It’s not safe for you guys – not with my parents and Val – er, the Red Huntress around.”

“You think if we knew we would be here right now?” Sidney demanded. “Pariah Dark is just a big bully – even if we gave him what he wanted, he would just go back to being a tyrant.”

“Well, you guys can’t stay here –”

As if to prove his point, an ecto blast shot past him right at that moment, almost clipping his shoulder. Phantom immediately flew to the side to dodge the other incoming blasts. He glanced down at the ground, spotting his parents. Jack had a Fenton Bazooka hooked over his shoulder, and Maddie held an anti-ghost net, ready to throw it down over any unsuspecting ghosts that got close by. Phantom’s core shuddered angrily – how dare they try to hurt his rogues?

“Scatter!” Phantom yelled.

All the ghosts listened immediately, rogue or not.

“So, the equipment is to your liking? It functions properly, does it?”

Vlad sat on the edge of the building beside the young Miss Gray, who was dressed in her hunting suit and floating on her hoverboard. After the Ecto Exodus Alarm went off, it was easy to snatch the girl’s backpack while she was distracted, essentially cutting her off from her ghost hunting equipment. From there, he only needed to reveal that he was the one who gave it to her – providing information that only one who created the suit would know to prove it – and to share his “ghost-hunting” inclination to get the girl to trust him. From there, he gave the ghost hunting equipment back and convinced the girl to fly them out of Fenton Works to somewhere a bit more … private.

“Heck yeah!” Valerie exclaimed. She folded her hoverboard up back into her suit, sitting down beside Vlad and dangling her feet over the edge of the building. “It’s like you designed it just for me!” Then she paused, as if realising how creepy that was. “… Why would you do that? I’m like, fifteen.”

Vlad smiled – a soft thing, with wide eyes. “Why, Miss Gray, you’re the most capable ghost hunter I’ve ever seen! You’re smart, you’re fast, you’re strong, and most importantly – you’re motivated.”

“Really?”

It was like luring flies in with the sickly-sweet smell of the venus fly trap. Now he just had to close the claws before she could fly away. Vlad put on the charm, chuckling as he spoke. “Of course! Why else would I say such a thing? I’d have to be some sort of … diabolical villain to manipulate you like that!” Valerie stared at him for a moment, as if unsure about the joke. Then she started to giggle, and Vlad joined in. Together, they laughed heartily. Finally, she was in his trap. And now, to finish the plan … “And, my dear, it’s the reason I can trust you with this …”

Vlad put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a ring.

But not just any ring – it was the Ring of Rage.

It looked like a ghostly signet ring – it was a bright neon green, made of crystallised ectoplasm, and on the broad side was black obsidian, with an emerald inset skull engraved in the stone. The ring was magically enchanted to fit the finger of every person who came in possession of it, as well as giving a power boost to any ectoplasmic entity that owned it. The only nasty side effect was that it could also enhance the emotions of the wearer, sometimes causing emotional – and wrathful – outbursts.

Valerie stared down at it in confusion. “A … ring?”

“Not just any ring!” Vlad lied. “It’s a ring from my family, and it’s been passed down from ghost hunter to ghost hunter for generations. Made of the very ectoplasm that ghosts are made of, it’s virtually indestructible, so no nasty ghosts can ruin it.”

“I … don’t know what to say,” Valerie said, eyes now wide.

“Don’t say anything, dear – but please, let’s keep it our secret, hmm? We wouldn’t want anyone else to find out and try to take it from us, would we?” Vlad asked. He slipped the ring on her finger, grinning.

Valerie nodded. “I won’t let you down, Mr. Masters!”

Vlad chuckled darkly. “I’m sure you won’t.”

Deep within the ghost zone lay Pariah Dark’s keep. Once upon a time, it used to be a large castle surrounded by acres and acres of land, with a whole kingdom standing on the island. But after the battle between the Ancients and Pariah Darm, during which Pariah was trapped in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, the Ancients destroyed the area surrounding the castle, scared of the power and wealth Pariah had built up. The buildings and land surrounding the castle crumbled, leaving Pariah’s Keep isolated on its own small island in the Ghost Zone.

That didn’t mean it was now unimpressive, however. Pariah’s Keep was still a large concentric castle, well put together and not crumbling, resembling one castle nestled inside the other. It looked like something straight out of the middle ages, with a moat and everything.

Inside said Keep stood hundreds and hundreds of ghost skeleton soldiers, all dressed for battle and war. They all floated inches off the ground and glowed an ectoplasmic neon green, gnashing their fangs in excitement. At the head of these soldiers stood Fright Knight, an ancient and powerful ghost, the spirit of Halloween, and the Ghost King’s second in command. He had large and muscled body, adorned with black and grey full-body armour. His faced was obscured by a black helmet with a mohawk of spikes on top, which was only accentuated by the flaming purple hair and cape and flaming grey gauntlets. It was paired with his ectoplasmic sword called Soul Shredder, which had the ability to make ghosts fade.

A ruthless knight, Fright Knight was known to strike fear into the hearts of anyone he went against.

At the very front of the group of skeleton soldiers stood three unique ghost skeletons. One wore typical Roman armour, with a gladius at its side. Another wore a World War II uniform. The last one wore clothing typical of the Vikings, paired with a Viking helm and long braids. All had vicious fangs and canines, glowing red eyes, and long claws. They were the generals of the skeleton army.

“Your armies are amassed?” Fright Knight asked. The three skeleton generals all saluted Fright Knight, silent but sure. Fright Knight grinned. “Then, on my orders –”

“On my orders,” a loud, booming voice said from behind.

Fright Knight spun around, surprised. Fright Knight was a looming eight feet tall, but Pariah Dark absolutely towered over the Fright Knight at almost twenty feet tall. Pariah was a large, well-built ghost, with a white face outlined by a red helmet. He wore an eye-patch over his left eye and had a scare over his right. Pariah also had a gorgeous mane of long, green hair, and a braided green beard. He had two grey horns on either side of his head, the left of which was broken. His outfit consisted of black full-body armour, with grey shoulder guards, boots, and gauntlets, and he had a green belt with a metallic circular buckle with a green skull in the middle. At his waist was his sword, Reaper, which had the power of absorbing ghostly cores to enhance his power. And on his head sat the Crown of Fire, a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. It was made of crystallised ectoplasm infused with the power of Pariah’s core, lighting it on fire eternally. It was supposed to be paired with the Ring of Rage, which would have sat on his left-hand ring finger, but …

“Go to that world,” Pariah demanded, baring his razor-sharp teeth, “bring the Ring of Rage to me, and to those that stand in your way – show them no mercy!”

“Dude, you okay?” Tucker asked, looking concerned. In the fluorescent lights of the cafeteria, Danny looked dead … well, deader than usual. His features were gaunt, skin impossibly pale, with large circles under his eyes. Danny gave Tucker a deadpan stare, and Tucker blushed. “Sorry, standard question. Late night?”

“Of course, it was a late night. Every ghost I know – and about a million I don’t – are loose in the Living Realm and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it, because apparently, they’ve been kicked out of the Ghost Zone by some maniac Ghost King who wants the entire Zone to himself! And instead of having to fight them, I had to protect them from my parents all night, who were trying to capture them for experimenting!” Danny exclaimed, getting more and more frustrated as he went on. He threw his hands out in helplessness. “Not to mention, I couldn’t sleep because my arch enemy was in the guest room next to me.”

“My parents sleep in the bedroom next to me,” Sam offered. At Danny’s glare, she shrugged. “I mean, it’s not the same, but I can’t sleep either.”

Danny was about to retort – no, it was not the same thing at all, especially since Sam didn’t need to worry about her parents ripping her apart molecule by molecule – when behind him, he heard: “Oh hey, Danny.”

Danny immediately plastered a smile across his face, just for the sake of things. “Hey, Val.”

“‘Hey, Val’?” Tucker repeated, looking unimpressed. He turned to Sam, jerking a finger over at Valerie. “Isn’t that the same ‘Val’ who’s usually on a jet sled trying to kill Danny?”

“Yup,” Sam said, voice sarcastic, “and apparently, next week, we’re having cookies with Skulker!”

“You might want to … uh, bag-lunch-it outside,” Valerie said, looking concerned for something Danny couldn’t fathom. She, too, didn’t look too good that day. She had large bags under her eyes, her hair was frizzy, and her outfit seemed ill put-together, as if she hadn’t had time to look at what she was putting on before leaving the house. One thing that struck Danny as odd was the green and black ring she wore – Valerie had never been one to wear jewelry, even when popular. But then Valerie started speaking again, distracting Danny. “This isn’t exactly the safest place for you right now.”

“What makes you say that?” Danny asked, confused.

Just then, he felt two large presences approach behind him. Danny sighed.

“Hey, Fenturd!” Dash said, grinning down at Danny maliciously. His stupid blond hair was styled perfectly with gel, and he wore his football jacket, like he did the other three-hundred-sixty-five days of the year. “Guess what? There are no teachers around to protect you now.”

“Dash, take a hike, will you?” Danny snapped. His core pulsed angrily, wanting to freeze the jock in a block of ice – but that was a big no-no. Not if he wanted to keep his identity as Phantom a secret, and if he wanted to stay as a hero instead of a villain. When Dash didn’t budge, Danny frowned. He resisted the urge to bare his fangs. “I’m way too tired to put up with you! Besides, shouldn’t you be failing a test, kicking a puppy, or beating up someone weaker than you right now?”

“Come to think of it? Yeah! And guess what? You’re weaker than me!”

Dash went to throw a punch, but at the last minute, Danny went intangible, letting the fist fly right through his chin. Dash stumbled from the motion of the punch, not expecting to not hit anything. For a solid few seconds, everyone in the cafeteria stood stalk still. Dash looked down at his fist like there was something wrong with it. While everyone was distracted, Danny discreetly shot an ecto-beam at Dash’s shoes. Ectoplasm had highly acidic properties, was extremely corrosive and, at high enough temperatures – like, per say, a ghost’s ecto-blast – could melt things. Danny’s ecto-beam easily melted the plastic of Dash’s shoes to the ground. Luckily, no one noticed.

When Dash finally regained his wits, he growled. “Oh, that’s it, Fenturd!”

But when he went to take a step forward, his shoes stuck to the tiles, making him trip and fall to the ground. Danny was quick to take his chance, and he ran away from the cafeteria while Dash was incapacitated. Behind him, his friends ran after him. They only came to a stop once they reached the bleachers in the back fields, far enough away – and hidden behind the bleachers – for no one to see them.

“That was sweet!” Tucker said, out of breath from running after Danny.

“Is it?” Sam asked, putting her hands on her hips. She, too, was slightly out of breath. Danny rolled his eyes, his core sending out static annoyance. They’d already had this argument before; Sam didn’t believe in Danny using his powers for anything other than hero work, but Danny tried to get her to understand that he was literally a ghost – or, well, half-ghost – and that using his powers casually, even for mischief (especially for mischief) was in his ghostly nature. “I know Dash is a jerk, but what if he saw something?”

“He’s not going to see something,” Danny dismissed. “If no one has noticed anything for the past year and a half, no one is going to notice anything now. Besides, I’m tired of getting kicked around all the time. It’s time I do something for myself!”

Sam’s expression twisted into something Danny couldn’t read, but Danny wasn’t willing to argue with her about this, so he turned away.

The large ghost had commanded the skeleton ghosts to “find the King’s ring,” whatever that meant. Ghosts were always doing insensible things, courtesy of their cores and obsessions driving them to far extremes. They just weren’t capable of higher, intelligent thought. Besides, Maddie was too busy trying to get Jack out of the Fenton Ecto Skeleton pants to focus on what the ghosts were looking for. The Fenton Ecto Skeleton pants, which were draining Jack of his energy, using him as a battery to charge the machine. It was a scary thought, being a battery and potentially being burned out.

If only there were some other sources of energy, something that was naturally occurring and had large amounts of power – like a ghost’s core! Hmm …

The army of mindless ghost skeletons swarmed Amity Park. They marched through the streets, throwing and breaking cars, cutting fire hydrants, pulling parking meters, crashing storefronts, and causing immeasurable property damage. They searched through apartments, stores, and more. They even chased after humans, determined to find their King’s Ring of Rage.

“Those poor humans,” Sidney Pointdexter said. He was hiding out on the roof of one of the many apartment buildings in Amity Park. He turned the gaggle of ghosts behind him, who didn’t look nearly as concerned as him. “They’re being overrun by ghost bullies!”

“Oh, who cares about them!” Ember scoffed. “That is the Ghost King’s crew, which means he’s on his way here! And did you hear what Fright Knight said? They’re looking for his ring!”

“A ring that we do not have,” Skulker said. “Which means when Pariah Dark comes through that portal, he will not hesitate to set Fright Knight on us, whether we have what he wants or not. So, we have to camouflage ourselves.” He turned to the streets of Amity Park, where a hoard of humans was running from the ghost skeletons. He grinned. “And you hear that? That’s confusion and panic, which means it’s the perfect time to find our hiding places.”

Behind him, the ghosts smiled.

The screen showed a pretty woman with orange hair and teal eyes, dressed in a pink dress with matching earrings. She shuffled her papers in front of her, professional as always, despite her shaking hands. “Hello, this is Tiffany Snow, with Action News! And tonight, we are covering the Ghost Emergency Broadcasting System, or the GEBS. Amity Park is in the midst of a massive ghost attack! Sources say that while the attacks have been happening for over several hours, and there has been numerous property damage –” the screen showed multiple ghost skeletons flipping a car over, and other clips from the news station “– no humans have been seriously harmed. There are no reported injuries or fatalities. And now here’s Lance Thunder, with the ghost weather.”

“As you can see, we have random ghost activities in restaurants, malls, and this box store.” Action News showed a brief clip of the Box Ghost haunting the box store, shouting “BEWARE!” at any approaching humans, but running at the sight of the ghost skeletons. “If you look to the West, you can see a huge wave of ghost skeletons heading from the center of town toward Casper High. All parents are advised to immediately pick up their children and run – run for your lives! No! NO –”

Maddie gasped as she saw the news reporter overrun by ghost skeletons in their news station.

No injuries or fatalities, her ass.

She needed to go get Danny and Jazz – right away!

What was Plasmius doing in the school? Was Danny’s only thought when he first saw him.

He was quick to escape from his friends and the rest of the student body by running into a janitor’s closet and transforming into Phantom. The familiar white halos appeared within seconds, and Phantom turned intangible and flew through the school, chasing after Plasmius, all the way to the football field. When Plasmius finally landed and stopped, Phantom bared his fangs and readied an ecto-blast. “What do you want, Plasmius?” He demanded. He knew he could kick Plasmius’ ass ten ways to Sunday if he wanted to – and man, did he want to – but right now, he needed answers.

“Calm down, Phantom!” Plasmius scolded. “I didn’t come here to fight you; I have other things to worry about!”

The sound of a horse, and the stomping of hundreds of feet, interrupted the two. Both turned, eyes wide, as they saw Fright Knight riding atop a black horse with large, bat-like wings. It had massive canines, like a sabre-tooth tiger, and had glowing red eyes. Behind it came a rushing skeleton army, all dressed in a mix of modern military uniforms, Roman armour, and Viking-esque armour.

Fright Knight plowed through the football field on his ghostly pegasus, wielding Soul Shredder. Phantom knew full well what the sword could do – and how it could made ghosts fade – so he dodged immediately, flipping away through the air as Fright Knight swung the six-foot long blade. Unfortunately, the football goal post was in the way, and was easily cut in two. Phantom landed on the ground, ducking and rolling, and jumped back up right in front of several ghost skeletons. He was quick to shoot a powerful ecto-blast at the first one, then punched the next one that got too close. It went down like a sack of potatoes, the bones collapsing in on themselves. A blue mist escaped from his mouth, and he turned just in time to see the sword of a Viking ghost skeleton coming down – only for a pink ecto-blast to destroy it, saving Phantom.

Phantom turned to Plasmius, who had shot the ecto-blast. He was baffled. “You’re helping me?”

Before Plasmius could say anything, he was grabbed by the front of his suit by Fright Knight, lifted off the ground. Plasmius may have been six feet tall, but Fright Knight was eight – and atop a horse. Fright Knight growled. “The King’s ring – return it!” He demanded.

Ring – they were looking for a ring? Phantom knew about Pariah Dark from the other ghosts, but they had originally not known what Pariah was looking for. Was he really causing all this fuss for a ring?

“I don’t have it!” Plasmius snapped. “But, if you join me, perhaps we could –”

Just then, a large red ectoplasmic blast shot at Plasmius and the Fright Knight, effectively knocking Fright Knight off his horse and Plasmius several feet behind. From the sky, the Red Huntress descended on her hoverboard, carrying her blaster over her shoulder. “Guess what everybody?” She yelled, “the best ghost hunter in Amity Park is here! And that means you’re –” she pointed to the ghosts “– about to get your ass handed to you!”

Plasmius staggered to his feet, whispering to Phantom, “she really is quite good at this.”

“She also thinks we’re the enemy!” Phantom hissed.

“… Good point,” Plasmius said.

The Red Huntress swerved down to the field, hovering in front of Phantom. She aimed her blaster directly at him. “Alright, ghost,” she spat, as if talking to him physically disgusted her. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s, uh, kind of hard to explain right now!” Phantom said. “Wait, look out –”

The Fright Knight got up and was back on his pegasus, charging straight toward Phantom and the Red Huntress. The skeleton ghost army followed behind him. Before they could get too close, Plasmius shot up and made multiple duplicates of himself, using them to shoot down the incoming skeletons. He protected Phantom and the Huntress. The Red Huntress, though her mask covered her face, still looked visibly confused. “Uh … thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Phantom said. He floated out of line of her blaster. “Look, I know this is going to be hard to believe –” behind him, Plasmius was body-tackled by Fright Knight “– but right now, that guy is the problem right now, not Plasmius. And I could really use your help to get rid of him.”

“I still don’t trust you,” the Red Huntress said, “Or your spooky friend.”

“You don’t have to trust me!” Phantom yelled, “just fight with me! Or else the entire Living Realm is going to be overrun with ghosts and a rabid Ghost King forever!”

Phantom held out his hand for the Huntress to shake, and after a moment of hesitation, she took it.

Phantom grinned.

Together, the two flew in to save Plasmius. Phantom shot multiple quick-fire ecto-blasts, while the Red Huntress used her blaster. The Fright Knight was pushed back several feet by all the blasts, and the unlikely team – two halfas and a ghost hunter – continued to fight. They must have taken out hundreds of ecto-skeletons, with Phantom and Plasmius focusing solely on the Fright Knight, making sure Soul Shredder didn’t hit anyone, before Fright Knight seemed to finally snap. “You fools!” He growled. “All I wanted to do was seize the Ring of Rage and return to Pariah Dark’s Keep. But now you give me no choice. By the authority vested in me by my King –” Fright Knight took Soul Shredder and stabbed it into the ground, until only three feet of the blade was left in the open “– I claim this town, now and forever under the banner of Pariah Dark, the King of all Ghosts!”

From the blade, an ectoplasmic green light shot upward into the sky, changing the skyline to greens of the Ghost Zone. Amity Park shook as if under attack from an earthquake. Cracks appeared in the ground, surrounding the entire town, and all the skeleton ghosts stopped moving. A huge, green-like dome descended upon Amity Park, separating it from the outside world. Then, finally, Fright Knight stood before Soul Shredder and spoke. “The sword is sunk, the die now cast. The sword removed shall signal fast, make reappear the ring thou hast, or your next day shall be your last.” And with that, Fright Knight disappeared into thin air.

“Again, with the ring!” Phantom said. “Where is this ring he’s talking about?!”

He glanced over at Plasmius, suspicious.

Plasmius only shrugged with a small smile.

Phantom’s eyes narrowed.

On the screen sat the pretty woman from before. Her hands were no longer shaking, probably from the fact that she was in a new studio and away from the ghost skeletons. “Welcome back, to the big scary town watch! Otherwise known as Ghost Emergency Broadcasting. I’m Tiffany Snow! We’re in our fourth hour of captivity, and tenth hour of ghost invasion. Amity Park remains cut-off from the outside world. With more on that, outside the safety of our studio is our very own weatherman, Lance Thunder! Lance?”

The station cut to a view of the outskirts of the dome, with Lance Thunder in front of the camera. His blond hair was styled perfectly once again, clearly having been fixed since being overrun by ghosts. His suit, however, was still rumpled from earlier.

Lance didn’t seem to realise he was on air yet.

“Why the hell do I have to be here, I’m a weatherman, for the love of – oh!” Lance finally noticed the person behind the camera making cutting motions with their hands. He plastered a wide smile on his face. “Tiffany! Despite the odd circumstances, an eerie calm has fallen over Amity Park, with the ghost skeletons having stopped attacking. Unfortunately, emergency teams are still having no luck in piercing the dome surrounding Amity Park.” Behind him, there was a giant metal drill, with several volunteers in hazmat suits manning the machine. They attempted to drill through the dome, but it only sparked and made the drill blow up, causing the volunteers to run away, screaming. “It seems to be made of some sort of electrically charged ectoplasm, which is why everyone is advised to stay away from the outer edges of the dome, lest they be shocked or hurt. Wishing he had taken that job in Chicago, this is Lance Thunder, Action News, out!”

Danny and Valerie, who had been watching the news on the Fenton TV, turned to each other with matching looks of concern. They were currently hunkered down in the basement of Fenton Works, with carbon-steel enforced metal walls and anti-ghost tools up the wazoo. If there was anywhere safe to be in a ghost invasion, then this was it.

Behind the two teenagers, Maddie and Vlad worked tirelessly to finish the Fenton Ecto Skeleton. Even Vlad, who usually wore pristine suits and had his hair gelled back, was now wearing overalls and work boots, and his hair was pulled back in a high bun to keep it out of his face. Jack would have been helping his wife and friend, if he hadn’t still been too drained and ill from using the Fenton Ecto Skeleton pants earlier, protecting Maddie and Vlad from Fright Knight. The pants had literally drained the strength and energy from his body to charge the suit, and he was paying the price.

“This suit is the only hope we have to punch through that ghost dome,” Maddie said, welding a piece of the suit together. She took a step back to admire her work, and she pulled her goggles up and over her head to reveal her blue, almost purple eyes. “But I still don’t think we’ll be able to perfect the neural receptors. The suit simply needs a lot of energy, and we don’t have a battery powerful enough to substitute.”

“Which is why I’ll wear the suit,” Jack said. He was sitting over by a lab work bench, ice pack on his head to ease his raging migraine. “If anybody is going to beat that ghost back into the Ghost Zone, it’s me!”

He stood, as if making a point, but almost immediately became dizzy. He groaned.

“No, Jack!” Maddie scolded. “Look at you! You’re still wiped out from the last time!”

Danny grinned as he leaned over to whisper to Vlad, who was still under the Fenton Ecto Skeleton, tinkering with the bolts. “It kills you, doesn’t it? How much they love each other?”

“I have other things to worry about!” Vlad snapped. “And … so do you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Vlad was already turning back to the suit to tinker some more.

Valerie decided to get away from … whatever weirdly charged tension was between Danny and Vlad and headed back upstairs in Fenton Works. In the living room, though it was scattered with open wires, various ecto-guns, and had ectoplasm stains everywhere, it was still a somewhat cosy place, if only because the furniture was all over two decades old, there were multiple blankets, and the TV was one of those old box television sets from the seventies.

Still hurt from the ghost fight earlier against – what was it Phantom called him? Fright Knight? – Valerie was quick to take a seat on the couch in from of the TV, sighing into the soft cushions. Sam and Tucker were also in the living room – when were they not at Fenton Works or around Danny? – and Tucker looked over at her, concerned. “You feeling any better?” He asked.

“A little,” Valerie admitted, “though I’m surprised you care.” And she was surprised. Sam and Tucker seemed to hold a grudge against her since day one. “You guys don’t like me very much, do you?”

“Well, we don’t know you very much,” Sam said snidely. She crossed her arms, frowning; Tucker also looked over Valerie with a critical eye. “And honestly, you used to be pretty mean to us when you were still hanging out with the A-listers, like Paulina and Dash. You think we’re going to just start hanging out with you without wondering what you want? And what you’re going to do with that obviously ecto-infused ring?”

“What I want?” Valerie asked. “I don’t want anything from you guys. And the ring officially falls under the category of none of your –”

Before she could finish, Danny skipped up the steps behind them, almost like he was flying. He smiled when he saw Valerie, and Valerie smiled back at him. She couldn’t help it – he was cute! With his tousled black hair and baby blue eyes, anyone would think he was adorable. “Hey, guys!”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. She leapt off the couch to storm up to Danny, grabbing him by the forearm. “Can I talk to you for a second?” She asked, before not even listening to him and dragging him off to the nearest closet. On the way, she also grabbed Tucker. She locked eyes with Valerie, right before slamming the closet door closed behind her, cutting Valerie off from the group.

Valerie glared after her.

In the closet, Sam turned the light on, so at least two of the three could see something. Danny didn’t need it because he was a ghost, and ghosts could naturally see things in the dark. All three sat in a cramped circle, surrounded by spare hazmat suits and winter boots.

“Yo, dude!” Tucker said, almost immediately. “You do know that the minute you turn into Phantom, she’s going to shoot first and ask questions never, right?”

“She’s not going to find out!” Danny dismissed.

“How do you know she’s not snooping right now?” Sam demanded. She leaned in, worried. “What if that ecto ring on her finger is some sort of ghost detection device?”

“Wait – ring? What ring?” Sam only rolled her eyes and pointed at the door. Danny turned intangible and invisible and peeked his head out from the closet, spying on Valerie, who was still sitting on the couch and watching the news on their older-than-dinosaurs television set. He spotted a green and black ring on her finger, and with his enhanced vision, he was able to see the green skull carved into the obsidian gem. If he focused, he could feel the strong power of ectoplasm leaking from the ring. He didn’t know how he didn’t notice before. Suddenly, he remembered seeing the same ring on her before, in the cafeteria of Casper High. It had struck him as odd, because Valerie didn’t wear jewelry – at least not usually.

Danny pulled himself back into the closet and turned visible again. “Oh, man. We have a problem. I think that’s the ring that the Fright Knight is looking for! But I just don’t know how she could have gotten her hands on it, unless … Vlad must have given it to her!”

“Isn’t Vlad a little old for her?” Tucker joked.

“He’s obviously using her to hide the ring from Fright Knight,” Danny said, slowly piecing everything together. “But why the ring is so important, I don’t know. Something fishy is going on. And I have a feeling that the other ghosts know what is going on.”

“Skulker!” Phantom called.

Using his ghost sense to find the other ghosts was usually easy – after all, he only needed to trace the sentient ectoplasm he could sense, and he usually ended up finding whatever ghost it was that was wreaking havoc on Amity Park at the time. But Amity Park was now filled to the brim with hundreds of thousands of ghosts, and paired with the natural ambient ectoplasm that was always present, it was harder to discern the different ectosignatures and find the specific ghost he was looking for. Luckily, he had lots of practice in finding ectosignatures, thanks to all the times he needed to hunt down certain ghosts in the Ghost Zone.

“Skulker!” Phantom called again. The abandoned gun shop was completely trashed, but Phantom knew that Skulker was around, he could sense him. “Skulker! Skulk – Ember? Sidney?”

Phantom’s eyes widened when he took in the gaggle of ghosts in the store. Bullet, Dora, Ember, Klemper, Lunch Lady, Sidney Pointdexter, Technus, Walker – it was like his entire rogue gallery was here. He knew that they all came through the portal together, but he hadn’t known that they had stuck together in the Living Realm. Ghosts were mostly solitary creatures, so it surprised him.

“Phantom,” Sidney said, “we need your help.”

“Only if you tell me what’s going on,” Phantom said, hands on his hips. “And what is this big fuss about a – a ring? That Fright Knight wants.”

“Very well,” Skulker said. “You already know part of the story: it was many years ago, before you, before me – before most of us – that there was a ghost called Pariah Dark. He was the king of both the Ghost Zone and the entire Infinite Realms.” Phantom remembered Skulker saying that before, but even now, he struggled to wrap his head around ruling the entire Infinite Realms. It was, well, infinite, after all. “Pariah ruled with an iron fist alongside his second in command and enforcer, Fright Knight.”

“Another thing you need to know –” Skulker said “– there are many ghostly artifacts that can only be used by ghosts or denizens of the Ghost Zone. One of these artifacts was the Crown of Fire – a crown which was made of crystallised ectoplasm, and which gave the wearer power over other ghosts. With this power, no ghost could refuse any order made while the person wore the crown. Well, they could try, but only the most powerful ghosts – the Ancients – could resist the Voice of the Crown of Fire. The other artifact was the Ring of Rage. Also made of crystallised ectoplasm and obsidian, the Ring of Rage lends the power of the Ghost Zone to the wearer – fueling them with infinite ectoplasm. But it had a nasty side effect of enhancing the emotions of the owner, oftentimes causing emotional – and wrathful – outbursts. Paired together, the Crown of Fire and Ring of Rage give the user infinite power. But it is also dangerous, because that infinite power could overtake the core of the user and make them fade.”

“Pariah was a ghost of such power and magnitude alone that he was able to control the energies contained within both artifacts. When wearing both, Pariah could do anything he wanted. He was a tyrant. That was, until a group of powerful ghosts – the Ancients – banded together in a last-ditch effort to defeat the King. They locked him within the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, another powerful ghostly artifact, capable of putting any ghost to sleep for an eternity … or so we thought. Somehow, he escaped. And now he’s wreaking havoc in the Ghost Zone once again.”

“He’s looking for the Ring of Rage,” Ember said, “as you’ve already figured out. Pariah has only been free for a day, and he’s already destroyed our homes.”

“And that’s without the ring,” Phantom summarised, finally seeing just how strong Pariah Dark was. He bit his lip, thinking about what to do next. If Valerie had the ring, that meant that she was going to be a target for Pariah and Fright Knight. But … that must have been exactly what Vlad wanted, to keep the heat off his own back. He needed to get the ring away from Valerie, and quickly. “We can’t let him get the ring back,” Phantom decided. “Somehow, we need to get him back into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep again. But I’m going to need your guys help to do so.”

“And what, exactly, do you think we can do against a ghost like Pariah?” Skulker demanded.

“Well …”

Phantom flew down to the front door of Fenton Works, de-transforming back into Danny mid-air and flipping down to the ground. His skin melted from the icy blue to a sickly pale colour, punctuated by strong freckles across his cheeks and shoulders. His ghostly white hair fell to the power of gravity and became tousled and a night black. His eyes went from their shocking green to a baby blue. His black and white hazmat suit shifted to his usual NASA t-shirt and ripped jeans. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a normal human boy. But both he and Vlad knew otherwise.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Vlad asked, looking smug as he leaned on the Ghost Assault Vehicle, which was parked in front of Fenton Works. He was back in his stupid, pristine suit, hair gelled back obnoxiously.

“You’re putting innocent people in danger,” Danny growled. “It stops – now.”

“Really?” Vlad said, chuckling darkly. He crossed his arms, looming over Danny. “You know what I’m up to? Your tiny teen mind has pieced together the rest of my plot?”

“Yes, it has,” Danny said, not rising to the bait. “I know that you stole the Ring of Rage, woke Pariah Dark from the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, gave the Ring of Rage to Valerie to hide it, and now you’re waiting for your chance to steal it back.”

“That’s pretty good!” Vlad said, as if he was complimenting Danny, but they both knew better. “It’s almost as thought I barely consider you a threat.” Danny felt his core pulse angrily – he was just so angry at how nonchalant Vlad was being about putting so many people in danger – and he knew his eyes were burning a toxic ectoplasm green. Vlad only grinned. “Oh, there’s that temper of yours, again. What are you going to do? What if Valerie sees us, hmm? You wouldn’t want her to know you’re a freak, would you?”

Danny growled. He shot an ecto-blast at the nearby streetlamp, causing the light to shatter and drench the area in pitch dark. Vlad cursed – that was one thing that he hadn’t developed as a halfa that Danny did: night vision. Now with the upper hand, and ensuring no humans could see, Danny shot an ecto-blast at Vlad. It knocked Vlad almost a whole block, enough to land at the next streetlight. Danny jumped and rolled, letting familiar transformation rings slide over his body. His core sparked, eager for the fight to put out his aggression. When he jumped up after his roll, he kicked at Vlad, sending him hundreds of feet into the air, and halfway across the town. Sometimes, ghostly strength helped.

Vlad hit a billboard sign and slid down to the top of a roof, letting his own transformation rings appear, changing him into Plasmius. He floated up from the roof. “Sneak attach – very good, Phantom. You’re getting more like me with every battle.”

“I am nothing like you!” Phantom growled. “I don’t put innocent people in danger!”

He flew upwards and punched Plasmius directly in the sternum, knocking him another few hundred yards away. He hit him so hard, in fact, that Plasmius landed back in the football fields of Casper High School. Phantom flew up to Plasmius and grabbed him by the front of his suit, only for Plasmius to grin at him. Phantom furrowed his brows, until Plasmius spoke. “Oh, you’re not like me? Using your powers to get back at people you don’t like? Throwing the first punch? You’re more like me than you know!”

Plasmius shot an ecto-blast and knocked Phantom across the field. When Phantom got to his feet, however, he realised he was directly next to the Soul Shredder, still stuck in the ground from earlier. He remembered the words from Fright Knight earlier. He frowned.

“Oh, yeah?” He said to Plasmius. “Well, if I’m more like you than I though, then instead of asking you to give the ring to me, I’ll make you!”

He reached out to Soul Shredder, both hands wrapping around the hilt of the giant sword.

“Phantom, no!” Plasmius cried. “The sword is a signal!”

“I know,” Phantom said. And then he pulled the sword free, having to use all his ghostly strength to do so. As soon as the sword came out of the ground, the ghostly green dome that surrounded Amity Park … fell apart. From the centre of the dome, large cracks appeared, until the entire dome looked like a starburst of fractures. The pieces then started to drop, large, crystallised chunks of ectoplasm falling from the sky. But as the pieces fell away, it revealed that the entire town was no longer in the Living Realms, but instead, in the Ghost Zone. The sky was painted many shades of swirling green, random purple and black doors floated about, and the edges of Amity Park dropped off into nothingness.

The ghost skeletons, who had previously been stationary in the streets of Amity Park, now all flew upwards into the Ghost Zone, to congregate at the side of the Fright Knight. And beside Fright Knight … that must have been Pariah Dark. He was twice as big as Fright Knight, adorned in black and grey armour, and wore what was obviously the Crown of Fire atop his head.

Fright Knight held out his hand and though Phantom resisted it, Soul Shredder was pulled from his grasp and shot toward the Fright Knight.

The Ghost King floated gently down to the ground, but when his feet touched the dirt, it cracked and splintered under him, as if the sheer force of him was too much to withstand. Pariah observed Phantom and Plasmius, who had both frozen under his gaze. Pariah tilted his head, as if confused. His eyes glowed a bright red. “You’re not … ghosts. But you’re not, not ghosts, either. Freaks of nature – will there ever be an end to today’s surprises?”

Phantom’s core cowered under the gaze of Pariah Dark.

Then, behind him, Phantom heard – “hey, stone-face! Surprise!”

From the sky descended the Red Huntress, holding her blaster over her shoulder. She shot it at Pariah Dark, blinding him momentarily. Pariah yowled like a hyena, then turned around and shot a strong, red, laser-beam from his one good eye. The Huntress was forced to dodge the large beam, dropping her blaster in the process, and accidentally running into the football goal post. She fell to the ground but was quick to get up, forming a smaller blaster on his wrist to shoot – except, it malfunctioned, broken from the fall, and sparked. The Red Huntress yelled out in pain at the heated blaster sparking, and she ripped her glove and the blaster off her hand. But by doing so, she revealed –

“The ring!” Fright Knight yelled. “Give that to the King, now!”

The Huntress looked down at the ring that sat on her finger, then back up at Pariah Dark and Fright Knight. She knew she was in over her head – and she needed a distraction. Her visor turned downward. She removed the ring, pulled out a torpedo shooter, placed the ring on the torpedo, and hefted it over her shoulder. “You want it?” She said, “then go get it!”

She shot the torpedo out into the endless Ghost Zone, watching it disappear into the green. Then she booked it out of there, heading toward the Fenton Ghost Shield like her life depended on it.

Fright Knight was quick to follow after the Red Huntress, raging as he hit Soul Shredder into the ghost shield over and over again. He had long lost sight of his King, who he had left back at the fields of Casper High, but he knew he needed to go after that miscreant that had dared attack his King. He yelled as he hit the shield again, the glowing green dome not giving under his ghostly sword.

“This – is – not – over!” He grunted with each hit, in a rage watching that dastardly hunter walk away.

“Actually, my loyal servant,” Pariah’s voice said behind him, “it is.”

Fright Knight stopped, letting go of his sword and dropping into a deep bow at the feet of Pariah. His frown, which bared his fangs, was vicious. But then – then he smiled. Pariah never smiled. Except then Pariah opened one of his clenched fists, showing the Ring of Rage within his palm. Pariah chuckled darkly, escalating into a loud, shrill laugh, as he carefully put the ring on his finger. Once the ring was on, Pariah’s features scrunched up in pain as the sky glowed bright, and the ring sparked. A bright, blinding light lit up the sky, the source of it being Pariah Dark – it flickered, turning the world white, black, and green for several moments, as Pariah screamed in pain. But it only took a minute, and then the light died down, showing how Pariah dark was glowing an endless ectoplasm green, courtesy of the ring. The flames of the Crown of Fire were brighter, larger, and hotter than before.

“Come, we have plans to make,” Pariah said, slightly out of breath, “for soon, this human world will also be mine!”

“Danny!” Sam exclaimed, bursting into his room, “you’re – you’re okay!” Danny turned around, revealing a passed-out Valerie behind him. She was covered in bruises and dirt. Sam took a step back, startled. “Whoa – what happened to her?”

“You name it, it happened,” Danny said. “Fright Knight, Pariah Dark, Plasmius – all of my enemies.”

“Dude, you can’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault,” Tucker said, stepping into the room from behind Sam. “Valerie chooses to go into ghost fights – you know this.”

“Maybe it’s not my fault,” Danny said, “but it is my responsibility. The humans in Amity Park, the ghosts, the Ghost Zone – all of it. It’s my responsibility to keep it all safe as Phantom. But this time, I just … I froze. As soon as Pariah Dark came, it was like … it was like my core stopped working. I couldn’t handle his presence. And Valerie got hurt as a result. She passed out just within the ghost shield, and I was barely able to drag her to my room after, escaping Pariah and Fright Knight. Now I don’t know where Vlad is, Pariah has the Ring of Rage, along with the Crown of Fire, and the entirety of Amity Park is stuck within the Ghost Zone. I don’t know what to do!”

“Danny,” Sam said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, “you need to stop catastrophizing. Take a deep breath, and let’s go through this logically. You’re powerful on your own – and you have the support of hundreds of ghosts right now. You said they agreed to help you. If you all attack together, then you must have a chance against Pariah Dark!”

“Sam’s right,” Tucker said. “As much as I don’t like it, we need a plan to go up against Pariah – and you’re our best bet.”

Danny sighed. “Okay, let’s do this, then …”

Travelling through the Ghost Zone with almost a hundred rowdy ghosts was not easy, but eventually, they made their way to Pariah’s Keep. When they got there, there was maybe a hundred – no, thousands of ghost skeletons surrounding the Keep. Phantom quickly realised he didn’t need to defeat all of them – he only needed to make a path through them, enough to get to the doors of the Keep and find Pariah Dark. With his rogue gallery behind him, Phantom let loose on the ghost skeletons. He blasted away hundreds of skeletons with his ecto-blasts and froze hundreds of others. Klemper was right behind him with his icy breath, covering them in a deep impenetrable snow. The Box Ghost assaulted several with boxes and bubble wrap, while Dora let loose a torrent of fire from her maw. Ember knocked some out with her sonic blasts, and Skulker shot multiple bombs and used his nets to incapacitate them.

When they finally carved out a pathway to the Keep, Skulker turned to Phantom. “Now go, defeat Pariah! So, that I may be free to hunt you another day!”

“Wow, you really know how to motivate people,” Phantom snarked, but entered the Keep, nonetheless.

He flew through long, tall corridors, until he finally came to a set of red wooden doors over twenty feet tall. His core shuddered at the sheer power emanating from behind the door, and he deep down, he knew, that this was going to be his final stand. He kicked the doors open, knocking them off their hinges, to open into a large throne room. At the end of the room, behind the throne, sat the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. And standing between the sarcophagus and him was none other than Pariah Dark.

Standing twenty feet tall, adorned in strong armour, and holding a glow spiked mace, Pariah was every bit the fearsome King that he was thousands of years ago. Pariah grinned at him. “I was hoping you would come,” Pariah said, “if only so I could see the freak of nature again.”

“What do you say,” Phantom said, “we skip the snappy banter and go right to the part where I kick your ass! You shouldn’t have the Crown of Fire or the Ring of Rage!”

“Very well,” Pariah conceded, “I accept your challenge and terms.”

Pariah launched himself at Phantom, swinging his mace – which was almost as big as Phantom – downward. Phantom put up a large ectoplasmic shield, blocking the hit. The mace came in contact and immediately shattered the shield from the sheer force of Pariah’s power and strength, forcing Phantom to flip backwards and away from Pariah. He regained his wits quickly and shot a powerful ecto-blast at Pariah, following it up with a sheet of ice on the ground, knocking Pariah to the ground and making him slide into the throne and destroying it. Pariah’s sword fell from its sheath, clattering to the ground, but Pariah didn’t seem to notice. Pariah recovered, floating to his feet. He glanced down at Phantom, reassessing what he had previously thought of the ghost child.

“That much power – it’s a burden, isn’t it, child?” Pariah said, grinning with fangs. “But I wonder – how did you come across it? Is it due to your freakish nature?”

“The power isn’t the burden,” Phantom said, “it’s in how you use it – and you’ve been using yours very poorly!”

Phantom jumped up, floating in the air, but Pariah threw his mace, curving it along the walls before it hit Phantom and sent him forward, closer to the King. Before Phantom could reorient himself, Pariah gave a roundhouse kick and sent him sprawling. Phantom’s back hit the wall and he fell, dropping to the ground. While Pariah watched in amusement, Phantom got to his feet. He grunted as several duplicates of himself appeared around Pariah, all with their eyes blazing and fists clenched. Together, all the duplicates flew at Pariah, punching and kicking and sending stray ecto-blasts.

Pariah cried out in pain as an ecto-blast hit his eye. He called his mace back to him and swung, making one of the duplicates disappear into dust. Another duplicate pile-drove him from behind. Several of them approached, and all together, they spoke – “You better leave my town alone!”

Pariah shot another red charged ecto-blast, making another duplicate disappear.

“Surrender, child. You can’t possibly win,” Pariah said, growling.

Phantom’s core shuddered at the order from the Voice of the crown, but he refused to give in.

“That’s the thing, I don’t have to win,” Phantom said. “I just have to make sure that you lose!”

From behind Pariah, one duplicate opened the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, while another shot a perfectly aimed ecto-blast, which knocked the Crown of Fire from Pariah’s head. The crown flew through the air until it landed in Phantom’s hands. Face lit up from the flames of the crown, Phantom glanced up at Pariah with a sinister grin. He placed the crown atop his own head. The crown’s fire rose several feet, spluttering and raging. Phantom could physically feel the itch in the back of his throat, the Voice of the crown trying to overwhelm him – the power that it held. Pariah howled.

“No – NO!”

“Now,” Phantom said. He let the itch overtake him. “G̶i̵ve̴ ̵m̷e̴ th̷e̶ ̶R̷i̵ng̴ ̴of̷ R̵a̵ge̷.”

Pariah’s whole body froze. He visibly struggled to resist the order from the crown. “N-never,” he said, voice rough. “I will never – never give this power to you!”

“G̶̟͕̭̤̭͔̤̲̜̱̝̉̐̇͜I̷̢̨̱͍̬̓̆̏̑̉̈͆̒̿̀̃̐͋̾͗̊͜V̶̛͖̝̝͇͉̞̗̤̾͊̐͋̓̄́͗͋́̑̾̇́͊͜Ȩ̶̥̜̳͇̱̹͍̺̟͓̜̐͌̽̀͆̇̓͗͒̈̌̾͘̚͝͝ ̴̢̛̻̮̖̮̖͉͓͕͙̤̱̞̼̲̇́̿̅̇͆͋͌̏͐̒̄̚̚ͅṀ̵̛͚͇̪͙̟͇̫̬̭̭̱͕͔̓̋̉̀́É̢̛̯̘̝̞̗̦̯̻͙̝̮͓̖́̎͋̊̐͛͌̈́͒͊ ̧̢̠̤͇̞͓̝̲͈̫͉̀͝Ṭ̥͚̗̤̞͜ͅĤ̴̡̻̝̪̫̬̦͌̎̌̐́́̋̅̿̊̎͋̑͝È̘̺̻̘͔͔̯̭̟̹̘̍̍̅̾̍͆̾̐͝ͅ ̴͈̈́̏̕͠R̷̡̧̡̨͎̳͍̘̬̻̪̦͔͓̫̖̈̾͊̐͋͛͗̓͗̐̽̋̒͝ͅI̵̺͚̠͎͎̅̌̔̒͗N̴͎̟̊̿̉͌̓ͅG̵̠̟̺̻͎̫͙̭̼̠͉̹̬̅͌̋̈́̅̂̓ ̨̱̼͉͙̫͓͕̘̃̈́̈́͋̅͗́̓̀O̷̯̳̮͒͛͗͆́̎̃̌͐F̶͙͉͖͕̯͕̘͔̹̪͆͌̓͒́͂̉͆͝ͅ ̶̻̊͘R̷̢̺̙̠̜̤͈͛́̈̏̃͛͛̒̍Ȧ̴̰̘̀̋̆̂̏̈͆̐̆͂̀̎̓̿͛͝G̵̡͈̪͔͎̱̈̆̓̏̏̈́̿̀͂̀́͋̑̈́̈́̃̕E̵̢̡̢̧̛͓͔͖̮̅̃͂̅̍̔̈́̚͘!̷̡̧̡̡̨̻̟̮͚͔͖͈̝̲̩̤̍̏̆̂̿̈́͌́̕̕̕!̴͓̥̮̺̓̀̇̚͜”

Pariah Dark fell to his knees and cried out in pain, still resisting.

Phantom took the chance. He rushed forward and slashed downward with his arm, created a sharp ice attack which cut off Pariah’s left hand. Pariah howled again. The hand fell the to ground, limp and spewing green ectoplasm and blood. Phantom bent down and picked up the hand, taking the Ring of Rage off Pariah’s now limp finger. In his hands, it felt so small – so insignificant. But he knew of the true power that it held. If he focused, he could feel the infinite ectoplasm that it leaked, fueling its wearer. And carefully – ever so carefully – he slipped it onto his own hand. For several moments, there was nothing – and then pain, pain like he had never felt before. The room lit up in green light, which emanated from both the Crown of Fire and Ring of Rage. Phantom could physically feel his core being ripped apart.

His core pulsed and shuddered, overwhelmed by the power of both artifacts. But it only took one look down at Pariah – the sniveling king, who had taken his town, his people and ghosts, and destroyed their homes – to know that he couldn’t give into the power of the artifacts. There was no way he would let himself burn away and fade, leaving anyone at the mercy of Pariah Dark ever again.

The light faded. The Crown of Fire and Ring of Rage stopped glowing. Phantom’s core slowly released the heat, ice spreading out in fractures from beneath his feet, freezing over the entire throne room. Snowflakes fell from the ceiling, the wooden throne splintered under the cold, and the Sarcophagus of Forever sleep slowly froze over. When the ice reached Pariah, it melted around his feet at first, but slowly, it overtook him, too. Phantom stepped forward, spreading more rapid-fire ice under his heel, causing craters in the ground and sharp ice pillars to form with every step.

“Go̵ ̶i̶n̴t̵o t̵h̵e̴ ̴Sa̶rc̵o̷ph̴a̶g̷u̷s o̷f̴ F̷o̶r̴ev̵e̷r̴ ̴S̴le̶e̴p,” Phantom ordered.

And Pariah, features still scrunched up in pain, was forced to obey.

Phantom closed the Sarcophagus of Forever sleep. He didn’t have the key, so he froze over the sarcophagus with his impenetrable ice, freezing it into a solid block of ice, so that Pariah may never escape again.

On the way out, Phantom picked up the sword that Pariah had dropped during the fight. The sword shrunk as soon as it was in his hands, going from over ten feet in length to only five feet of blade. It looked like crystallised ectoplasm, with a glow surrounding the blade. On the hilt, which was made of some sort of green leather, was the inscription “Reaper.” By only holding it, Phantom could feel that it had similar properties to Soul Shredder. He very carefully held the blade as he left Pariah’s Keep, not sure if he would need it or not, but knowing he couldn’t leave it out for anyone to take.

While the inside of Pariah’s Keep was quiet, when Phantom stepped out of the Keep, he found the battle was still very much ongoing with the ghost skeletons. And, unfortunately, his rogues were started to flag in their energy. Phantom saw Ember fall beneath several ghost skeletons, he saw Skulker’s blasters fail to go off, he saw the Box Ghost’s boxes crushed, and his core pulsed angrily. He took a single step outside he Keep, and the ground cracked beneath his feet. Another step, and frost started to spread. The ghost skeletons around him froze over quickly, but this wasn’t a battle that Phantom needed to fight. He knew, as long as the Crown of Fire sat on his head, and the Ring of Rage stayed on his finger, that this was his army to command.

“S̷͎͎̝̣̠̫̤̠̣̙̱̩͇̉̿̾̒͒̈́̽̋̾͛̀̀̚͠T̶̛͙̤̬̯̜̗͍͈̮̮̖̻̿̊̆͛̈́͐̃̌̑͒̽͌̈͂̎̌͜Ő̷̡̱͇͕̤̞̓̏́̐̿͜P̵̡͉̯̫̮̌̌̍̈́̉̽͂̓̎̔!̶̢̢̛̻̱͇̙̙͕̫̅̔͐͋̑̓̈͛̏̅͊̕” He commanded, his Voice loud and clear. He held out Reaper in threat.

And they listened.

Figuring out how to bring Amity Park back into the Living Realms was a bit of a harder task than stopping an army of hundreds of thousands of ghosts. His rogues weren’t any help because none of them could open a portal on their own, not like Wulf could – but Wulf wasn’t here right now. Pariah had known how to open portals, too, but he was gone now. Except … Fright Knight was still left, his second in command. And if anyone were to know how to do what Pariah did, then Fright Knight would.

It wasn’t hard to find Fright Knight considering he was waiting outside Pariah’s Keep with the rest of the army. When Phantom floated in front of him, Fright Knight immediately dropped to his knees and bowed before him, no Command or Voice needed.

“My Liege,” Fright Knight said, startling Phantom.

“I’m no king,” Phantom denied.

“You are now,” Fright Knight said. “You are my King now. By trial of combat, you have defeated Pariah Dark, and you now possess both the Crown of Fire and Ring of Rage. I will follow you wherever you go, I will do whatever you wish.”

“I don’t want to be a king, I want to bring Amity Park back to the Living Realms,” Phantom said. “How do I do that?”

The Zone swirled around him, the purple doors moved out of his way, the islands appeared at his will, and Amity Park was safe. It was like the Ghost Zone responded to his emotions and wishes. He only felt marginally bad when he used his claws as he ripped a giant hole in the space and time around him. The Infinite Realms bent around him, splintering and ripping under his will, creating a large rip in the Ghost Zone. The dawn-lit sky from the Living Realms bled through, and Phantom used all his ghostly strength to push the island that was Amity Park through the rift, right back to where it belonged.

Phantom invisibly flew to Fenton Works, phasing through the walls and dropping right into his bed. He de-transformed, turning back into Danny, and groaned into his sheets. After using so much power, and his core being abused so much, he felt like he had been run over by a bus. Behind him, his friends, who had been waiting in his room, startled.

“Danny!” They both exclaimed.

“What happened?” Sam demanded.

“Are you okay?” Tucker asked.

Danny groaned again. “Let’s just say, Pariah Dark will never be a problem … ever again.”

#danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #vlad masters #ghost king danny phantom #op danny phantom #season 2 episode 5 #reign storm #pariah dark #fright knight #powerful danny phantom #bamf danny phantom #non canon compliant #valerie gray #sam manson #tucker foley #ao3 link #dp fic #danny phantom fic

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lotus4kino · 1 year

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Jealousy — Gojo Satoru X f!reader (angsty)

Contents: flirtatious behavior with others while in a relationship, non-communicative relationship, slight gaslight/manipulation

Today’s Music Recommendation: Is There Someone Else? By The Weeknd

He was a stubborn and self-centered man, the strongest sorcerer, Gojo Satoru.

Yes, he was an excellent teacher, an encouraging man, he was most likely to be the ideal person for the most of the students in Jujutsu Tech. But this guy also figured that he can get easy access on anything just because of his angelic appearance. He had a shit load of fan girls who he could play around every time life got boring. He looked good and he knew it.

But you? you are just an ordinary girl from a decent school who is living her ordinary life, no cursed user or anything. you barely understand how these techniques works, why would anyone believe you are dating this attractive man from the Gojo Clan? even a fool would laugh at you for reaching out for something you couldn’t reach.

But you were seriously dating this guy, you were told by your friends that you should be considering yourself as lucky to have the opportunity to be in a relationship with him, but in reality, you supposed it is extremely difficult for you to hold on to that opportunity.

This man, Satoru, only had you as his side chick. You didn’t want to believe it yet the truth was bitter than you expected.

Every time you both got into an argument, he wouldn’t let it slide, instead he would play the victim card even if he was the reason you had to argue. He would act all childish and sulky about it, he had never apologize once because he knew you wouldn’t let him go, he was too precious and worthy for you to let go. he knew you were too overwhelmed by his charming appearance to let go. he knew you were hopelessly in love with him to let go.

but oh boy, he was wrong.

that day..that day when you lost it all, he lost you too.

it was raining heavily that day, you two had been remained silent for a good while now. the tension between you both was extremely intense. you actually didn’t want to talk about it, you were too exhausted to bring it up. but then you heard his phone rang, he picked it up.

“hey ladiess.. what’s up?” he slyly grinned and spoke to the phone, some feminine laughs and chatters were heard from the other side. you sighed in annoyance, you were quite done with this bullshit.

“..yeah I’m currently with a friend right now,..mhm? yeah no problems, drop y’all locations through dm, I’ll let you know when I’m picking you up.” he said, his gaze was turnt towards you before giving you a quick wink. currently that was his proper apology for labeling you as a friend.

beep, he hang up the phone and shoved it into one of his pockets. the rain didn’t seem like it’s going to stop anytime soon.

“Satoru,” you called him out through the harsh sounds of the rainfall.

“Mm?” he playfully hummed,

“let’s break up” you said, a hint of hesitation was heard in your voice as your fingers reached out for the raindrops.

finally those three words managed to escape from the mouth of yours.

“..what?” he let out a sarcastic laugh, “are you mad at me again? I’ve already told you I don’t expect you to come back once you lea-”

“Oh trust me, I decided not to waste my time fighting you over your little female friends.” you sometimes couldn’t even tell if those affectionate words and actions he did in past were just an act.

his face turnt into something serious as his eyes bored in your eyes. “then do it, why are still dating me if you can’t even understand your own boyfriend?”

“there are things called boundaries, Gojo Satoru. I never expect you would be that dense.”

Calling him dense pissed him off, a little. “For how long?”

“come again?”

“How long have you been considering to break up with me?” he looked at you like a lost puppy,

you remained quiet for a second, “I lost my count on days, but it’s certain how I don’t do decisions without thinking about its consequences, it’s for the best.”

“I see.” he mattered, a dark shadow was casted upon his face. you nodded in confirmation, your eyes never leaving the drops of the rain before you. “..i actually don’t want you to, I can promise I would do bette-”

“It’s been the fifth time you’ve been saying this, ‘think I had enough.”

“but what about our date night tomorrow, I’ve already booked a luxurious room for us?” he tried pinpointing his sacrifices for you, knowing you feel guilty every time he did this.

“you can go pick up some extra girls and invite them over if you don’t want it to go waste.” you fixed your posture, pulling the handbag on your shoulder closer to you. “thank you for everything, Satoru. having you was really nice.” a slight sadness appeared on the smile you gave him.

only the sound of the rain could be heard in the background till you clicked your heels and walked away from the white haired man, who watched you disappear in the distance.

But little do you know that he only ever meant to make you jealous, he didn’t mean to push you further away from him.

He expected you to come back to him the following days but you never did.

weeks, months, years.

he waited for you come back but you never did, and you promised yourself that you never will.

Jealousy had boundaries and it is not kinky or hot to have a person feel jealous and insecure about something you did. This could bring you to the point where the person may end up losing interest and worst, leaving you behind.

it is currently 3 am in the morning and I couldn’t sleep so I decided to write down one of my opinions on the things that has been going crazy all over the world. (I apologize if satoru is a bit a ooc, I’m feeling so sleepy that I can’t even double check my mistakes further more.)

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countrymusiclover · 6 months

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2 - Swords and Winterfell

Part 3

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons

It had been almost a week since Chezney and I had traveled to King's Landing. Jaime and I had only simply said a few words and shared silent glances with one another. So nothing really worthwhile in my opinion. Staring at the ceiling above me the sun had already risen and brought light into my chambers. "How am I supposed to act about all this? I didn't have a mother growing up." I mumbled to myself in thought.

Sitting upright on the edge of the bed I run my hands down my face remembering that Chezney's mother had taught me about most things that my mother would have but I still wasn't as confident as she always seemed. "Haelesa!" Hearing three knocks I sighed in relief.

"Chez, finally I have been here bored counting the tiles on the ceiling waiting for you." I sighed in an over dramatic tone flinging the chamber door open revealing my friend.

She quickly pushed the door shut and locked it. "Sorry this place is much more massive than Driftmark. I got lost a few times trying to find your room."

"Then let's go exploring." I responded instantly.

She flopped back on my bed with a confused expression. "Are you serious? Did you forget the part where I said I almost got lost getting here?"

"I've been trapped in a castle surrounded by the ocean my whole life. I don't intend to stay locked up here in a city like this one. I want to go explore and see what else is supposedly out there." Putting one hand on my hip I sent her a half smile.

Chezney didn't waste another moment getting up to her feet. "That settles it then."

"And if my so-called betrothed has a problem with it then he can come find us." I looped my arm through hers and we quickly left the room rushing down the hallway.

I was still wearing the same outfit that I arrived in but I had let my hair loose since the climate was much warmer than I had ever felt. And I would never wear uncomfortable heels unless someone forced it upon me. Chezney and I took a few wrong turns yet we did manage to find a doorway out of the castle. Placing one hand on the brick wall the wind blew my hair in my eyes until I brushed it behind my ear. There was an open fenced yard out in front of us. "Maybe we took another bad turn."

"Nah I don't think so...look swords." Chezney moved past me and picked up one of the blades that was laying on the dirt a few steps away from us.

Shrugging my shoulders I ran over to her taking the handle of the other one she held out for me in my own hands. "Ah you're right. This should be fun since neither of us are probably good at this."

"You're telling me you've never watched Antler train?" She asked me.

"No, have you?" I asked her back and she avoided my gaze meaning she was lying. I gasped, teasing her back. "Oh you have!"

Chezney grips her handle slightly swinging at me. "Shut up!"

"Ah!" I squeaked, raising my blade and heard our metal clash together meaning I blocked her hit. "Hey don't get defensive, it was a genuine question that you brought up."

She shakes her head. "Just because I have watched him train sometimes doesn't mean that I have feelings for him."

"Actually it kind of does mean exactly that, Chez." I smirked, spinning the blade in my hands trying to balance the new weight in each hand to get used to the new feeling.

Gaining a firm grip on the blade I made my first advance on my friend but she was somewhat ready for me. We both ran at each other and swung at the same time hitting the other's blade. We separated them quickly and I swung upward and she went downward hitting my blade again until we heard someone speak up and catch us off guard. "Ladies aren't supposed to be playing with swords from the lessons I was forced to sit through."

"Ser Jaime." Chezney stumbles dropping the sword and doing the best curtsey she could for him.

Yet I kept my fingers wrapped around the blade but lowered the tip of the weapon down into the dirt. My eyes focused on his letting uncomfortable silence fill the air and I didn't bother to address him like a lady should. "Jaime. I'm shocked you came looking for me. From the day I arrived you didn't seem to have much interest in getting to know me."

"Hmm you are right that I am not really concerned with the whole idea of marriage. But here we are since my father was very demanding of the king to release me from my guard title." Jaime moved away from the doorway we had came from reaching me until there was little gap between us.

Lifting my gaze upward he was slightly taller than me but I wouldn't let him know that I was worried about what he would do. "At least we are in agreement on not wanting this arrangement. Come on Chezney, let's keep practicing."

"Oh I don't think that's a good idea." My friend's demeanor completely changed around the oldest lion son.

Whipping my head around to her I scoffed. "Come on, Chez. You don't really think he is going to judge us when we are just having some fun."

"He's the best swordsman in the seven kingdoms, Haelesa." She trailed off.

Snorting out a laugh. "I'll see about that."

"Is that a challenge I'm hearing, Haelesa?" I sucked in a breath hearing Jaime's voice closer than I was expecting when I had put my back to him talking to my friend.

Slowly turning around on my boots, Jaime and I were almost pressed chest to chest now. "I wasn't calling a challenge with you, Lannister."

"That's not what I heard from you, Haelesa." He smirked smugly. "If you're not calling a challenge, let's still just see what you can do."

Jaime moved around me picking up the sword that my friend had dropped. Chezney parts her lips in shock watching me before I gasped, not sure I heard him correctly. "You're joking."

"Actually I'm not in the slightest. If you want jokes you should meet my little brother Tyrion." He responded holding the blade in his right hand.

Blinking a couple times I still remain where I was originally. "I'm not going to fight you, Jaime."

"As you said it's just for fun and I'll take it easy on you if you truly want to learn how to wield a blade." The Lannister lion smiled at me.

Chezney moved off to the side and nudged her head in the direction of Jaime telling me to go. Sucking in a breath I finally caved in wrapping my fingers around the blade a little tighter than a minute ago. "Okay I suppose we can practice a little." Stepping forward I take the first swing towards him thinking that this might not be as bad.

Yet Jaime only let me have confidence for a brief period of time where he swung at me and I ducked, dropping to my knees. Our swords hit one another but he pushed me into the dust. "Relax your dominant arm. If you use the same move all the time your opponent can learn which arm is the weakest."

I raise my sword trying to strike him but he lightly elbows me in my side to strike me from below. "So why did you really come out here for -uh!" I grunted out, pressing my sword against his. He pressed his sword against mine, never losing gaze with mine. His green eyes holding love with his face remaining the serious one he uses in battle. We never break the hold on each other as he finally answers my earlier question.

"The king has informed me that we are to ride North. He claims to be wanting to make Eddard Stark his new Hand of the King." He lowers his blade and takes a few steps backwards away from me.

Lowering my blade I tilted my head to the side. "Why would we need to ride North?"

"It's a command by the King, Lady Velaryon. You don't go against the royal family unless you wish to lose your head." He told me to slide the sword in the holder on his hip.

Chezney came over to my side where I slid the blade in the belt that was attached to the tunic I was wearing. "I suppose you're right."

"I'd suggest you ladies dress warmly." He responded.

Chezney looped her arm through mine once more about to leave. "Thanks for the advice, Ser."

"I assume that you'll be riding a horse with the men, Haelesa and not in the carriage." Yet he spoke up one more time, having us halt in our tracks one more time. Sending him a head nod I glanced over my shoulder and then Chezney and I went to pack some things for the second trip.

It took many long days ahead that I did spend in the carriage with the queen and her children until the guards had informed us we were near Winterfell. The next time we stopped Chezney followed me and Jaime on horseback not caring what looks his sister had given us for not acting like proper ladies. The wind ran through my hair and my nose ran a little stuffed up from the new sense of cold that surrounded us. Glancing out in front of me I came into a view of a large castle in front of us that had some torches burning around its entrance clearly to keep some warmth there. The royal family enters through the gate and I turned my gaze hearing King Robert struggle to get off his horde from how fat his stomach appears to be as he stops in front of the man I assumed was Lord of Winterfell. "Your Grace."

Robert eyed the man in front of him. "You've got fat....Cat!" The two men laughed before he embraced both him and his wife with red hair.

She greeted him once they broke the hug. "Your Grace."

"Nine years. Why haven't I seen you, Ned? Where the hell have you been?" Robert asked the man Ned who was clearly his friend.

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours." The queen and her other children descend from the coach as the lord of Winterfell responds.

Chezney got assistance climbing down off her horse and I was about to do the same until I heard a young girl's voice. "Where's the Imp?"

"Will you shut up?" The girl that was older with hair that looked like her mother's snapped back.

Shaking my head I couldn't help but watch the whole scene before me. The king began going down the line first stopping at the oldest boy who appeared to have dark curly auburn hair and the same eyes of his mother. "Who have we here? You must be Robb." He shook hands with the king and then glanced my way making me look the opposite direction.

Next the king went to the two girls. The one all dressed properly like her mother smiled. "My, you're a pretty one...Your name is?"

"Arya.' Said the young girl who looked to be rather uncomfortable in the dress she wore and honestly I could relate with her.

The king went to one of the young Stark boys who showed his muscle to him. "Ooh. Show us your muscles. You'll be a soldier."

"That's Jaime Lannister. The queen's twin brother." Whipping my head back around at Jaime he removed his helmet tossing around the blonde hair and dismounted his horse.

The oldest Stark girl grumbled to her sister once more with the queen approaching the family. "Would you please shut up."

The king spoke to Eddard. "Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects."

The queen sighed clearly tired. "We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait." But the king led Ned off and ignored her sentence altogether.

Arya looks around before everyone starts breaking off in different directions. "Where's the Imp?"

Jaime had left after talking with Cersei leaving me and Chezney on our own. Running my hands over my horse he made a quiet nose where I attempted to get off the horse without any help. Yet my boot got caught in one of the foot straps where I screamed gripping the saddle thinking that I'm gonna hit the dirt. "Agh!...huh." I felt strong arms that couldn't belong to my best friend hold me up when my boot fell from the strap and my body was pressed against the front of whoever it was.

"It's a good thing my mother sent me over here to help you otherwise you would have had a nasty fall, my lady." I recognized the voice of the young Robb Stark who helps me to my feet and doesn't remove his hands until I'm stable on the ground.

Turning around to face the Northern boy I smiled getting a better look at him. His eyes were bright and I could see the curls better now. To my surprise I found him more attractive then Jaime which I could only assume was because Robb was near my age of seven and ten. "Thank you for catching me, my lord. I must sadly admit this is my first time on a horse."

"It's quite alright you'll get used to it in time. And please my father is Lord of Winterfell so I'd ask you'd just call me Robb, my lady." He suggested staring down at me but he wasn't nearly as tall as Jaime was.

Shaking my head, I corrected the wolf boy. "I'd prefer if you'd call me Haelesa, Robb. We're not in fancy lessons at the moment." Running a hand down my tunic I changed into some thicker pants and stole one of the Lannister red cloaks over my shoulders for warmth. Chezney was wearing a simple ocean blue dress, some brown winter boots, and a yellow fur cloak and her brown hair put up in a messy bun.

"It's nice to meet you, Haelesa." He greeted me with a cheeky smile.

Chezney came over to us and extended her hand to him in excitement. "Hi Robb, I'm Chezney. Her best friend and lady in waiting."

"It's nice to meet you both." Robb shook her hand firmly gesturing his head back in the direction of the castle offering me his arm. I looped my arm through his and Chezney followed him on his other side. "Come, I'll personally show you Winterfell." I sent him a smile, already feeling better about being around the young wolf than the oldest lion.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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oddballwriter · 9 months

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My god I just finished reading all of your moon boys as dads blurbs and holy shit

I was hoping you would write a blurb/one-shot where Marc just can't help but compare fem! reader (they have 2 sons) and his mother, but the reader doesn't act the way his mom would and that is slowly but surely healing him. Maybe also where their younger boy gets hurt while playing with his brother and she calms their oldest by saying "It wasn't your fault, you didn't do it on purpose". Poor Marc would definitely start crying as soon as they're alone. Anyway, toodles!

Healing Wounds

Summary: Fatherhood was something that really healed Marc in a way that he couldn't imagine, and with that, situations are a lot less stress-inducing and let him enjoy finer moments with his family.

Warnings: Talk about Marc's trauma. Thoughts of self-doubt and being unable to let go of the past. Y/N and Marc (and the rest) being good parents. A whole lot of fluff at the end.

Author’s Snip: We love letting our man heal his mental and emotional wounds.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 859

It was kind of funny. Of course, you and him end up having two sons. It just had to happen like that didn't it. It wasn't like he didn't want them. God, no. Marc would never trade his boys for anything and he knows that neither would you.

But it was always there in the back of his mind. The faintest overlay in his vision and memory to back when he was a kid and all of its awful moments. All the screaming, crying, pain, and moments and milestones that were stained no matter how much he tried to scrub the bad out.

With your first, Aaron, there was the dread of being a parent and doing it wrong. He didn't want to get any of it wrong but there was the dilemma of where exactly he was meant to be. Too much of a pushover then his son would be spoiled and never get the hang of life. Too strict and demanding then he'd just be her. And Marc would rather die than even be her in the slightest. It was a hard thing for him to balance in his own mind. Marc was gone for a while but you all knew that it was for him to reflect and gather himself. Marc very much still had some wounds that he needed to lick before he took that journey.

And he did great. All three of them did great in their own ways but Marc clearly felt more comfortable and secure with himself being a dad and also working with you. You knew deep down that you were a part of that security, that the image was mostly on you. And you made sure that Marc never saw her in you even once. It's not like you were planning too, of course. You couldn't even imagine doing such things, or how any mother could have the audacity.

But when Matthew, or Matty as you all call him, came along there was a new dilemma that brought on more thoughts that wouldn't leave him alone. But Marc knew that Aaron and you managed to heal those wounds, so he knew that this would heal up so much more. He just needed to believe in himself and you, and the process.

Marc had the usual talk that a parent would with a soon-to-be older sibling, the whole "Just because we're having another one and are giving them more attention doesn't mean we don't love you. They just need more attention because they're small". Aaron understood, matter of fact he seemed really excited to be an older brother. Marc took that and made it something to use for healing. You and him taught Aaron how to help take care of Matthew and how to hold him, letting him be a part of his baby brother's life.

Years went by and they both grew, you bought a house, Marc started feeling better, and everything felt perfect. Sure, there were some moments but they never really impacted anything. There was no fear, no nights spent laying awake worrying about something happening, no moments where the ghosts of a past long since passed showed up in his mind.

That was until one day when everything was seemingly normal. You were doing something, Marc wasn't really paying attention and also couldn't remember what he was doing either. The boys were playing in the backyard. But at some point, you both hear a scream and then a cry coming from the backyard.

Rushing out, you find Matthew sitting on the grass crying and holding his foot while Aaron is kneeling next to him and looks upset and panicked. You go and pick up Matthew while Aaron is repeating "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." and possibly about to cry himself. That's when it all gets Marc, and hard.

He feels overwhelmed by everything, but just before it gets too much he sees you try and settle your boys down. "What happened?" you asked Aaron calmly while holding Matthew who was sniffling into your shoulder. "We were playing soccer and he was going to get the ball in my goal so I tried to stop him, but I didn't know where his foot was so when I kicked he fell." Aaron explains as he starts to cry. You kneel down to his eye level, "Hey, it's okay, sweetie." you shush, "Was it an accident?" you ask. Aaron nods as he whips his tears. "Okay, then it wasn't your fault. You didn't mean to trip him." you say as you help him whip away his tears. "Are you okay, Matty?" you ask the smaller boy to which he nods.

"Alright. Then why don't we just hug it out and maybe sit down for a little or do something inside, yeah?" you suggest. The two boys immediately go in for the group hug, but you glance up at Marc, seeing him watch the whole thing, and gesture for him to join in. Marc, trying to hold back the water in his eyes, joins in. It lasts a few seconds but Marc can feel the situation healing up something again.

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #dad!marc spector

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dira333 · 1 year

Text

Lover’s play - Aone Takanobu

fluff, sfw - requested by @sakanoshitaa

If your love story was a play, it would have played out in three acts.

First act.

There’s the park near your houses where you waddle up to Aone on quick but unsteady legs everytime your mothers meet for a walk.

“Do you want to play?”

Aone’s a quiet kid, tall for his age, brows only unfurling when your small hand clamps around his big one.

He’s the best friend one could wish for. He listens to you babble about the cake your mother promised later in the evening, calls every picture you draw him nice, carries you through the park when you’re tired and speaks up for you when you’re to anxious to order your own ice cream cone.

When spring turns into summer into fall, your playdates move from the park to the apartments of either one of your parents. He meets your cat who’s utterly infatuated with him the moment he steps into the house and you spend hours lying on the floor watching his turtle eat.

You go to different schools, have different friend groups and different hobbies, but there’s nothing as reassuring as his hand holding yours.

Second act.

High school is demanding.

You’ve managed to snag a scholarship to an impressive private school but the downside of it is the fact that it’s a boarding school.

You can go home on weekends but with homework piling up and assignments due, the choice is always a hard one.

The only thing calling you home is knowing Aone will be there.

His steady presence two houses down, his broad back at the table while you’re on the bed reading, his big hand wrapped around yours whenever you walk down a street or two… What used to be so easy has started to grow complicated.

There are many nice boys at Shiratorizawa. Some of them seem even interested in you.

But everytime someone asks you what type of guy you’re into, you remember the way Aone’s brows unfurl when you take his hand. How his shoulders relax when you smile at him. The way he never hesitates to speak up when anxiety is clawing into your heart.

You’re tumbling from friendship into love and you don’t know what to do.

It’s not that you don’t know how he feels about you. He’s always been clear in his actions. But liking someone and liking someone are two different things.

And then there’s your age, your position in life.

Why act on a crush now and see it tumbling down a few years down the road when you have to part ways again, maybe be even further apart than you are now?

When you graduate, his second button finds its way into your hand, his ears read, his mouth a firm line. You don’t have to ask to know that he feels exactly the same way you do.

But your College isn’t even situated in Japan and his own future is still undecided, the only thing clear is that he’s going to continue playing Volleyball.

Third act.

Maybe you shouldn’t have procrastinated buying presents until you literally got back, but moving back home had been more troublesome than anticipated.

You have some sweets in your bag that will suffice for your father and other relatives, but your mother would never let you hear the end of it if you didn’t get her something more thoughtful or at least some fresh flowers, which you were about to acquire right now.

The conbini is blissfully empty as you step inside and the cashier greets you at the front, pointing out where you’ll find the flowers.

Someone must have had the same thought as you, a broad back shielding them from you.

You might not have recognized him after all that time if not for the familiar head of white hair. He’d filled out, grown taller - how could that even been possible?

“Takanobu.” You call out and he turns, his brows unfurling at the sight of you like they’d always had in the past.

He breathes your name, a small smile tugging at his lips when the sound makes your knees wobble. One large hand stretches out into your direction, the sight so familiar, it makes your heart clench with untold feelings. You take his hand, marveling at the warmth. He doesn’t let go.

“Buying flowers for your mother?” You ask, relishing in the fact that your face isn’t the only one warming at the proximity. A soft blush is spreading over his cheeks. His ears turn a pretty pink before he speaks.

“I wanted to buy some for you.”

You share a look, millions of questions traveling through your eyes.

Do you still love me, his eyes read.

Of course, yours scream back. I never stopped loving you.

But the most important one of all he says out loud.

“Is now the right time?”

You startle, not at the question but the heaviness coating his voice. He didn’t sound impatient, but the closest to it you’ve ever heard of him.

“Buy me Ivy,” you tell him quietly, “It stands for everlasting love.”

And, when he perks up at your words, you add softly. “Now’s the right time.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #Aone Takanobu #Aone x reader #Aone fluff #Haikyuu fluff

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allthelittlecreepycrawlies · 3 months

Text

What To Do When They Dig You Up, Part 1

okokok, so I got inspired by this super fucked up (affectionate) fic by @tavina-writes, and with permission, I decided to start on a sequel. I'm posting it in chunks as I finish them in hopes that it will be enough to make me, you know, actually make it to the end of this thing.

warnings: past branding and abuse, ptsd and panic attacks, discussion of fucked up self-image, public humiliation.

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

“You don’t want to be here today,” Meng Yao murmurs as he guides Nie Huaisang out of the throne room, leaving their mutual master pacing in front of the throne with a sharp grin like a tiger expecting a feast.

‘What could possibly be different about today compared to any other?’ Nie Huaisang wants to ask, but does not.

The hallway is colder than usual, making his face and wrists and back throb hot, and he sinks into the pain, barely aware of Meng Yao’s gentle hands on his shoulders and the act of putting one foot in front of the other.

It’s not until Meng Yao lets him go and opens a door that he realizes he has not been taken back to his master’s bedroom.

“Yao-ge?” he asks, and his voice sounds as alien to his own ears as the chill of the hall.

Meng Yao presses his mouth into a thin line, glancing back the way they came. “A-Sang,” he says carefully, having long stopped calling him ‘Gongzi’ because hearing the old title had made him retch more than once. “Do you trust me?”

‘What kind of question is that?’ Nie Huaisang wants to ask, but does not.

Nowadays, Meng Yao is always the one who puts him back together after his master takes him apart. The ebb to the flow, the pull to the push, the carrot to the stick.

Nie Huaisang does not know the rules to this new variant of the game he has been trapped playing ever since his escape failed.

He has never asked either, afraid that his one respite will be stripped away, either by Meng Yao reporting on him or simply by his master’s whim.

At least Meng Yao seems to realize that he has pressed a raw nerve, because he shakes his head a little. “Nevermind. Just… stay here for now, alright? Will you do that for me?”

Nie Huaisang manages to nod and steps into the room, and the door swishes and clicks closed behind him.

The room is sparse on furniture, and still cold.

He is starting to wonder if the cold is part of him and not something to do with the palace.

There are robes draped over a chair, heavier ones than the gauzy things his master likes to see him in. They don’t fit exactly right, the hems just a little short at his wrists and bare ankles- and he knows who they must belong to.

“Thank you, Yao-ge,” he mumbles to the empty space around him, then layers them against the chill.

There is a barred window that is the only thing of interest.

He pulls a chair over and tries to sit, then winces and decides on the cushions on the floor instead.

All he wants to see is the sky, anyway.

—

The Nightless City has its name for a reason. Even as the true sun vanishes, there is enough light from the fire pits and the many lanterns that he can only see the very brightest stars.

He has heard noises on the other side of the door; running feet and low but urgent voices. But none of them have been Meng Yao, so he has mostly ignored them, too intent on savoring the most peace and quiet he’s had since-

A flash and the sound of a small explosion jolt him out of the light doze he was drifting into, and he lurches to his feet and stares up through the window at the flare for what seems like ages before his mind finally registers that it’s not a Wen flare.

And then there is another.

And then three more from a different direction.

Soon there are dozens, in multiple colors and sect symbols, and behind him, he can hear the chaos in the hallway briefly rise, then abruptly cease.

When he starts laughing, it seems like it’s coming from outside himself, from a non-existent other person in the room. Only when the laughter gradually morphs into tears does the feeling slowly gather in his chest, pulling inward from outside him.

Even that has faded by the time a fist hammers on the door, leaving him completely numb as he turns to face the intruders.

They are wearing the colors of his sect and the one in front at least has a proper saber, but he doesn’t recognize any of them… another note on the very extensive list of reminders of just how long it has been since his one and only ill-fated attempt to escape this place.

The man in the lead looks him over -barefoot, hair loose, borrowed robes- and his lip has already started to curl in disgust before his gaze focuses needle sharp on the horrible mark of ownership that covers half of Nie Huaisang’s face.

“Zongzhu has us spread out looking for you,” he says, clearly irritated to have been given such a ‘useless’ task when he could have been doing something of actual importance.

Nie Huaisang does not snip back at him.

Nie Huaisang keeps his head down and follows the small knot of mixed soldiers and cultivators, and doesn’t respond when one or another pushes him out of annoyance at how slow he’s moving. He realizes they’re taking him back to the throne room and dread begins to well up from his stomach into the back of his throat.

It is nothing like the dread he has lived with every waking moment previously, thick and sticky and weighing his whole body down as though drowning in wet clay. No, this dread is sharp and so cold it burns its way through his body like the winters back home, leaving his nose and fingers and toes prickling and his lungs feeling like he has inhaled needles.

The door opens and his escorts move aside.

His brother is staring at him.

So is everyone else gathered in the throne room.

The dread cracks and shatters under the gush of mortification that floods down his throat, leaving him so dizzy that his legs refuse to hold him.

All Nie Huaisang can do is kneel, head down, as the crowd -people he knows and people he doesn’t and so many people, people, people- erupt into gossiping, some whispering and some not bothering.

Within moments, it all blends together into a dull wordless sea of noise, which he thinks might be his mind’s last desperate attempt at preserving itself under this final assault on the barest shred of dignity he has left.

Was this intentional?

Is it another layer of the game?

Does that matter?

Trembling and struggling to just keep inhaling and exhaling air, he decides that it doesn’t.

He lost.

He lost, he lost, he lost, he has been losing ever since he proved himself too pathetic to get out of this on his own.

He says nothing in his defense- does not apologize, nor beg- because what good would it do?

His brother has to despise him, as he's practically an embodiment of his worthlessness as a Nie now.

Marked for ownership by their most hated enemy; a grotesque mockery of everything their sect -their family- stands for.

At best he can probably hope for exile... much more likely is that the stain on their name will be removed directly.

A heavy hand comes to rest on his back and he involuntarily cringes, curling in on himself even more. His brother’s voice cuts through the dull roar around him and in his head, but he can’t understand the words.

More murmuring, then-

“Out. Now!”

He doesn’t mean to jump at the snarled command; doesn’t mean to recoil as some long-forgotten sense of self-preservation suddenly flares to life from under the piles and piles of ash that Wen Ruohan had made of his mind. The way his head jerks up like that of a startled deer is completely involuntary.

They are alone. And his brother… is angry.

Angry, angry, angry, so angry.

But not… but not at him.

The other big hand lays Baxia down on the cold stone floor then comes to rest on his face, broad palm covering the inner swirl of the brand and thumb covering one of the flames that extend over his nose in a way that is hot, but -for once- not painfully scorching.

“Didi. Who. Did this?” his brother asks, a deep rumble like the sound of a rock fall that threatens to become a whole avalanche.

It should be an easy answer, and yet it takes him once, twice, three times to manage to get his voice and mouth to form the words “Wen Ruohan did it himself.”

Da-ge’s eyes narrow. “No one else?”

He doesn’t know what Da-ge is searching for. For him to lie?

The dread starts to creep back in. Is this a test? Is he failing? Will he be exiled or executed after all? Should-

The hands on his face and back tense briefly, then gentle, and so does Da-ge’s expression. “Nevermind,” he says. “We’ll talk about those things later.

And then Nie Huaisang finds himself swept into a near-bruising hug, the unblemished side of his face pressed into Da-ge’s shoulder.

Oh, this-

This-

His breath hitches in his throat, and then comes out as a sob.

—

There is a banquet.

Nie Huaisang does not go, instead remaining holed up in the new room he has been given for as long as the logistics of breaking down what remains of the spoils among the Sunshot participants will take.

He has yet to find anything suitable for covering his face, and though he has already embarrassed himself and his brother by appearing in front of some of those allies, there will be… others attending, and he wants to put off having to be seen by them as long as possible.

Someone leaves him food and wine at the door.

That’s good enough.

There is one thing he needs to do, however, and once it is late enough that he can be reasonably sure he won’t run into any revelers, he silently slips out of his room.

Just his luck that Da-ge and Xichen-ge are walking down the hall just as he exits, but they are fortunately too distracted to notice him, talking urgently in low tones.

“-and my answer is still no, Xichen. I will have enough to deal with looking after my flesh and blood brother.”

“Mingjue-xiong-”

He decides he does not want to know what they are discussing, and continues on his way.

The last time he saw Meng Yao was when he was being hidden away from whatever -likely Wen Ruohan’s death- was happening in the throne room.

He has heard that Meng Yao has finally won legitimization.

He just wants to see for himself, that’s all.

—

Of course, he hadn’t expected to immediately be placed on the same level as his half-brother, but Jin Guangyao had hoped for… something more when his father had decided to officially declare their familial relationship.

Something more than continuing to be the hands that conducted the dirty work to keep others clean.

Something more than a private -public- joke to be snickered at as his family got deeper into their cups.

Sitting on his temporary bed, he sighs and rubs his face. At least Nie-zongzhu hadn’t picked any especially tumultuous arguments… not with him, anyway. That’s a good sign, considering…

He wishes A-Sang had been there. He understands why he wasn’t, but nonetheless, he wishes A-Sang had been there.

He hadn’t been present for the reunion of the Nie brothers in the throne room, having been carrying out his father’s demand elsewhere, but he had heard about it by eavesdropping on the eavesdroppers, and he just wants to know if-

-no, nevermind.

He will check up on his once-charge in the morning, once things have settled and he doesn’t have to worry about being bitten by a certain protective guard dog of a brother.

He finishes shedding his boots, and is just about to blow out the candle and settle under the covers when there is a soft -very familiar- pattern rapped at his door.

Surprised, but not unhappy, to hear it, Jin Guangyao gets up to answer it and offers a smile to his visitor.

#mdzs #sangyao #ruosang #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #nie sect #not tagging wen ruohan 'cause he's dead #but his actions haunt the narrative #fanfic

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ggukkiedae · 10 months

Text

booked and busy

date: early august 2018

warning/s: none

notes from c: yoonmi gets booked and busy with the album release, their tour, and the new drama she’s filming! ctto for the gif, it’s not mine i found it on pinterest

SURPRISE GUYS I'M BACK 🥰 joon, chimc tae, and kookie went live today and we caught the tiniest glimpse of bald kookie sooooo i thought it was about time i start posting again 🥰 will have something related to the other six tannies' enlistments up later this month

word count: 2.4k

yoonmi gets validation from tae and a dance partner for the tour

Yoonmi barely processed Taehyung’s question as she quickly did reruns of her lines, script in her hands, track open on her monitor, and untouched lunch box on the table behind her. It had been weeks since she started filming for SKY Castle, and, because of how busy she’d be with touring, the crew was trying to get as many of her scenes for the first half of the series over with.

To her luck, the cast and crew were all friendly enough to help her out. There was no doubt about there being hesitation when it came to everyone approaching her at first, but they had speedily warmed up to her, especially the fellow younger half of actors and actresses that she’d be spending most of her time filming with.

However, everything was overlapping with each other. That is, her schedule for the drama and their comeback preparation. There were still a few finishing touches she needed to add to a concert version of the tracks, approvals to go through with the rest of rap line and the production team, and the choreography to complete with her performance team and to teach her dancers. Not to mention she still had to find someone (a trainee, says the company) to be her dance partner for her solo stage on their tour. It’s not like she could take Yeonjun with her since he’d be preparing for debut while they’re on tour. And the tour!

She could practically feel her body hurting from the amount of plane rides she’d have to take going from place to place while performing on stage or fulfilling her role.

“Hey,” Taehyung knocked on her head, pulling her out of her thoughts, “earth to Yoonmi. One task at a time, yeah? I suggest you eat first before continuing anything. Unless you want Jin hyung to be upset you didn’t eat the food he prepared for you.”

She shook her head but closed her script and turned to him, only to find him uncovering her food. “Were you here this whole time?”

“I’ve been watching you mutter lines to yourself for like fifteen minutes now.” He held a piece of meat up to her mouth with chopsticks. “Now, eat.”

She rolled her eyes but ate the piece and grabbed a pair of chopsticks for herself.

This had been how things were for the past few weeks. Whenever she’d be in the company for any of the three main meals of the day, Seokjin or Taehyung would always drop by and make sure she was eating her meals. If she was on the set, they’d call her or call manager Sejin who’d be with her. Hoseok and Namjoon would make her take breaks, while Jimin, Jungkook, and Yoongi would always convince her (or wrestle, in Jungkook and sometimes Jimin’s case) to bed. It was some weird cycle they had established.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, aegi,” Taehyung pretended to scold while hitting her head with a spoon (thank God it was clean). “You get way too into your work, so you know we have to check in on you.”

“And how’d you know I was thinking about this weird set of roles you guys formed?”

“Because I know you. How’s filming going?”

“It’s going great, actually,” she smiled at him. “Everyone’s friendly, and the guy playing my twin brother is an idol, too! It’s funny when we met because he’s my sunbae for acting, but I’m his sunbae for idol life. The role is pretty easy to fulfill, and the plot is really intriguing.”

“As intriguing as me being killed by my brother by accident?”

“Intriguing in different ways,” she laughed before they fell to a silence. It was a whole ten minutes before she spoke up again, “Oppa, do you think this was a bad idea?”

Taehyung looked at her questioningly, making her sigh.

“I mean,” she leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees, “with the tour happening, do you think it was a bad idea to take this acting gig?”

“Personally, yeah,” Taehyung shrugged, making Yoonmi look at him in slight offense. “What, you asked! I’m just saying, as someone who literally helped raise you, I don’t like the idea of you balancing working on music and academics while jetting back and forth between Korea and whatever country we’re performing in and tiring yourself out to the point of passing out. Because I already know that it’s bound to happen at some point.”

She looked down, leaning back and biting into the cookie one of the members had given her at some point. Taehyung looked at her, already knowing the look on her face being one that could lead to her spiralling. He sighed, hating the fact that, no matter what the members and her friends and family told her, she always put others’ opinions of her before her own wants and needs.

“Hey,” Taehyung nudged her arm, “but, as an artist, I think it’s a great idea.”

This perked her up. “You think so?”

“It’s a great opportunity to show more sides of yourself that the public doesn’t really know,” he nodded. “Show them you’re not just an idol or a kid, but something more as well. I know you’re great at anything you put your mind to, except maybe drawing.”

She laughed and hit his arm.

Taehyung laughed with her. “No, yeah. Leave that area of expertise to Jungkook. I’m just saying, it’s a great opportunity for you to break out of whatever stereotypes or prejudices people have against you.”

“So, as my big brother, you say no. As my sunbae, you say yes. Internal conflict of interests, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” he snorted before tapping her knee and looking her in the eye, “but I have to remind you, because your reaction to what I said earlier tells me that you haven’t let it settle in your head. You can’t let what other people think about you discourage you, right?”

She huffed and crossed her arms before looking away. “It’s a little hard when I need to improve myself.”

“But at what cost? Your mental state? Cancelled opportunities? Why let other people’s opinions on you matter more than your own thoughts or opinions of yourself.”

“Because if I let my opinion of myself get to me more than what you guys think about me, I’d probably shrivel up in a hole, you know?”

The joking tone of her voice didn’t carry into the atmosphere of the room. Taehyung just looked at her. He knew that she, despite her proudly speaking her opinion and telling other people to be confident in themselves, is way too insecure for his and the rest of the group’s comfort. It was one of the many reasons that they always went out of their way to baby her and praise her.

It was at times like these, moments where she puts her thoughts on the table and curls into herself, where she looks young. Younger than she actually is. The girl in front of him was sixteen, turning seventeen, eighteen if you use Korean years. Yet, all he could see was the nervous preteen he met years ago.

“You do know you teach other people to love themselves, right?” he asked her.

“Do as I say, not as I do,” she shrugged, making him chuckle.

“We’re just gonna have to rub that into you until you do as you say, too. Wanna talk about it more?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. It’s almost three, and I have to head to the practice room to meet my dance partner for my solo song.”

“Why didn’t you just get one of us?”

“Well, I wanted to, but the company said that it would cut into the rest times of literally any of you, plus, Jungkook oppa was the original plan, but Euphoria and Why are right after each other.”

Taehyung wrinkled his nose but nodded and ruffled her hair. “Alright, let’s clean up, then I can drop you off before I got to my vocal session.”

“I am a mess,” Yoonmi muttered to herself as soon as she walked into the practice room. The reason being manager Sejin stepping in front of her and bringing down his sleeve over his hand to wipe crumbs off of her chin.

“Because you’re stressed out,” he shook his head at her, “so Namjoon and I cleared your schedule for the weekend. I also took the liberty of choosing your dance partner for you, and I think you’ll be okay with him.”

“As okay as I’d have been with Yeonjun oppa?”

“Not as much,” Sejin chuckled at her, “but I’ve seen you talk to Heeseung every now and then, so maybe?”

At the familiar name, she looked behind Sejin and saw the familiar face of the trainee she tended to run into late at night in the company. Heeseung was someone she did try to be more casual with ever since Yeonjun told her they were the same age. It was something she did try to do ever since Jimin and Taehyung had sat her down to tell to be more social with kids her age. She shook her head in amusement while hearing Jimin’s voice saying “Our aegi should spend more time being a kid with other kids!”

Back to the situation at hand, she thanked Sejin and walked to the other side of the room where Heeseung was giving her an awkward smile. It was something she was used to seeing from the trainees whenever they passed by her. The quick bow in greeting completed the experience.

“No need for that, Heeseung, I’ve told you that a billion times,” she laughed while putting a hand on his shoulder to straighten him up. “So you’re my dance partner?”

“Only if you’re okay with that,” he looked at her bashfully.

She laughed a bit and nodded, “Yeah, no biggie. Have you seen the videos?”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he began after nodding, “I was wondering why it isn’t Jungkook sunbaenim dancing with you like in the video?”

“The setlist has his song and my song right after each other,” she shrugged. “Are you okay if we practice until around nine? There will be breaks of course, but we don’t have to if it cuts into your training time.”

He shakes his head and smiles at her. “Sounds good. The instructors let me off with the condition of doing well for your tour and shadowing you sunbaes for experience.”

“You can stick by me and see the oppas in all their chaotic glory,” she snorted before tugging on his sleeve to bring him to the center of the practice room. “Let’s try marking before the rest of the dancers get here.”

The practice went smoothly, considering she knew the choreography by heart and Heeseung caught on quickly. To Yoonmi’s pleasure, the choreography was almost as clean as she wanted it to be by the time the clock struck 9. All of the dancers got along well together, and there was no tension. They all even messed around with each other during the breaks, which was similar to how the dancers were in previous tours. But, all good things came to an end as the dancers left the practice room one by one, bidding goodbye.

“You’re not regretting agreeing to this, are you?” she asked Heeseung while handing him an energy drink. He had been sweating despite already removing his plaid shirt and being left in a tee.

“Not at all,” he grinned at her while accepting the drink, “it’s a great experience. I just want to know though, how do you practice for hours without removing your hoodie?”

“It’s comfy,” she shrugged.

A knock on the door caught their attention. Seokjin’s head popped in first, a big smile on his face before he let himself in and brought Yoonmi into a hug. Heeseung bowed at him, while he bowed back before turning his attention to her. She wrinkled her nose at him but wrapped her arms around his waist all the same. The elder placed a quick kiss to the top of her head before his face scrunched up.

“You need a shower, princess,” Seokjin squished her cheeks, making her look like a puffer fish.”

“I know,” the words came muffled out of her mouth, “is it home time?”

He nodded down at her before turning towards Heeseung with a smile. “So you’ll be joining us on tour?”

“Yes, sunbaenim.” The awkwardness was back.

Seokjin smiled. “We’ve heard good things about you, Heeseung, from both Yeonjun and management. We’re looking forward to working with you.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened before he thanked the senior. Seokjin laughed a little before letting go of Yoonmi and picking up her bag for her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m taking this one home for dinner before she passes out from being overworked. She still has filming tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” she squeezed Heeseung’s arm with a grateful smile, “don’t stay too late today or I’ll tell Seri! I know she’s gonna mother hen you even from a different continent.”

He snorted but lightly hit her shoulder. “Alright, fine. See you tomorrow.”

Yoonmi made her way towards Seokjin who was waiting for her by the door, already having memorized the spiel he was giving. Eat food on time, rest, one task at a time, and everything along those lines.

“And I want you asleep by 10:30,” he continued despite them reaching the parking lot already, “so you can have a full eight hours of sleep before heading to the shoot, okay? Jimin has the morning off, so he’ll be going with you.”

This put a frown on her face. She hated the fact that the members were going out of their way to help her or accompany her when they could be resting instead. Also, the director and the PDs were asking her to keep the members from coming on set as much as possible so they don’t get spoiled. And because they can get embarrassingly fussy over her in between takes.

It’s not that she didn’t like it, she would easily admit that it felt nice knowing the members cared for her, but it did get her a little shy with all the cast and staff staring at them.

“Yoongi and I made him promise to stay beside Sejin hyung,” Seokjin smiled at her, “you don’t have to worry about the unnecessary staring. You can probably get away with hiding with your castmates. You know, the ones casted as your fellow kids?”

She laughed. “You know me too well.”

“What type of big brothers would we be if we didn’t?” He helped her into the passenger’s seat before getting into the driver’s seat. “Let’s get you fed and showered so you can be at full battery tomorrow.”

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birboon · 3 months

Text

CIRCUS BOY

ACT 1 - Chapter 4

PAIRING: Peter Parker x Dick Grayson

WORD COUNT: ~5k

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: chapter 3

ㅤ"WHEN WERE YOU going to tell me?" Bruce called out from across the gym, voice echoing like rolling thunder past the empty apparatus. Dick grimaced uneasily from the treadmill, pace not faltering as he urged his legs to continue. The fact that he could hear the man even through his headphones was scary - anything that managed to somehow be louder than a Jimmy Page guitar solo was. He didn't even want to look over towards his guardian for fear of what his face might show - he didn't have to. Dick could hear the billionaire's stormy footsteps from a mile away.

Like Dick, Bruce was dressed in his conditioning gear, ready to put both himself and his ward through the workout of their life (as he did every day). But Bruce managed to appear a much more formidable figure than the teen, clean cut muscles rippling with every angry stride.

Dick tried not to let it show on his face that he had heard the man call out to him: A dangerous game. Ignoring the Bat was almost as bad as... well. Dick refused to acknowledge his mistake - he'd go down with whatever boat he managed to get out of the port... If he ever managed to set sail at all.

"Don't think I can't tell when you're ignoring me, Richard," Bruce hissed, and oh boy. He brought out first names. That hurt. The last time Bruce had called him Richard, Dick had been thirteen and so desperate to one up the newcomer that he'd deliberately sabotaged Batgirl's coms. Not a great first impression (apparently he was slacking in that area). And now, three years later, he was facing down the beast once again - only this time Barbara wasn't there with her heart of understanding-gold to save him. "I know you can hear me."

Dick couldn't tell if the thud thud thud filling his ears was the sound of him running, the drums in his ears or if it was his heart hammering in his chest. Bruce Wayne loomed over him now, a scowl on his face that he usually saved for the more villainous types. With one swift movement, a strong hand came up to rip the Bluetooth device from Dick's head; gone were the sound of sweet, sweet guitars trying to drown Bruce's words, replaced instead by the sound of his feet slamming into the treadmill and the Batman's somehow louder-than-life silence.

Dick blinked, plastering on an innocent, wary smile as he inched his face towards the man. The Wayne held the running machine's cord in hand, disconnected from the mains.

"Bru- er, Bruce," Dick croaked out, voice cracking. When had he gotten so thirsty? "Hi. Is it time for training already? I haven't finished my... warm up... yet..."

Bruce narrowed his eyes and Dick was forced to slow as the machine gradually powered down, excuses tumbling around his mind even as his words tapered off:

"I got a call from Alfred this morning."

"Oh really? That's nice of him," Dick played coy. Bruce wasn't impressed, folding his arms across his chest as he watched the boy awkwardly come to a stand still.

"He said the device I planted on the Midtown Tech student has been deactivated."

"I mean it's impressive that he found it, really. You were super thorough, putting it on a shoe-"

"Instinct tells me you had something to do with it," Bruce finished, ignoring his ward's jibes.

"You always think I have something to do with everything," Dick scoffed, reaching for his water bottle. He felt every inch of Bruce's piercing blue eyes on him as he swallowed his first sip. "Frankly, it's unfair."

"What's unfair is me being right about it all the time. When were you going to tell me, Dick?" Bruce retorted, repeating his previous statement. "Challenging my authority is one thing, but sabotaging a surveillance mission is-"

Dick almost choked on water, coughing irritably. His grip on the bottle was tight, denting the plastic as he levelled Bruce with a stare: "Sabotaging surveillance mission? Try stopping some poor intern from being stalked by America's number-one paranoid!"

Bruce huffed, watching him calculatedly. Everything the man did was calculated... it was disconcerting. He snatched the bottle from Dick's hand, shoving it forcefully back into the placeholder.

"That 'poor intern' is one of Stark's drafted metahumans!" Bruce roared. "Do you know how close of an eye the League has to keep on the Avengers now? After the mess in Sokovia they're not heroes anymore, Dick! They're a liability - no one knows what to do with the ones we can find, let alone the ones we can't."

"You can't call the Avengers a liability, they've saved the world -"

"And what if the world needs to be saved from them?" Bruce asked, voice low and stressed. Lines of worry distorted his brow and Dick felt his stomach churn. "The Justice League is the Earth's last line of defense: The Four are gone; Doom Patrol are M.I.A; Xavier has folded to the government. Now, so have the Avengers."

Dick swallowed thickly, fingers clamping around his sweat-soaked vest to avoid reaching for his drink once more. "And you need to keep an eye on them?"

"Two eyes, Dick. At all times."

Dick bit at his lower head, shaking his head slightly: "But Peter... he's just a normal kid, Bruce. Awkward, sorta rude... he doesn't even have good shoes, how can he be one of Stark's?"

"You know more than anyone that a kid can do as much damage as a grown man," came the reply. "Peter - since you seem to be on a first name basis with him - is about as normal as you are."

Bruce raised his wrist, tapping at the smartwatch tied there - some newfangled WayneTech prototype no doubt - and a rectangle of light was projected into the empty air. Bruce's eyes were searching as he dragged two fingers across the hologram, swiping to find an asset. Dick averted his eyes when the man pointedly enlarged the screen to highlight a singular profile.

"Peter Benjamin Parker," Bruce began, voice steady. His ward wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor, blood rushing to his face. Parker. Peter Parker. "Fifteen years old. Attends Midtown School of Science and Technology. Certified boy genius. Bitten by a radioactive arachnid which gave rise to enhanced strength, speed and perception."

Dick's lips parted slightly as he double, then triple, scanned over the short paragraphs of text. Bruce had really paraphrased it... what the hell were Oscorp doing, genetically engineering spiders?

He ran a hand through his slicked hair, pulling gently at his scalp. The teen pulled up one of the found-footage reels playing at the bottom of the screen in a loop; someone dressed in pajamas flinging themselves through the streets with a web. "Peter's the spiderboy? Wally's obsessed with trying to recruit them for the team. "

"He calls himself Spiderman," Bruce corrected gruffly. Dick hummed, reaching to full-screen a high-resolution CCTV tape of the media-dubbed 'Civil War' fight at Leipzig Airport. He watched, fascinated, as Spiderman stole Captain America's shield straight from his hands. Dick opened his mouth to comment, but his mentor beat him to it: "As far as we're aware, the web is a synthetic polymer. Not organic."

"Boy genius," Dick murmured, tearing his eyes from the looping footage to look at Bruce. "Does he make it himself?"

"Presumably."

"Neat trick," Dick whispered, clearing his throat. Bruce eyed him as he gave in and reached for the water bottle again. "Spiderman, huh? Who would've thought."

"Evidently, not you," Bruce said complicitly. With a small movement of his hand the hologram retreated back into the glowing digital screen. The man's face still held it's stern façade, though his voice held none of the depravity it had beforehand - Dick could tell he was still angry. Which was... okay, it was understandable.

"I'm sorry, B. I really didn't think..." the boy trailed off, looking to the side as his guardian's disappointed gaze crept over him.

Man, he'd messed up this time. Batman already had too much on his shoulders; he didn't need to worry about the loss of a possible League informative. Bruce needed to know the workings of the Avengers - of a failed team - so he could protect his own. Maybe Dick shouldn't have been so quick to steal Peter Parker's shoes.

"No. You didn't. That much is clear," Bruce snapped. Dick swung back on his heels, staring down at his feet, and the man sighed heavily. "You've set me back days, Dick. Days I don't have."

Dick's eyes widened: "What do you mean? You're not dying right?"

Bruce huffed out a laugh, dropping the treadmill's plug to the ground, and stepped forward to lean against the machine. "No, I'm not dying just yet. But I am worried... Something Clark mentioned yesterday."

Dick followed Bruce's line of sight, offering out the blue plastic bottle like some sort of peace treaty. The billionaire accepted it silently, turning it in his hands. Though his eyes weren't trained on him, Dick could still feel the weight of Bruce's gaze. "So it was Clark that pulled you away yesterday? What did he say? Did he call a meeting?"

"No. He was on the roof... said he didn't have the time to gather everyone," Wayne recited, tone confused as though reminiscing on some odd detail he'd chosen to leave out. "He's receiving troubling signals at the Fortress."

"Troubling?" What could he troubling enough for the Fortress of Solitude to find it note worthy?

"It's not something I'm at liberty to discuss until the League has been told," Bruce finished. He took a swig from Dick's bottle thoughtfully before handing it back. The man had a familiar look in his eyes - one Dick knew all too well. The Batman was debating an idea, running through a list of all the pro's and con's in his mind. He watched Dick sightlessly for a moment, lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but he quickly retracted whatever he was about to say: "I- I think we'll postpone training today, Dick. I need to talk to Superman."

"What?" Dick issued in confusion. He stepped off the stationary track, placing a hand on Bruce's bicep. "Is something going on? Do you need my help?"

"No this is... This doesn't concern Robin." The yet went unsaid, though both of them heard it.

Dick couldn't shake the feeling that Bruce wasn't trusting him out of spite - because the boy had gone against his plans, ruined them - but a familiar warmth spread through him when the man rested a hand on his shoulder paternally and squeezed gently: "You know I'm not mad at you, Dick."

"I know," the teen chirped almost instantly, a force of habit. Bruce frowned, eyes soft and searching as he studied his young ward.

"You're sixteen. You're allowed to make your own decisions - just try to make sure they're the right ones."

"How will I know if it's right?" Dick muttered, a weight settling on his shoulders.

"When the choice has to be made, you'll know," Bruce said, and it didn't bring him any comfort whatsoever. Stupid Bruce and his ominous, scattered meanings. What was it supposed to mean?

Whatever the cryptic words meant, Dick was left feeling stuck. Not for the first time he felt like just another burden for the man to carry. A foolish kid he'd taken pity on all those years ago and been stuck with ever since. For years Bruce had tried to teach Dick to act with his mind but still he let emotions cloud his judgement.

"I really am sorry, Bruce. I shouldn't have -"

"I know, Dick. You should ask Alfred about my rebellious phase," Bruce laughed good-naturedly, all tension drained from his face. As if he could read Dick's mind, as if he understood the turmoil that his own distress caused the boy. He slung an arm around Dick's shoulders.

"He'd say you've still not grown out of it," Dick teased.

"Mm, well. Maybe you should ask Barry, then. I'm sure he has some great stories to tell."

"And how am I supposed to ask The Flash about his teenage years?" Dick responded in kind, allowing Bruce to steer him towards the gymnasium's entrance. "You want me to catch him?"

"I figured you could ask your workout partner a thing or two," Bruce said genially. He opened to the door to see himself out, pausing to watch his ward. Dick's face narrowed in confusion.

"Where are you going, then? Are you not training with me today?"

"He means me, boywonder," came a snickering laugh, and Dick couldn't help but grin broadly. A breeze swept into the gym, ruffling Bruce's hair and chilling Dick's skin. The door rattled slightly on it's hinges as the owner of the voice came to a grinding halt in the doorway, hands on his hips in stereotypical superhero fashion. "You forgot our playdate? I'm hurt!"

"I was trying to forget your existence altogether," Dick replied easily, grinning widely towards Bruce as the figure flickered and suddenly appeared at his side. The man winked back at him as Dick turned to face the energetic red-head; "You've gotten faster."

Wally West's eyes lit up: "Any You've gotten shorter, pipsqueak. I didn't think it was possible!"

He rested an elbow atop Dick's head, bouncing on the balls of his feet and cheeks beaming. Bruce rolled his eyes, not bothering to interrupt the childish greetings as he made his escape with a brisk wave of goodbye. The door slid shut behind him and Wally sighed exaggeratedly, sliding down Dick's body with inflated relief.

"Thank Superman's balls, he's gone. What did you do to get us out of a torture session? I thought I was down to die, dude - not that I'm complaining, because I have this twinge in my hip and -"

"At least you heal quickly. I got slammed into a wall two weeks ago and I can still feel it in my back," Dick complained, falling dramatically onto one of the many gymnastics mats lining the room. He lifted the hem of his shirt, twisting so his friend could see the blue-tinged blemishes.

Wally poked the oddly coloured skin and Dick reached out to slap his hand away, rolling his eyes as the ginger's form zipped out of view. "Maybe if you didn't get hit so much..." his voice echoed from across the room.

"Easy for you to say KF," Dick groaned, climbing to his feet. He watched as his friend dipped his hand into a bucket full of chalk. coating his skin in the white powder. "What are you doing?"

Before he could so much as blink, Wally was examining every corner of the bespoke gym Bruce had fitted in the basement level of the new Washington office. He batted at the rings hanging from the ceiling like a cat, watching them jostle back and forth with wide eyes: "What are these even for?"

"Talented people," Dick answered, steadying the swinging objects with a grimace. "So you aren't allowed to touch them."

"You wound me, dude," Wally sniffed, pulling himself onto the pommel horse. He let his legs dangle, kicking them aimlessly as he stared at Dick's warm-up exercises dubiously. "And you're going to wound yourself if you keep doing that."

Dick's limber floor routine was ruined by the bout of laughter that escaped his lips, core loosening. He lost his balance, flopping to the floor with a huff.

"This is my thing, speedster. The only one I'm going to be hurting is you! You're ruining my concentration."

"We're not actually going to do exercise, right?" Wally said uncertainly, pulling his knees to his chest as Dick threw himself onto the beam with a graceful tumble. The Wayne heir eyed him through his peripherals, gauging the boy.

"Why not? It's important to-"

"Don't go all Batman on me, Dick - I ran here from Central City, I want to do something."

Dick sighed, letting his handstand fall effortlessly into a delicate cartwheel. His chalk-dusted hands clapped as they came into contact with the soft faux-suede of the apparatus, sending a small cloud of white into the air: "What did you have in mind?"

Wally attempted to stand upright on the horse, knees shaking as he clung to the handles for dear life. He toppled backwards, arms wheeling frantically faster than the human eye could comprehend as he attempted to retain his balance.

"Think about it! We're in Washington, Dick!" The speedster cried frantically, mid-fall as he collided with the crash mat beneath him. "The nation's capital. And none of your babysitters are around!"

"They're not my babysitters," Dick complained, unwilling to help Wally back to his feet. It was true, neither Bruce nor Alfred nor (god forbid) any of the League were around to supervise the two young superheroes as they normally were. Even Barbara would chastise the two of them whenever she got the chance. "And what has Washington got to do with it anyway? We've been here before."

"For a mission. There's more to life than the cave under your manor, Birdbrain," Wally insisted, slinging an arm across Dick's shoulders - little more than a blur as he crossed the room to reach him. He shook the other boy lightly, eyes shining. "How about we sign onto one of those tours? See the sights without alien guts splattered all over them."

Dick brushed him off, smearing chalk over Wally's navy adidas shirt; "You want me to skip practice so you can play tourist?"

"Absolutely," the red-head replied, long arms managing to wind around the smaller boy a second time. He raised an eyebrow at the grin spreading across Dick's face.

"I'm totally with you dude. Where to?"

◦

HE SHOUDL'VE STAYED and trained, pushed himself to his limits with the same ambitions he always had. It would've been a way to make it up to Bruce and prove to the man that he wasn't the plan-wrecking sidekick he thought he was. But, really, the billionaire had set Dick up for failure! Inviting Wally West to join him for a training session? The two of them got on like a house on fire - they'd done so ever sine the Flash had first brought his nephew onto the hero scene. So what could Bruce really expect from them? Training?

The only one to blame for Dick falling prey to the young speedster's wiles was Bruce himself.

And Dick.

And Wally.

But, mostly, it was Bruce for leaving the two of them alone together.

And now they were walking aimlessly through the bustling streets of Washington D.C, the Wayne Enterprises building far, far behind. Wally had at one point mentioned the Metrorail but Dick had quickly refused. His insistence on travelling by foot wasn't for nothing though - it was 93 degrees out. He wasn't planning on melting today.

Neither of the boys had thought to change out of their workout clothes (unused though they were) and, frankly, Dick was thankful. He was sure that if he'd gone for something more casually appropriate in this blistering heat he'd become a puddle of Grayson goo on the sidewalk. Bruce would have to scratch him off the concrete like he was Plastic Man - or he'd make Wally do it and have a field day shouting at him.

Dick had opted to wear sunglasses though: A staple for public appearances of the Wayne ward. In retaliation Wally had raided a street vendor on the way past, buying a pair of cheap American-flag knock-off ray-bans and donning them stupidly on the crest of his nose. The red-head's pale skin was turning pink in the sun. He should've worn sunscreen, but Dick wasn't going to warn him away from his own mistakes. The next time Kid Flash was out and about, he'd be even harder to miss with his sunburnt features.

"We should totally visit the big guns," Wally decided as they passed the American History Museum. A gaggle of tourists were gathered outside, cameras poised and ready. "Where's the Whitehouse?"

"Somewhere over there," Dick swung his arm randomly, brushing through Wally's hair in the process and messing up his red locks. He snorted at the irritation that dawned on the other boy's face, shoving his hands into his shorts. "Have you ever met the President?"

"Oh hell yeah, man! Remember when me n' Barry put away Savitar?"

"Which time?"

"The second. The Pres wanted to thank us first hand," Wally announced proudly. He glanced towards a hot dog stand, brows furrowing thoughtfully. "He really just wanted to see The Flash but I got to tag along too. Hey, you hungry?"

Dick raised an eyebrow: "Not really."

"I could eat," Wally said, already cutting a line through the slew of people to head for the amenity. Dick rolled his eyes, following him and apologizing to those Wally had rudely pushed past.

"You never stop eating," Dick said, grimacing as his friend balanced three hotdogs in a single hand. Wally fished for change in his pockets, grinning up sheepishly as Dick tossed a twenty to the vendor. The raven-haired teen grabbed him by the scruff of his tee, pulling him away even as Wally chewed.

"'s my metabolism," Wally replied nonchalantly, taking another bite. He was down to the second hotdog already. "Once, when I was out with Barry, we went to an all-you-can-eat place and we got kicked out because we ate everyth-"

"Dude. Don't talk with your mouthful."

Wally grumbled amenably, crumbling a napkin and shoving it into one of Dick's pockets. "Sorry rich-boy. Since when did you learn manners?"

"Have you met Alfred?" Dick shot back, snatching Wally's litter and dropping it into a trashcan as they walked past. "Totally English."

"Yeah but, like, have you met Constantine? Also totally English."

"John's not so bad," Dick smiled as he recalled his last meeting with the man. He and the big-man had gone to visit Zatanna for intel and the unruly antihero had been there - probably to make some new deal with the devil or whatever the self-proclaimed 'supernatural advisor' did. Constantine had ruffled his hair, uncaring, as he spoke to Bruce. "He's actually pretty cool."

Wally wrinkled his nose: "You're only saying that because you think he's cute and we both know it."

"He's charming!" Dick shrugged, grinning.

"If you think that man is charming, Dick, you have problems." The red-head rolled his eyes, weaving to the side as a group of despondent-looking kids marched miserably past. He eyed them cautiously. "Apparently so do they. What's up with them?"

Dick craned his neck to watch them pass, vision dark and shaded through his sunglasses. All seemed to be students, judging by age and the more-than-obvious sigil emblazoned on their matching blazers. He hummed slightly. "They must have lost."

"What?"

"The academic decathlon." Dick reiterated. He cocked a brow towards the red-head. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be in that? I thought you were on the team for Keystone."

"Uh, I was in it... for a time," came the quick reply. "Then Uncle Barry said it was unfair because, y'know, so I quit."

"Mm. Bruce won't let me join either. But you're super fast. And pretty dumb. I don't see the issue."

Wally shrugged, smiling brilliantly: "Try telling that to him, he think's I'm a genius tha - woah. Dick, let's go see the Washington Monument!"

Just ahead of them the towering buildings cut off, sky-scrapers replaced by the clear blue sky. Dick could already see the monument, its spire slicing through the barren emptiness. An expanse of green surrounded the landmark on either side of the road.

Wally flickered beside Dick and the Wayne heir blinked in confusion before he reached out to pinch the other teen on the arm. The speedster reeled backwards, mouth falling open as he rubbed viciously at the point of contact: "Dude! What was that for, birdbrain?"

"No powers in public, idiot. Rule number one!" Dick hissed, throwing an arm around Wally's shoulders to keep him grounded. The red-head pushed his USA-themed sunglasses to the top of his head, scowling. "Don't look at me like that. I know you ran off."

"You have no proof," Wally insisted, tilting his chin slightly in indignation. His lips curled slightly as he tried to hold back a sly smile. Dick narrowed his eyes:

"You just visited the monument without me!" the dark-haired teen snapped, pulling Wally closer. "I thought we were doing this together!"

"You thought wrong. It's everyman for himself, you aren't the leader of this team-"

Dick pressed his thumb into a nerve in Wally's shoulder and the boy squirmed, huffing in good-natured frustration as he watched a smirk make its way onto the short boy's face. "This isn't a team! There's literally two of us! It's not my fault I have to chaperon you everywhere, you behave like a four-year-old."

"Tyrant."

"Child."

"Dick-tator."

The two boys stared at each other, eyes heated, mouths twitching with effort as they struggled to maintain their composure. They were stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, a blockade in the steady rhythm of city-life. Dick ignored the curious looks cast their way as they burst into laughter, scaring a few of the passers-by into an awkward jog.

He'd missed this. It felt like years since he'd spent time with Wally out of costume. The estimate wasn't far off.

"Do you even want to go to the monument now?" Dick asked as Wally's trite laughter faded into poorly-contained snickering. "I mean, you've already seen it."

"I did a lap around the thing, I hardly saw it!" Wally whined, pouting like a hurt puppy. Dick watched as his sunglasses slowly slid down his forehead. "I didn't even get to go in."

Dick rolled his eyes and smiled. Kid Flash, emphasis on the 'Kid'. Wally's carping managed to soften Dick's demeanor - he really took after Bruce, without even meaning to - and he gave in. He wanted to see the monument too, after all; why should he deny himself the chance?

"Fine. But if you so much as blink faster than any person should, I'm dumping you back with B," Dick threatened, starting towards the closest road crossing. Wally grinned, bouncing after him on the balls of his feet.

"Aye-aye, cap'n!"

[to be continued...]

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lemoncrushh · 5 months

Text

Wild Horses - One

Summary: Amber Crosby didn’t end up with the life she’d expected, but that didn’t keep her from following her dream. A young, up and coming country recording artist, she and her band set out to do just that. Trying to leave her past behind, it wasn’t until meeting Harry Styles that she realized just how her life could take a turn and alter her future forever.

A/N: Please note all portions in italics are meant to be flashbacks :).

STORY PAGE

Chapter One Word Count: 4.3k+

“Are you sick and tired of being sick and tired…” - Daughtry; Witness

“Are you sure this is what you wanna do?” Pauline asked, lifting her coffee mug to her lips.

Amber let out a breath and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, Mom, it is.”

Pauline swallowed as she looked out the window to the backyard. The swing set was old and rusted, the sandbox her children had once played in now overgrown with weeds. Her daughter was nearing twenty. It was time to let her go and earn her wings.

“Then I think you should go for it,” she said with a sweet smile.

Relief spread over Amber as she rose from her chair to give her mother a hug.

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll make you proud, I promise.”

“You already do, sweetheart,” whispered Pauline as she patted Amber’s hand, a tear trickling out of the corner of her eye. “Now you go follow your dream. Laci and I will be just fine.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. She’s a wild one, keeps me on my toes. Just like you.”

Amber caught the loving admiration underneath Pauline’s joking tone.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too. Now stop making me teary-eyed and go pack.”

Amber grinned as she bound for her bedroom. She was gonna be okay. She could feel it.

The restaurant was freezing. Actually, to say it was a restaurant was like calling that motel they’d stayed in the night before the Ritz. It was a dang Waffle House, but at least it was cheap. Amber had managed to save up some money on this short road tour, but she wasn’t about to splurge on a real restaurant, even if that sign she’d seen for that Mexican place had looked appealing. Still, it was so freaking cold in this joint, her nipples could’ve broken glass.

“And what can I get you, hon?” asked the blond middle-aged waitress.

Amber faked a smile as she rubbed her arms. “Eggs over easy with grits and bacon please.”

The waitress nodded and penciled in her order before addressing Carter who sat beside her. He ordered his usual - three waffles. Nothing else. Of course he would smother them later with butter and maple syrup. Amber watched him sip on his Coke when the waitress walked away and wondered how on earth he was able to carry all the band equipment day after day when he was loaded up on so much sugar. She never once saw him come down from his high and fall flat on his ass, but she waited for the day she would.

“How many more miles til Nashville?” groaned Brendan, running his palm down his face, his eyes weary.

“About eighty or so,” replied Johnny, smoothing out the road map in front of him. “Not much longer.”

“Good, cause I need a real bed. Alone.”

Amber smiled meekly at her bass player. Brendan had taken the wheel early that morning after they’d left Charlotte. The boys were getting a bit restless and annoyed with having to share a motel room, one of them usually opting for the floor or the van so they wouldn’t have to share a bed. Occasionally if Amber got a double room, Carter would convince her to let him take the other bed. Sometimes in the beginning he’d even slip himself into her single bed, and she wouldn’t kick him out if she was drunk enough. But those days were over, she’d told him.

Nashville would be a different situation. The band was scheduled to play a festival, billed as one of the opening acts. It would be excellent exposure for them, and in return they got free accomodations at the Hilton. It was a sacrifice Amber was willing to make to get the recognition. She’d just decided not to tell the boys until after the show that they weren’t getting paid.

The waitress brought their food and other than the sounds of chewing and swallowing, the occasional burp, the four sat in silence. Amber continued to rub her arms when she could, the coffee doing little to warm her up. She’d wished she’d brought her hoodie, but since it was damn near a hundred degrees outside, she hadn’t even bothered to pull it out of her duffle bag. Suddenly, she felt another set of hands on her skin, and she looked up to see Carter, a small grin on his face as he rubbed her naked arms.

“Cold?” he raised a brow.

“Yeah,” she sighed, allowing his long arms to envelop her as she scooted closer to him.

Her stomach did one of those flip-floppy things that she didn’t like. Okay, maybe she liked it, but she didn’t want to. She’d been firm with Carter that they were not a couple, and he wasn’t supposed to act like they were. He’d reluctantly agreed, what with being in a band together and all. But sometimes he could be really sweet. Sometimes he…

“Can I get you anything else, hon?” the waitress asked.

“I don’t think so,” replied Carter, giving her his best smile as he squeezed Amber tighter with one hand and patted his stomach with the other. “That was great.”

The blond winked at him and set the check beside him before twisting her hips and strutting to the next table. Johnny and Brendan began to pull out their wallets until Amber stopped them.

“I got this one, guys,” she explained, giving Carter a nudge so he’d slide out of the booth.

Brendan shrugged, returning his wallet to his back pocket. Johnny dropped a few ones on the table and folded up the road map. As Amber paid the bill at the counter, Carter slid a hand across her butt and whispered in her ear.

“Meet you in the van.”

Amber nodded. “Be there in a minute. I gotta use the bathroom.”

“Ooh, honey, he’s a cutie,” Amber heard the waitress say when the boys were out of ear-shot. She scoffed.

“He your boyfriend?” the blond continued.

“No,” Amber shook her head as she took her change. “Just my drummer.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Brendan when he opened his hotel room door. “At last! My own room!”

Amber chuckled in the hallway, her duffle bag over her shoulder as she made her way to her room. The door clicked shut behind Brendan, but she could still hear him shouting something about ‘getting used to this’. Johnny’s room was across from Brendan’s, Amber’s next to it.

“I’m so ready for a nap,” she remarked, her card key in the door.

“Now? I thought...maybe we could hang out for a while. In mine.” Carter pointed across the hall.

“I’m exhausted, Carter.”

“I know, but…” he paused, his lips quivering into a suggestive grin, “can’t you be exhausted in here? With me?”

“Ugh...Carter…” Amber groaned. Here we go again, she thought.

“I give great back rubs.”

“I know you do,” she nodded with disinterest. “But I’m not feeling that great. I don’t think that Waffle House agreed with me.”

Amber heard the click of the lock and pushed her door open.

“Amber…”

“Carter,” she rolled her eyes, dropping her bag on the floor next to the bathroom. “I’m going to sleep. See you at dinner.”

Pauline held up the phone so Amber could see Laci dance around the living room in her tutu. Amber beamed and giggled as Laci did the same, twirling like a ballerina.

“Yay!” Amber clapped when Laci was finished. “Good job!”

Laci continued to giggle, her brown curls bouncing as she fell over on the couch, her head in Pauline’s lap.

“She’s been practicing,” Amber’s mom announced.

“I can tell! How’s school?”

“It’s going great. Her teacher says she’s always excited to come and never wants to leave.”

“Aw, I’m glad,” said Amber.

A knock sounded on her door so she rose from the bed to answer it. Carter stood on the other side, his hands in his pockets. Amber lifted a finger and pointed to her cell phone to indicate she was talking on it. Carter nodded and followed her into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey, Mom, I gotta go. We’re about to go to dinner.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” Pauline nodded. “Have fun in Nashville!”

“I will. Bye Laci!” she waved into the phone. The little girl’s head popped into the screen she blew kisses.

“Love youuuuu!”

“I love you too, baby girl.”

Hanging up the call, Amber shoved her phone into her back pocket and looked up at Carter. He’d apparently had a shower, his caramel hair combed back, his clean t-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders.

“Ready?” she breathed, hoping he hadn’t noticed how it caught in her throat.

“Yeah, Johnny and Brendan are downstairs.”

“Okay.” Amber stepped into her sandals and walked around him to the door.

“Um...Amber?”

“Yeah?” she stopped.

Carter scratched his stubbled chin before shoving his hand back in his pocket.

“Sorry about...before,” he offered.

Amber chewed her cheek and shrugged. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I know but…” he hesitated, then looked down at his feet. “Hey, I know how you feel about us-”

Amber held up a hand. “There is no us, Carter. We’re friends. Bandmates. That’s all.”

His jaw set so hard he could cut through steel, Carter nodded. “Got it.”

Amber sighed. “Carter…”

Stepping closer to her, he put his hands on her waist.

“We got something, Amber. You might not see it yet, but I do. All those times you cried on my shoulder til four in the morning. Those nights in your bed-”

“It’s over, Carter,” she pushed his hands away.

“But I don’t want it to be.”

Amber swallowed hard as she looked down. “It needs to be,” she whispered.

“But why?”

“Because...that was the old me.”

Amber felt Carter sigh more than heard it. She watched his feet as he stepped around her to open the door.

“You’ll want me again, Amber. Maybe not tonight. But one day you will.”

Amber glared at him as he held the door. Maybe he was right.

Harry didn’t usually stay with his band. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, and it wasn’t an ego thing. It was more of a safety thing. If fans got wind of where Mitch, Sarah, Adam or Clare were, nine times out of ten they figured Harry was somewhere near. They would bombard the hotel just to get a glimpse of him, and sometimes things could get out of hand. And Harry didn’t want his band to feel like they couldn’t get out and see the city if they wanted to. So early on Jeffrey Azoff, his friend and manager, had talked him into staying at a different hotel from theirs. And so far it had worked.

Today, however, Harry decided to join his band in the hotel restaurant - the Hilton where the rest of the band members were staying. He reckoned no one would suspect he would be there, so he could slip in and take a seat with the gang and enjoy a private meal. But he’d thought wrong.

He wasn’t sure if it was the girl who nearly fainted in the lobby, or if there had been paps or someone else outside who’d recognized him, but by the time he made it around the corner near the elevators, just outside the restaurant, he was surrounded. Cursing under his breath, he put on a brave face and greeted the mob of fans.

Fans. That was actually too kind of a word. He knew who his true fans were. They were the ones who bought his album and tickets to his shows. They were outside waiting in a queue for hours so they’d get a good spot in the general admission section. They had websites and blogs and wrote fanfiction and made their own merch. They weren’t waiting outside of hotel restaurants hoping to get a selfie with someone they may or may not actually had heard of, let alone sang along to in the car. But being the Harry Styles that he was, he knew it wasn’t fair to pick and choose. Treat people with kindness, that was his motto. He lived by the golden rule, even when all he wanted to do was get a bloody meal with his friends.

When the last girl had left, a squeak in her voice as she snapped one last photo, Harry strolled into the restaurant, waving at his bandmates who sat in the corner of the nearly empty room. Immediately a waiter came by, setting a glass of water in front of him.

“Evening,” nodded the waiter in a monotone.

“We already ordered for you,” said Clare.

“Oh. Thanks,” Harry grinned, setting his napkin in his lap.

“Guess, this isn’t happening again,” remarked Mitch.

“What isn’t?”

“This,” Mitch gestured. “Dinner at our hotel. You were mobbed.”

Harry shrugged with a sigh. “Yeah. It wasn’t too bad. Coulda been worse.”

Sarah and Mitch glared at him before lifting their glasses simultaneously. The waiter came with their food then, and the mood was lightened with idle chatter. Halfway through his salad, however, Harry could feel eyes upon him. He had a gift, he did. He could always tell when he was being watched. Usually it involved a camera, but when he lifted his gaze to browse the room, he only found a pair of pretty blue eyes. They belonged to a young woman sat at the table across the room, one of only two others occupied in the restaurant presently. She was joined by three other lads, who all seemed to be doing their best to pay attention to themselves and each other, and certainly not to her.

He had no idea how or why. She was cute. She had pouty red lips and a heart-shaped face. And there was no way he could ignore the way she tried to look away when he caught her looking at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Yeah, he would definitely be paying attention to her.

Actually, come to think of it, she looked right familiar to him. Biting his lip, he tried to place her.

A burst of laughter broke his thoughts and he turned his head to see Adam showing the other three a video of his kid on his phone.

“How adorable!” exclaimed Clare.

As Adam scrolled to find another funny video, Harry leaned toward Mitch.

“Hey mate, who’s that?” he pointed to the girl across the room. “Do you know her?”

Mitch shrugged just as Sarah said, “That’s Amber Crosby.”

“Who?” Mitch and Harry asked in unison.

“Amber Crosby? She’s part of the festival tomorrow?” Sarah rolled her eyes. “That’s her and her band.”

“Ohh,” sounded Harry. Amber Crosby, that’s right. He’d heard her single a few times. She was good.

“How do you know this?” inquired Mitch.

“Because I make it a point to keep up with what’s going on,” remarked Sarah, pursing her lips. Mitch mocked her with a face which earned him a pinch.

Harry watched Amber sit with her band, though she might as well had been sat there alone. She reached for her glass of water, taking a sip through a straw before her eyes wandered up and locked with Harry’s again. He caught the slight blush in her cheeks as she quickly averted her gaze and set her glass back down.

“Hey, Harry, are y-” he heard Mitch begin, but he didn’t stay to listen to the rest of the sentence. Instead, he rose from his chair and crossed the room to where Amber sat.

“Hello,” he greeted when he reached her table. “Amber Crosby, right?”

Once again, he didn’t miss the rosiness of her cheeks as she lifted her head.

“Yes,” she smiled up at him.

“I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Harry Styles.”

Amber beamed wider, taking Harry’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“I saw that you’re playing tomorrow,” he half lied.

“Yeah,” Amber made a face. Harry wasn’t sure if it was one of embarrassment or annoyance. But either way, he liked how her nose crinkled when she did it. “I think we’re like second or third. So we’ll be out of here by sundown.”

Harry feigned shock, placing his hand on his chest. “And miss my set?”

Amber giggled. “Well, I don’t want to, but you know…”

“Hey, man,” uttered the straight-nosed guy sat next to Amber. If he hadn’t extended his hand, Harry might have thought he was about to threaten him.

“Oh, sorry!” Amber sat up, addressing the three men at the table. “Harry, this is Carter, Brendan and Johnny. My band. Guys, this is Ha-”

“Harry Styles, man, nice to meet ya!” Carter nearly slapped his hand against Harry’s, making Amber grimace. But Harry was gracious, shaking each man’s hand and making them feel important.

“I’ve heard your song,” said Harry, “it’s really good.”

It was Amber’s turn to cover her heart. “Oh, thank you.”

“Yeah, I’m anxious to hear more.”

His eyes met Amber’s then, making her smile. He didn’t miss Carter’s arm, however, that suddenly stretched across the back of her chair.

“Will you be there tomorrow?” asked Amber. “I mean, as early as we’ll be playing?”

“Yeah, I should be. I’ll be popping in off and on throughout the day.”

“What time are you on?” piped up one of the other lads. Damn, Harry had forgotten their names. Brandon? Brennan?

“We’re on at eight,” replied Harry.

“Oh. We might be gone by then,” Carter declared, his fingers playing on Amber’s shoulder. “We have another gig to get to the next day.”

“Oh, too bad,” Harry frowned, not missing the maneuver Amber pulled to get her shoulder out of Carter’s reach. “Well, just wanted to say hello, and um...best of luck tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Amber and her band sang.

Harry gave a small wave as he turned back for his table, rejoining his own band.

“What d’you think?” Sarah raised a brow.

“She seems lovely.”

Just then Amber and her band rose from their table, heading for the exit.

“I think I’ll try to introduce myself tomorrow,” said Sarah. “I definitely wanna catch their set.”

But Harry was barely listening. He watched Amber follow the men out of the restaurant, turning around once to wave at him. He smiled and waved back.

He definitely wanted to catch their set too.

Carter thought he heard something. It was a cheap motel, and the walls were very thin. But did he detect the sound of someone crying? Amber’s room was next door. Could it be…

He waited a few more minutes, just to be sure. Then swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he sat up and walked to the door, hesitating only for a split second before stepping outside.

He knocked gently at first, then thought that was ridiculous and knocked louder. She didn’t answer right away, though that didn’t surprise him. Again, he knocked, this time calling her name.

“Amber! Amber, are you in there?” He knew his question was pointless; of course she was in there. And she was hurting.

He heard the click of the lock before the door opened, just enough to reveal half of her tear-stained face.

“Are you okay?” Another stupid question. Of course she wasn’t okay.

She shook her head, her hair falling over her eyes. Carter let out a deep breath.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Amber looked down and shook her head again. “Not really.”

Carter nodded. He wasn’t going to push her.

“Can I...come in?”

Swallowing hard, Amber stepped back, her head still bowed. When Carter shut the door behind him, she finally looked up at him.

“Oh!”

It was only then that it dawned on Carter that he was shirtless. He’d been lying on his bed after returning to his room, still in his jeans, his sweaty t-shirt and shoes discarded across the room in a pile. His mind on getting to Amber, he hadn’t bothered to put on a clean shirt.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

With a sharp turn, Amber ran to the bed, planting herself on it face down.

“Hey,” Carter whispered as he sat down next to her. He watched her back tremble and shake as she cried into her pillow. “Amber…”

When she didn’t reply, he looked around the tiny room. On the nightstand sat a half-empty bottle of whisky. It wasn’t open, but he picked up the empty glass next to it and sniffed it. He made a face as he wondered if she’d already drunk that much tonight.

“Amber,” he said again.

Just as he reached for her, she sat up and wrapped her arms around him. He’d let her cry as much as she wanted; he was willing to wait all night if he needed to. Finally, she lifted her head, wiped her eyes and sniffled.

“I hate my life,” she admitted.

“What?”

“I’m so tired, Carter,” she cried. “So very tired. Of everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sick of trying so hard...when it doesn’t get me anywhere.”

Pushing a strand of her brown hair from her wet, sticky cheek, Carter assumed she meant the band, her music. But then she dropped the bomb.

“I just want someone to love me,” she whined, her big brown eyes searching his face. “Why is that so hard?”

“Amber…”

“Am I unlovable?” she asked.

“What? No!” Carter knew that wasn’t true. Okay, maybe he wasn’t in love with her. But he’d definitely had feelings since they’d met. He knew she’d had a hard life and kept her guard up, but he’d never gotten the whole story. He’d always hoped one day she’d tell him.

“Sometimes…” she hesitated, “sometimes I just wanna end it.”

“End what?” Damn, he was full of dumb questions tonight. He knew the answer. He just hoped he was wrong.

“My life.”

He took her face in his hands then. He wanted to yell at her, shake her into reality.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Amber,” he said firmly.

“Don’t I?” she rolled her eyes. “No one gives a shit about me.”

“I do. I care.”

“You do?” Though her eyelids were heavy, she fluttered her lashes.

Carter could smell the liquor on her breath before he kissed her. He didn’t care. He wanted her to know she was wanted.

She hadn’t asked him to stay that night, but he had anyway. He wanted to make sure she was okay. And when she’d gotten up to puke, he’d held back her hair.

Carter sort of made a habit of staying in Amber’s room after that. About a month or so later, after they shared an entire bottle of whisky, she told him her story.

“Ten minutes,” the stage assistant announced, sending nervous tingles down Amber’s spine.

“Okay, okay,” she breathed, shaking her limbs and fingers. “Let’s do this.”

Just then she heard a voice behind her, one that she recognized from the night before. She turned to see Harry Styles chatting with Brendan along with his bandmates Sarah and Mitch whom she’d met an hour ago. When their eyes met, he smiled widely and stepped toward her.

“Hi, Amber,” he greeted. “Promised I’d make it to see you, and here I am.”

Amber returned his smile, her insides giggling with glee. He hadn’t actually promised that, not in so many words, but she thought it was a nice gesture.

“Good to see you, Harry,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t crack before she even made it to the stage.

“You’ve met Sarah and Mitch,” he confirmed in part question.

“Yes, I did. They’re so nice.”

“I have a great band,” Harry nodded.

“You definitely do. They all seem very fond of you. As they should.”

“Five minutes!”

“I’m on next,” Amber voiced with wide eyes.

“Best of luck to you,” Harry grinned. “You’ll be great.”

“Hope so,” she breathed. She looked around to see her band members coming toward her. For some reason she got more nervous when she made eye contact with Carter.

“Hey, man,” he said as he approached Harry, giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, good luck, mate,” Harry reached out his hand to tap Carter’s arm.

“Places people!” the stage hand called.

Amber shrieked, trying to let her body release the last of its nerves. She caught the tiny giggle coming from Harry and gave him a shrug.

“Always nervous,” she muttered.

She hadn’t expected Harry to take her hand then. And she hadn’t expected to feel the electricity that charged through her skin from his touch. And she hadn’t expected the look in his eyes to take all her nerves away and make her feel calm.

“Let’s go!” Carter shouted, his hand on her back as he pushed her onto the stage.

Harry watched Amber Crosby’s short set from backstage. She was good. Better than good, she was fantastic. He loved the tone of her voice, both warm and clear. She had a youthful quality about her while also being very sensual, like some of the classic country females whom he enjoyed. Though he was familiar with the radio hit, he liked her other songs just as much, if not more. He wondered if she wrote them all, and he made it a point to ask her when he got the chance. If he got the chance. He was disappointed that she and her band would be leaving after their set. There was something about her… he didn’t know what exactly, but he wanted to find out.

The crowd cheered after their last song, making Harry smile. He hardly knew this girl, but he was already feeling a sense of pride for her. His own hands clapping eagerly, he watched as the band took a bow together and turned to exit the stage. He felt the presence of two bodies stepping to either side of him, joining him in his applause.

“So what do you think?” asked Sarah.

“I think I just found my new opening act,” Harry replied.

As always feedback is appreciated (even if it is an old fic lol).

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