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lilacsareinbloomagain · 11 months

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Hello, not to sound forceful or anything, but could you write a part two for this post of yours?

https://at.tumblr.com/lilacsareinbloomagain/i-know-i-almost-died-but-like-its-really-not/93kyq8kcm2u6

Thank you!

Not forceful at all! In fact, I'm glad you liked it enough to want a part two :] Thanks for the request!

Notes: This is the part 2 of this fic.

I hope this will be to your liking.

I don't know why I made it seem like the reader does not know who Wolfie is in the first part of this, but I just went with it, so in this fic, reader did not previously play any Legend of Zelda game.

TWs: Yanderism, a bit of gore, beginning of stockholm syndrome?

The Chain X Reader

I almost died, of boredom this time.

Legend almost went into a state of shock due to the way Wild woke him up, the poor man was not expecting to hear about you being severely hurt in the same sentence as "It's your shift now". It took him a few seconds to pull himself together and not rush towards you to check how you were. He quietly thanked the Goddesses you were alright now, and also that Wild was too tired to notice the pure panic in his eyes, that blonde gremlin would spread the news to the others like a wildfire.

He couldn't let that happen, not when he would be teased forever about it, and what if you thought less of him because of that?! No way he'd let that happen. He had to keep this front, for now, at least until he was sure you loved him just as much as he loved you.

At least until you were living your life alongside him and only him.

Just as expected, he had to spend the rest of the night watching over you. If he didn’t he wouldn’t be able to live with himself, what if something happened to you in the meantime he was guarding the whole camp? Even if Hyrule had already treated your wounds, something could still happen, so he wasn’t really fond of the idea of possibly endangering your life.

That's why it's a good thing Time and Twilight were enraged at the forest during that time, slicing and stabbing through monsters and really whatever crossed their paths. Any of these monsters could have been the reason you were hurt, therefore, they were compelled to kill any and every monster in that forest and close proximities. They had to avenge the blood you lost, after all.

If they weren't doing that, the camp would be as good as unguarded, since Legend was only looking your way and not paying any attention to his surroundings.

What a funny thing. Normally, when someone stared at you while you were asleep, you’d wake up, since our brain has this little instinctual sense of danger.

Seems like you don't have that, maybe that’s why the shadow could watch you so easily through the nights.

Even more this one and the ones you spent at the forest, since no one was paying attention to the glowing red eyes in the dark not too far from you.

The annoying thing was how quick you were to wake up. One tug at your leg and you'd be bolting, adrenaline coursing through your veins at the possibility of who could be trying to kidnap you.

Who were you scared of? Him, or the Links? It seems like your trust in them was beginning to waver, was it not?

Maybe he could try to have a chat with you soon. All it took was one opening, five seconds were more than enough for him to grab you and take you with him, would you even put up a fight?

He could try any day, just not today, not when The hero of the Legend was watching you so closely.

He hopes the day will come soon. Or he could just arrange a distraction, he was never that patient anyway, not when it came to you, not when you were just at arms reach.

For now, he'd wait, like he has been waiting ever since he first set his eyes on you.

Some time passed before Time and Twilight finally came back.

By that time it was already morning, the others had already woken up, and already surrounded you in a frenzy, terrified but stern, just not as stern as Time could be.

You had to calm each of them down, trying to avoid more lectures from each of them, even from Hyrule, since when he cured you he was too sleepy and worried to scold you. Now he was well rested, having spent most hours of his night cuddling you.

Wild managed to make them disperse, just enough so you wouldn’t suffocate. With his cooking, there was no way they would be able to ignore their hunger any longer, you weren't different, you missed Wild's cooking, even if you weren't gone for that long, even if it was as simple as scrambled eggs and bacon. It gave off a homey feeling you missed since you were dragged into this world.

While you guys were eating, the duo came striding from the trees. Both looked, well... Disgusting, gore painting their clothes with death, in a way you could barely recognize the original colors. The shine of Time's armor dulled by blood and bits of internal organs and guts, the once fluffy pelt wrapped around Twilight's shoulders now was dripping with a dark liquid you couldn't tell if it was blood or it's black, evil counterpart.

There was still an unforgiving rage burning in their gaze, but it seemed like there were no more monsters left to satiate their bloodlust. Only they were aware of the dead silence they left the now empty forest in.

Just now did you notice that the amount of blood on their clothes was also due to the piles of dead animals they were carrying, innocents caught in the crossfire.

Maybe that's what chilled you to the bone, leaving you with a feeling of dread.

What exactly made you any better than those animals? Just how long would it take for them to get angry at you, just how long would it take for you to be another one of the rotting, mangled corpses left to decay at the forest?

Or maybe they wouldn't let you die, you'd suffer as a punishment while Hyrule would heal you just enough to keep you from dying. Even if hurting you hurt them.

The Links weren't afraid of being hurt after all, if hurting you was what it took to keep you with them, they weren't scared to hurt you for the sake of the "greater good".

After all, in their eyes the greater good was keeping you with them.

You were forced out of your little thinking bubble when you heard the two throw the bodies of the animals by Wild's side, the man jumped a bit from the sudden movement, but didn't say anything. Four made a face at the bodies before giving you a look, like he was saying "You're doomed" without actually saying anything out loud.

Normally, Warriors or Legend would have already said something by now, be it a quip or a joke. This time, the silence was deafening, it seemed like everyone was aware of the heavy tension between Time, Twilight and you.

Time called out to Wind before pointing to the bodies. "Help him clean. I want all of those clean and salted before evening." His tone sounded cold, almost as if he was daring Wind to react and get him angrier than he already was. Guess Wind was still being picked on for accidentally freeing you that night, you frowned at that, feeling guilty. The boy merely nodded, crossing his arms, clearly annoyed yet aware Time was on edge and anything could set him off.

"It isn't his fault, you know? I was the one who tricked him."

Your quiet words easily traveled through the silent camp, reaching not only Time and Twilight but also everyone else.

Time shook his head, but didn't say anything in response, choosing to speak to Twilight. "I'll be back before noon. Don't let her out of your sight." The man hissed to Twilight before walking away in the direction of the empty forest once again, the rancher sighed.

Once he was out of sight, everyone seemed to be able to breathe again, going back to eating normally, Wild offered Twilight breakfast which he accepted with a curt nod before settling down by your side, almost leaning on you, tired because of the hours of sleep lost. If you asked, he would say he was just doing what Time asked of him.

"Silent treatment, such a healthy way to deal with conflict." You scoffed, glancing in the direction Time ventured off to. Twilight nudged you with his elbow, giving you a look.

"Can't say you didn't aggravate him, sugar."

You gave him an annoyed look in response, of course he was going to defend Time. "Whatever."

Twilight seemed dejected as he finished his breakfast, seeing how you finished yours in a very… "Spiteful" way, using your spoon like you were stabbing your plate, not like you had a choice, you weren't really allowed knives or forks since the last incident.

Sky leaned over before Twilight was able to say anything, he made a signal for him to keep quiet. He had the feeling what Twilight was saying wasn't really improving the situation in any way, you felt like he was siding with Time and not understanding your side. Not like any of them did, but you didn't need to know that.

"Hey, sweetheart." Sky scooted closer to you, patting your knee to bring your attention to him, the gentle expression on his face never failed to make it easier for you to listen to him, neither did it fail to bring an annoyed eye roll out of the rest of the Chain. He held back an amused smirk at that, the other Links unable to say anything, since he was, after all, the only one who was able to get to you in such a way.

"Yeah, Sky?" You still had your eyebrows furrowed out of frustration, holding your plate tightly, if your almost white knuckles were to say anything.

Before saying what he had to say, he put his hands on top of yours gently, lowering your plate to the floor before pulling your hands closer to him, so that he could calm you down better by making little circles over the back of your hands with his thumb, it always worked.

"We want you to be safe. That's all" He gave you a small smile, barely lifting the corner of his lips. "Let us care for you."

"That's right, Hyrule is dangerous." Legend butted into the conversation, making Sky chew the inside of his cheek anxiously. You were still on edge, any wrong words and it would only push you away, and Legend of all people trying to convince you? It was a recipe for disaster. "You must have noticed that by now." He nodded his head towards your stomach, where you used to be wounded, his face serious. You couldn’t really deny the truth in that.

Sky brought your attention back to him, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. "I understand you may be confused and scared, so are we. But it is in our spirit to take care of you, an innocent person brought into danger by the shadow." The others, who were paying close attention to his sugar coated words, nodded along. "You may die if we don't keep an eye on you." There was silence after that, and finally, you nodded, albeit slowly.

Sky smiled and squeezed your hands one last time before releasing them and grabbing your plate, getting up to put it away. Not before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Twilight got up next, nodding to Wild and Wind as they went to the closest river to prepare the bodies of the animals, the latter huffing and puffing as he went, cursing about Time in a low voice which gained him a slap on the back of the head. After last night, you guys would be able to travel without hunting for a long while.

He patted your head affectionately. "Don't be mad at the old man, he was worried sick about you when you ran." That made you feel a bit guilty. With Time's hard exterior, it was difficult to see him actually caring about you, but you knew he probably meant well, even if it was pretty much unbelievable.

"He's the one who's mad at me." You grumbled.

"He thinks you acted recklessly, and you can't say he's wrong." Twilight squatted down to be eye to eye with you, just to give you a pointed look. "I'm sure that if you apologize he won't be mad anymore. Deep inside, he has a soft heart." He chuckled before getting back up.

You doubted the truthfulness in that, but still, you nodded, not looking at him.

"Think about it, he won't be back until noon, so you'll have the rest of the day to mull it over." Before going to do whatever he had to do for the day, he said one last thing, sounding stern without having to even turn to look you in the eyes. "And don't even think about stepping a foot outside of this camp."

You looked around you, noticing Sky, Four, Legend and Hyrule were still paying close attention to you, even if Warriors and Twilight were about to go somewhere else.

You sighed. "Fine..."

This will be a long day…

#yandere x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #linked universe x reader #tw: yandere #yandere link x reader #the chain x reader

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baldursgat3 · 7 months

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follow up to this. honestly I was torn between like three different reactions and I still might fuck around and finish up the fluffier version of this.

for now though, local vampire fucks up, locks lover inside their own head for a year and kind of experiences an consequence

~*~*~

You could see the look on his face as he strode towards you, on the heels of Shadowheart. The same calm, tight smile you always got when you were in trouble in front of company. You only smiled warmly back at him, seemingly unaware.

"Dearest." His voice as silky as ever as he took his place beside you. "How on earth did you find yourself over here. I thought you were managing the food." He spoke as though he wasn't receiving a stare down from each of their companions.

"I'm sorry, love." Your voice came out as your head tipped down, reverently. "It wasn't going anywhere and- and besides, we wanted to chat. It would've been rude to crowd the refreshments."

He paused, you saw his eyes flick to the side where he knew Gale was watching. Everyone was watching. "You're always so aware of things like that, darling. Forgive me?"

"Of course." Ugh. The way you smiled back at him made you nauseous. It was so sweet and fake. Besides, you knew the only reason fake you got away with it was because everyone was watching.

"Cut the crap, Astarion." Karlach spoke up first, clearly irritated by the entire scene playing out before her. "We know what's up, let them go."

He turned to face her before you could get a good look at his reaction. "What are you talking about?" His voice had just the hint of an edge to it. He wasn't angry, not yet anyway.

Gale crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing at the man in front of you. "I can hear them in there. Whatever compulsion you've got going on needs to end, Astarion."

"You don't know what you're talking about. I don't compel them." His attitude slipped into irritation but, still, not anger. You were a little surprised, honestly.

"What part of 'I can hear them' did you not understand?" Gale stepped closer to Astarion, confidence bolstered by the ever imposing Halsin rooted behind him.

You watched as your darling's eyes took on a dangerous glint and you suddenly found yourself deeply worried for your wizard. You wanted to reach out, to step between the two of them. Surely Astarion wouldn't cause a scene here but Gale was treading dangerous waters.

He was outnumbered anyway. "I'd advise, rather strongly, you keep your nose in your own business." What was he doing? Why was he being so obstinate?

Halsin took a step forward, in your stead, placing himself between the two. "We can behave like civilized adults here. There's no reason to take up arms."

"Pfft. Tell that to the spell slinger. I'm unarmed, he never is."

"As though you aren't loaded to the pointy teeth with your own power, you demi-god jackass!" It almost would've been comical, the way they both craned their necks around Halsin to fling their insults. Almost.

"Gale…?" You tried, tentatively hoping he was still focused enough on your connection to hear.

Clearly he was, you practically saw his ears perk up. "Ah! There! Clear as day. You know, perhaps if you just listened you would hear. Aren't you supposed to be connected to your thrall, or something-"

"They are not my thrall." Astarion hissed. "I don't compel them. We're partners in this. And you all are guests in our home, I'd suggest you remember that."

He straightened up, squaring his jaw and turning his attention towards the rest of the group. "If you'll excuse me, I do have other guests to tend to. Dearest, I'd like you to join me."

"Yes, love." Your body moved to follow him as he turned on his heel, taking your friends away from view. You couldn't help the panic you felt in your bones at the idea of being alone again.

"Astarion, you can't do this. You can't just leave them like this!" You heard Gale call from behind you. "I don't know if you forgot or what but they're in there and they told me you caused this!"

Oh gods you wished you could've flinched. He always had to talk just a little too much. You saw Astarion tense up for a moment before he sighed, snapping his fingers.

In an instant, one of the spawn was at his side, awaiting his command. "Would you be so kind as to show Mr. Dekarios to the door. I'm afraid he's overstayed his welcome."

You heard Wyll's voice next, firm but still gentle. "Astarion, think about this. It doesn't have to be this way."

"And feel free to take along anyone else who would like to continue this ridiculous conversation." He waved the servant on, as he strode away. "Come along, love."

As your body walked away from the one connection you had to the world outside, you felt your heart sink into your chest. The door was closing, the light was fading. You crossed the spell's boundary, and you found yourself in darkness again.

~*~*~

The night dragged on, even more than it had before. Now you were stuck to Astarion, laughing politely and speaking when spoken to.

You felt like you were drowning. Slowly, slowly, agonizingly slow as you sunk into the darkness that seemed to swallow you whole. The one glimpse you had of light made this life you'd gotten used to seem so much more hopeless.

Not only had he forgotten you, he refused to even consider that he had. The only hope you had ever clung to, the idea that he would some day hear your cries, was dashed upon the rocks. He would never hear you. He wasn't even listening.

The night was endless and the future was barren. You didn't even have the autonomy to end your own misery. The party faded away around you, your own voice nothing more than a distant whisper.

Were you truly doomed to an eternity of this nightmare? What in the hells had you ever done to deserve such a fate? At the hands of your own beloved, no less.

You felt as though you could've been floating in that empty void of hopelessness for a lifetime before you were pulled out of it. With what felt like horror, you realized it couldn't have been more than a few hours. You were in the same dress. Astarion was in the room with you, quietly undressing from his formalwear.

"You are in there, aren't you?" You heard his voice, though he didn't turn to look at you.

It was like a tension wire snapped, all of a sudden you were thrust back into your body with a sharp gasp. You hadn't realized how dulled your senses had become over the time you spent away. It all felt like too much.

The gentle floral smell that filled the room threatened to choke you. The candle light and shadows dancing on the wall made you dizzy. The crackling of your fireplace may as well have been dozens of fireworks bursting inside your skull. It was all just far too much.

You clutched at your head with a pained cry and collapsed to your knees, attempting to curl into yourself as much as you could.

Then, like a flame, you felt his gentle touch on your shoulder. Without thinking, you wrenched away from him with another choked out sound. It was too much, it was all just too much.

The sensations, the emotions, the stress. It was overwhelming. You heard Astarion's voice blend together with the cacophony of sounds that barraged you now. It felt like you were spinning in circles as your senses went ballistic.

And then you woke up.

The very first thing you noticed was the hairpin jabbing into your head. You reached up to feel for it, vaguely recalling having more than just the one put in as you prepared for the party.

You were in one of your more comfortable pairs of night clothes, tucked snuggly into your plush bed with its silk sheets. You could see sunlight behind the thick curtains that hung in your bedroom but that was a poor indicator of time now.

At least your senses seemed to be more under control. Your touch was almost certainly still heightened, though. You would swear you could feel each individual silken thread under your fingers.

Your body felt heavy and almost unfamiliar and gods you were exhausted. You could feel yourself drifting in and out of consciousness for a while, unsure what to even do next and, honestly, unwilling to get up and figure it out right now anyway.

It could've been minutes or hours but, eventually, you heard the door to your room creak open. A faint candlelight flooded the room for a moment before the door shut again. "Ah! You're awake, now." You heard Astarion before he appeared at your side. "You've been out for a few days, I was beginning to worry, my love. You must be starving, I'll have a breakfast made for you."

He disappeared for a moment, you heard him walk back out the door and speak to someone. You didn't really care about food right now but you weren't going to stop him. Besides, he was at your side again just as quickly as he'd left. "How are you feeling?"

You blinked up at him, almost trying to remember how to speak as you searched for your words. "Tired." You finally managed, quietly.

He laughed softly, brushing your hair from your face. "You've been asleep for three days and you're still tired?" He was so tender right now, so sweet. It almost made you forget how you got here in the first place.

"Astarion…? What-"

"Shh…" He cooed, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. "It's past now, pet. I'm sorry it took so long."

Well, that was an apology at least - a very strange one, albeit. You had expected something bigger, more dramatic. You expected anger or sorrow or even just denial, but this? You had no clue what to make of this.

"Why did you-"

"Dearest." He sighed, moving to sit just a bit closer. "I know what happened was difficult, and I am sorry. I'm done with compulsions, sworn off them. Well, for you anyway." He chuckled. You didn't find it very funny.

You opened your mouth to say something but he continued, his eyes darkening as he spoke. "I've had quite enough of Gale, by the way. He acts as though he's in any place to judge my actions. I'm grateful he found you, don't get me wrong, but gods he couldn't have had a little decorum about it?"

He jumped so quickly from thought to thought as though each sentence wasn't cracking you over the head with it's implications. Gale had found you, at least that meant Astarion had forgotten. It also meant he chose to leave you that way and lie to your friends the rest of the night.

More importantly, he seemed largely hung up on Gale's position in this. "I didn't want to invite him but he's such a pest. I shouldn't have invited Wyll but imagine what people would think if I snubbed the Ravenguards." Politics, always politics. "I hate the way Gale looks at you, you know. Gods, if I had my way no one else would look at you at all but… well anyway."

It wasn't the first time he'd expressed that sentiment. You've known for a long time that Astarion was just a touch obsessed with you. It didn't help that you liked the attention, which only fueled the flames. Something about this time, though, something set off an alarm in the back of your mind. Suddenly, that idea looked more like a threat.

"Are you… really not going to compel me again?" Your voice was so meek, like you were afraid if you asked too loudly he might change his mind. You had so many questions but they could wait. You just wanted to know that he would let you keep your freedom.

The pained look that took over his face gripped your heart, for a moment you almost regretted asking. "Yes, my love… I was… It was foolish of me to think that I was any better than Cazador, just because I had better intentions." He laughed, bitterly. "What does it matter if I still hurt you?"

You finally moved at that, reaching out to grab his hand. "You're nothing like Cazador." It was true, Cazador wouldn't have put you to bed and taken care of you like this. He wouldn't have apologized, wouldn't have made this promise.

Astarion turned to you with a sad smile. "Only you could say that after all of this." You really didn't understand his reaction. He seemed upset at what he had done, seemed to grasp just how horrible it was. Yet, you had expected something bigger. A grand display of romance to prove his love or even just a fight about how he had had it so much worse.

A gentle silence hung in the air, neither of you fully sure how to move on. You found yourself wishing your promised breakfast would arrive just to break the quiet. Instead, Astarion spoke again, quieter this time. "Do you regret this?"

It was a vague question. You knew it was done on purpose, too. He asks a vague question to let you give the answer you want. It kept him from being too vulnerable before forcing you to take the first step. Even if it annoyed you, you understood why he did it. Asking him to clarify would defeat the purpose, so you chose the question you would answer.

"I haven't regretted a day in your arms, my love. I only wish I could've been the one you held these last few months." You weren't sure if that was a satisfactory answer or not but it put a small, hopeful smile on his face. That was good enough, gods you loved that smile.

He reached out to tenderly cup your face. "I love you. So, so much. Would you…" He took a small, uncertain breath before continuing. "Would you promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Stay away from Gale." Oh. Gods. Gale was the only reason he had remembered you in the first place, was he really that upset?

Your hesitation brought more desperation into his eyes than you had expected. "Why are you so angry with him?" You spoke with a practiced evenness, aware you were walking a minefield. "Why did you lie to them if you knew he was telling the truth?"

"I don't trust him, love." There was more behind his eyes than his typical desire to have things go his way. He was desperate for you to feel his concern. "He hates me, it's so obvious. He hates that I have this power, that I have you. I couldn't give him more ammo to fight me with by owning up to this in front of everyone.

"He's so smart, you know? And he can talk his way into things just as well as the rest of us. He managed to bed a goddess while I fought tooth and nail just to have you. He'll get into your head, he'll turn you against me, use this against me. I couldn't let him have it."

"Astarion, no one is turning me against you." You reached out to card both of your hands through his hair, bringing them to rest at the nape of his neck. "Gale is my friend, though. They all are and-"

"I'm not asking this for everyone. I know how… lonely it can get in here. Gale has cause to want to take you away. Please. I don't know what I would do without you…"

You hated seeing such desperation on his face. He really believed Gale was a few clever words away from snatching you away from him. You adored the wizard, he was a dear friend but you never had any interest in him beyond that. It didn't matter that you've already told Astarion this dozens of times, he was perpetually convinced that Gale was his opponent in a battle for your heart that he had already won years ago.

It didn't seem exactly fair that you were the one making a sacrifice to mend what was broken between you after all this. It felt fairly obvious that he was the one who should be making amends. But if this is what it took to make him feel safe in your love again. "All right, my darling. I promise."

#bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion

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starspann · 1 year

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wouldn’t it be nice (pt. 2) | 18+

joe cooper x reader

fem!reader, she/her pronouns are used

★☆✵☆★

warnings: cursing, smut

coop ruins everything

★☆✵☆★

weirdly enough, the blonde had been keeping calendar.

exactly 4 months and 8 days.

that’s how long cooper had been battling the urge to confess his feelings to remer’s girlfriend.

to be even more precise, he’s been wanting to for as long as the lovely couple had been together.

sometimes he’d practice his confession in the shower. while lazily shampooing his hair, he’d talk to the tiled wall, and somehow still manage to become embarrassed. he’d muster up a few broken phrases before falling silent.

“what a fucking wimp.” he told himself. he couldn’t even tell her in an imaginary scenario, how could he grow the balls to tell it to her face?

he’d shake his head, disappointed in himself.

then the soapy suds from his hair would fall and slide into his eye, he’d scream and almost slip on the slick bathtub floor.

not only did he lack the courage, but she’s dating sir fucking swish. doug remer, joe coopers best friend since they were little kids. they did everything together. used to read comic books together, ride bikes together… now, they drink together. a lot.

coop and remer found themselves seated at what could only be described as a seedy bar, like so many other nights they had spent together. and just like every other night, remer felt compelled to talk about y/n.

“hey man, we should get out of here soon. y'know, since y/n's coming over tonight." he opened his wallet to reveal a condom.

cooper let out an internal groan, feeling both embarrassed and annoyed at the same time.

"yeah, yeah i’ll follow you," he sighed exasperatedly as remer pushed off the stool and slowly made his way towards the door of the bar.

as cooper stood there, watching remer walk away, a flash of light on the dirty bar floor caught his eye.

it appeared to be a small, square-shaped, laminated paper laying next to his feet.

figuring it slipped from remer’s wallet when he opened it, he Immediately stooped down and swept it up, ready to call out for his friend, but before he could even get one word out, cooper turned the piece of paper around with curiosity.

his heart beat quickened and his cock twitched at the image.

a hazy, half-assed taken polaroid photo of y/n, stripped bare and invitingly curled up on remers bed.

though it was a little blurry, he could still admire all the details. her fists gripping onto remer’s baby blue sheets that he always refused to change, her eyes gently shut, her mouth hanging slightly open, and worst of all, remers hand placed on her thigh, his hips snapping into hers.

the picture was obviously taken mid-fuck.

cooper face flushed hot. it was like an instant dream come true; he had admired her from afar for so long yet never had the courage to act upon it. now here she was, willingly on display right before his eyes.

instead of doing the right thing, and being a respectable human being; he stuffed the photo in his back pocket, following remer to the old car.

coop’s dick strained against his jeans the entire car ride.

back at the house, y/n cursed at her curly haired boyfriend for losing such a thing.

“jesus fucking christ, doug! one thing i ask you to do, one thing!” she smacked him on the arm, furious with his careless actions.

“i told you not to put it in a place that you’d forget about!” her arms were crossed as she angrily paced around his unkempt room.

“hey, okay, first of all, i didn’t forget where i put it, it must’ve slipped out is all!” he threw his hands up in defense as if being accused of a crime.

“holy shit.” her breath was no longer steady, in fact, it sounded like she was on the brink of tears.

any girl would be if they had just learned their boyfriend lost a naked picture of them, most likely in a public space.

“y/n, baby, relax! it’s somewhere, okay? i’ll find it.” he held his pinkie up, awaiting y/n to hook hers with his, “just trust me?”

a promise, again. exactly like how he promised her he wouldn’t lose the photo in the first place.

“..okay.” y/n gave in, lifting her hand towards his and pinkie swearing to another false vow.

remer smiled at her with a toothy grin.

“see? that’s more like it.” he stood up from the bed and patted her on the back, “i’ll find it. swear.”

in the room next to theirs, coop was slumped, perched on his bed with his head in his hands. he was staring down at the tattered polaroid grasped tightly in his palms, considering what he should do with it. he could chuck it away, but what would be the point of disposing a perfectly good photo? a sexy one of his crush at that?

he quickly placed it on the side table next to him. avoiding its gaze, he shook his head, disgusted with his own actions.

without a doubt it was wrong. so fucking wrong.

he knew it, too.

despite his unease at the moment, that did not stop his hand from reaching for the lewd polaroid and feverishly pulling down his pants.

he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt as he considered how wrong it seemed for him to give in to such temptation, but yet here he was, desperately trying to satisfy his untameable urges.

he collapsed back onto his bed, the springs inside the mattress making an irritating squeak as he threw his boxers off, kicking them to the side.

he was already pretty hard, the view of polaroid only causing his cock to throb even more.

he laid his head against a pillow and began to work on himself, nothing but y/n on his mind.

he pictured her on his bed, her legs spread for him, her body inviting him to join her.

the movement of his hand sped up.

he’d make her feel so, so good. god, if he only had the chance, he’d spend hours between her legs. till her eyes rolled back. till she forgot remer’s name. eat her out like she was his last meal and he was a terribly starved inmate on death row.

he thought about what she might say,

“fuck me, coop. need you so bad. need your cock inside me.”

“you’re tongue feels fucking great right there, keep going.”

“sh-shit coop—“

he pictured her stuttering through her moans, unable to contain the pleasure he would give her.

his finger glided over his tip, playing with the pre-cum forming at his slit.

he looked at the picture once more, hand shaking and unable to keep steady as the other one stroked himself.

his hips bucked into his fist, pulling a noisy whine from his throat.

he was practically mesmerized by the image.

he really couldn’t help it. her name just rolled off his lips so easily,

“shit, y/n.” he groaned.

loudly.

it really wasn’t his fault. he had no idea that remer and y/n were still in the house at the time. in his mind, he thought they went out. he was far too busy imagining hot, wild sex with her to hear them arguing next door.

he moaned her name over and over again.

that’s when y/n opened his door.

of course, coop had forgotten to lock it.

why wouldn’t he?

#joe u silly goose!!#wishing doug had a pic of me in his wallet :(#joe cooper x reader #joe cooper #baseketball #baseketball x reader #trey parker x reader #trey parker #matt stone x reader #matt stone #doug remer x reader #doug remer

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kess-in-the-perthchimzone · 7 months

Text

Mini-fic: Jealous SAILOM

For @dramabiscuit — thank you for your great question for the Dangerous Romance celebration and also every time you’ve ever made me cry in your tags!

The fundraiser for Kang’s charity is being held in the ‘Grand Ballroom’ of one of the nicest hotels in Bangkok. Over the years, Kang has taken him to some fancy hotels, but this one blows all of them out of the water for sheer opulence. Kang had gotten it donated, though — purely based on his own proposal, without pulling any strings. Since Kang’s father and grandmother had insisted on being allowed to invite guests to this event, that had given him one thing he could truly feel proud of.

Sailom thinks he isn’t giving himself nearly enough credit — Kang has almost single-handedly planned most of the details of this, from booking the musical act, to inviting speakers, to choosing the catering. He’s been working nonstop for months, on top of his coaching duties.

And Sailom is going to reward his boyfriend’s efforts by being over an hour late. He rushes through the hotel lobby, up a staircase, and finally pushes through double doors into the venue. It’s packed with what has to be hundreds of people, all dressed in formalwear — suits like his own, or floor length dresses. Between the conversation and the music, the noise is deafening.

Somehow, in the midst of all of it, he finds Kang easily, looking handsome in a black tuxedo with his head thrown back on a laugh. A part of Sailom must have been drawn to him, a magnet compelled. At the sight, he finds himself stopped dead in his tracks, unable to continue forwards. Some part of him feels all of 17 again, watching Kang hook his lock onto Pimfah’s while his heart shatters in his chest.

Standing across from Kang is one of the most beautiful women Sailom has ever seen. She’s wearing a deep purple gown with a deep vee in the chest and cut-outs along the sides underneath her ribs. Every few seconds, she puts a hand on Kang’s arm to punctuate some point. As Sailom stares helplessly, she tosses back her long dark hair. And Kang is giving her his complete and undivided attention, looking like he’s having the most interesting conversation in the world.

A part of Sailom wants to turn and run. He hears a distant voice, long suppressed, say ‘you always knew he’d get bored of you eventually’. All he can do is wait a second — let himself feel it. Then, he takes a deep breath.

He reminds himself that he’s been together with Kang for six years now. That they live together. That Kang tells him he loves him every single day, if not multiple times a day. He thinks if Kang knew Sailom was feeling this way, he might genuinely cry.

That all helps him stay grounded; stay present in the room. But he still wants to rip that woman’s hand off Kang’s arm and tell her to go as far away as possible. He wonders what Kang would do in this situation if their positions were reversed.

Based on past experience, Kang would already be at his side. He’d probably make a show of dropping an arm around Sailom’s shoulders — glaring daggers at the offending flirt. All of which, Sailom would pretend to roll his eyes at, while secretly thrilling over.

Sailom finds a pleasant smile as he crosses the ballroom floor. He doesn’t throw an arm around Kang, but he does put a hand to his elbow — in the same spot the woman kept touching — and leaves it there.

“Hey,” he says in a low voice.

Kang looks to him immediately. His face lights up in a way that puts his previous smile to shame.

“There you are!” he says. “Sailom, this is Pannin. Pannin, this is my boyfriend Sailom.”

“I feel like I already know you,” the woman says, immediately turning her focus to Sailom. “Kang says you were kept late on a project?”

“Yes,” Sailom says. He feels his smile become more genuine. “I’m an automotive engineer. We’re on a big deadline to release a new model.”

“Amazing,” she says.

“Pannin owns this hotel,” Kang explains. “And she’s married to —“ he says a name Sailom doesn’t recognize. At Sailom’s confused frown, he adds, “He plays for the Thai National Team.”

A one-two punch, Sailom realizes immediately. One of the people in the room most responsible for making this event happen, who could also facilitate an incredible guest coach for one of Kang’s summer camps. He shares a quick glance with Kang, nodding just barely in acknowledgement. I’m on it, he promises with his eyes.

“How did you get started in the hotel business?” he asks Pannin.

#Kess sometimes writes fic not meta #dangerous romance

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teaandfiction-28 · 2 years

Note

Hello amazing author! I was just wondering if you could do smut prompt #7, please! :)

@cwilliams23-blog1 - thank you so much for the request!

I apologise in advance for the length of this...it’s essentially a chapter all on its own! 😅

So I glossed over it in ‘Perfect Storm’ and only kinda eluded to it at the tail end of ‘Brand New Day’ but I think it’s about time we found out how that very first night went!

Really hope you enjoy 💛

P.S - an early post because I’m sat at O’Hare on my way home feeling very sorry for myself!!

—————————

Prompt: “If you don't hurry up, I'll do it myself."

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Language, Smut [18+ Only]

Timeline: A continuation of C8 of ‘Perfect Storm’.

“Who says I want you to behave?”

The growl that tore from his throat was nothing short of feral as he gripped a handful of curls in a tight fist and fused his mouth back to hers, eager to feel her warm, pliant lips beneath his own.

But as eager as he was, there was no denying that it was such a bad idea. She was his subordinate. She was twenty years his junior. He shouldn’t even be thinking about her like this let alone be seriously considering taking her home. But right now he was doing way more than considering it. And, if he was being honest with himself, he’d been thinking about it for far longer than he was comfortable admitting.

He already knew she wouldn’t be like the other women he’d taken to bed over the last decade, where he would be itching to get out of the door as soon as it was over.

If he crossed that line with her tonight, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to stop.

As her unbelievably soft lips melded with his, tongue tracing every ridge and texture his mouth had to offer, he idly wondered when he had started viewing her as anything other than just another member of his unit.

Hank Voight was many things but he didn’t consider himself blind and nor did he consider himself stupid - and you’d have needed to be both not to notice just how gorgeous Kate Meadows was. But as the weeks passed and he began to slowly peel away the many complex layers that made her who she was, he was surprised to find that there were so many things about her that appealed to his heart just as much as she appealed to his eyes. She was kind, loyal, strong, but there was a femininity and vulnerability that called to him on a visceral level, compelling him to know her in every way she would let him.

He recalled watching her march Gerald De La Croix through the bullpen, her beautiful face already dark with bruising and he had wanted to rip the bastard’s head off for laying his hands on her. As the tip of her tongue traced along his lower lip, her quiet groan of pleasure vibrating in his mouth, it suddenly occurred to him that that could very well have been the moment he had started falling for her. And now here he was, standing in the blistering cold coming to the very stark realisation that he was falling in love with his subordinate and, aside from the obvious physical attraction they had for one another, he had absolutely no idea if she felt the same.

Was he just an itch she needed to scratch? Something she just needed to get out of her system?

But before he could analyse her intentions any further, his inner monologue was interrupted when she broke away for air, breathing heavy as her fingers toyed with the short tresses at the nape of his neck.

“You wanna get outta here?” She whispered against his lips, her body trembling slightly in his arms but, whether it was with arousal or due to the polar vortex whipping around them, he wasn’t sure.

When he opened his eyes, she was peering up at him, eyes alight with desire and, before either of them could change their mind, he slipped his hand in hers with a mumble of acquiescence and hailed a cab back to her place.

The ride to her apartment was fraught with sexual tension and, although they managed to refrain from making out like teenagers right there in the backseat, they weren’t quite able to keep their hands entirely to themselves; the covert touches and whispered promises only serving to heighten the anticipation of what was to come.

When the cab finally rolled to a stop outside of her apartment, Hank handed the driver a few bills with a muttered thanks and allowed Kate to lead him out of the cold with her fingers intertwined with his, a heady combination of arousal and adrenaline surging through his veins with each step he took towards her front door. She tossed a coy grin over her shoulder when she dropped his hand and slipped the key into the lock, her eyes fluttering closed when his warm body pressed against the length of her spine, the familiar scent of leather, citrus and spices making her feel more lightheaded than the passable ninety proof at the gala ever could.

The second the door was closed, Hank had her pinned against the cool surface, his hands braced on either side of her head as he mapped a path along her jaw with curious lips. Kate instantly dropped her purse and keys to the floor with a clatter, sliding both palms along the powder blue fabric of his shirt from his stomach to his chest, pushing his well-tailored jacket from his shoulders until it joined her belongings on the hardwood floor.

“This is such a bad idea.” She whispered into the darkness, unknowingly paying homage to his own earlier hesitance and, even through the thick haze of lust clouding his vision, he needed to make sure she knew that she still had a choice.

“We can stop.”

His hands had wormed their way beneath her heavy wool coat but, as he spoke, he forced them still on her hips, refusing to pressure her one way or another but desperately hoping she wouldn’t come to her senses and send him home alone.

“God no, please don’t stop.”

He growled low in his throat the second the whispered plea left her lips, his cock throbbing almost painfully in his trousers as he returned to his task of pressing a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck, pausing briefly to dip his tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat.

The moment her coat joined his jacket on the floor, Hank inched forwards so that they were pressed tight together from thigh to chest, his mouth capturing hers in a passionate kiss just as he wedged a knee between her parted legs, groaning deeply when she instinctively ground down against him.

Her insistent fingers made short work of his tie before they moved on to the tiny pearl buttons of his shirt, the fabric gradually parting down the middle to reveal a firm chest with a generous smattering of wiry, yet surprisingly soft, salt and pepper curls. With a hum of pleasure, Kate ran her palms along his torso, her fingers mapping every patch of exposed skin as though trying to commit every brown-sugar freckle to memory.

She was already tugging at the buckle of his belt when Hank’s lust-addled brain eventually caught up and he went in search of the hidden zip on her dress, craving the feel her warm skin against his own. Once he located the tiny piece of metal between her shoulder blades, he seemed to change tact and, instead of impatiently yanking down the zipper as she expected he would, he eased it down so slowly that Kate was sure they’d be ringing in the New Year long before he finally got her naked.

“If you don’t hurry up, I’ll do it myself.” She warned, tearing her mouth from his as her head fell back against the door with a dull thud, eyes fluttering closed as Hank slowly peeled the top of her dress down to reveal a smooth, tanned décolletage.

“You always this demanding?” He muttered against her skin, his lips tracing along her collarbones as gravity took over and Kate’s dress fell away from her body, hitting the floor with a quiet whoosh.

Hank swallowed thickly when he found himself eye level with her spectacular cleavage, the perfect globes encased in what appeared to be expensive black lace but, all too soon, his lidded gaze was drawn back to her face by a gentle finger beneath his chin.

“You bet your ass I am.”

“Huh, why am I not surprised.” Hank growled with a grin, hinging at the waist to grasp the back of Kate’s thighs, ignoring her squeak of protest as he effortlessly drew both of her legs around his waist, straightening back up with her in his arms in a surprising display of strength. “Bedroom?”

Kate just about managed to whisper directions before she sealed her mouth to his in a lusty kiss, all wet tongues with very little finesse but this was exactly how she wanted him. Untamed. Raw. Passionate. The silent hallway was soon filled with quiet moans, sharp breaths and the telltale sound of lips meeting and parting until Kate found herself being gently deposited on the edge of her bed. Hank stood between her parted thighs, sliding his shirt from his shoulders while she tackled the button and zipper of his pants with slightly shaky fingers, carelessly shoving them to the floor to reveal a pair of plain black boxers beneath.

Draping his shirt over the back of a nearby chair, Hank’s pulse quickened and his throat became dry as he watched her loop her fingertips beneath the waistband of his underwear, slowly drawing the fabric down his thighs until his thick length sprang free, flushed, throbbing and leaking with excitement.

“I knew it.” She muttered coyly, the corner of her mouth ticking upwards as she peered up at him with a wry smirk, her warm palms gliding over his hipbones teasingly.

“Knew wha- uhh, fuck!”

Hank never got to find out what Kate knew because suddenly her mouth was otherwise occupied, dragging her tongue along the prominent veins criss-crossing beneath velvety soft skin and ending her inaugural tour of his sizeable package with a featherlight kiss to the trimmed nest of curls at the base.

Taking him in hand, she continued her merciless teasing with light strokes and gentle kisses until Hank thought he might spontaneously combust if she didn't give him a little more friction. Carding his fingers through her hair, he secured the wavy locks at the back of her head in a gentle fist, his entire body vibrating with need when she blew a cool stream of air over his aching tip, glancing up at him through thick, dark lashes for a beat before taking the first few inches into her hot mouth with a hum of pleasure.

“Christ Kate.” He groaned, his head dropping backwards at the incredible sensation of her mouth on his heated flesh and, for a few long moments, he stood with his face tilted towards the ceiling, heart hammering against his ribs as she lavished his body with her undivided attention.

One warm palm was braced on the outside of his thigh while her other hand encircled the thick base, sliding upwards to stroke what she wasn’t able to fit in her mouth and Hank found himself throbbing with a surge of raw, masculine satisfaction at the mere thought. But when he dropped his burning gaze back to where her perfect lips were stretched wide around his cock, his breath hitched in his throat to find her already studying his face, soaking in every response to the subtle changes in pressure and tempo.

“Taste so good.” She hummed when she drew back to give her aching jaw a rest, slick fist gliding from tip to base as she flicked her tongue against the sensitive underside just below the wide crest.

He wasn’t sure if it was because she was particularly talented or simply because it was her mouth reverently tasting him but Hank was somewhat horrified when the familiar sensation signalling his impending orgasm began to bloom low in his belly.

The thought of finishing in her luscious mouth flashed in his mind and he could vividly envisage her throat contracting in response to each thick spurt of release, greedily swallowing down everything he had to offer. But there was no doubt in his mind that he wanted the first time to be while he was buried deep inside her, her body clutching him in a vice-like grip as she fell apart in his arms.

Gently pulling her away from his body, Hank leaned down to cup her face between his hands so he could capture her lips in a soft, albeit somewhat messy kiss, before slowly easing her down onto the mattress with his weight braced on his palms either side of her head, his hips settling comfortably in the cradle of her thighs.

“Who knew you had such a talented mouth, hmm?” He breathed in between kisses, smirking slightly when her back arched from the mattress with a keening groan.

“Who knew you were such a fucking tease?” She countered, hips rolling against him in a desperate bid for any kind friction against her throbbing bundle of nerves.

Hank couldn’t help but chuckle, beginning a slow path of hot kisses along her jawline and down the graceful column of her throat, pausing to suck a deep bruise into flesh just below her left collarbone before continuing his journey south. With a bit of manoeuvring, he managed to work his hands beneath her body to release the tiny hooks on her bra from their counterparts and bare her beautiful, full breasts to his hungry gaze. Balancing his weight on an elbow, he cupped one fleshy globe in his palm before guiding the dusky nipple towards his waiting mouth, sucking the tight bud into his hot mouth with a satisfied groan. Kate raked her fingernails along his scalp, her muscles strung taut with pleasure as he turned his attention to its neglected twin.

“Hank…”

Her breathy moan stopped him in his tracks, his entire body falling completely still. Up until this point, she had always referred to him as ‘Sarg’ or ‘Voight’ but now he knew what his given name sounded like spilling from her perfect lips, he wasn’t sure how he could ever go back to just being either of those things.

Releasing her flesh with a quiet ‘pop’, he shuffled further down her body, the sound of her quiet moans of pleasure like the sweetest symphony as he tracked his lips down her smooth, toned stomach. Sliding the tips of his fingers beneath the soft lace of her underwear, he slowly drew them down her legs, tossing them haphazardly across the room before returning his attention to the task at hand, stretching out on his belly with her knees draped over his shoulders, his mouth inches from her glistening centre.

It had been a while since he was last in this position. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it, quite the contrary in fact. But if he was being truly honest with himself, he simply hadn’t cared enough to want to make any encounter last longer than strictly necessary. While he had never left a woman who came to his bed wanting, he couldn’t say that he’d really been making much of an effort either.

Until now.

And right now he wanted to know exactly what Katherine Meadows looked like, tasted like and sounded like when she was in the throes of pleasure.

“Tell me what you need Kate.”

Kate heard him loud and clear but she remained silent for a few long beats, one hand fisting the sheets in a white-knuckle grip and the other digging crescent-shaped marks into the bare flesh of his forearm where he had her undulating hips pinned to the mattress.

‘I-I need…” She stammered, trying desperately to find the words that would articulate just how much she wanted him; in every way possible.

“C’mon sweetheart, you gotta tell me what you want.”

His lips tracking nonsensical patterns along the silky skin of her inner thigh and the sound of his deep, gritty voice was so distracting that the only thing she could force out was a quiet admission that she was sure he already knew.

“I want you.”

She felt his lips tug into a smug smirk as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the soft sliver of skin where her thigh met her groin, his tongue briefly darting out to taste her.

“You want me here?” He teased, pressing a firm but gentle kiss to the cropped thatch of curls covering her mons, eyes glancing up the length of her body to soak in the sight of her flushed cheeks and sweat-slicked torso. “Or how ‘bout here?”

When he swiped the broad flat of his tongue along the length of her, a keening whine tore from Kate’s throat and the desire that had been simmering low in her belly suddenly exploded outwards, gooseflesh bursting across her skin as though she were caught somewhere between a bitter chill and an open flame.

He alternated between long, gentle laps and firm circles with the tip of his tongue, occasionally lifting his gaze to watch her throw her head back in bliss as he expertly brought her to the very edge. Pulling her aching nub between his lips, he slipped a finger into her molten heat, groaning despite himself at the impossibly snug fit.

“Fuck Hank, right there!”

Her chest was heaving with each laboured breath, sternum glistening with sweat as she jerked and writhed beneath him. He knew she was close by the way her thighs trembled and inner walls clenched around him but, the moment he added another thick finger to join the first, she came with a sharp cry, her knees snapping together at the sheer intensity of the wave of pleasure that washed over her.

Hank adjusted both the pace and the pressure of his ministrations, opting for slow and gentle as he eased her down from her high and, when her thighs finally released their death-grip on his head, he slipped his fingers out of her and shifted upwards to drape his body along hers, their mouths instantly fusing together in a languid, tongue-filled kiss.

“Inside me...right now.” Kate demanded in between kisses, apparently reluctant to draw her mouth away from his for any longer than strictly necessary.

She could feel him at the juncture of her thighs, like steel clad in velvet as he leisurely thrust against her, the rigid length of him sliding easily through her drenched folds.

Then suddenly he froze.

“Shit, I didn’t bring…anything.”

She had no idea how he managed to be so fucking sexy and yet so endearing at the same time. The fact that he very clearly hadn’t planned to get lucky tonight made her feel surprisingly powerful, even more so now that he was gazing down at her with a slightly crestfallen expression at the thought of their night being drawn to a premature close.

“Top drawer.”

Kate almost laughed out loud at his not-so-subtle sigh of relief when he leaned across her body and yanked open the drawer of her nightstand, pushing aside the charging cables, books and tubes of chapstick until he found a strip of square foil packets.

As he tore one off with his teeth and tossed the rest aside, he reluctantly acknowledged the slight spike of irritation that lanced down his spine at the fact that she even had condoms in her possession in the first place. She was a grown woman with needs so it wasn’t as though it was a surprise...he just fucking hated the thought of her using them with somebody that wasn’t him.

Shifting back onto his knees, he carefully rolled the latex down over his rock hard length under Kate’s watchful gaze and, as her heated hazel eyes tracked each and every move he made, Hank couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so virile, so wanted.

Kate’s heart was pounding in anticipation watching the muscles in his arms and chest ripple as he sheathed himself with steady, sure movements. It was surprisingly intimate watching him prepare himself for her but the overpowering feeling of ‘rightness’ of being in the moment with him was like nothing she had ever experienced before.

When he was done, she welcomed him with open arms as he crawled back between her thighs, his mouth immediately seeking hers when his lithe body pressed hers into the soft mattress and, once again, Kate was slightly overwhelmed by how perfectly his body seemed to fit with her own. Her entire world narrowed to where his flesh touched hers; his belly pressed tight against hers, the soft hairs on his chest grazing her aching nipples, his tongue teasing hers lazily. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she slipped a hand between their bodies to take him in hand and line the thick tip of his cock against her.

“You sure about this?” He asked quietly, hips remaining completely still as he eased up onto his palms so that he could look her in the eyes. “There’s no goin’ back once we cross this line.”

They’d reached the point of no return. If they didn’t stop now, everything would change. But, in Kate’s mind, everything already had changed. It changed the minute he’d followed her out into the street and kissed her as though she was the oxygen he needed to breathe.

Sliding the hand that had been gripping his shoulder to cup the sharp line of his jaw, Kate swiped the pad of her thumb over his lower lip, her eyes locked on his.

“I’m sure.”

His warm russet orbs seemed to burst into flames as his mouth descended on hers and suddenly he was pushing inside her, their simultaneous groans of pleasure being caught in open mouths as he eased forwards until his entire length was sheathed in her tight, pulsating heat. Tearing his mouth from hers, he buried his face into the soft, lightly fragranced skin of her neck, holding himself completely still as her inner walls stretched and rippled around him, gripping his body as though she never wanted to let him go.

“Hank?”

Clearly he had been still and silent for just a beat too long but he soon became cognizant of her gentle fingers carding through the short tresses on the back of his head, the palm of her other hand smoothing tenderly over his bicep. Peppering a myriad of kisses to the tender flesh of her throat, he shifted her thigh a little higher along his ribcage and began a slow, steady pace, barely withdrawing before pushing back in the hilt.

“Fuck!” Kate breathed, her eyes slamming shut and her head tilting backwards on a particularly deep thrust, fingernails raking the skin of his back leaving four, vivid pink welts in its wake.

“Mmm, that feel good?” He panted against her throat, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead as he steadily increased his pace, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing in the darkness.

“God yes, do it again.”

She felt his lips pull into a grin against her throat, a mumbled “so bossy” muffled in the juncture of her neck and shoulder before he did exactly as she asked, grinding his pelvis against her slick core with each downward thrust.

Kate was balancing on the edge of bliss when he slowed to a stop, his teeth nipping none-too-gently at her collarbones.

“What’re you-”

Her question was cut short when he slipped his arms beneath her body once more and rolled them both until he was on his back with Kate sitting astride him, her knees bracketing his lean hips. With a coy smirk, Kate braced her hands on his damp chest and leaned in to gently touch her lips to his.

“You want me to ride you?” She hummed, sucking his lower lip into her hot mouth, laving it with her tongue before straightening up and rolling her hips in smooth, slow circles, grinning when Hank growled low in his throat and his hands darted out to catch her waist in a tight grip.

The raging heat between them continued to burn as Kate undulated above him, sweat trickling down her spine as he met her thrust for thrust, the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in her belly.

“You close?” Hank ground out through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on where his slick length disappeared inside her tight heat until there was no space at all left between their bodies. All Kate could do was whimper and nod frantically, her nails digging crescent-shaped grooves into the firm muscles of his chest, occasionally catching on his sensitive nipples as she rocked against him.

Grasping one of his hands in her own, Kate pressed the tips of his index and middle fingers against her swollen bundle, guiding him into the perfect rhythm that had her vision slowly turning black and her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Watching her writhe above him, using his body for her own pleasure was like the most potent aphrodisiac and Hank was barely holding back the tides of his own powerful climax, desperate to feel her tighten around him before he allowed himself to tumble over the edge into euphoria.

“Feel so good...come for me Kate.” He encouraged, sliding his free hand up over her rib cage to brush the pad of his thumb over the stiff peak of her nipple, cupping the ample flesh in his palm and giving it a firm squeeze.

The sound of his voice, his warm touch and the incredible stretch of his thick cock had Kate in sensory overload and, before long, her entire body was going rigid above him as she came with a loud cry. Hank was right there with her, his hips jerking frantically against her until he spilled inside her with a feral growl, his quivering muscles eventually relaxing when Kate dropped down onto his chest, boneless, breathless and deliriously satisfied.

When Kate finally floated back down to earth, she became cognizant of his gentle fingertips tracing nonsensical patterns along the length of her damp spine, his free hand resting softly against her thigh.

“Wow.” She breathed, eyes fluttering closed as the comforting sound of his heart thrummed steadily in her ear. Kate wondered when she had come to think of the sound of his heart as ‘comforting’? Had she even heard his heartbeat before now? She had felt it, that much she knew. She had felt it thudding wildly between her shoulder blades as she danced against him at the strip club and she had felt it again tonight; strong and steady, just like the man himself.

Hank hummed in agreement, waiting patiently until she was ready to move and, when she did eventually shift above him, the movement was accompanied by a whine of displeasure when he slipped from her body. Despite not being intimately joined, Kate still remained draped across his body with her head tucked comfortably beneath his chin, content to simply bask in the afterglow of incredible sex but, before she could drift off into a sated sleep, his deep, rumbling voice pulled her back to the present moment.

“What did you mean earlier? When you said that you knew?”

He felt her wry smile against the soft flesh of his throat, followed by a warm puff of air as she huffed out a light laugh. Lifting her chin, she nuzzled her nose against the underside of his jaw, pressing her lips to his Adam’s Apple before whispering softly in his ear.

“That you had the goods to back up the, uh, cocky swagger.”

Hank danced his fingertips over her dewy spine, grinning broadly as a tight whine escaped her throat when he rolled his hips against her sensitive, swollen centre, his softened length already twitching with renewed interest.

“Give me a few more minutes and I’ll show you just how cocky I can be.”

#hank voight #chicago pd #one chicago #hank voight fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction #hank voight smut #hank voight imagine #hank voight fluff #hank voight x ofc #smut #fluff #prompt #ask #writer #fanfiction

151 notes · View notes

underratedandoverit · 11 months

Text

a connection

~1,1k words orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian)

i dont know what compelled me to write this or why it exists. it just does now i guess. just. yeah. idk getting tad bit more out of my comfort zone or something maybe, but its just relationship stuff

theres like nothing here, implied stuff with basically fade to black and kip says fuck once, as per usual. i also didnt edit this or barely proofread it so what you see is what you get tonight sorry

on ao3

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Kip had had a strange feeling all night. Every time he caught Cassidy looking at him, the eyes lingered on him just a little bit too long, oftentimes looking at him over the top rim of the sunglasses, just observing. It wasn’t unnerving to Kip or anything, but he had been around the blond long enough to know that when he was silently begging attention like this, it usually meant something was off.

And Kip knew it was hard to get him to talk while they were at work, so he had to wait until the end of the night to get to the bottom of this.

As time passed, it was getting harder and harder to hold himself from pressing forward with this. Every time they passed each other in the hallway, Kip could feel Cassidy’s fingers reaching for him, brushing against his arm, the back of his hand almost in an attempt to hold his hand in that fleeting moment. They never exchanged words throughout the day during these moments they crossed paths, but it was so obvious that Cassidy wanted something from him.

Craved, even.

He wasn’t sure what was the correct time to become concerned about all of this, but the moment he was greeted by Cassidy at the rental car at the end of the night and wasn’t given a kiss as the blond instead immediately walked around the car and sat on the driver's seat, Kip had so many questions run through his head. Hesitantly taking a seat in the car after loading in their bags, he tried to observe the side of Cassidy’s face, without getting any clues to what was rattling around in his mind.

“Is everything okay?”

Cassidy didn’t respond back to him, his eyes barely glancing down as Kip reached for his hand, taking a hold of it finally, after what felt like hours of not being able to do that. Cassidy’s fingers immediately intertwined with his, holding his hand almost a little bit too tight, like he was afraid that letting go meant something horrible.

Kip could have sworn there was a faint layer of blush on Cassidy’s cheeks, but it was hard to tell in the dark car in the terribly lit parking garage. He could, however, see the way Cassidy was clearly biting his lower lip, holding something back.

“Clementine.”

He remained silent, only moving their hands to Kip’s lap as he started the car. Kip knew better than to try to disrupt him while Cassidy was driving, letting the topic go for the time being. The ride to the hotel wasn’t that long, and they were sharing a room, so him getting some answers if he could just make sure they had a safe ride ahead of them was still in the books for tonight.

Carefully untangling Cassidy’s hand from his, almost feeling afraid that one would hurt the other with how tightly Cassidy was holding his hand, Kip watched as the other man didn’t retreat his hand to himself. Instead he opted to leave it on his thigh, almost deliberately holding it, his thumb running along on top of it, the rest of his fingers every now and then drumming against the inner side.

Kip tried to ignore it to the best of his ability, knowing doing anything about it now or bringing it up in the car wasn’t going to help the case. He could have just moved his hand away, taken a hold of it again, but it felt disruptive to the moment. He didn’t mind it, but at the same time it felt like an awfully uncharacteristic set of actions for Cassidy.

They drove in silence, Kip’s eyes focusing on the boring city views barely changing outside his window the couple of agonizingly long minutes they drove to the hotel. The lobby was near empty, the silent elevator ride up to their floor as they held hands and Cassidy’s fingers were drumming the back of his hand were driving him insane. Kip knew to save all the questions for when they were actually alone in the room without a chance of getting interrupted, but the way to get up there seemed to be endless.

As they finally stepped inside the room after Cassidy managed to fumble with the key cards for a solid two minutes, with a heavy sigh Kip closed the door after him, pushing his luggage to the foot of the bed.

“Alright, what the fuck is going on?”

Before getting his answer, Kip watched the familiar jean jacket getting thrown onto the bed past him, making him raise a brow. As he turned on his heels to face the blond, Kip was immediately pulled into a kiss by a hand on the back of his head, with the other hand Cassidy starting to peel him out of his own jacket.

The sudden kiss being pressed on his lips so fast didn’t allow Kip’s brain a choice to resist, immediately melting him against it. Helping Cassidy get him out of the jacket, as soon as it was thrown somewhere on the floor Kip could feel both of the blond’s hands on his face, pulling him closer. He allowed the kiss to deepen as Cassidy’s almost hungry demeanor was begging for more, gently but firmly licking his lips before Kip allowed him to slip past them.

He felt Cassidy pushing him slightly, his legs hitting the end of the bed as he backed Kip up, sitting him down on the bed. Making sure to not break the kiss apart at any point Cassidy easily followed him down, straddling on his lap. Kip’s arms attempted to wrap around him, only for Cassidy to remove his hands from his face, grabbing his hands and with one fell swoop easily pushing him down back against the bed, pinning Kip’s hands above his head.

They parted for a moment, each man catching their breath as Kip looked up at the already disheveled blond hovering over him, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Oh. So that’s what this was about.”

Cassidy leaned closer, stealing another kiss from his lips. Passionate, but not long enough, just a lingering one to leave Kip crave for more.

“Shh,” he whispered into his ear, sending little shivers down Kip’s spine. He knew the rough tone Cassidy was using at that very moment, being very well aware what it was leading up to if things were to continue this way. “No talking. Just enjoy it.”

Even if he would have wanted to, Kip didn’t have a chance to respond as Cassidy leaned over for a kiss, this time not pulling away.

#fic #character: orange cassidy #character: kip sabian #ship: orangekip #aew fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction

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287aus · 1 year

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#yeonbin ੈ♡‬༉ ・ jealousy, love confessions (1.6k)

yeonjun isn’t giving soobin the reaction he wants. he wants to be chased after. wants an ounce of his attention. but what yeonjun says leaves soobin more confused than ever.

or: where yeonjun says, “like i care, do whatever you want. go out all you want. at the end of the day, you’ll come back to me. and when you do, i’ll make sure you never forget why it’s me. always me in the very end.”

# semi toxic, semi idiots in love, semi crack

There’s an eerie silence between them, an unsettling thickness that makes Yeonjun feel lightyears away. Soobin always has doubts—not anything to do with Yeonjun directly, but himself. If he makes one wrong move with Yeonjun, that could be it. It’s not long until he’s bound to do something that will make them grow sour towards each other. They’re long past the phase of getting to know each other, but they aren’t exclusive either. It seems easy for Yeonjun to leave without reason. It is what Soobin fears for most.

So the heaviness? Maybe it’s just all in his head. He hasn’t done anything wrong—not that he knows of. It must truly mean there is nothing wrong. And yet…he feels it. Still feels it. It’s not in his head is it?

“Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun hums but the glow of his phone screen still reflects on his entire face. He doesn’t spare any of his attention towards Soobin.

Soobin decides to shift, giving them room on the couch until he’s bumping against the arm rest.

“Do you not want to spend time with me?” he says when Yeonjun doesn’t acknowledge their distance.

With a small sigh, Yeonjun pockets his phone into his lap and finally gives Soobin the eye contact he’s been longing for since he first stepped foot into the apartment. Yes. Yeonjun did not spare a glance at Soobin the entire visit. He simply kissed Soobin’s cheek and gestured him in before closing the door. Soobin became a host for himself, grabbed his own glass of water and invited himself onto the couch and tuned into whatever Yeonjun was already watching.

“What are you talking about?” Yeonjun huffs, one leg crossing over the other as he seems to shift uncomfortably.

“I don’t—you…I don’t really understand what we’re doing anymore.” It’s Soobin’s fears speaking for him. He’s been walking on eggshells for weeks. In the middle of the dozens of street vendors, under the moon and stars, Soobin found him. Truly realized that he wanted Yeonjun more than he’s ever wanted anything in his entire life. Maybe since then, he’s been more vulnerable, voicing out his truths and worries around Yeonjun, more clingy, kissing every inch of Yeonjun’s face—just so fucking in love. Yeonjun must know, must want to break it to him easily. That he doesn’t feel the same way.

“Well what do you want to do, Soobin?” Yeonjun says, in a way that’s cold and snarky, like he wants this conversation to die out already.

Soobin ignores one question for another, “Why are you so busy these days?”

“Hardly busy.”

“Are you seeing other people?”

“Do you think I am? What if I am?”

It’s like he can hear it. The way his heart stops beating, followed with thorns in his throat. “Are you?”

“Am I?”

Soobin clenches his fists, simultaneously with the way he squints his eyes, refusing to let the prickles in his eyes turn into full grown tears. “Why can’t you answer normally? Stop beating around all of this. I’m already trying to talk to you clearly.”

“And if I said I am?”

“Then I’m going out,” Soobin argues while getting up, already pulling his jean jacket from the edge of the couch, flinging it over his shoulders as he punches his hands into the arm holes.

“Where could you possibly be going on a Friday night, at what…midnight?”

“Where would I go? Where do you think we met at this hour?” Soobin retorts snarkily. He doesn’t know what compels him to state such vile words—to spit lies. He hardly wants to be anywhere tonight but in Yeonjun’s arms. He does not want to go to their favorite vibrant bar where he met Yeonjun, without Yeonjun. He definitely does not want to hook up with anybody else. And somehow he still utters, “See someone else. Right?”

Yeonjun doesn’t even look at him, scoffs at his lap, “Like I care, do whatever you want.”

“Really,” Soobin says with a ginormous gulp. If it wasn’t clear to him earlier, now there’s nothing in between them. Soobin sees Yeonjun for all he is. He never meant anything to Yeonjun and it’s always been crystal clear.

Yeonjun finally gets up, circling the couch and stands before Soobin. Everything around them is drowned out, a thousand times more than moments ago. It’s just static noise and the dimness from the television. Yeonjun’s pointed eyebrow looks fierce as his nostrils flair with irritation. Soobin’s hands are clammy and he just wants to escape this darkness in exchange for an intimate crying session in his car.

“Yeah, go out all you want, you’ll come back to me. And when you do, I’ll make sure you never forget why it's me. Always me in the very end.”

Soobin takes a step back when Yeonjun advances a step. His hand invades the space in between Soobin’s nape and shoulder, palm resting firmly on his collarbone as the fingers pry into his back. “Go then.”

Soobin is frozen in place. Despite Yeonjun’s demands, he can’t utter a single action. Yeonjun always had this way about being unclear. He was never great at expressing himself, but it was the many reasons Soobin easily fell for him. It felt as if Yeonjun was a constant challenge that Soobin was working so hard to solve. Little by little, Soobin revealed Yeonjun’s interests, struggles, passions and stories. Soobin lived for unraveling Yeonjun this way. Sometimes it’s too much, but that’s what makes loving Yeonjun so, so worth it. What does he mean right now? Soobin still wants to find out. He is afraid he will always hurt himself by discovering parts of Yeonjun that he doesn’t need to know.

“So you want me to go?” Soobin breaths out quietly.

Yeonjun shrugs. “If you’re going to find someone that’s gone spend time with you, fine, goodluck. I doubt you’ll find anyone half as interesting as me. Probably wouldn’t fill you up the way I do.”

“Yeonjun—“

“He won’t know your body the way I do. Won’t touch you the way you need. Won’t know how you like it, how you deeply need it, baby. Not long until you come running back to me afterwards.”

“And if I don’t?”

Yeonjun tilts his head, eyes filled with concern despite the sick, mocking grin.

“What if this time…I don’t come back?”

“Then I was wrong. You aren’t meant to be mine.”

It’s different. He says it with sorrow. All the arrogance vanished, leaving Soobin to stare at a man with the same sullen eyes, minus his wicked smirk.

Soobin shoves Yeonjun’s hand off his body, stomping away because he doesn’t want to be anywhere near Yeonjun—one who keeps giving Soobin mixed signals. “Yeonjun for once, can you please, please tell me what you are feeling?”

“How do I make you stay, Soobin? I’m not sure.”

“Tonight? Just hold me…talk to me. I just want—“

“No. Forever. Always. What do I have to do to keep you?” Yeonjun is fixated on the ground, as if the carpet is more amusing than having an entire conversation with Soobin.

“I love you, Yeonjun but you’re always pulling back.”

“Me? You’re the one who’s started replying slower, canceling our dates, talking to other people. It’s best I keep my distance too, right? To see what I mean to you. I need to understand what I am to you.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do!” Soobin snaps, raising an accusatory hand, finger digging into Yeonjun’s chest. “I’ve been pulling away to see if you’d come after me. But you’re going off telling me to just fuck somebody else until I realize they aren’t you? What the fuck is that?”

Yeonjun laces his fingers around Soobin’s and gently brings it down. Soobin doesn’t try to pry away but he doesn’t link their fingers together either.

“Soobin…can you say that again?”

“What? Say what again, you’re—ugh!”

“Soobin, you love me?”

Soobin stares in complete confusion. “Yes. Yeah, I’m making a fool out of myself, aha. Yeah, I love you so much. But I suppose you want me to say that to a stranger’s face then expect me to come back and come on yours.”

“No, no…” Yeonjun near-cries. “Soobin, I seriously love you. I mean, I love you, too. I love you back! I’ve been dying here trying to figure out why or how we’ve grown apart.”

Soobin’s stomach erupts with this whirlwind of happiness, but he can’t help but remain frustrated at their stubbornness. “I shouldn’t play games with you. I see that. But you shouldn’t voluntarily pull away either.”

“Says the one who also tried to pull away as a test.”

“Says the one who told me to fuck someone else, even though they loved me, as a response to my test.”

Yeonjun looks cute again. Eyebrows furrowed and lips pouty in confusion. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“You don’t either. I am always trying to decode you. I keep spending many of my days just trying to understand you. It’s infuriating. But somehow, it makes me love you so, so much.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Forgive me?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I confessed first. I really wouldn’t have come back, Yeonjun,” Soobin expresses deeply.

Yeonjun releases a heavy sigh before planting a tender kiss on Soobin's cheek. “Mine?”

“Of course, idiot. Now…will you do something to really make me stay?”

“Strip, then bend over the couch armrest,” Yeonjun says with a spank to Soobin’s ass. “Better be ready by the time I come back with some lube and a condom.”

“Make up sex, yay!”

“How about we pretend it’s still angry sex?”

Soobin perks up at, beyond eager to undress. “Yes!”

#<5k #yeonbin #txt #ekzxo #287aus #angt #fics #just under an hour phew!!!

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raisindave · 16 days

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[Chapter 35] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

Beep. Beep. Beep. Your fucking wristwatch you had fallen asleep wearing had the nerve to wake you up a mere three hours since you'd fallen asleep. The stacks of sweaters you wore as a supplement for the lack of a blanket left deep red lines across soft flesh, urging your muscles to allow you to rise. Cresting sunshine tinted the land outside the tiny window with a holy golden glow, glistening over amber waves that rippled with the morning breeze. Yesterday was more adjacent to a dream until you crackled joints to life with a reaching stretch. You were seconds away from striding out into the open area of the observatory before a knock at your door nearly made you pass out from fright.

Quickly tucking the discarded sweaters into your duffle once again, you cautiously crank open the groaning door separating you from your guest. You meet the pale eyes of Laswell and the golden complexion of your mysterious ally, whom you'd met hours ago. Courtesy compelled you to open the door beyond the crack that would let you slip past, pressing your lips into the thin line of a polite yet awkward smile.

"Good morning," Laswell said courteously, bundled in a small but sporty hoodie.

"How was your first night in Al Mazrah," Farrah added half sarcastically as she pushed past you into your room, not waiting for a reply.

"Successful, I think." You shrugged, turning to see Farah already thumbing through the notebook you'd left on your desk before you crashed.

Farah hummed in approval as she flipped through the pages, flipping it into Laswell's palm to let her have a chance. As you watched Laswell thumb through the first few pages, Farah took advantage of the view from the small tarped window, peeking through the crinkling blue blinds to see the morning sky.

"Do we know who he is?" You crossed your arms over your chest and stepped back to let Laswell cross to investigate as well, "the… speaker ?"

"No. Nobody does." Farah spoke plainly and efficiently, assuming the duty of scouting out the window. "Grim business," she muttered.

Faintly pattering footsteps on the metal catwalks, almost imperceptibly quiet, revealed the rest of your team of soldiers. You came to recognize Price, Ghost and Gaz standing while Soap took it upon himself to settle into one of the extensively dusty couches in the corner of the room. It's definitely an odd way to start your morning to have six people invade your space only seconds after your feet leave your sheetless cot.

"I'll try to put faces to these names and run them through a database. They could be a lead," Laswell sighed, passing the booklet off to Price as she spoke. "Cricket, keep it up." With that, she pulled another pristine booklet from a manilla folder under her arm and replaced it with your worn one.

"Yes, ma'am."

The cycle of transcript curation fell into a steady rhythm. Wake up, give Laswell her booklet. Then, for the few hours when the broadcast is quiet, you can grab an MRE and maybe catch the boys for an opportunity to use your vocal cords. Even as almost a week of the same thing over and over had passed, more dead names, the ages just get younger and younger. One of the names was a 10-month-old, and it's lingered in your mind for days. The scorching daylight and numbing evening cold have a harsh way of reminding you of the passage of times.

There are so many names, some repeating from the past few nights, but some new. They seem to come in bunches, you've found. After a few days of the same names being recycled, a new bundle of four or five doomed souls. You had run two full blue pens bone dry over your transcriptions, forcing yourself to stand from that aching orange chair to force blood flow to trickle back into your thighs. It's mundane and simple; it's something you quickly fell at peace with- these tasks were so predictable and tranquil. Although it did come with the consequence of leaving your wandering mind to count every crack in those splintering couch cushions stacked across the room. From this angle, you spotted 122, but you'll have to re-count a few more times to be sure.

Raised voices snapped you out of a mid-afternoon daze, taking the opportunity to stretch your legs and get another packet of Government Mandated Energy Kibble. On this particular excursion back into the open observatory common area, you caught a glimpse of Farah having a heated discussion with the rest of the crew. The entire front of her linen and cotton garb was covered in a thin layer of beige dust, her dark hair tied back with a worn bandana. You caught the tail end of a debate as you pushed back squealing metal doors. Gaz and Soap were seated at a table in the open computer room, lazily passing a soccer ball between them wordlessly.

"-It's not making a difference, Captain."

"We can't move until we have more information. We're on the edge of global war."

"You're playing into their game if you play like a fed." Farah clicked her tongue in disapproval. "How many more dead kids, Captain? How many more dead kids do you need as proof."

"You know it's not that simple," he held his ground, arms crossed.

"If only we had an Arabic speaker who could go in and gather intel-" Farah's palm gestured to your direction, despite her back facing you.

"Not happening." Price silenced her in an instant.

If Laswell's tight-lipped stare into your soul wasn't clear enough, the topic of the conversation had clearly landed on you. They're implying you go undercover again, something you've done before.

"Let the little bird fly. We're doing fuck-all just sitting here like cowards," Farah spat, hooking her finger under Price's beard, dangerously close.

It's entirely beyond your understanding why he didn't snap at her. He has every reason to pull rank and chew her out. And he's not. There's some rapport or respect between them that goes beyond any social or military rank. It's kind of chilling.

"I can get her the clothes. Besides, nobody knows she's here, and it's a big city."

"Not that big," Ghost interjected from behind a circular table in the middle of the room, his tone cold as ever.

"Big enough. Her skills are wasted if you keep her in here listening to missing person ads," she retorted, like fire to his ice. "Let's see what the people are saying."

Your mind spun a million miles a minute, and it was almost impossible to say if additional information was being spoken in your direction; your mind just blocked it all out. Here you are again, putting yourself directly into harm's way like you have a death wish. It's worked out spectacularly so far, but that luck is doomed to run dry soon enough. It took a conscious effort not to wring your hands in anticipation. A flash of blue in your direction brought you up to meet Price's stare. His face wasn't cold or judgemental. It was unsettlingly neutral, with no flicker of doubt under that moustache or furrowed brows. It's like he's evaluating your reaction, scanning you for an answer. He's come to trust you. He's looking at you for an answer. This trust that has been formed brick by brick over the past year has not gone unnoticed by this wolfish titan. A sense of pride and warmth manifested in your chest, like you're a giddy little girl who was just given a cookie after finishing her homework. The fruits of your labours have manifested in Price's slim, but existent trust. But that doesn't mean he won't keep you on a dangerously tight leash.

"I'll go." You spoke plainly, stepping into the conversation from your vigil.

"That's my girl," Farah grinned, stepping in your direction, away from Price.

"How are we going to keep an eye on you if things go sour?" Gaz spoke up, rising to his seat from his position at that circular table. Across from him, Soap strained to catch the pass Gaz sent his way from the half-deflated soccer ball.

"You're telling me the CIA doesn't have every street camera tapped?" You raised your eyebrow.

"Excellent, so we can watch her get tortured in crisp 1080p," Soap quipped grimly, enunciating his sarcasm with his fingertips pressed to his thumbs. He then tapped the ball back to Gaz.

"More like 240p," Gaz couldn't help but snicker, flicking between grainy footage on that familiar laptop with his clunky fingertips. Gaz passed the ball to Ghost who trapped it between his ankles, silencing their game like the asshole he is.

"People don't even look at women in this town," Farah spoke grimly, stepping as a shield in front of you. "Trust me, she'll be fine."

A silence fell over the room. She had just successfully shut all participants into a pensive trance during the conversation. Once again, all semblance of this being a standard mission is entirely out the window. It was almost too good to be true to expect to be just managing transcripts for the next few weeks, and you're once again doomed to walk a tightrope above a den of vipers. Once again, there's Ghost, lounging in the back of his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. If you didn't know any better, you'd have assumed he was asleep. But on a closer look, dark eyes cast in shadow because of the stark overhead light that scarcely illuminated that same plain stare. Those same eyes tracked you like a bird of prey since the second you walked into the room.

"Now come on, let's get you dressed," She put her fingertips on your upper arm, strikingly gentle, but confident.

You managed to catch one last glance of the torrent of skeptical and uncertain gazes before you were ushered out of the situation room. The second the swinging double doors clicked shut behind you, muffled dialogue manifested in the room you had just vacated. Unquestionably unsettling, though they've yet to play an active role in your downfall, so that's earned them the benefit of the doubt thus far. This complex had an eerie way of making both your footsteps echoing down the aluminum stairs sound like the loudest thing in the world. Farah had pushed past a short metal door, approaching what looked like a break room. The walls had those cheesy 80s workplace morale posters, displaying words like Attitude and Teamwork with stock photos of rowboats and skydivers.

A small suitcase of vibrant fabric and textures clinked open under a heavy metal clasp, Farah pawed through the puddle of cloth and linen. It made you wonder how this trunk even got here. Maybe this mysterious woman had been talking about sending you in for a while now, and it's only just come to a head. By the time your thoughts wandered to the logistics of it all, she was flicking dust off a navy and black sheet of fabric that manifested into the shape of a gown once she was done fiddling with it. Your hands sprung to catch the cloth as it jolted into your immediate surroundings, thrown to you from across the room as Farah worked to gather more. Working the lightweight cloth between your fingertips, you identified swirling flower patterns in navy and gold elegantly patterning over the long gown. Farah stopped you as soon as you started working to identify the opening that would allow you to slip the garment over your head.

"Uh-uh, no military clothes. Women here don't wear cargo pants and dog tags," she lamented, "especially not when they're around town."

You couldn't help but detect an odd sensitivity in her voice like her stern, commanding tone would overshadow the flickers of sadness between her words. She tossed a pair of brown leather-healed loafers onto the tile with an ear-splitting crack as you took your time to sit in one of the dusty cushioned chairs. As you worked to pry apart starchy bootlaces, Farah continued unfurling more cloth, landing on a bundle of inky black cloth and another sheer black rectangle she set aside. Slipping your feet from the tight boots that felt more like a second skin, you worked the loafers over your heels as you took in your present company. This woman was muscular and tall but still remarkably slender. Her baggy clothes must do an excellent job at camouflaging her in this desert landscape but also be presentable enough that she might not immediately be pinned as the expert sniper she was. Although you'd yet to see her shoot or even wield a rifle, the .300 Magnum bullets she kept in her back pocket meant that she was used in long-distance combat - or rather, a lack thereof.

"Farah," your voice caught in your throat despite your best efforts.

You weren't even sure if you had the authority to use her first name, and you weren't even sure what to call her if that weren't the case. Nonetheless, she turned to face you, hands on her waist, and seemed neutral to your tone.

"All those names from the broadcast-…" You couldn't bear to look up at her to meet her intense gaze, but you willed yourself to comply, "Were all those people killed because of these Separatists?"

Another pause. Shame manifested in your cheeks as you realized how pathetic you must sound to her. Her pronounced eyebrows laid straight on her face as she worked your thoughts through her mind.

"Yes." She spoke flatly, her arms folding over her chest, "-And you now know what happens when you speak up about it."

Her words were laden with intention, but it didn't take another word for you to understand the implication. Those names you'd been recording in those paper graveyards. Dead souls who are probably out there decomposing in the dunes are a consequence of questioning these warlords. More likely than not, these weren't even the people who made the initial statements but rather the collateral damage resulting from cruel and unusual punishment. It's a dreadful thought, and you simply can't let it illustrate on your demeanour, lest you want to take a long nap in those sandy hills.

Your next step was to shed your standard clothing, though she had the courtesy of wordlessly turning her back to you in the form of temporary privacy. Everything, down to your underwear. At the very least, you're not expected to wear a tacky lace bra like that mission in Mexico. Fumbling to identify the space for your head to poke through with the draping triangular sleeves, a firm tug at the garment from an outer force brought your vision from the darkness of the dress. You met those deep brown eyes, blinking calmly, before returning to the table with the rest of the items. There was something so fascinating about this woman. Despite only knowing her for a matter of days and speaking less than 30 words to her, she commanded your attention with every diligent movement.

"You're just observing," a firm hand rested on your shoulder, ordering your eyes to meet hers. "You'll be back in time for another lukewarm food packet," a phantom of a grin pulled at the side of her mouth.

"I think I'd rather go missing," you sighed, mimicking stoicism until the amused smile that manifested over her face compelled you to laugh.

In a weird way, you were envious of her. She had everything you felt like you wanted. Farah was so confident and self-assured. She didn't fumble or doubt; she just did what needed to be done on her own terms. Not every day do you meet someone who can stand toe-to-toe with Captain Price, let alone sneak up on him. She's a pariah of confidence and self-respect, all in a lethal package that didn't ask for approval or assurance from anyone, not even Laswell. Yet, she had their undivided respect. Some day, you'll have to wrench that story from Price over a drink or two on your next 'ruck.'

Tucking hair under that featherlight rectangular scarf laid on the table could easily be twisted into a makeshift hood. Entirely indistinguishable from any other woman in town, with the added bonus of being an excellent way to conceal your identity. At some point, Laswell and Price had entered, along with the rest of the crew, to your shock. Just eerily watching you get dressed like psychopaths.

"We'll be in your ear if we need to give you orders on the fly," Laswell said, handing you another tiny beige earpiece to rest in your inner ear and tucking an apparently loose bunch of fabric under your collar.

"We've made a path for you to follow. Under no circumstances can you stray from it." You've never quite seen Price's eyes so intense as he held a paper map under your chin. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir." You nodded.

This must have been the agreement the two parties reached. Farah wants you to explore the city for clues, and Price fears one of his toys will get broken. It was a compromise, though one you had no say in. Not that your say would've been much farther from the current plan.

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if-mirrormine · 2 years

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i have no idea what compelled me to write this but i did, so here you go my children.

The classroom is in chaos; students laughing and talking over each other, paper planes taking flight from every corner, the substitute sitting at the teachers desk, ignoring the rest as he listens to his walkman and reads a book. The clock hanging above the chalkboard states there's only fifteen minutes left of the school day.

A basket ball sails through the air, landing dead centre in the middle of a group of girls gossiping. Their dissent comes in the form of loud complaining and one girl snatches the ball up just as it's thrower comes to fetch it.

"Sorry about that, ladies," he says, an easy smile taking place on his face as he reaches for the ball.

The girl holds it out of his reach and watches his smile falter ever so slightly. "Nice try," she retorts. "Thanks for playing though!"

The other girls giggle and snicker as they watch the boy pout at her. "Pretty please? It won't happen again, I promise."

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "Yeah; not happening."

He stands up straighter and spreads his arms out helplessly. "What's it gonna take?" He asks. "Do I have to get on my knees and beg?"

She takes a moment to think before giving him a sweet smile. "Sure."

"Wait, what?"

"Get on your knees and beg," she clarifies and the other girls laugh again.

He looks around at each of them individually before finally admitting defeat and sinking to his knees, his hands clasped together as he looks up at the girl. "Please, oh please may we have our ball back?"

She looks at him and then at his friends some ways behind him, all giving her the same pleading look he does, before she sighs and tosses the ball at him.

He catches it with ease and gets to his feet. "Thanks, doll," he says as he winks at her. He misses her response in the form an eyeroll though as he goes and joins his friends again.

He walks off the courts as he waves goodbye to his friends, covered in sweat, basket ball cradled in one arm and his bag slung over the other. The sun's hanging low in the sky, close to setting, as he walks through the parking lot to his car. Halfway there, he sees a girl struggling to raise the bonnet of her own car. He recognises her immediately.

"Well, if it isn't the ball hog," he chuckles as he comes to a stop in front of her. She glances back at him and rolls her eyes before going to back to her task. "Car trouble?"

"No, I'm churning butter," she replies sarcastically and he laughs again, setting his things on the ground before moving to stand next to her.

"Here," he says, nudging her aside. "Like this." Reluctantance radiating off her in waves, she steps back and watches him open the bonnet with ease. As he props it up with the stand, he grins at her over his shoulder. "What's wrong with it?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she heaves a sigh. "Won't start," she mutters. "It needs a jump."

His face lights up. "I can help with that."

She wants to reject his offer, he can see it plainly on her face, but with the parking lot practically empty except for three other cars - his one of them - she doesn't have a choice. "Fine," she grumbles.

He grins at her. "This won't take long."

True to his word, he has her car running not even five minutes later. Satisfied with his work, he disconnects the jumper cables and shuts the bonnet before turning to face her. "Your chariot awaits, m'lady," he says as he bows.

"My Prince Charming," she quips, rolling her eyes again but there's a hint of a smile on her lips.

"I actually go by Demetri these days; keeps the groupies away." He offers her a warm smile and his hand, which she shakes after only a moment of hesitance.

"Nora," she replies before pulling her hand away. "I should get going... thanks for the assist."

"Anytime." And he means it. Gathering the cables up in his arms, he gives her a wink and one final smile. "I'll see you around, Nora."

"Yeah," she says softly as she watches him get in his car. "See you."

Nora walks through the restaurant, plates of food piled on her arms. It's slow for a Saturday, even in the supposed lunch rush. She approaches the booth in the corner and sets the plates down, telling the family to enjoy their meal.

She turns on her feet and walks back to the counter where Demetri sits, waiting for her as he sips a vanilla milkshake. He lights up when she resumes her place behind the counter. "Well?" He asks, his eyes scanning over her face for any kind of reaction as he toys with the straw in his glass.

She raises her eyebrows at him, feigning ignorance. "Well what?"

"My proposition! Have you thought about it?"

"Right..." she starts, chewing on her buttom lip. "And what was that again?"

He shoots her an incredulous look and it takes all her willpower to stifle her laugh. "I just asked you," he says. "It's impossible for you to forget already."

She shrugs her shoulders noncommittally. "I'm busy working; it happens."

He makes a show of looking around the diner and at the five other people inside before he turns back to her. "Likely story," he says and he pauses to take a long sip of his milkshake. "You're a horrible liar, Nora."

She scoffs at him. "Don't project your weaknesses on me, Demetri."

"You know I'm right."

She shakes her head at him, amused but not willing to continue the back and forth. "Ask me again," she says as she leans on the counter.

He smiles at her. "Go on a date with me."

"I said ask me, not command me," she retorts with a roll of her eyes.

He sighs and rolls his eyes too before he takes a deep breath and smiles at her once more. "Dearest Nora, will you please go out on a date with me?"

"I liked the 'dearest' part; build on that."

"My sweet, darling Nora -"

"A little more."

"Queen -"

"More."

"Goddess -"

"Perfect."

He chuckles. "Are you gonna let me finish or would you rather ask yourself?" She holds her hands up in her defence before she gestures for him to go on. He clears his throat dramatically before he starts again. "Oh, divine goddess Nora; would you do me the honour of going out on a date with me?" She pauses for a long a moment and he pouts at her. "C'mon, please?"

She laughs then. "Fine," she says, nodding just as she sees the family on the corner wave her over and she begins to round the counter. "Next Friday."

His face splits in a bright smile. "Yes, ma'am!"

Their tenth date is going well. They walk hand in hand through the carnival grounds, sharing a bag of candy floss. He follows where she leads, dragging him from booth to booth, ride to ride, but he doesn't mind. He couldn't be happier than he is currently.

With a mischievous look in her eye, she pulls him towards the high striker. She takes a moment to survey the prizes before her eyes land on a stuffed dinosaur that's almost half her size and she turns to him with a smile. "Wanna bet on who wins that dino?"

He cocks an eyebrow at her as he glances between her and the dinosaur. "What does the winner get?"

"Bragging rights, obviously."

Grinning at her, he hands her the bag of candy floss and grabs the hammer. "You're on, doll."

They get the same score but Demetri lets her have bragging rights anyway. He also lets her keep the dino and from the brilliant smile she wears as they continue walking through the grounds, he's happy he did.

Eventually, they come to a stop in front of the ferris wheel and he feels his palms grow sweaty. He's getting nervous as the night goes on and as they move toward the front of the line, he knows it almost at an end. It's not long until they're at the front and Nora pulls him excitedly into the seat, the bar coming down on their laps and locking in place. As it begins to move, he takes a shaky breath.

She looks at him curiously, a disbelieving smile on her face. "Don't tell me you're scared of heights," she says as she nudges him playfully in the side.

While it's not the cause of his nerves, it's certainly not helping him voice the true reason why. Meeting her eyes, he forces himself to smile. "Not scared," he insists. "Just... nervous."

She shifts the stuffed dinosaur to her other arm, leaving one free as she scoots closer to him and bats her eyes at him. "Wanna hold my hand?"

Wordlessly, he nods and takes her free hand in his, interlocking their fingers and holding on tightly. They reach the top and finally get their moment of peace, Nora resting her head on his shoulder as they survey the bright lights of the festival grounds.

He glances up at the star spangled sky and tries his very hardest to bury his nerves, the question near burning through his tongue. He's always been a confident guy but the girl beside him has a way of throwing him off his game, of filling his stomach with butterflies. But he has to ask, he'll feel worse if he never gets her answer.

"Hey, Nora?" He says softly, breaking the silence between them. She hums and tilts her head back to stare up at him, her nose brushing against the pulse point of his neck. "I have a very important question to ask you."

She grins at him. "Sounds serious."

"It is," he goes on. "Very, super serious."

"Very, super serious?" She echoes, gasping softly. "That's too much seriousness!"

He chuckles then and pulls her closer to him. "We're talking life or death, here."

"I can't bear any longer," she cries dramatically. "What is it?"

He takes a slow, deep breath before meeting her eyes once more. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

She doesn't hesitate for even one second and the word 'yes' has barely any time to leave her lips before he's leaning down to kiss her.

Demetri finds Nora in the corner of the back garden where she sits with her legs in the pool. The din of her graduation party fades in the background as he kicks off his shoes and goes to join her.

"Everything okay, doll?" He asks softly and she smiles at the concern on her face.

"Yeah," she says, her words honest. "Just thinking."

"What about?"

"Life, the universe and everything in between." She lifts her shoulder in a shrug before she lies back in the concrete surrounding the pool.

He looks at her for a moment before laying back with her. "Anything specific I can help with?"

Almost at the same time, they each turn their heads to look at the other and with their noses close enough to touch, they both break out into bright smiles.

"You've been out of school for a year now," she starts and he nods. "What's it like?"

He pauses to think. "Without the rigid schedule of school, life has lost all meaning and I no longer want to be alive."

"Demetri!" She laughs, smacking his chest.

He catches her wrist before she can pull it away and he brings her hand up to his face, her breath catching as he turns it over to kiss her palm.

"It's nice," he says after a while, finding her eyes once more. "I feel like I can finally be me, the real Demetri Renfield."

"And who is the real Demetri?" She asks as she stares up at him in amusement.

"I'm still tryna to figure that out... but I do know one thing."

"What's that?"

He grins at her. "Whoever he is; he's head over heels in love with you."

She playfully rolls her eyes at him. "I could've told you that. I practically hear it from you everyday."

"Say the word and I'll stop."

"Not on your life, Renfield."

He opens his arm to her and she cuddles close to him, her head resting on his chest and their joined hands in his stomach. For a while, they simply lay together in silence and stare up at the sky before she breaks the silence.

"Demetri?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"I'm head over heels in love with you too."

His chest rumbles with quiet laughter. "I know."

She rolls her eyes and hits him again with her free hand. "Don't get cocky now."

"Not cocky; confident," he corrects her. "I'm gonna be with you for the rest of my life, I'm sure of it."

She tilts her back to look at him, a barely suppressed smile on her lips. "You're sure, huh?"

"Oh yeah," he states. "We're gonna get married, buy a house and have one big happy family. Before you know it, we're gonna be old and gross but we'll be old and gross together."

She laughs. "You really think about those things?"

He looks at her with wide eyes, as if she just threatened his life. "You don't?"

"Sometimes," she admits shyly.

He grins at her. "Good. I hope you haven't left out all the little Demetri's and Nora's we're gonna have running around. They're an integral part of it."

She laughs again and turns more on her side to look at him properly. "And when is all this supposed to happen?"

"Whenever you're ready," he tells her. "You have me until the end of time."

"Think you can make such a bold promise?" She questions, one eyebrow raised at him.

"Of course. I'd do anything for you, you know that."

"I like the sound of that."

He winks at her. "Oh, doll; this is just the beginning."

#coming out of my gremlin hole just to give you this #dont ask #i dont know either bestie #mm: nora #mm: demetri #mirror mine

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ladybugpowermakeup · 2 months

Text

Gnome and Northwest

I was dared to do this by my boyfriend, so enjoy the crack fic!

_________________

Pacifica shook her head and dipped the brush back into the nail polish.

“If she wanted to marry you, she would have done it already. Just let it go already!”

The tiny form sitting across from her at the vanity table glared back at her.

“She deserted me and then double crossed me by trying to set me up with that white-haired girl!”

“She’s fourteen. You’re a hundred and eight.” Pacifica said, not taking her eyes off of her nail polish as she added a second coat.

“I’m a hundred and five!”

“Whatever. Still not legal. Besides, aren’t there any female gnomes?”

“Yes, but it’s not the same…”

Pacifica finally looked her unlikely friend dead in the eye.

“Look. Jeff. I know you’ve set your heart on Mabel, but you need to understand that this obsession with finding a girl is not healthy. Especially when she’s not even a part of your community. Why do you need to find a queen so badly?”

Jeff removed his hand from under the UV light and inspected his own freshly painted nails.

“It’s an issue of power. The queen deals with all kinds of problems in the woods. Squirrel uprisings, butterfly trafficking laws, hat maker unions - it’s all her. And I just thought Mabel would be the one to make some big changes, the kind that would be so very… her. And then I could have a more secure place in the hierarchy.”

“So it’s not about your feelings? It’s all political?”

“Pretty much. And ever since she left me at the altar the other gnomes don’t respect--”

Pacifica glared at him.

“I’ve heard the whole story from Dipper. Don’t even try to pull that with me. You had her tied up and chased them down the forest when she tried to leave.”

“Don’t remind me.” Jeff said. “That was not my proudest moment.” Then a word she had said clearly struck him and he looked at her penetratingly. Pacifica looked back at him defiantly.

“What?”

“Dipper?

“What about him?”

Jeff gave her a knowing grin, and to her irritation Pacifica felt her face redden.

“He’s a good friend, okay?”

“Sure.” Jeff said. “A good friend who shows you his journals and tells you all the cool things he’s done?”

“Including tricking you into getting blown away by a leaf blower?”

Jeff grinned.

“First of all, that was Mabel with the leaf blower, not Dipper. And secondly - just because he pulled one over on me doesn’t mean I can’t be impressed.”

Pacifica grinned in spite of herself.

“Fair enough. Yes, Dipper told me some of the stories as he was showing me the journal. But it’s nothing more than that.”

Jeff’s grin told her that he wouldn’t buy this, but she certainly wasn’t going to let him into her more inner feelings. They might be friends, but not that close of friends.

Their weekend spa days and gossip sessions had started months ago, after the Pines twins left for Piedmont again. Pacifica had been walking away from Greasy’s - trying to convince her parents that she was in the right for getting a job there had been a hassle, but she’d managed it eventually - when she saw the group of gnomes reaching up the window for the cornbread Susan had left on the sill. Jeff was on the edge of the group, directing their every move.

“Easy on the left, there, Mark. And be careful to not leave any crumbs!”

Pacifica, having just left the kitchen, knew that Susan had another pan of cornbread coming out soon, and so with her newly-gained conscience, she reached over the gnomes and lifted the pan down from the sill, handing it to the very confused Jeff.

“Look, if you’re that hungry, just go through the trash next time. We’re always throwing out perfectly good stuff.”

“We’re not looking for handouts, lady!” Jeff had shouted, but the other gnomes were already running towards the back of the diner. Jeff watched them in growing misery, and Pacifica felt compelled to ask.

“What’s going on there?”

Jeff sighed and rubbed his forehead under his hat.

“They’re… I don’t know, they’ve been like this recently. Not listening to me, not taking orders, not…”

He broke off, realizing who he was talking to and suddenly did a double take.

“Wait a second, who the heck are you?!?”

“Pacifica Northwest. We met during the crazy apocalyptic campout at the Mystery Shack.”

Jeff seemed to finally recognize her and his hostility lessened a little.

Not a lot, but a little.

“I didn’t recognize you without the… err…”

Pacifica grinned down at him.

“The potato sack and llama?”

Jeff grinned back.

“Something like that. What are you doing working around here?”

“Trying to be a better person. And it’s wrecking my feet - I need to get better shoes.”

“I feel you, sister. These shoes are doing most of the work on my height, but they make me twelve inches, so I can’t complain.”

Pacifica glanced at her phone and groaned.

“Look, I’ve gotta go. But I guess if you’re in the area, say hi?”

Jeff gave her a salute and a grin, and then scampered off into the bushes, the baking pan held in one hand,

Pacifica hadn’t thought much of it, but Jeff had taken her at her word. Whenever he stopped by to raid the place - and he was indeed going to the trash cans instead of the cooling food now - he left Pacifica some kind of indicator - a note, a cool rock, occasionally a bird feather, always on the same windowsill. She saw him every once in a while, and a few days later the baking pan was returned to the windowsill, too. Eventually “crossing paths” became “sit and chat”, which then resulted in them discovering a mutual enjoyment - or need - for relaxation and pampering.

Which brought them to the present, where Jeff was still staring her down with a grin in his eye.

“What are you looking at, Jeff?”

“You’ve got it bad for the Pine Tree boy!” Jeff crowed - for all his age and seeming practicality, he had both a romantic streak and a taste for drama, usually other people’s. This time Pacifica wished she hadn’t said anything, because this threatened to be an uncomfortable conversation, especially considering she had just reminded him that he couldn’t possibly marry Mabel. But it seemed Jeff had forgotten this in his excitement for hot gossip. She gave a reluctant grin herself.

“We’re also still fourteen, so I’m not pushing anything. And if you say anything to anyone about this, I will take your face cream and dump it in the lake.”

Jeff held up his hands in surrender, but a look in his eyes told Pacifica this wasn’t over.

“Fine, fine. Keep your little dirty secrets. See what I care. But know that I’ve got eyes everywhere…”

“Did I mention the beard conditioner also will end up in the lake?”

“Too far, Paz. Too far. Same time next week?”

Pacifica nodded and smiled as Jeff scrambled out the window, then watched out the window as her friend raced into the forest.

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #fic #gravity falls #pacific northwest #jeff the gnome #crack fic

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paramorearchived · 2 months

Text

April 24, 2010

Transcript:

Pray, Think, Wish, Cross your fingers?

Which do you do? and does it offend you when someone else doesn't do what you do?

i've been thinking a lot about how everyone in our band shares the same faith... but what if we didn't? the best part of being in a band, to me, is meeting anyone and everyone we can just because of the fact that those people and i share a deep love for music. you don't go to a show because you think someone in the band is hot. you don't go because they always wear this cool, awesome outfit, or have the right hair. those things are part of what makes up the whole picture of the music... but those things wouldn't compel you to spend your hard earned money on a ticket to spend a night watching those clothes or that hair move around for a little while. music resonates with everyone, which is why we call it the "universal language". and every day i thank God that i'm a part of that language. that i have the ability to use that language to hopefully offer something, or anything, to all these people that i otherwise would have absolutely no connection to whatsoever.

over the past 5 or 6 years, i've met all kinds of people. people who love the same God as me. people who hate him. people who don't understand him. people who don't want to. people who are mad at him, sad at him, hurt because of someone else that believes in him. and you know what i've realized about all these different people? that i freaking love them all. the best gift that you can give yourself is an open mind. i realize, you don't just give it to yourself. it's something that is either learned, forced, or it just happens... ? i don't really know where i'm going with that... but what i'm saying is, right now, i know that i am who i am today because i have watched and listened to people all over this world share their stories with me. whether it was in conversation, over livejournal, in a letter or a note, or whether they didn't even know that i heard about it. if there is anything that i'm grateful for as much as my love for music, it's a passion for people.

i know i've said it before but you are all awesome. and rule. and can be anything you want to be. just remember to enjoy the process of being where you are while you are getting to where you want to be. something i am trying out, myself. and always keep an open mind.

- wow, i didn't expect to say all that. i really came here to ask for your prayers, thoughts, wishes, crossed fingers... anything that you believe... for my throat. i got sick just before this tour but i'm not about to back down and postpone anything again. i know i can get through tonight. (2nd Grad Night at Disney) but really what matters to me is the next couple of weeks. i'm so ready for an amazing tour. and i'm not too bad off right now. just asking for your prayers. or again, whatever you believe in. need my health back, 100%

lastly, thanks for helping make this a place where people in the community can come in and make these sort of posts... myself included. love you guys, see you on tour! hayey

#paramore #hayley williams #2010 #livejournal

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blorbocedes · 2 years

Note

okay, so. you love brocedes, you love lestappen. the arcs seem so polar-opposite so here go essay wild should you wish (mainly bc i would love to read it. and feel free to talk about carlando as well bc that too is a wildly different dynamic to brocedes and lestappen.)

what makes you love each?

do you have a favorite between the two (or three). does one pull on your heartstrings more than the other?

are there similarities?

hi Xiao ☺️ here's my carlando essay so I'll focus mainly on the brothercedes and lest we stappens here. strap yourself, im about to maxplain

first thing about me: my favourite trope in the whole world is friends to lovers (crowd booing) it's having a shared history, the familiarity, how you can only truly hurt someone you love [and the possibility of reconciliation, to come back home insert seb clip about rbr]

brocedes is actually why I got into f1 fandom! i saw ONE (1) Richard Siken edit and it was over for me

literally. i have not used tumblr in 7 YEARS i used it just for lurking and that goddamn edit compelled me to write my first fic (during the writing of which I found out they still lived in the same building??? i lost my mind and have not found it since)

lestappen was a see it to believe it moment, I watched miami gp and saw these two championship rivals being Cute and Max's earnestness to talk to charl got to me. i was like oh yeah okay I see it. i don't choose anything I like, I either see The Vision or I don't -- and while brocedes is like I'm an archeologist excavating a fallen city trying to figure out what happened piece the lore, lestappen is happening In Front Of Our Eyes we're witnessing the stars getting crossed, the history in the making <3

I might have the most confusing layout cause I'm a max girlie whose pfp is charles, and header is brocedes named blorbocedes while I pray on merc's flop era 😭 (ending but never forgotten), while rooting for redbulls [sorry but I've seen my Ferrari girlies SUFFERING, I'll stick to my world champion 🥰]

in many ways, lestappen and brocedes are like a foil to each other (crowd booing, we get it u did literary analysis in highschool once) where brocedes were a childhood friendship gone wrong, lestappen are childhood rivals turned tentative friends. there's just something very compelling about a world champion and his main rival trying to keep a friendship alive while directly competing, and having years of shared history to get there. brocedes DREAMING of becoming teammates, world champions together; both max and charl saying how they have a mutual respect now that they'd both made it to f1. And that's before even touching the cut throat life and politics of getting into f1, the concept of being golden boys.

my favourite lestappen and brocedes parallel is that lewis and nico's first karting race nico led the whole race then on the final lap, lewis crossed him and won the race; and compare with the Inchident™️ but Nico & Lewis became best friends, whereas Charl held an admittedly one sided grudge against Max during their karting days.

brocedes is everything that went wrong, lestappen is how it can go right (we can learn from lovers past who didnt make it)

do I have a favourite? yes. brocedes. i, yeah. they light my brain on fire.

HOWEVER, I enjoy brocedes as a reader and consumer, whereas as lestappen I am compelled to write for them (also I'm the only one who gets them and everyone else is wrong 😤) I suppose it is a bit passé to say anything outside of "ahh I write for myself and inherent love for writing" fuck that lol I write for attention I like it when people read my shit and we can talk about it 🥰🥰🥰 I also disagree with popular fandom interpretation with lestappen (which is fine, it has a huge audience so it clearly works for a lot of people) but that's why I have to write my own food for them. I have so many lestappen wips 😭

(like I don't think charl is a soft fragile thing who needs taken care of, even tho I also mine charl pain for content so like I Get it but also no one else gets it, and don't fucking get me started on the 'jos verstappen's A+ parenting' tag that's another essay in itself)

#i hope that was comprehensive enough 😅#thank you for letting me talk about my favourite ships hehe #blorbocedes ask #lestappen #brocedes #i have like 1.5 brocedes wips and even thinking about them gives me hives #also carlando? yummy #i refuse to get into sebchal beyond the tumblr mutual absorption because i KNOW they will fuck me up

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criminallyvenomous · 2 years

Text

Fighting Leads To Fxxking

Masterlist

Chapter Four - Surrogate Father

Ship - Loki x Stark! Reader

Word Count - 1,218

Tw - Wholesome Thor, Mentions of an Abortion

Plot - Stark! Reader get stuck watching Loki after the events of 2012. Moments of weakness and bad decisions involving the world's most hated man lead to the worst possible outcome, pregnancy.

It had been three days since your ultrasound and you had been practicing what to say to Thor nonstop. Your brain was riddled with confusion and anger, as you tried to wrap your head around what was happening. You were staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror, frustrated with yourself. Thor would be here any second now, and if there was anyone who wouldn't kill you for being intimate with Loki, it would be his brother. You heard thunder from outside and your heart sank into your stomach.

After collecting yourself, you entered the living room of your apartment where you could hear Natasha greeting Thor. You wiped the imaginary dirt off of your shirt and sat across from Thor. Natasha says goodbye to you both and leaves him alone on the couch, with you in an armchair in front of him, slightly askew.

"So, what seems to be the matter of importance, Lady Stark?" He asked, intensively paying attention to every expression that crosses your face.

"I, um. I have some news?" You tried to just say it and get it over with, however it came out more like a question than an announcement.

"Okay, what is the occasion?" He inquires, leaning in with a slight smile. For a man with countless years of wisdom, he's rather dull sometimes.

"Well, I was sort of involved in something with your brother. I really need some advice.” Thor sighed in response.

“Who did he kill?” He leaned down to put his hands on his knees.

“No one! Well, not no one, but this isn’t about that.” You reassured. He looked back up to you.

“What devious antic did he engage in now, Lady Stark?”

“Oh, um.” Those were very frequent word fillers found in the conversations about your secret pregnancy.

“Tell me, did he engage in sexual relation with you?” Thor guessed, you brushed your hand against the back of your neck before answering.

“How did you know?”

“My brother is rather fond of difficult and seemingly dangerous sexual escapades. I promise you, he is a good man deep down.”

“Deep, deep down.” You mumbled and he gave you a quick, warm smile.

“I apologize for my abruptness, however I am in the middle of an unfortunate, inter-realm crisis. I really do apologize for his actions, however I am not my brother’s keeper. What seems to be the emergency I have heard of?” He speaks harsher words, but uses a lighter tone to compel his sincerity.

“I seem to be, well not seem, literally? No. That’s not right.” You fumble through your words to try and remember your rehearsed script.

“You’ve fallen ill, from my brother’s seed.”

“How did you know I was pregnant?” You asked, dumbfounded.

“This tends to be a forgotten aspect of my divine attributes, but I am technically the god of fertility. I knew from the moment I entered this place of living.”

“Why didn’t you just start with that?”

“I wanted you to come up with the courage to tell me on your own.” You were beginning to actually wish you had his kid inside of you. At least you could hope his parents instilled the same kindness in Loki, even if deep, deep down.

“What do you think I should do? You know, considering my father and the baby’s father after all.” You sighed as Thor leaned forward and grabbed ahold of your hands, placing them in his the palms of his much larger ones.

“I can not tell you what to do. This is entirely up to you. However, I can provide you with necessary information regarding this situation. For example, you should be aware, Lady Stark, that a frost giant pregnancy can last up to twelve months, and without a doubt the expulsion will be incredibly painful, due to its size.”He explains.

“Oh.”

“However, if you wish to not keep this child, I understand and I can arrange for an Asgardian doctor to eliminate this pregnancy. You would have to come to my realm, as your mortal doctors would not be able to endure or harness the science and magic required to end the pregnancy of a frost giant.” He states, stroking his thumb against your hand, in a comforting manner.

“I don’t really know what I ‘wish’ for. I don’t even have a grasp as to what I want to do with my life, how am I supposed to know what to do with Loki's demon spawn inside of me?!" You sigh, already feeling apologetic for raising your voice at him. It wasn't Thor's fault his brother seduced you.

You felt a tear fall from one of your eyes and you let go of his hands to wipe it away. He stands up as he looks into your eyes. He pulls you onto your feet and envelopes you into a comforting hug. You softly begin to cry into his chest. He pats your back instinctively and tightens the hug.

"You know.." Thor starts, as he lets go of you, looking down at your eyes as you wipe them once more. "I've always wanted to be an Uncle!" He smiles brightly.

"You don't have to.." You begin, until he interrupts you.

"I know what it's like to have an overbearing and controlling father, Lady Y/N I'm prepared to step up and take care of this child as if they were my own. After all, I feel a sense of responsibility towards this situation." Now it was your turn to interrupt.

"Don't even, I was a consenting adult, Thor. And drop all this 'Lady' stuff, I'm just Y/N."

"Alright, Y/N. Just know I'm here for you. You can always call for me and I shall come as soon as I can. I will ask Heimdall to listen for your voice, just one mention and he'll search the realms to find me and bring to you."

"That's great, Thor. I really need someone on my side who isn't always talking about their hatred towards your brother." You smile, only partially joking.

"I could never judge a human for falling for a god. We're irresistible." He laughs, you smile and let out a slight chuckle, he continues, "Did you by chance tell Natasha I was the father? I can see her peering through the window outside." You follow his gaze and sure enough she was staring right at you both, unknowingly undermining her stealthiness and reputation as a spy to you.

"It was an accident, but it ended up being easier to explain. I'm sorry." You apologize as he laughs.

"I don't really mind, Lady-, no, Y/N. If you're uncomfortable with the reality of the situation, it is understandable. I can be there as a surrogate father until you can make your decision." He gives you a light smile.

"Thank you, again. I don't really know what I'd do without you." You lean in and wrap your arms around his waist, his stature becoming troublesome for this attempt at a hug. He whispers in your ear that 'it'll be okay' and kisses the top of your head in a seemingly friendly, yet comforting notion.

Then he leaves after goodbyes and pleasantries, making sure to stop to say "farewell" to Natasha, who is more than surprised he found her hiding spot.

i hope this chapter was a breath of fresh air, next one will be like a punch to the stomach sorry-not-sorry (and it'll be out minutes after this one!) don't choke my little guttersluts -kat.

Next Chapter

#avengers #black widow #jarvis #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki smut #loki x stark! reader #marvel #mcu

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romances-not-tragedies · 9 months

Text

"He has a habit," Sadi Ratan told him.

"Who?" asked Jo, sounding uninterested though he felt otherwise.

"Our...client," the lieutenant answered hesitantly. It was odd thinking of the Chinese mestizo as their client since the night they had saved him and Isidro Alcantara had compelled them to work on the young man's case...together. "It seems that he is always reaching for something under the collar."

Jo blew out a smoke after having taken a long drag from his brown-papered cigarette. "Do you suspect something?"

"Why would I say anything if it is not suspicious, Señor Gar?" asked Sadi Ratan, a bit irritated. "Madre de Dios, I do not know why I have to tell you."

Probably to show off, Jo thought to himself. Typical Lieutenant Sadi Ratan, wanting to prove to Jo that he was right. Still, having watched how the lieutenant had been observing the young survivor over the past few days as the survivor recovered from a beating, he suspected that the man had more secrets than they had believed.

Miguel Chua, Jo observed, slid his fingers under the collar of his shirt and it was as if he was reaching for something. Anxiety etched his face, followed by relief when he must have found what he was looking for before withdrawing the digits from under the collar.

Miguel turned to them and asked, "What now?" Exasperation colored his voice. He had always been acting annoyed towards them since they had approached him and offered to solve his case. While he was grateful for their help, he still regarded them with suspicion.

"Forgive us, Señor Chua," began Jo, "but I hope you don't mind what you are reaching out under the collar of your shirt."

"So the devil himself would snatch it away from me?" Miguel asked sarcastically, eyeing Sadi Ratan with distaste.

"For the love of--" Sadi Ratan sputtered as he tried to answer him. Ever since they had met, the young Chinese mestizo had considered Sadi Ratan with annoyance and disdain the same way the lieutenant had regarded the Chinese with equal disdain. "Why would you think that I would take it away from you?"

"So you would boast of the accuracy of your suspicions," fired back Miguel, "which amounts to nada."

"Basta," Jo reprimanded them with a raised hand to stop them coming to blows. "Señor Chua, if you please, we would like to know what it is you are keeping with you."

"Fine," Miguel Chua huffed, but complied with Jo's request anyway. The young survivor slid his fingers under the collar of his shirt and produced what appeared to be a pendant of a small oval shape. Both Jo and Sadi Ratan approached the young man to take stock of the small pendant--no, medallion--that Miguel had been keeping with him.

The front of the medallion depicted the image of the Virgin Mary, hands spread and rays of light radiating from her open hands, the inscription in Latin that Jo recognized (in his painfully limited Latin) as a prayer of intercession to the Virgin Mary and the year 1830 under the image of Mary. The young man turned the medallion to the back. A large "M" interlocked with the cross and bar above it and under it were two hearts, one with a crown of thorns and another piereced with a dagger, with flames above them. To finish it up, stars framed them.

He must have heard Sadi Ratan suck in a gasp, and grow still.

"Where did you get it from, Señor Chua?" asked Jo. He was in awe with the man who must have had kept his faith while he, Jo Gar, had eschewed it in favor of cold logic.

"My friend," Miguel said, his eyes dimming. "He gave it to me one night. And then..." The young man stilled as he let go of the medallion and let his hand fall on one side. "I do not know what happened next. He was gone. They said someone took him in the midst of the riots. But I do not want to believe it."

I'm sorry, Jo wanted to tell Miguel. He had known what it was like to lose a friend. Yet it was worse with Miguel Chua, as he had not known what had befallen his friend, who had disappeared for almost two years.

Jo turned to Sadi Ratan, who grew pale at the mention of the riots that happened two years ago. He had known why, though he chose to keep the reason to himself.

"Why did he give the medallion to you?" demanded Sadi Ratan, though Jo might have picked up the confusion laced through his question. "Did he have any reason why he would simply entrust you with it?"

Miguel hardened his jaw at the tone of the question. When he answered, there was a bite in his tone. "He is my friend, Lieutenant Ratan. Perhaps it is not enough for you, but there you have it. He would rather entrust this one to me than to anyone else, not even his father."

"His father?" repeated the lieutenant, shocked and disoriented by the mention.

"I cannot say much about his father," the young survivor answered, "except that he was a man you do not want to fuck with. Too ruthless for anyone's taste, even for my family's." He wanted to say more, Jo noted, but it became obvious that Miguel Chua would rather not say more about his disappeared friend's father. Something flickered in the young man's eyes as his dark eyes focused on the lieutenant as he discussed about his friend's father's character, something akin to suspicion.

It confused Jo. What did his friend's father have to do with the lieutenant? Then he remembered the time when they had saved him from certain death, and Miguel had called Sadi Ratan the name of his friend. Raul? the faint shock in Miguel's voice still heard in his head, followed by what he thought was not-quite fluent Cebuano, and the lieutenant's confusion and subsequent denial following it.

Jo had no idea where this case would head. And he didn't like it.

Not one bit at all.

#perfect 'verse #fanfic #cw: religion-related stuff #cw: period-typical racism (mentioned)#this came out of nowhere #or maybe not #there be angst #miguel is angsting hard on this #sadi's is just beginning #and jo is confused af #as usual #for those who are uninitiated i am referring to the miraculous medal in this story #see even my uni background is coming to the fore since my uni is vincentian-run #also there is a church beside one of the buildings that used to be a vincentian seminary

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