#all because i saw a clip from cup head and then looked up a pic of bimbo the dog | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him.

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed.

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release.

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you.

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

#jake jensen #dark jake jensen #dark!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #one shot #the losers #dc

512 notes · View notes

obeymeluv · 4 years

Text

Red String of Fate

Something a little different! Drabble lead + headcanons! I really like the idea of being connected to someone, so have this~

Also: very long, so I only did a few of the brothers. I tend to do them in order but I tried to jump around for variety’s sake since I published a partial post the other day.

Features: Lucifer, Mammon, and Asmo (short-ish, but for a reason. Makes sense when you read the lead-up),

I have to get to bed. Need to get up early for studying + a morning class. Really love this idea so I’ll be working on something unique for the rest of the bros :)

Casual conversations about soulmates and bad dates inspires Asmo to find your one true love. He swears up and down there’s a book that can do it. Being a lover of love and feeling like it’s his duty to see you off into the best of hands—the hands made to hold you!—he sets out to find the book. Legend says Cupid pricked his finger while writing out love lists with his enchanted quill and threw the dirty pages away, deeming them unusable. Instead of being discarded, they were salvaged by another and turned into a book that would answer any love-related question the reader had.

All it would cost is a drop of blood.

Cupid, who was very serious about his task of uniting hearts and forging bonds, felt insulted by the book. He felt cheapened and could not see the joy it would bring before his arrow was destined to arrive. In a fit of rage he threw it from the heavens, assuming it would disintegrate before landing in another’s hands.

He was wrong.

The book circulated for centuries, making its way through humble and haughty, poor and princely. Some say it even inspired the most romantic of playwrights. It was kept by a family of matchmakers for generations before their home was pillaged and burned by a spurned heart. Traded out of guilt or in a desperate moment for silver or food (Asmo didn’t remember which), it ended up in the hands of a scholar. He sat with his crush and read the book, the two asking it hundreds of questions and finding themselves quite content with each other.

After the two got married, they were convinced it was a lucky charm of sorts and passed it along to their friends. Once those friends found their true loves, it started a chain of giving. When one family had all of their children married off, they would pass the book on to someone else. The book spent a fair amount of time collecting dust when one person lost their soulmate too soon and didn’t open it for about five years, convinced it would stay blank. A new love came into their life and they were so moved by the magic, by the joy, that they donated the book to a thrift shop.

Asmodeus lost the history after the thrift shop. Too many people went in and out of it, too much time had passed. All he knew is that it ended up in the hands of a witch who made serious money off of love potions and romantic divinations. One of her grandchildren—a quarter succubus and three-quarters human—had donated it to RAD’s library.

He should’ve just texted his friends about the damn thing instead of researching it like Levi does his events. Should he be proud of all the effort? You could be, but he was kind of put off by all the work. It was shabby and beaten, hardly bigger than a typical planner. Definitely unassuming and definitely looked like it’d seen some things. Asmodeus was expecting something gorgeously gilded and velvet.

Hopefully a peek into your future would make up for all the disappointment. “I bet it’s me.” he touched a finger to his soft lips with a giddy smile, little ring glinting in the light. He practically skipped out of the library and back to the House of Lamentation. At the very least, he’d get to go on and on about how he found it and how grateful you should be that he cares for you so much to do so!

Asmodeus whisks you away into his room, the bed already set with pillows that were both aesthetic and luxurious. Nothing too out of the norm for him, but he wanted something that complimented the romantic undertones of this little endeavor. He coddled the two of you in a plush pink blanket before cracking it open and guiding your finger along the edge of the page. The red soaked in, ink blossoming in a faint pink that turned a brilliant scarlet.

The book grew warm, almost burning as the scarlet began to sear and shimmer on the page. You heard him hiss and grabbed the book as he started to squirm and scoot out from under it. You’d barely grabbed the book when pinky-red smoke exploded violently in your face. It didn’t burn or have a taste but it was surprisingly thick.

“What? No names!” Asmodeus had finally swatted away enough of the smoke to see a blank book. “It’s supposed to be names!” he scowled, kittenish fangs threatening to poke at his lower lip.

“Maybe there’s been a revision,” you blinked distractedly, talking more to yourself than him. Nope, still there. You wagged your finger at Asmodeus, showing off the bright red string tied around it.

His oncoming rant receded immediately, eyes shining a gorgeous and unmistakable pink. “Let’s see where it goes!”

To Lucifer:

He’s in the middle of doing paperwork (shocker) when he finds a vibrant red string tangling in his pen and catching on the lines

Tries to shake it off (very undignified, glad no one saw it)

Puts his pen down to pick at it and untie it. When that doesn’t work, he slips the opposite glove off with his teeth and lets his demon aura come out just enough to turn his fingernails into claws

That didn’t work either

Physically tries to pull the string off and begrudgingly stops when he realizes his finger might come off first

A huffy, annoyed man

Takes an awkward pic with his D.D.D and sends it to Diavolo, wanting to know if it’s a prank

Diavolo swears it’s not and Barbatos suggests it could be the red string theory, that thing some humans believe in.

Could it be true? Does he have a soulmate? Could he, being a fallen angel? Demons had soul mates?

All the questions swirl and he just leans back in his fancy padded chair to absorb it all. There’s something beautifully sad and...comforting...at the thought of demons having a soulmate, someone made just for them

Lucifer doesn’t really think that a soulmate’s at the end of the string, but he tells himself it’s a walk for the sake of his health, to stretch, and sets off to find the string

The eldest is quite surprised to run into you and Asmo, the string clearly tied around your finger.

“A bit overboard, don’t you think, Asmo?” Lucifer’s a little aggravated by it. What is this, a set up?!

His little brother swears against it, holding up a beaten book not even Mammon would waste money on.

Apparently, the string disappears when the soulmates touch their fingers together. Lucifer rolls his eyes and tries to soften his scowl as he presses his finger to yours.

You’re both surprised when the string thickens until it resembles a ribbon, kinking in the shape of a heart before disappearing in a burst of pinky-red smoke that has your fingers tingling

Lucifer says nothing, silently stunned and heart yearning at the tingling in his finger. It’s warm, like your love.

To Mammon:

IS IT ONE OF THE WITCHES?! IS THIS A TRACKER?!

First reaction: “OI! What the hell?!”

Also shakes his finger

Immediate second reaction is to chew on it and try to get it off

Ends up sucking on his tender finger like a baby because he basically chewed on himself instead of the string

Texted all the sorcerers and witches he knew. They all deny hexing him or mentioning him in potion-making.

He’s surprised to find he can still move around with the string. It’s not straining or limiting him, so he goes in his closet of magical seals, peeling a few back to reveal a sizeable hoard of stuff he’d stolen over the centuries (including some stuff he had on him from the Fall).

He tries daggers of all sizes and types. They don’t cut the string, either

When nothing seems to work, he marches towards the source, wrapping it around his fist with a grumble.

He pulls on it at random just because it’s a minor inconvenience and he couldn’t get it off.

Mammon notice that it runs under Asmo’s door and he yanks on it really hard, hoping he’s tearing thread off of a sweater or something. Annoying ass little brother!

When you yelp he freezes. Brain hasn’t quite kicked in yet and he yanks it again to check the reaction. Another yelp, and a thick thud behind the door.

Sounds like you’re involved somehow. Oops.

Turns out you had a hard time coming out of the room because he wound the string too quick (and weren’t strong enough to tug it back to yourself)

Asmo’s in the middle of lecturing him as he squishes your poor little face, scowling and lamenting that MAMMON is your soulmate. MAMMON, of all people, who’d been smacking you against a door for the last few minutes!

Now Mammon’s interested and needs the story

Gets a biiiig shit-eating grin when he realizes what’s happened.

Takes your hand with his usual fanfare of ‘’Course I would be! I’m their MAIN man! Their BEST man!”

The string seems to tie your hands together for a brief moment before exploding in a burst of smoke and Mammon’s still grinning like an idiot.

He doesn’t let go of your hand

To Asmodeus:

He’s waving that smoke away when he feels a new, subtle weight on his finger

Whatever it is, it’s flitting and ticklish. He can feel it catching on some of the fashion rings he wears

Asmodeus doesn’t know whether he wants to purr or squeal. He did something that hurt your human ears though.

Didn’t realize it hurt your ears until after the noise bottoms out to a lower pitch, and immediately cups his hands over yours ears, sliding them up into your hair while he showers the crown of your head in apology kisses.

Makes a video clip to send to the bros in a group chat and has to redo it several times because they can’t really hear his words over the smug purring and clicking

It warms his heart to know he has a real soulmate. Asmodeus really struggles with the concept of genuine, non-sexual love.

He figured the most he could ever get was platonic love or brotherly love, but this is a whole new thing for him and he’s honestly blown away

For a brief moment he feels like Heaven’s Jewel again, so treasured and special. It almost makes him cry

He’s lowkey crying.

100% takes advantage of the fact that your fingers are tied together until you touch fingertips. You guys giggle quietly and cuddle close as he loops the string around his finger so you put your arm around his neck

“You don’t need a string to make me touch you, you know.” you tease him, wrinkling your nose in that cute human way you have

“I know,” Asmo gives you an Eskimo kiss that turns into a few butterfly kisses on your mouth, leaning over you and into you.

Totally uses the string as an excuse to cuddle you and turn down any activities the bros want you to go to. (”Can’t, they’re kind of tied up.”)

Let this baby bask in his sure thing, okay? He really needs it, and you know he’s good for it

Gives you hand kisses and cuddles into you

Gets the bright idea to try to bottle the smoke that’ll erupt when you touch fingertips. Sacrifices his most beautiful perfume bottle to immortalize this moment

Catches the littlest bit, so thin that he has to hold it up to the light to see it.

Complains about probably swallowing most of it during that attempt

Is now even more shameless about demanding his cuddles and attention because you guys are destined lovers.

#Obey me!#Obey me! x Reader #Asmodeus x Reader #Asmo x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader

326 notes · View notes

heteroromanticbinsual · 3 years

Text

I Love You Changbin

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance

Requested by MrSunshine999

Word Count: 1.7K

Backstory:

After an amusing evening out at your favorite restaurant and a stroll along the Han River, Changbin decided this was the right moment. He slipped his hands into yours and intertwined your fingers with his. You blankly stared at your hands and then at him. He kept forward and simply smiled.

“Oh, your hands fit so well with mine,” he said.

Before you could respond he stopped, took in a deep breath and exhaled.

“I can’t believe this is the first time we are holding hands as a couple,” he proclaimed.

You stared in confusion as you two continued walking, let out a soft chuckle and said “I guess it is.”

START

Diary Entry #366

“Today is our one year anniversary and I am at such a happier mindset than I was last year. I would have never thought that a goofball could make me forget all the hurt I’ve been through in such a short amount of time. He is so patient and caring and I wish with all my heart that we can keep growing better together and that I can become someone he can rely on. I love you Changbin.”

Diary Entry #64

You and Changbin made a quick stop at the convenience store because you ran out of milk. But while there, he ran into a few fans. He quickly glanced at you and you knew. You couldn’t be his significant other for this brief moment and all the sadness in the world crashed down on your heart. You paid for the milk and waited for him a few blocks away.

As you waited for him to meet up with you, all you could think of was how pathetic you felt. You knew that your relationship needed to remain a secret so that you two could be together but In that moment you became no one and it seemed like Changbin was embarrassed of you. How pitiful it felt sitting there in the dark. So, you decided to not wait for him and head home. But, before you even started, Changbin quickly ran to you and linked arms with you.

“Sweet Potato!!! Look what I got!!! I got some sweet potatoes! Just like you right?” He foolishly said.

You stared at him blankly and let out a small grin. Oblivious to your expression, he softly chuckled and gave you a small peck.

“Let’s eat here, okay,” he said as you guys approached a small park.

He carefully took out a sweet potato, wrapped it in tissue and pealed its skin. Softly blowing on it, he offered it to you. You were hesitant at first, but his soft puppy eyes were so charming that you couldn’t resist his offer. You took a bite and the biggest smile appeared on his face. He slowly peeled more skin off and took a big bite for himself. Realizing what just happened, you panicked and let out a small yelp. But, before you could stop him, he shot up and started pacing; the sweet potato was burning his mouth and he just kept fanning it.

“Hurry! Spit it out,” you insisted.

But he wouldn’t dare and just pointed his hand at the milk jug you were holding. You quickly opened it and he gulped it like his life depended on it. Laughter exploded from you and he just kept munching away.

“Hahh, that.. *cough* was delicious,” he exclaimed.

You softly hit him and complained that he was such a child for not being careful.

“I’m glad, you’re smiling,” he said while cupping your face. “Don’t be sad about earlier, okay. I love you very much.

A moment of silence washed over both of you and before you knew it, you started to get teary. You lowered your head and told him you were sorry for thinking wrongly of him, for assuming he was ashamed of you. He moved the sweet potatoes aside and hugged you tightly, nuzzling your head on his chest.

It was getting late and the breeze was getting colder. So, you both decided to head home. Changbin paused for a moment, stepped in front of you and crouched down.

“Hurry sweetie. Get on,” he said as he flayed his arms out towards you.

You shyly rejected his offer, telling him you were too heavy, as you walked away. But he started to pout and made puppy eyes. You looked over your shoulder and when you saw his sad face, grunted in compliance.

“Okaaaaay. I’m coming.” you complained childishly.

You got on and softly embraced him and laid your head on his shoulder. The soft wind kissed your cheeks and brushed against his hair, making this moment feel almost fantastical. As he carried you, he hummed your favorite song and swayed you back and forth. This felt so much like a lullaby that you almost fell asleep. Your grip loosened and as they fell down, you quickly grabbed your wrists again.

“I know you’re probably still sad about earlier, and I’m so sorry. I never wished for you to ever experience that.”

You didn’t want to admit that you were still hurt by this and just nodded your head “no.”

“If I could, I would show you off to the world,” he softly said. “But the world isn’t ready for me not to be theirs and would hurt you at any cost to keep it that way.”

After hearing this, you tightened your grip and nuzzled your head even more into his back. A grin broke out across his face and he let out a relieved sigh.

“I love you Changbin,” you quietly whispered.

“I love you too,” he softly replied.

Diary Entry # 127

You were browsing through your social accounts and came across some clips of Changbin from his recent fan video-call event. He was being affectionate and romantic with to them. You knew that he was acting this way for his fan service, but couldn’t help notice how wonderful the fans looked. All your insecurities about your own looks started to rise up.

You glanced at your mirror and you could swear that you had gotten less attractive over the course of your relationship. He probably was thinking they were more wonderful looking.

“How could he not think that they matched him better than me,” you thought to yourself.

You stared into the mirror again and sadly said to self, “They were right, I’m not that attracive.”

You turned off your phone, let out a heavy sigh and sank your face into the bed. You kept thinking about how you didn’t match Changbin at all and decided that if you were going to match them, you needed to try harder at being good looking.

So, you went out and bought a bunch of skin care products and vitamin pills. As soon as you got home, you ripped open a face mask and applied it. You laid on your bed and kept praying out loud that you would become more attractive and with each phrase, you said it more vigorously.

All of a sudden you heard the door knob turning and saw Changbin. He called for you all giddy and child-like until he noticed that you were using a face mask. He thought you looked absolutely adorable and decided that you two share be twins. He quickly ran to the room, whipped out a face mask and tried to apply to it on his face. But being such a klutz, he couldn’t seem to apply it right. It kept sliding to one side too much or covering one of his eyes.

“Why are you so bad at this!” you said while laughing.

You reached out to help him but he wouldn’t let.

“I can. I can do this. There’s nothing I can’t do,” he demanded.

After a good five minutes, it was finally on correctly. He thought he looked absolutely handsome and wanted you two to take a pic together. But you refused. Regardless of your answer, he was going to get his photo. So, he tackled you onto the couch and tickled you until you said yes.

“Stop Sweetie,” you begged. “Stop before I die.”

But he wouldn’t stop and you had to give in.

“Okay, okay…. I’ll take a picture you crazy monkey,” you exclaimed.

Changbin didn’t waste a moment and snapped his photo. You thought you looked absolutely terrible with your hair tied up in a messy bun and your white shirt that you had been wearing for two days. You protested the photo will all your heart, but he adored it to death and refused to delete it. You went for his phone, but found that he had already set it as your contact profile picture.

“Sweetieee!!! Noo!!! I look terrible,” you insisted.

“Who told you that?!?!” he demanded.

“I could never get tired of your face. I mean, how could someone be this attractive with just a face mask?” he replied.

He threw his phone aside, attacked you with a big hug and nestled his chin on your shoulder.

“Please don’t think that you’re not beautiful/handsome,” he meekly said.

He lifted his head, stared at you with all the compassion in the world and pecked your cheeks.

“Every moment I’ve spent with you has made everything about you more outstanding. Don’t feel shy about your looks anymore, okkaay. Because if Binnie likes it then it’s perfect.” he insisted.

Your eyes softly fluttered and grinned at his reassuring compliment. He went in for another kiss, but his face mask fell onto your face and you both giggled like crazy. You both raced to the bathroom to throw it away and apply aloe but, he slipped on the way there. Changbin hurt his ankle and pouted for you to blow his booboo. And like a naïve caring lover, you went to love him. He wiped away his fake tears and sniffled his nose. While you were magically healing his wound, he pulled you down and ran straight to the bathroom.

“That’s not fair. You cheater,’’ you shouted.

“Changbin always wins without trying,” he proclaimed with his arms up high.

You followed him to the bathroom and took off your face mask. Without warning, he cupped you cheeks and said “See, I was right. I really could look at your wonderful face forever.”

You let out a soft whimper, hugged his waist and hid your face in his chest. All your insecurities washed away and the only thought that lingered was, “They weren’t right. I am wonderful.”

“I love you. I love you so much Changbin,” you softly cried.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied.

#skz imagine #skz scenarios #changbin scenarios #changbin imagines #changbin fluff #changbin romance #changbin angst #seo changbin #stray kids changbin #changbin x y/n #changbin x reader #changbin x you #seo changbin x reader #seo changbin x you #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x stay

43 notes · View notes

turbulentt · 4 years

Text

Sweet Little Thing

genre: smut | yeosang x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), praise kink

event: valentine’s day prompt ask by @svt-mangos

summary: a new bakery opens at your city and you find yourself mesmerized by how amazing their cakes are, yet it’s their waiter, kang yeosang, who catches your eye first.

It was your first time going to that bakery. It had just recently opened and some of your friends told you how amazing their desserts were, you just had to try them. The looks attracted you right away. All the colors, smells, sizes. You felt like entering a wonderland.

“Don’t just stand there.” the waiter giggled beside you “Order something.”

“But they’re so many. I can’t choose.” you drew closer to the cake showcase and hummed in confusion.

“Let me help then. Go for the strawberry angel food cake.” he points at the sugary pink cake “It’s really sweet. I think it goes well with you.”

For the first time, you look at him, in surprise by his flirt. Time seemed to stop when you locked eyes with each other. Maybe you did enter wonderland. Do wonderlands have princes? Well, this one had, and he was standing right there before you.

“Do… Do you want it?” he asked, not so flirty nor confident this time. “Want what?” you bluntly responded, not paying the minimum attention. “The cake. Do you want to taste that cake?”

“Oh, the cake right.” you free yourself from the thoughts and smile awkwardly “Sure. I’m going to sit over there. Oh and a cappuccino please.”

He smiles and leaves to prepare your order, while you just head to a table near to the window. After that encounter, you just had to sit down and recover your senses. You had never seen him before. Not in university nor anywhere in that city. You would remember if you did, certainly, such a pretty face like that is hard to forget.

Once again he approaches your table and you feel your heart rhythm fasten as if he wanted to run away. You watch him place the cake in front of you, and then your drink. Something in the way his blond hair was held by two baby blue hair clips turned him even more charming. While lost in your own world you didn’t notice how the boy looked at you too.

“Would you like something else?” he smiles.

“No, thank you.” and it’s when he’s preparing to leave that you decide to take the first step “Actually..”

“Yes?” he gazes back at you and you can clearly see a glimpse of hope shining in his eyes.

“I’d like to know your name,” you admit shyly but he seems to enjoy it a lot. “Kang Yeosang.” he points at his name tag and you chuckle. “Sorry, I didn’t pay much attention to that.“

"I wonder why.” tilts his head to the side making a pensive face “Maybe you just were too distracted looking at my face."

Your eyes widen in surprise and a hint of red grows in your cheeks. You shyly mumble an apology and Yeosang laughs sweetly.

"Don’t be sorry. I liked it. I think you were too distracted to even realize I was looking at you the same way.” he smiles.

His confidence seemed to have boosted and you couldn’t help but smile at his statement. That means something, right? Because you could really kiss his beautiful lips right that instant.

“I hope you enjoy your food.” he suddenly goes back to his waiter state and points at the cappuccino “I hope you like that cappuccino. It comes with a surprise."

You look at him in confusion and Yeosang just waves as he walks away. What did he mean by surprise? Did he put something in the drink? How lucky could you be to meet a nice handsome boy yet he would just drug you? Too many scenarios. Maybe there really is a good surprise.

Warily you just take a sip of the drink, which seems to be fairly normal. Shaking your thoughts away, you just have a normal meal, being delighted by how heavenly that cake tastes. Your friends were right. You could feel how much love the baker had put into it.

When finished, you decided to send a pic to your friends, along with a long review paragraph of how you would definitely be back to taste more of their cakes. Between the many replies you got, one of them caught your eye.

"What is that black stuff written on the cappuccino cup?"

You immediately looked at the cup and saw a couple of lines coming from under the bakery label. Curiously you rip the little sticker off, only to show a cell phone number and the ‘KY’ letters under it. Of course, it meant Kang Yeosang and it obviously was his number, but your mind couldn’t really process the fact that the cute waiter that had just flirted with you gave you his number.

So, after that day, besides being at the bakery most days you also texted Yeosang frequently. Both of you really enjoyed the talks you had on the phone throughout the entire dawn and, for some odd reason, Yeosang made you feel wanted. More than you had ever been.

Apart from the hours-long phone calls and your routine visits to the bakery, you two didn’t really see each other often, it could be because you don’t study in the same university, or just for the fact that you haven’t had the guts to ask him out on a date. But neither does he, well, until one day.

“Here’s your order.” he happily rushes to your table setting down the food “I have one thing to ask you.”

Taking a bite to the piece of cake you sign for him to keep talking. Curiously Yeosang had developed a way of talking to you that made you blush every two words. He would either finish his sentences with pick up lines or just softly compliment you. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy it, all his words boosted your ego, but you never knew how to respond and he would just stare at you, with a victorious smirk on his face, waiting for a response.

“Go on a date with me. This Saturday,” he said it so easily yet you were almost choking on your food. “A what?” you mumbled between coffs. “You heard me.” he chuckled “I’ve been meaning to ask but it never seems to be the right time. But I’m taking my chance with the pretty girl now.”

“You sound like a true gentleman.” you smile, awkwardly trying to hide your blushed cheeks “And where are we going?”

“Oh, that’s a surprise. Just meet me here. I leave at six so we can go together, okay?”

“Seems good. I’ll wait excitedly for it.” you smile and once again he resumes his work.

Saturday didn’t take much time to come. The week seemed to fly just for you to have your so awaited date. You still visited the bakery every day after university, but the thought of the two of you finally being able to hang out together was driving you nuts. So, on Saturday, there you were, munching something to make time for Yeosang to leave his shift.

Half an hour before, he was already looking enthusiastic passing through your table every five minutes telling you how he was almost leaving. You could only laugh at his cuteness.

You were waiting outside by the door when his shift finally ends and you only now got to see in person how good looking Yeosang is without his uniform. Not that it really matters, but his style surely helps, especially when he’s wearing a leather jacket.

“You look good.” you shyly admit referring to his clothing. “Thanks. But, don’t I always look good?” he teases you and you just decide not to fight back. “Anyway, where are we going?”

“We are going to my house.” he takes you by the hand guiding you to his car. “To your house?” you look a bit taken back by his words but he quickly eases you. “You told me once that you wanted to learn how to bake some of the cakes we have at the bakery so I thought it would be a good idea to teach you,” Yeosang explains as you both enter the car “I would do it at the bakery but my boss didn’t allow me. Since I have all the tools and ingredients at my house I figured it’d do. I hope you don’t mind, we can do something else if you want.”

“No!” you cut him off quickly “Baking seems like a fun first date.”

It didn’t take long to arrive at his place and you sure got surprised by how tidy and clean Yeosang is. Yet he doesn’t seem to be the only one living there, due to the number of jackets on the hall hanger.

“Do you share the house?” you curiously question while roaming around the living room, feeling the nice fruity smell it holds. “I do, with seven of my friends. But they’re not here today, I told them I wanted privacy.” he chuckled at his own words and guided you by the hand to the kitchen. It was starting to become a habit, holding your hand and leading you. Not that you were complaining, he has really soft and warms hands.

All of the utensils and ingredients were already set on the table which meant he had prepared it all before going to work. Realizing that, you looked at Yeosang with the most loving eyes, like you were falling in love with him. Perhaps you really were.

“What?” he smiles taking off his jacket and replacing it with his apron, giving you one right after “Are you falling for me already?”

“Let’s cook.” you cut him off and he laughs at your embarrassment. “Ok, let’s start.”

Saying it was an easy task would be a lie because Yeosang wasn’t properly the best teacher. He would simply skip some steps and not tell you what it was supposed to be done and then just laugh at your pouty expression. He would also grab your arms to explain to you how you were supposed to beat the eggs or mold the fondant, it drove you insane.

“Ok, now, carefully, put it in the oven,” he instructed and you did as told. “Are you sure I did a good job?” you asked while closing the oven’s door but you didn’t get a reply “Yeosang?”

As soon as you turn to face him your face is hit with a good amount of flour, much of it going inside of your mouth. “You’re dead,” you say playfully taking the bag of flour from his hands and throwing some on his face. And right at that instant, a war started. You ran around the table with Yeosang chasing you, both of you giggling like little children and spilling flour everywhere. You were so distracted running around that you didn’t even notice him right in front of you with his arms open, ready to catch you.

“Gotcha.” he happily sings after grabbing you in his arms. The problem was how close you two got at that moment. Both your noses rubbing each other and you could swear he was able to listen to your unsteady heartbeats. His eyes trailed up and down, switching between your eyes and your mouth.

“Can I kiss you?” that’s all he asks yet you felt like fainting. You didn’t give him a proper answer, confirming with a head gesture was enough. His lips tasted like flour, which was sort of inconvenient, but you could still taste his sweetness and feel his warmth. Yeosang didn’t rush it, it was indeed the most loving and deep kiss you have ever had and it made you feel out of this world.

When he parted his lips from yours you whined lowly, you wanted more, a lot more. He surely noticed how your expression changed and grabbed your hips to draw you closer to his body. Your legs got shaky and he smirked.

“Did I just make you wet with just one kiss, sweetheart?”

If the kiss didn’t make you, which was highly unlikely, the way his eyes darken as he said that sure did. You just looked away from him embarrassed, he has such a strong gaze, so hard to resist. Yeosang rubbed his finger on your cheek cleaning some of the flour that still covered you and leaned closer.

“We should really take a shower. What do you think?” he whispers right by your ear and his words slide quickly down to your core. “Together?” you ask innocently, obviously you knew the answer. “Of course, sweetheart. Unless you don’t want to, I’m fine with that.”

You smiled at him, touched by his gentle preoccupation with getting consent. “I would really love that.” you take the opportunity to kiss his lips again, a bit more hungrily this time. Yeosang lifted your body up, and so he carried you to the bathroom, rather clumsily since he was more focused on giving your lips attention. You giggled when he just kicked the door desperately, he was really eager to have you.

“Yeosang, put me down.” you laughed as he started to kiss your neck “I can’t shower with clothes.”

“Oh.” he laughed awkwardly and let you down to your feet, only to grab you again “I’ll take care of that.”

Every one of his moves was gentle, soft, and warm and you enjoyed every single one. It didn’t take long for him to be on his knees and face to face with your clothed core. His eyes widened at the dark wet spot on your underwear.

“You’re this wet just for me?” his finger met the stain and you whined softly. “Don’t make those embarrassing questions…”

“You’re so shy.” he chuckles. His breath comes closer to your core and your hands instantly move to his hair. Not so gently now he removes your underwear and, with the most hungry eyes you have ever seen, he lets his tongue travel between your folds. “And you taste you sweet.” his hands grab your thighs firmly to spread them more, giving him more access to play with you.

Small moans start to fall from your lips and it only fuels Yeosang’s ego. His tongue finally meets your desperate aching clit and you shake at how good it felt. He knew exactly what he was doing, playing with it at a steady pace yet sending shivers down your entire body. One of his hands releases your thighs and slowly travels to between your shaky legs.

“You’re so good for me. So beautiful.” he hums into your core “I can’t get enough of your sweet moans, baby.”

You gasp loudly when you feel two of his fingers slide inside you and coming out again. Your eyes meet Yeosang’s and you can feel how satisfied he is by eating you out like that, but the bulge in his pants started to hurt every second he didn’t give it attention.

His fingers thrust into your wetness again and he starts moving them quickly and steady as his lips are busy sucking and playing with your sensitive clit.

“Yeosang… I’m going to cum,” you mumble between pants, your head was thrown back and your breath completely unsteady. He knew you wouldn’t last longer too, that’s why he decided to stop. Before you could cum he took his fingers out and moved his mouth away from you. You whine at the sudden emptiness and look at him unsatisfied.

“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart.” he says playfully as he stands up and starts to undress “I can’t let you cum just now.”

“Why?” you ask, quite lost on his body, devouring him with your eyes. “I want to look you in the eyes and make you mine.”

Your expression softens as you hear his words and he turns to turn the shower on. “Come, sweetie. I want to make my pretty little baby feel good a bit more.” he reaches out his hand to pull you to under the shower “And, of course, I want to hear how good you sound once I make you cum.”

His words hit the pitch of your stomach and you take no time in kissing him feverishly. You two weren’t going to play any games now, both of you needed release so much that it hurt.

While one of his hands roamed through your body, the other one was busy giving a few pumps to his needy cock. Yeosang grunted in between the kiss and it was the sexiest sound you have ever heard. You grabbed his face with both of your hands and locked eyes with him. “Yeosang, please…”

It only took you one plea to make him do as told. Without ever taking his eyes from yours he carefully slid inside you. He held himself onto the cold tiles of the bathroom wall and waited for you to give him permission to move. Taking a look down he saw the way his cock fitted perfectly inside you and grunted with satisfaction.

“Fuck, you take me so well.” his thumb caresses your lower lip “And you feel so good.”

You can only smile at his words, giving him a sign to start moving. And so he does. Unhurried he slides almost completely out of you, only to sink deep once again. And as he promised he was looking right into your eyes as he made you his’. Every hard thrust seemed much more intense with the two of you looking eye to eye and moaning each other’s names uncontrollably. The water just dripped from your bodies, taking with it all the sweat, and muffling the erotic sounds your skin made as they met each other with every thrust.

“Can you cum for me now, baby?” his words came one by one between his pants “Because I will.”

You shake your head as you felt the heat rush through your body. Your walls started to feel tighter around his cock and Yeosang was a mess just by the feeling of you clenching around him. You felt him throb him inside you and just couldn’t contain yourself anymore.

With a loud moan, you came undone on his cock and fell on Yeosang’s arms as he pulled out of you and came on his own hand. He held you close to him and played with your hair until you recovered your senses and were finally able to stand up.

“Now we should really take a shower.” he laughs and you join him.

Like the gentlemen he is, Yeosang made sure you were all cleaned, from the flour and the cum, and his aftercare actually felt really good.

As you both were stepping out of the shower something in your head clicks and you look at him.

“The cake!” it was most likely all burnt by now.

#kpop #kpop smut #smut #ateez smut #ateez #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang #yeosang smut #yeosang imagines #kpop imagines #imagine #ateez imagines

269 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

Text

Title: If You Want It Come and Get It {Headcanon}**

**NOTE: I’m sorry this took so long anon, this is a first for me. I hope this isn’t horrible, or not what a headcanon is supposed to be or look like at all. Thanks for the idea, I took it a tad bit farther. SMH 🤷🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️ Be gentle with me you guys, I know not what I do. 😂😂

Warnings: Plenty of Words, NSFW

First of all, you didn’t mean to steal his jacket. You guys were hanging out on set and you saw his jacket lying around while he was getting into wardrobe. You tried it on and it looked good on you. So, you kept it on.

Chris automatically noticed you were wearing it when he came back from wardrobe. He noted to himself you did look good in it.

When Chris went to filming, you stayed for a bit but left with it on without realizing it until you’d already left. Ooops. (Honest Mistake, right 😁)

You took a picture that night posted it to Instagram saying “Like my new jacket, thanks, Cap. 😁 ”

Chris hears about it from a tweet where someone asked how Captain America feels about stealing.

When he sees the picture of you wearing it he finds it funny but doesn’t mind it. He comments on your pic using his secret IG account: “DontMessWitDaddy”: I see you’re feeling yourself in OPP (other people’s property). Cool, as long as you know who looks better in it.”

The pic gets a lot of comments and likes. You respond to him saying “Oh, look who got on IG just for little ol’ me. You know that handle is very misleading because I just messed with daddy and daddy didn’t do 💩😛 .”

Everyone finds it funny. As time goes on you decide to keep it and wear it ALL the time. You wear it on errands(even if it doesn’t go with your outfit), traveling, hanging with your friends, and a few interviews. It’s all done to taunt him because you know he loves the jacket.

When you post to your IG and twitter of yourself in the jacket for your “outfit of the day” posts Chris is always in your comments. The first few times these were the emojis you got 😏 🙄 . After two weeks the emojis change to these 🤨😑 .

At an interview on the Jimmy Fallon Show in NY, you get asked about the pictures of you in this jacket and the story behind it. “Oh, it’s nothing major Jimmy. I have a friend and I’m just borrowing the jacket. I mean, I think it looks better on me than him. So I think I just might keep it.” Jimmy tries to get you to confirm that it’s Chris’ jacket. “Yeah, it’s Chris’, or it was Chris’.” The audience and Jimmy seem to love your answer.

Chris is in LA, about to do his own interview with James Corden’s Late, Late Show. He sees the interview you did and he laughs it up. When he does his interview James brings up the attention around it. “What can I say, James, I was raised with siblings, and I was taught to share so I have no problem sharing with the less fortunate.” The audience eats it up and laughs about it. “Wow. She says she looks better in it though and that she’s keeping it. What do you say about that?” Chris shrugs it off and takes his phone out and shows James a pic of himself in the same jacket. The pic gets put up on the big screen. It’s a picture of him giving the smoldering look as he sits in a chair dressed in designer duds. The audience whistles, claps, and cheers for the low key sexy pic. Chris smugly nods. “Yeah, I think that just settled who looks better in it. Don’t make me come and get it.”

That evening you are finishing up with a photoshoot and are supposed to be getting changed to head back to the hotel but you’re on social media just scrolling and see you’re being tagged in a clip of the video of Chris on the talk show. While watching it, you laugh about it and get a cocky idea. You get your assistant to take a picture of you in it. You sit on the makeup table where the mirror is held with your legs open so it shows the underwear you just wore for the shoot and enough cleavage for it to be teasing but not raunchy. You post it to your accounts with the caption: “What was that? I’ll just take the cake now. 🍰 *Me in my new favorite jacket.* If you want it come and get it. 😏 ”

Within minutes it starts trending and everyone is commenting how hot you look and debating over who actually looks better in the jacket. Some are even hinting that the two of you should just get together already and save them any more of the slow burn. With the number of times it gets commented on and retweeted, Chris sees it and he’s amused.

That night you get in late to your hotel suite and you’re still wearing the jacket. There’s a knock at the door just as you take off your shoes and prepare to take off your skirt. After opening the door, you see it’s Chris leaning on the jamb.

Of course, seeing him makes you smirk and you ask him: “What’re you doing here Evans? Come to see just how much better I look in my jacket than you?”

Chris has a smug look on his face as he nods his head and locks eyes with you. “Nah, you said if I want it come and get it.”

Of course, you’re speechless because his voice is hella deep and his eyes are cloudy and definitely don’t have a platonic fire behind them. All of that coupled with how close he is makes your belly flutter and your own cockiness fade.

Since you still have yet to speak Chris takes the opportunity and does the talking. “Well--I want it and I’ve come to get it. Okay with you?” You are still speechless and unsure exactly how to respond. You’re feeling like your imagining the sexual undertones you’re picking up on and decide silence is better than overzealousness. So you nod your head instead.

Chris backs you into the room and kicks the door shut with his foot. As the slam of the door rings out in the room, his lips meet yours. He doesn’t go slow either, he kisses you like you should be kissed, passionately, teasingly, intensely.

He is pressing you on the wall with your jaws cupped in his massive hands taking control. You have no complaints and let him do his thing. Chris yanks open your button-down blouse sending all the buttons throughout the room to bounce off furniture, and walls.

Chris strips your ruined blouse and his jacket off you then finishes what you began with your skirt. Soon you’re only in your underwear with your back pressed to one of the posts of the four-post bed. Chris is still taking every bit of breath from your lungs with his expert and soul-sucking kiss. You don’t even notice him unbuckling your bra in the process.

When he walks away without warning you’re gripping tightly to the bedpost in order not to fall. He takes up his jacket and comes back to you. “Put it on since you love it so much.”

His commanding tone is doing the most sinful things to you. Without protest, you put on the jacket. Chris’ eyes slowly roam your scantily clad body. He doesn’t speak as he lifts off his sweater and drops it to the floor. You hold the bedpost even tighter. You knew he was hot for years, but this was something completely different.

When he gets to dropping his pants you see his arousal and your jaw drops. This was the first time you’d ever seen this much. Throughout the years there were plenty of rumors on if he was packing or not. You never really thought about it but every once in a while you wondered and even got clues for both sides of the argument.

When Chris pulls off his underwear your eyes bug out and have the answer to the number one burning question ninety-nine percent of the human population had. Chris Evans was packing way more than a garden snake. Chris Evans was packing an extinct form of wildlife that was rare among his specific species.

You stare at it so long he snorts out and brings your attention to him. “Don’t be scared, he doesn’t bite.”

Your knees are three seconds from giving out and that’s how long it takes him to be on you. He pushes you down onto the bed onto your stomach. You soon feel his hardness pressing on your ass and feel his breath on your ear. “Unless it’s taunted. Since you’ve been taunting me for weeks, I’d say be very afraid.”

You are in shock and before you can catch your breath he pulls your panties to the side and thrusts into you to the hilt. The only thing you can say is “Holy Fuck!”

That amuses him enough to chuckle but it doesn’t distract him from building a steady pace that has him slamming every inch of himself into you with enough force to make your entire body jerk and your breasts jiggle.

Chris is definitely not taking it easy on you. Every time his hips pound into you his hand lands on your ass cheek with a forceful slap until the only sounds in your hotel suite were that of your bodies colliding together. He delivers the pounding you never knew you needed and the pounding you never knew he could deliver.

Before long your eyes are rolled back, mouth hanging open, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth and your moans and screams tumbled freely from your mouth not caring if anyone can hear. You shout his name and every time he hears it he delivers one uterus destroying thrust that makes you scream louder.

Soon your room phone is ringing competing with the sounds you’re making and there is pounding at the door from hotel staff. Neither of you stop, or slow down or even try to keep it down.

By the time you come for the third time you try to use your hand to push his thigh back so he’d take it a little easy, you were too sensitive for him to go so deep. Chris ignored your hand and instead grabbed them both and pinned them behind you pulling you up to press your back against his chest.

“Don’t run from daddy’s dick Y/N.” Chris’ voice is deep and gruff as he huffs the words out. Just like that, you become even wetter. This new angle is allowing him to grind against your G-spot and it’s glorious torture. You begin to shake.

Chris grinds his hips a few more times then jackhammers into your core. His grunts turn high pitched and your whines raise a decibel or two. When you feel his release it triggers yours and a storm of convulsions.

Slowly the two of you get quieter, but the phone is still ringing and there is still pounding at the door. Chris lets you fell to the bed and walks to the door. He opens it and sticks his head out. The hotel manager is outside with a sour look on his face, Chris smiles. “Sorry bout the noise, we’re done.”

By the time he comes back to the bed where you have not moved a muscle. You are unable to, you’ve been thoroughly fucked. He is smiling and you can’t even muster to smile back. The two of you pass out without speaking any words.

When you wake up the next day, you’re alone and the jacket is gone. You are stunned by the events of last night but notice you are completely sore but one hundred percent satisfied.

When you check social media you see the pic Chris tweeted: “I think it looks good on both of us, but it’s my jacket. On the other hand, I am willing to share it. So when you want it come and get it. 🛎 ”

You smile becauseit sure as hell sounded like an invitation to you. One you planned on fulling accepting.

#if you want it come and get it headcanon #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans headcanon #chris evans smut

461 notes · View notes

psychosistr · 5 years

Text

Hermit’s Heart

Summary: During the epic final battle against Dio, Joseph had a brief experience with death. During that time, he was reunited with a dear friend...and learned something intriguing about his stand at the same time.

Notes: So, a while back I kept seeing people coming up with the idea of Caesar actually BEING Joseph’s stand, Hermit Purple, so I suddenly got the urge to toy around with that idea. (If anyone has pics or posts, feel free to link ‘em to me and I’ll attach/reblog ‘em)

Everything felt cold.

His body felt numb.

Was he floating or falling? He couldn’t tell…

Joseph managed to open his eyes, but all he saw was darkness. “Where..am I..?” His voice echoed slightly in the stillness around him. Getting to his feet, though still not being able to see what he was standing on, Joseph ran a hand through his gray hairs. “Shit..what was I-?” Everything rushed back to him at once: Egypt. His grandson. Kakyoin dying. Dio draining his blood. The look on his grandson’s face. And then…nothingness… “Damn it..” He cursed, his hand clenching into a fist. “Son of a bitch!” He yelled in anger.

He hadn’t been able to do anything! Avdol, Iggy, and Kakyoin- they had all given their lives fighting against Dio and his minions. Now that he was dead, too, everything was left to Jotaro and Polnareff! The lives of his grandson and daughter hung in the balance and he wasn’t able to do a single thing about it.

He just felt so angry! So useless! So-!

“Jojo…” A voice called out to him. Well, maybe “call” was too strong of a word- it was more of a breathy whisper. The voice was so faint, he could scarcely tell who it belonged to.

“Huh?” Joseph looked around. He still didn’t see anyone else in the darkness. “Hello?” He called out into the surrounding void, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Is someone there?!” When he didn’t receive an answer right away, he gave a frustrated sigh. “Damn it, am I hearing stuff now, too?” While he contemplated what to do and where to go next, Joseph felt something tugging at his hand. “Hm?” Looking down at his arm, he saw familiar purple vines growing around his palm. “Hermit Purple?” He questioned while looking at his stand.

“Jojo…” There was that whisper again, a little louder this time but still too breathy to tell whose voice it was. Oddly enough, he had a location for the sound this time: The vines from his very own stand.

“Wha-?!” Joseph was startled, to say the least. Sure, he knew that his grandson’s stand and many others could make sounds, but his never had before! Okay, maybe that wasn’t ENTIRELY fair, as it had been able to indirectly speak to him and give him messages through TVs and cameras and other things like that, but it had never had a VOICE before! “You can talk?!” He questioned the mass of purple vines while shaking his hand back and forth, trying to see if he could elicit another reaction from his stand.

“Jojo…” The voice was stronger that time. It sounded almost like..no..it couldn’t be..!

Joseph watched with wide eyes as the vines from his arm began to grow and twist together, moving outward to a spot in front of him. As they twisted and formed together, the vines began to shift into a vaguely humanoid shape with the vines still connected to him forming a hand with fingers lacing through his own. The more they moved, the smoother the shape became until, like a veil being pulled over them, a crackling golden energy spread along the vines and formed an all too familiar face and body- a faint purple glow surrounding the figure before him.

The blond hair held back with a purple and orange head band and feathered clips that had been the last things he’d seen walking away from him…

The strong body that had haunted his dreams every night for the past fifty years…

The handsome face with purple birth marks and a smile that he vowed to never, EVER forget for as long as he lived…

And those eyes..those sharp, gorgeous green eyes that stared into his own with a warmth and adoration he’d never seen in them while alive…

There was no mistaking who this man was:

“C..Caesar…” Joseph gasped, his voice shaking. He brought his other hand up, the appendage trembling as he made contact with the warm skin of his long deceased friend’s cheek. “Is..Is that..Is it really you, Caesar…?”

“It’s me, Jojo.” Caesar responded with a warm smile as he brought his own hand up to rest over Joseph’s on his cheek. “I-”

“CAESAR!!” Joseph cut off anything that Caesar was about to say. His arms had moved to envelop his dearest friend in a bone-crushing hug as he cried. “I can’t believe it! I thought I’d never see you again!” He held the blond as close as possible, pressing his forehead into his shoulder.

“It..It’s good..to see you too..Jojo..” Caesar managed to gasp out, patting at Joseph’s back in an attempt to both soothe him and convince him to let go. The grip eventually loosened, but the old man refused to let go. When Caesar felt him trembling and heard him sniffle, he gave the other a slight frown and tried to pull away to see his face. “Joseph?”

Joseph just held onto him tighter- not as bone-crushingly tight as before but firm enough that Caesar wouldn’t get away. “I..” His body shook with a silent sob. “I’m sorry..” The words were strained, but they needed to be said- hell, they should have been said decades ago when he’d had the chance, but he had been young and foolish back then and squandered his chances. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I never should have insulted your family or your pride, I just- I was such an idiot. Because of me you..you ran off and fought Wham on your own..” Another sob, this one barely audible. “Even with what I said, though..you..you still..you still..”

His shoulders shook as he fully broke down in the Italian’s arms. All the guilt he’d carried for these past decades, all the sorrow at knowing he’d lost the man he’d loved so dearly, the regrets of never telling him how he felt because he was too stupid to see it until he was already gone- it all crashed down on him at once. He wished he had done everything in his youth differently. He wished he could change the past, could bring Caesar back and die in his place, could simply have had one or two more nights sitting under the stars together, anything would have been better than the fate Caesar had gotten but didn’t deserve…

“Joseph…” Caesar’s voice was gentle, patient, and far more understanding than the anger and venom it had held the last time he’d heard the blond man in the world of the living. “Joseph, look at me…” He placed one hand on Joseph’s head in an attempt to make him look up, his other hand still holding onto Joseph’s own despite the awkward angle. When Joseph complied, looking up into bright green eyes with his own watery ones, Caesar wiped the old man’s tear-covered face with his thumb tenderly. “I forgave you ages ago.” He pressed a light kiss to Joseph’s forehead, his hand cupping Joseph’s scruffy cheek in a similar fashion to what Joseph had done earlier. “We were both to blame for what happened that day. You never knew about my past, and I never bothered to tell you- of course you wouldn’t have realized what those words meant to me. But you were right to tell me not to go off on my own..I thought I was strong enough to handle everything by myself, but I clearly wasn’t..” He pressed his forehead against Joseph’s and closed his eyes. “I am sorry for leaving you like that…but I will never regret giving my life for you. You have accomplished so much: You defeated the pillar men. You saved the world. You married a wonderful woman and have a beautiful family. You became a respectable man with a well-paying job and did it all on your own. I am so proud of you, Jojo.”

“Caesar…” Joseph closed his eyes, one hand gripping the back of Caesar’s shirt- the same blue shirt and jacket he’d worn the day he’d died- and the other holding onto Caesar’s hand. “Caesar..I love you.” The words jumped off his tongue, demanding to be said as strongly as his apology earlier was. He opened his eyes and looked into the slightly surprised green ones so close to his own. “I love you.” He repeated again, figuring that he may as well get everything off his chest now that they’ve already come this far. “Not figuring it out and telling you when you were still alive was the biggest regret I had right after letting you die like that. I do still love Suzie- she’s a great wife and a loving mother- but not a day’s gone by that I haven’t thought about you and what we could have had if I’d just said it sooner.” He held Caesar close to him and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “I..hope you can forgive me for that, too..”

Everything he said was completely true, of course. Shortly after Caesar had run off, Joseph began to worry for his safety and, in doing so, had finally come to terms with how he felt for his dear friend and training partner. The crushing realization of Caesar’s death had shattered Joseph’s heart, leaving him with a hollow feeling that only the burning flame of revenge could fill in that moment. He did not wish to die in his fight with the pillar men, but had been fully prepared to do so if it was the only way to atone for what he put the man he loved through. To even his own surprise, he’d miraculously survived. Marrying Suzi was natural, and she accepted and understood how he felt about Caesar, often comforting him when he woke up from his nightmares crying over his dead love. Eventually, he quit his hamon training so that he could grow old alongside his wife- had Caesar been alive, he would gladly have continued the practice just to have more time with him. Without him, though, it just felt pointless to lengthen his life more than necessary…

“Jojo..” Caesar’s slightly surprised expression morphed into a smile that was half-amused and half-loving. “I already knew about that.”

Joseph blinked in surprise, a blush spreading across his cheeks under his beard. “You..You did..?”

Caesar laughed a little at how flustered the old man looked and nodded. “I’ve been watching over you all this time: I heard it every time you said those words when visiting my grave, as well as when you woke up from your nightmares and said it while apologizing over and over again.” His smile softened into something much more tender and loving, his arm moving to wrap around Joseph’s neck and shoulders. “My biggest regret, other than leaving you like that, was not telling you the same thing.” He pulled Joseph into a short but sweet kiss, holding him there for a moment before breaking away to look into his eyes again. “I love you, Joseph.”

“Caesar…” Joseph’s heart swelled with joy at Caesar’s confession. A big grin broke across his face. “God, we really were a couple of fools, weren’t we?”

“You speak as if you are not one anymore.” Caesar remarked with a grin of his own. Both of them soon broke into laughter as they held onto one another.

It felt like all of the weight he’d carried since his youth was suddenly lifted from his shoulders- no, from his very soul itself. He’d finally given Caesar the apology he deserved and, even better, he finally knew that his feelings for the handsome blond were not one-sided.

Pulling Caesar into another kiss, this one deeper than the first, Joseph allowed himself to feel completely and totally at peace. He of course still felt bad for leaving Jotaro behind to fight Dio, as well as a bit of guilt for leaving Holly and Suzi without either of them knowing the truth about what was going on, but he knew they would be okay in the long-run. He had wanted to be with Caesar for so long, it only seemed fair to both of them that they finally be together in the after-life.

“Caesar.” Joseph sighed when the kiss finally ended. “I missed you so much, I-” He tried releasing Caesar’s hand so he could place it elsewhere, but, to his surprise, Caesar’s form flickered back and forth between the mass of purple vines from earlier and his human state. “?!”

Caesar quickly grasped Joseph’s hand again, his form stabilizing back to normal. “Sorry..I can’t hold myself together unless we’re touching..”

Joseph looked from his hand, to Caesar’s face, then back down again. “Caesar..you..” His eyes widen as the realization fully dawned on him. “OH MY GOD!” He looked back up to Caesar’s face. “You’re Hermit Purple?!!!”

Caesar gave him a dead-pan expression. “Did it really take you that long to figure it out? It didn’t occur to you when you literally saw my body coming together?”

“Well- I mean, yeah!” Joseph floundered, still shocked by this new revelation. “I was just so surprised! How is that even possible?! I thought stands were manifested will or something- how the hell are YOU my stand?”

“It’s a long story that even I don’t have all the answers to..” Caesar relented after a tense sigh. “We might as well get comfortable while we talk- we still have some time left.” He tugged on Joseph’s hand while lowering himself onto the unseen ground. Joseph followed his lead and sat beside him. Caesar seemed to reconsider their position, though, as he crawled around behind Joseph and pulled him back by his shoulder, allowing Joseph to lay back half-way with his head resting on Caesar’s chest. He certainly wouldn’t complain about such a comfortable outcome.. “Do you remember when you fought Wham? You asked me to fight by your side one more time.”

Joseph nodded, his eyes flicking up to catch a glimpse of Caesar’s headband- the same headband that he had dawned while asking the other for support. “I didn’t know if you’d actually hear me, but it felt right to have you with me in some way…”

Caesar gently ran his fingertips along Joseph’s head, tracing the area his headband had been tied around years ago. “I did hear you when you called to me. My spirit was caught somewhere between this world and the next when I heard your voice calling my name. I decided to stay and watch after you, even if I couldn’t do much back then. Even after your fight, it felt right to stay and look after you.”

Joseph’s hand gently squeezed Caesar’s, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “Thank you..you didn’t have to, you probably should have moved on, but it made me feel better to think you were fighting alongside me..”

“I didn’t mind waiting for you.” Caesar’s fingers slipped into Joseph’s gray hair and ran through the short locks in a soothing motion. “Besides, you asked me to stay with you, but you never asked me to leave, so I thought I would simply stay with you like that until you passed away.” He frowned slightly. “Then..Dio returned..” He looked off into the distance, his eyes focusing on something that seemed far beyond the black nothingness around them. “He was inhabiting your grandfather’s body, and, when he gained his stand, it granted every Joestar the ability to do so, as well. Normally, a stand is a manifestation of its user’s will and fighting spirit- either existing alongside them since birth, or forming by being directly exposed to an outside force. Your family, however, was an exception as you were not born with stands and were not directly exposed to the source of the stand’s power like Dio was.” Green eyes closed briefly, as if he was remembering something. “Around the time Dio gained his stand, I felt something pulling me towards you- like some sort of invisible force. I also heard a voice, one I couldn’t describe, even if I tried, telling me that you would need help in order to survive what was to come…it told me that, if I was willing, then I could become that power you would need to fight and survive your battles, but I would lose what little freedom I’d had before if I agreed to it. I didn’t hesitate at all to become your stand.”

Joseph frowned, tilting his head back further to see Caesar’s face. “You gave up your freedom to become my stand? What does that mean?”

Caesar opened his eyes so he could return Joseph’s gaze. “Before, I could move around freely and as far as I wanted to. I also still had my same appearance from when I died. And before, I felt as if I could still, well, LEAVE if I wanted to. Afterwards, though, I was no longer allowed to go more than a few feet away from you at any time, I gave up my previous form, and now..while I still cannot fully explain how I know this, it feels as if my soul is tied to yours and I cannot move on until you do.”

“You gave up all of that for me..?” Joseph asked, reaching up to touch Caesar’s face gently with his hand. He was grateful, certainly, but he still felt guilty knowing that Caesar continued to sacrifice so much for him even after giving his life for Joseph.

Caesar placed a gentle kiss to Joseph’s hand on his face, his gaze caring but somehow protective, as well. “Of course. I had no plans to leave your side, anyway, and my looks were a small price to pay for your safety.”

“……” Joseph looked down. Caesar had given so much for him, never expecting anything in return and always making sacrifices when Joseph wasn’t around to see them. He was always such a show off… “So..now that it’s all over..are we going to cross over together..?” He was still a little frightened at the idea of being dead, but, if he had Caesar by his side, it wouldn’t be nearly as terrifying.

“No.” Caesar’s voice was steady, but it seemed to hold an underlying sadness to it. “It’s not your time yet.”

Startled by that news, Joseph quickly sat up and turned so that he was facing Caesar, adjusting his grip to make sure their hands remained linked. “What do you mean ‘not my time’? I’m DEAD! Dio killed me!”

Caesar frowned, looking away from Joseph’s questioning gaze. “It’s another one of those things that I cannot fully explain..but..I can feel it..” He gave Joseph’s hand a light squeeze, whether to offer comfort or from his own emotional state, Joseph couldn’t tell. “This is only temporary..you’ll be sent back soon..”

“No..” Joseph’s voice had a quiver to it as he shook his head. “No, no, no..! I don’t want to leave you again! I just got you back!” He wrapped his arm around Caesar, clinging to him. “Please..Caesar..I can’t lose you..not again..not after all this time..”

God, he felt so pathetic, clinging to Caesar like a spoiled child about to have his favorite toy taken away. He just..he couldn’t help it..this was all too much to deal with in one day. It wasn’t fair, damn it! He was finally reunited with his dearest friend, they’d apologized and made up for what happened, and he’d confessed his feelings for the other man and found out they were returned- why couldn’t he just be happy here with him now?!

“Jojo..” Caesar’s voice was gentle, patient, and so understanding, maybe even sympathetic to how Joseph felt in that moment. “There are still people back there that need you- your family and friends need you there a while longer. As much as I would love to have you here with me, neither of us can stop the fact that you’ll be sent back.” He wound his own arm around Joseph’s shoulders, his hand rubbing soothing circles into his back. “But..it’s not like this is goodbye. After all, I’m right here with you.” He raised their joined hands in indication. “Any time you need me, simply call on me. Any time you have something to say to me, I will hear you. And..while I cannot always get my messages through clearly..if you use me, then I will do my best to give you any advice and comfort you need.” He brought their hands closer to his lips and kissed Joseph’s hand. “I will be fighting beside you until your time finally comes, and then we will cross over together. I will wait as long as it takes.”

“……” Joseph still didn’t like that he wouldn’t be able to see or speak with Caesar directly anymore, but he knew that Caesar was right. “Okay..” He gently pressed their foreheads together again. “Mind if I make a selfish request before I have to go?”

Caesar gave him a soft smile, a chuckle catching in his throat. “As if you’ve ever asked for any other kind?”

Joseph couldn’t help smiling too, he missed Caesar’s witty comebacks. “True, true..” He held Caesar gently and laid back down with Caesar on top of him. “Could you…Could we, you know…kiss..?” His cheeks flushed a little under his beard again, feeling embarrassed for having to ask for it. “Until I’m forced to go back, I want to kiss you. That way I’ll have something good to remember and look forward to in the future.”

Caesar smiled more and moved his other arm into a more comfortable position. “Of course..and, when you die, I’ll greet you the same way when you come back here.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Joseph sighed as his lips met Caesar’s in a loving kiss. It was warm and passionate, as if they were both pouring decades worth of emotions into that intimate action. Perhaps that’s exactly what they were doing- catching up for lost time, as well as the time they would continue to miss until they saw each other again.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, lost in the warmth and love shared between them in that embrace, but Joseph didn’t care how long they stayed in that blissful state. After a while, though, he began to feel lighter, as if he was drifting away. He held onto the feeling of Caesar in his arms and against his lips as long as possible, until he felt the warmth returning to his body and his heart thrumming to life in his chest once again…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After making sure Dio’s body crumbled away to dust in the desert, Joseph went with his grandson to visit Polnareff in the hospital. They all had wounds that needed to be patched up, both physical…and emotional…

Joseph, being the least injured overall, volunteered to go get drinks for the three of them while Jotaro and Polnareff stayed behind in the room reserved for them by the Speedwagon Foundation. When he returned, he heard low voices, heavy with emotion and grief through the crack in the door.

“I..I still can’t believe..he’s actually GONE, you know?” Polnareff’s voice was thick with choked-back tears, Joseph could tell. “I keep expecting him to just-just pop up out of nowhere like last time and be like ‘It’s okay, Jean, I had to fake my death again because-’ and then he’d give me some stupid reason that I wouldn’t fully get, but it’d be okay because he’d..you know..be HERE…”

“…Yeah…” That was his grandson’s voice, nowhere near as choked up as Polnareff’s was, but still heavy with the words he always held back. “I…I get it…”

Joseph knew exactly how both of them felt. After all, this was the same way that he’d felt when he lost Caesar- hell, he’d even been around their ages when it happened, too. He wished there was something he could do to help them-

“I wonder…” Moving the drinks to one hand, Joseph looked down at his other hand. “Hey..Caesar..can you hear me..?” He summoned Hermit Purple’s vines and they twitched about for a moment before winding around his arm, as if to answer his question. “Good. I want to try something, and I think I’ll need your help for it.”

It was another ten minutes before he finally returned to the room, one hand holding their canned drinks and the other clutching something far more important.

When he walked in, Jotaro was the first to look at him. “What the hell took you so long, old man? You get lost?”

Joseph set the drinks down on one of the tables in the room, ignoring the jab that his grandson made at him. “Nope, I just had to find something.” He held up the other object in his hand for them to see.

“A camera?” Polnareff questioned with a confused expression.

“Yep.” Joseph answered while setting it down a few inches away from their drinks. “I figured there was something you boys might need to see.” He held his hand out above the camera. “Hermit Purple!” The vines appeared around his fist right before he slammed it down onto the camera. As usual, the camera broke from the impact, but it still managed to print out a picture. Retrieving the photo from the wreckage, he waved it around to help it dry quicker. “I’ll see if the SPW can make a copy of this later, but I can always just break another camera if I need to..”

Jotaro eyed his grandfather warily. “What are you going on about, old man?”

Joseph took a seat by the other two remaining members of his group, his expression serious but sympathetic. “I know what you’re both going through right now. You lost someone really special to you and it’s tearing you up inside to know that you might not ever get a chance to see or talk to them again.” At the surprised looks from both his stoic grandson and the usually happy-go-lucky Frenchman, Joseph looked down at the picture in his hands and the purple vines still wrapped around his arm. “When I was your age, I went through the exact same thing. I lost a really special guy that meant more to me than my stupid young brain realized until it was already too late. I was depressed, I was angry, and, above all, I was consumed with regret for my actions and the words that were left unsaid between us. I thought I’d never get a chance to see him again and apologize, or even tell him how I feel. But..well..I learned something pretty important recently..” He held out the picture for the other two to see, their eyes widening as they took in the image. “I learned that, if your connection with someone is strong enough, then they’ll probably stick around to look after you. Also, they can still hear you..and..knowing those two..I’m sure if you asked them to stay with you like I did for the guy I loved..well..I think they’d be happy to do that for you, too.”

He gave them time to absorb that information, as well as get a good, long look at the picture in his hand. The image showed the room they were in back when Joseph took the picture. There was Joseph by the table with his fist on the camera. There was Polnareff sitting up in his hospital bed. There was Jotaro sitting in the chair next to the bed.

But, there were also things shown in the picture that hadn’t been there before. Standing beside Jotaro with a hand on his shoulder was a green figure a bit shorter than Jotaro at his full height. Seated beside Polnareff on the bed was a red figure with its arms wrapped around him protectively. Then, right behind Joseph, there was a purple figure that was standing over him with one arm around his shoulders and the other slowly morphing into Hermit Purple’s vines as it rested atop Joseph’s outstretched hand over the camera.

Polnareff looked beside himself at the blank space where the picture showed the fire-red silhouette, his voice shaking. “A..Avdol..?”

Jotaro looked up to where the melon-green outline had been in the image, looking skeptical but still hopeful. “..Kakyoin…?”

Joseph smiled softly as he watched them. “Death sucks. No way around it. But..it’s not the end-all-be-all we’re afraid of. It hurts now, not being able to hear their voices or see them, but the ones we love are still with us, watching over us and waiting for us. If you’re ever in trouble, just ask them to fight alongside you. Trust me..it helps..”

The vines on his arm wriggled slightly, as if they were offering him comfort. They all had their own pain they would go through in the years to come. Some things may never stop hurting. Still..it helped to know that the ones they loved never really left their sides and that they would see them again, even if they had to wait decades to do so.

Joseph knew they would be reunited again. Someday…

Edit: There is now a Part 2! Enjoy!

End Notes: Not 100% pleased with how this came out, but I couldn’t really think of anything else to add without it feeling like filler. I’ll probably do a follow-up sometime from Caesar’s perspective- use it as a sort of behind-the-scenes for what Caesar experienced before and after becoming Joseph’s stand.

Anyway, hope enjoyed it, all the same :)

#caejose #Caesar Zeppeli #Joseph Joestar #JJBA #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #Jotaro Kujo #Jean Pierre Polnareff #jotakak #avpol #(but just a little for those two ships at the end)

12 notes · View notes

skammovistarplus · 5 years

Text

Culture and Translation - S01 E07 and SKAM+ Clip 3

I hope I get these done before season 2 starts dropping, that’s all I’ll say. 😂

CLIP 1: Foreshadowing

Es un poco rancio, ¿no? (“It’s not hip, no?”): Fucking Jorge and his untranslatable slang. Okay, so “rancio” literally means “rancid” — and a bunch of other things besides, but this is the meaning closest to the way Jorge uses it. Jorge means that the power of invisibility is overused, boring, the kind of thing someone totally out of touch would pick. Simply put, it’s not cool, and may not have ever been cool.

Es como el superpoder de los cotillas (“It’s like the gossips’ superpower”): “Cotilla” is both a busybody and someone who gossips a lot. Either way, they like being all up on your business.

I think it’s notable that this is all that remains from the og storyline where Jonas wants to meet Eva’s mom, but ultimately bails because he’s smoking weed at Ingrid’s. Eva simply puts Jorge’s request off and it’s never spoken of again.

Personally, I have to say that Eva sharing basically none of her life with her mom rang true to me. I spoke with one of the people who attended the research groups, who told me they were asked about how much or how little they share with their parents. She said most people agreed that teens spend time with their families, but they don’t talk to their parents about their lives all that much. As a teen, my parents were on a need-to-know basis when it came to who my friends were or who I was dating, much less at what point sex, booze and other drugs came into my life.

CLIP 2: Diseased Pomeranian

Ay, que me mato (“Ah, I’m gonna die”): There’s a bit of a nuance to what Eva says. To die, in Spanish, is “morir”. “Matar” means to kill. Eva means she’s going to hurt herself getting off Jorge’s back and then die, so not quite the same as passing peacefully, lol.

Que me pica un huevo la nariz (“My nose is itching something terrible”): Indeed, Viri says that her nose is itching, but she uses “un huevo” as an intensifier. “Un huevo” would usually mean an egg, but in this register it means a testicle, heh. So her nose is itching in a testicley way.

Viri says in episode 8 that the girl that runs into Eva is a second year. At any rate, Alicia and Inés hung out over the summer with her.

We get a medium close-up of Alicia as the nameless second year passes by her. Alicia has noticed that the second year has herpes, as well. It’s a brief moment, but we can tell that Alicia puts two and two together, as well.

CLIP 3: In which ALEJANDRO tries to get a passing grade in Maths

This is an underrated moment, but I find it hilarious that Eva invokes the “not all men” defense. Especially since Inés preys on Eva’s insecurity at the end of the clip.

No me jodas (“don´t fuck me over”): This is just one of those Spanish things that we’ll say over and over. I tried different translations through the course of the season, but I still haven’t settled on one that I think really hits the spot. “Don’t fuck me over” works, but it might come across as Eva’s feelings being hurt, rather than something we say… over and over, heh.

Please don’t miss Alejandro adjusting his junk. Lol he’s so douchey.

There’s a school desk in the bathroom. This is not an uncommon sight in Spanish high schools, but I don’t really have a good explanation for it. Like, it’s just a thing. I guess people will drag a desk over at recess, so they can more comfortably hang out in the bathrooms, and then nobody ever bothers dragging them back?

And, of course, this has been noted, but the graffiti on the wall is a pun. If you read it without the R in parenthesis, it says, “Woman, love yourself.” If you read it adding the R, it says, “Woman, arm yourself.”

Pues a la de mates le está saliendo uno (“the Maths hardass is developing a cold sore too”): What Cris actually says is, “So, the Maths [female pronoun] is developing one,” but for the sake of clarity, I rephrased it to remind the people watching that the girls see the Maths teacher as a toughie, and also, so what Cris is implying about Alejandro and the Maths teacher is more obvious.

I really love that Inés actually smells Jorge’s sweatshirt/hoodie (it’s not clear from dialogue which is it). That’s a power move in any culture.

CLIP 4: Corviches are so hot right now

Encaja todo, claro (“It makes sense, of course”): The closer translation is, “It all fits, of course.” I just wasn’t sure the meaning would be clear, especially when they’re all talking so fast.

Tío, ¿y si nos acoplamos a tus hermanos? (“Dude, and if we crash your brothers’ plans?”): First off, Amira is addressing Cris, but she uses “tío” and not “tía.” This is common and there’s nothing noteworthy about it, but I wanted to mention it in case people had noticed characters of any gender addressing female characters as “tío.” Second, Amira is using slang that would be literally translated to, “what if we dock up with your brothers?” The visual is adorable (to me anyway), but I went with a less literal phrasing that makes more sense in English. I also love that this is apparently something Cris and Amira have done enough that it’s what comes to Amira’s mind first as an alternate weekend idea.

Lol easy there with the age foreshadowing, show. Looking at Cris, Jorge and Lucas specifically.

Jorge says he wants to spin tecno (or techno, in English ). In Spain, tecno has become something of a catch-all term for all EDM genres, rather than the specific mid-80s genre. In hindsight, I’d use EDM instead of electronica.

In case you hadn’t looked corviches up yet, here is a recipe + pic in English. They’re similar to hot pockets, but the dough is made with peanuts and plantains. Also, apparently, very successful with girls! I have not had them (yet!)

Cris notes that daylight savings time ends that weekend. She and the script writers are correct! She remembers because that gives them an extra hour of partying, but the social media updates stopped before 2 am. Who knows when Cris got back home, though!

At some point in this clip, Jorge and Lucas talk to each other among the general chatter. For once, Lucas’ voice doesn’t carry over the others like a powerful siren, so I was never able to make out what they said. Missed opportunities.

CLIP 5: As if millions of voices suddenly cried out in joy and were suddenly silenced

Debuti (“G shit”): This is one of the translations that I’m happiest about. Debuti sounds very Madrid-specific to me, and so I wanted something really specific and that would stick out. “Debuti” comes up a few times over the season, but it is always said by Eva. It’s Eva’s catchphrase.

I hope it came through in the subs, but while Eva is reading Jorge’s texts, the gang is having a ridiculously hard time trying to pronounce corviches, in the background. To be fair I’m biased because I’ve studied linguistics, but it doesn’t seem like a word a native Spanish speaker would have trouble with.

We first hear Alejandro’s voice as he comes in Nora’s house! Unless you watched the Aitana extra clip, of course. On that note, there’s no animosity whatsoever between the boy squad and Alejandro’s crew. They give each other friendly high fives, it’s all chill.

This party only came to be the day before. Imagine what Cris would’ve done with a few days heads up.

I wonder if Cris was looking to hook up with Lucas at this party, and, since he didn’t feel like being social, she hooked up with Hugo, instead. Seeing how hard a time she’s had shaking Hugo off, I think it would’ve gone better for her if Lucas had agreed to a dance.

And speaking of Lucas, you can kind of see the order in which some scenes were shot, by tracking Lucas’ actor’s cold sore. And yes, it is an actual cold sore and not make up for the show, lol. It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that. What amazing timing on the cold sore’s part to be at the scab stage during ALEJANDRO FERNANDO ROBERTO’s herpes week.

Pues muy bien (“Good for her”): It’s not exactly what Alejandro says. What he says would be closer to, “Okay, very good.” But I think “Good for her” really gets across how little Alejandro cares about what Nora is saying, at this point of the confrontation.

¿Es que no te salían pelos en los huevos? (“You didn’t grow hair in your balls?”): Omg. It’s ON. ON. I am cringing so hard at this mistake in the subs.

CLIP 6: 🙃🙃🙃

I saw someone asking on twitter, so yes, those giant plastic cups are a thing here. They have different names depending on what part of Spain you’re from. In Madrid, they’re called “mini,” and they have a volume of 750 ml (or a little over three cups). They’re most often used for street drinking.

Eva drinks KNEBEP Vodka, which is sold at (you guessed it) Mercadona, for 4 euro per bottle. My liver is crying just thinking about it.

The first song that plays over this clip is Aitana’s Teléfono (Telephone). We remember Aitana from Cristian’s party!

CLIP 7: 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

Te he oído que estabas con Inés (“I could hear you were with Inés”): Literally, “I have heard you, that you were with Inés.”

Por eso he coincidido con Inés (“That’s why Inés was around”): Collins dictionary says that “coincidir” in the sense Jorge is using it would be translated as, “to happen to meet.” I.e. “That’s why I’ve happened to meet Inés.” But I didn’t like it, because Jorge was at Inés’ house. Of course Inés was around. He didn’t just happen to run into her somewhere random. Hope the translation worked!

Tranquila (“It’s okay”): We had something of a debate over the way to translate this. Jorge says “tranquila,” which is the female form of the adjective “calm.” TAJTA wanted to translate it as “calm down.” I didn’t agree, because in Spanish, that would be “tranquilízate.” Jorge is simply repeating “tranquila” to Eva as a means to soothe her, like you do with a crying person. So, rather than “calm down,” I suggested that Jorge repeat “It’s okay.”

Jorge does say “tranquilízate” over the credits, and in that instance we did translate it as “calm down.”

EXTRA CLIP 3: Hugo psyches himself out

This clip takes place between clip 4 and 5! It happens on Friday evening.

At the 00:21 mark, the camera focuses on a graffiti of a blue-skinned woman, with yellow text next to her. It says, “We are the witches you couldn’t kill.”

Pero si estoy más sudado que el rabo de Nadal (“I’m sweatier than Nadal’s wang though”): This is the exact translation, word for word. I just wanted to make clear I did not make anything up in that sentence. By the way, it took a bit to settle on wang among all the many words for a penis.

Nos alegramos porque un colega nuestro está a punto de mojar (“We’re happy because a buddy is gonna get his dick wet”): Dilan is not quite so explicit, he just says Hugo is going to “mojar,” literally, “to wet.” But, it just made me realize that “get his dick wet” is pretty much what “mojar” has meant all this time, and I just hadn’t really thought about it until I had to translate it for a teen show.

Concha de tu madre (“hurry up”): This is Latin American slang. I actually had to read up on usage, because it is most often used as an insult having to do with someone’s mother’s vagina. But I’m pretty sure that, in this context, Dilan only intends to hurry Hugo up. 😂

Social media:

I just want to have a minor breakdown about Eva actually referring to Lucas as her and Jorge’s son, lol.

Jorge has the Théophile Steinlen’s Le Chat Noir poster up in his room. As I mentioned in a previous post, Tomás Aguilera seems to be both a fan of cats and of French. The three videos of Jorge messing with his DJ system are among my very favorite Skam España social media content, because for once, they’re not a selfie.

It looks as though the shipname for Hugo/Cris is Crugo, to answer a question I posed when I posted the social media updates.

“Olé” finally makes an appearance on Skam España. I’ve decided to keep it as is, because some things would be a crime to translate. In case you’re not aware, “olé” is used to express approval and it’s commonly associated with flamenco music and bullfighting. However, it’s not just used in those two contexts. It can be used in any context. I often use it sarcastically, when someone has fucked up. 😋

#culture and translation #skam españa #skam spain #skames #skamesp

9 notes · View notes

dramaplustautology · 6 years

Text

Office Flowers

Summary: A highschool student gets lost in the big scary Rose Towers, and has to talk his way through a misunderstanding that landed him a job.

But that’s not really important and there’s no reason to think too hard, it’s just most of the Rose characters in an Office AU for fun and not serious drama! Was an experiment with a genderbent Ty so apologies if the pronouns get mixed up a bit.

How did Ty end up in the Rose Corporation’s main lobby? Why was he hiding behind the couches in the sitting area with only his briefs to uphold is honor? That’s not important. This was a school day, there was no time for thinking about something stupid like that.

His life hinged on streaking as fast as he could during peak morning hours and diving into the nearest taxi without anyone snapping a pic of his face.

“Come on, come on.” Ty gritted his teeth, waiting for the sea of uniformed office workers to part. Oh god, security was already patrolling the doors, probably armed to the teeth with tasers. Nah, the lobby was built in front of the main skyscraper with a ceiling made of glass and shaped like a dang rose. They probably had taser batons.

It was over.

“Pssst!”

Or not.

“Hi there,” A kind face was leaning over the back of the couch, dropping his winter coat over Ty’s shoulders. “Crazy part last night, right?”

“Mmhmm, I didn’t make it home.” Ty made a sheepish smile at his savior.

“Well, no need to go,” The guy smiled back, putting the brakes on the hope spot and Ty’s poor heart. “I have an extra suit in my car. Let me get it for you!”

The swell guy was named Sam, and he told Ty that there was no need to “Ty” the tie while winking a lot.

“Before I got the job, I practiced with a tie for hours,” Sam was comparing two identical blue ties to see which fit Ty’s neck better. It took slightly less time than brushing Ty’s hair and apologizing over how his clothes hugged Ty too tight. “It’s a real shame only having to fix one every morning.”

“Cute.” Ty teased, flustering Sam into a sweet shade of pink.

“W-wow, thanks,” Sam stammered, deftly tying the Ty around his neck and smoothing out his white collar. “I usually get coffee splashed when I mention that.”

“Is that why you have an extra suit ready?” Ty asked, following Sam out of the lobby bathroom. He was nice but as soon as he was at his desk, Ty had to bounce. Hopefully, he could gently break into Sam’s car and return the suit the next day.

“Yeah, but I don’t mind ironing two sets of clothes,” Sam began leading Ty to the elevators, melding into the throng of employees. “So, which department do you work for?”

“You tell me,” Ty glanced at a huge TV hanging from the ceiling, spouting the Rose’s motto; “Helping you helping yourself.” What the hell did that mean? “C-cause I’m a new hire! I’m barely even sure what we do here.” He said quickly, noticing Sam pale.

Eyes darting from one end of the lobby to the other, Sam whispered “But not a cop, right?”

Yikes.

“You know, I love working here! We get along really well! Haha wow, so much harmony, we’re practically a temple.” Sam forced a loud laugh as they passed the security desk and no further.

An entire wall of meat decked out in more Velcro lined armor than an actual cop blocked the pair’s way, tapping a very large baton on the palm of his huge hand.

“Chief of Security Sofist!” Sam exclaimed, shoulders high and shivering.

“Welcome to the Rose Towers,” Sofist leaned down towards them both. “You know why I’m saying that?”

“Because your largest muscle is your heart?” Ty smirked, grabbing Sam’s arm and started to circumvent the behemoth.

“Don’t be smart. Smart is evil!” He turned, stopping them with a jagged glare. “I’ve never seen your face before, and I have every spindly spectacle on file. Why don’t you step behind the desk and we can have a chat?”

Ty would have kept being smart but Sam was shoved into him and another suit just had to walk in between them and Sofist.

“Keep up the good work, hill-billy.” Theano sneered, tossing a plastic cup of coffee over his shoulder and it landed, overturned on Sofist’s head like a party hat.

The coffee on his face evaporated instantly as Sofist’s face went red with rage. Leaping over the security desk, Bradley hugged Sofist by the waist and dug his heels into the floor with all his might to keep the bull from charging.

“No, not Theano! Remember last time!” Bradley hissed desperately, just about elbowed in the head by Sofists’ flailing arms. “Akanthus is over there! Calm down!”

Looking over to where Bradley was staring, Ty saw Akanthus standing ten twenty feet away. Running his hand over the front of his helmet, he made a beleaguered sigh and returned to his morning routine without another word.

“Time to go!” Ty slung an arm around Sam’s shoulder and hurried him to the elevators while Sofist was too busy blinded by red.

Stuffing themselves into a packed elevator, Ty watched Sam jab the button to the fourth floor when the other passengers were headed to level fifty and over.

“Which is your stop?” Sam asked.

“Er, I’m not sure. I’m the new hire, remember?” Ty struggled to come up with a generic office job and ignored the sound of rolling eyes from the rest of the peanut gallery. “Uuu the new secretary!”

A collective gasp filled the cramped elevator and suddenly, Ty’s new co-workers were pressing themselves against the walls to give him more space.

“Really? Oh my god! And you don’t know where you’re supposed to go?” Sam exclaimed, jabbing the button to the top most floor. “Don’t worry, Ty! I got you!”

They weren’t even past the first floor and Ty was feeling a fatal case of vertigo.

By the time the elevator was nearing the top, the rest of the occupants had filed out and Sam had changed Ty’s soft blue tie to a serious navy.

“I can’t believe this, my clothes! On the CEO’s secretary,” Sam hummed, fussing over a clip he fastened to Ty’s suit cuff. “No wonder you’re so out of it. You must have partied real hard when you heard you landed the job.”

“It was amazing,” Ty was sweating, wondering if he could punch the emergency breaks without getting arrested later. Thank god for Sam letting him borrow his vanilla deodorant. “So weird, huh? How we didn’t run into each other during the party?”

“Ehem,” Sam lowered his voice. “I didn’t actually go, they would have thrown me in the dumpster if I did.”

Distracted by Sam’s sad confession, Ty nearly jumped out of his skin when the bell rang for floor ninety-nine.

“This is so exciting.” Sam ushered Ty out of the elevator to the receptionist’ desk. Behind him was a long hall lined with rooms fitted with wall-sized frosted windows. At the very end was nothing but plaster and detailed blue wallpaper framing a polished black wooden door, all business.

“This is Ty,” Sam patted his shoulder, smiling at the receptionist with the very familiar red hair. “They were just hired as the CEO’s Secretary.”

Amadeus fingers hovered over his computer’s keyboard, glancing between Ty’s blood-drained cheeks and a photo of his daughter next to the papermache vase she made.

“You’re thirty minutes early,” He steepled his fingers and leaned back in the expensive, posture-righting office chair. “Good, Jaania will be happy to see you.”

His mercy was torture, and Ty forced a grateful grin and a bow of his head, wishing Amadeus would lop it off and end it all.

“Good luck!” Sam gave Ty a hug, upgrading their relationship to best friends on the spot, and gently pushed him towards the execution chamber.

With nervous eels writhing in his stomach, Ty steadily walked by the rooms of the Rose’s elite until he had his hand on a silver knob.

“Hope you can still make it to babysitting tomorrow night.” Amadeus called after them.

“Juggling babysitting too? Wow!” Sam gasped, and Ty squeezed his eyes shut, heading on through.

He practically stepped into the fourth dimension; the room was a vacuum that devoured all sound in its sterile white walls and black marble floor. The CEO’s desk was made of a warm brown wood that felt alien in its surroundings, on top of a fluffy white rug the decorator must have had a lot of fun with. Behind the desk was a wall made of glass, overlooking the tops of the low hanging louds and the endless blue that melded with the CEO’s hair.

Ty would have heard his own heart trying to escape the situation if it weren’t for the CEO’s typing echoing in the barren office.

Staring for what could have been either a minute or thirty years, Ty’s mouth opened and closed, with nothing coming out of it.

Jaania didn’t care.

“G’morning!” Ty managed, hand halfway up to giving Miss. Miss-Me a salute and then thinking better of it. “Sir Ma’am Jaania? I’m the new secretary you hired.”

Jaania still didn’t care.

Tap tap tapping against her white keyboard, she kept her eyes trained on the computer screen for another eternity, like she was waiting for Ty’s sweat to pool on her fancy floor.

“I don’t time for this.” Jaania finally spoke, grabbing a clipboard and holding it out to her left.

Scurrying like he would get shot for letting Jaania’s arm hang there for more than a moment, Ty took the clipboard and held in his panting.

“The convention is less than two weeks away and we need more partners, but I need more time for better things to do.”

Having no idea about any of what Jaania was saying, Ty nodded his head, making mhmm noises. He flipped through the papers on the clipboard and was further confused.

“My last personal secretary set up a meeting with the head of Sandsea Silks in—“She checked her silver wristwatch. “—two minutes, and was fired too late,” Jaania continued to type five pages per minute. “I can’t be there and if you can get them to sign, consider your trial period over.”

“Wh—“

“Two rooms down on the right,” Jaania snapped her fingers and pointed to the door. “Go.”

Barely stopping himself from swearing and getting thrown out the building then and there, Ty scurried out of the stifling room and back into the scary hall.

Here it was, the perfect time to escape!

“This way.” Amadeus was waiting for him, holding the door open to certain Doom.

It would have been nice to have a grenade hiding in his mouth but Ty, facing down and old ‘friend,’ winked and patted his clipboard twice.

Not moved in the slightest, Amadeus slammed the door shut between Ty when he shuffled into the long conference room.

At the end of the glass table, a man with a black comb over and spectacles the size of thumbnails sat reading documents on his tablet. He glanced up at Ty with dull eyes, expecting a boy a third his age to breathe some life into him.

By his polished shoes was a briefcase that would do well as a blunt weapon. For a long while, Ty estimated how hard he’d need to hit, how fast the person watching the security feed would run, and if he could survive a seventy-story fall.

Then, the man rubbed the dark bags under his gray eyes. It made Ty consider the rest of him.

For a meeting with the Rose’s head and their secretary, you’d think it would be someone just as important with their own secretary and maybe a team of lawyers to supervise the exchange.

Unless, they thought they were more important than they were.

“Are you the secretary?”

“Hmm yes. It will only be me today,” The man said, placing the briefcase on the table and opening it to reveal and ungodly stack of papers stuffed inside. Despite that, he spoke like he was going to go through the motions until they reached ‘no.’ “Can we begin?”

That was a lot of paperwork, which meant this guy knew enough to run things without his boss.

Ready to make one huge gamble, Ty walked over and shoved the briefcase to the carpet.

“Excuse me?” Comb-over was about to stand among his fluttering papers but Ty shoved him back into his seat.

“Do you think you can do your employer’s job?” Ty questioned. He took out his wallet, which was no longer warmed in his briefs thank-you-very-much-Sam, and threw a few styled calling cards on the table in front of his client.

“What is the meaning of this?” He demanded, losing his tablet to Ty’s gloved hands, no longer warmed by his briefs either. Laugh at that as much as you like, they were still black and Comb-over stopped breathing at the sight. The array of business cards made him give a sharp gasp.

“Let me rephrase that. Do you think you can do a better job than your employer?” Ty asked, bringing up a few news articles for Comb-over’s perusal. “Better yet, if they were gone, are you the only one who knows enough to keep Sandsea Silks running?”

Pressing his lips together, Comb-over gripped the arms of his chair and thought hard.

“I would say so.”

“For an easy slide into the position, nothing on your hands and no prints on the net, how much would you pay?”

“Um…”

“Guestimate for me,” Ty sat himself on the table, crossing his legs. “Can’t be under three million though.”

“Ten million.” Comb-over hissed, teeth gritted and nails digging drawing blood from his palms.

“Oh shoot, I didn’t think it’d be this e—“ Ty was interrupted by Comb-over’s hands slamming on the table.

“Twenty.”

Obviously, the promotion was worth more than the paycheck. Or maybe, judging by the man’s heaving chest, it was personal.

Not that Ty cared.

Picking up the gold business card, Ty called up the number.

“Hello, Cutesy.” He chimed cheerily the moment his call was taken.

“How did you get this number?” The woman on the other end demanded. “I told you that if I ever saw you again, I’d strangle you with your own spine.”

“Twenty million,” Ty grinned and the threats stopped as he handed the tablet over to let Comb-over see. “Circe did these ones.”

The greedy glint in the man’s eyes grew and he began signing the documents on Ty’s clipboard without reading the fine print.

Sofist and that Akanthus guy were waiting outside.

“There he is!” Sofist stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.

“Here I am! The secretary,” Ty stepped forward too, nose just barely touching Sofist’s wide chest. “With all the necessary documents.” He flipped through the papers on his clipboard, letting them cascade with the sweet sound of approval.

All three of them had to make way for Comb-over to march his victory parade to the elevators.

“A pleasure doing business with you!” He grinned, more alive than on the day he was born. Waving good-bye to them, he hummed a joyous tune and Akanthus turned to Sofist.

“Buh!” Was all Sofist could manage before Akanthus returned to his own office.

“Next time, cry wolf when you have one broken under your arm.” He said, slamming the door.

Seething next to Ty’s wolfish grin, Sofist continued to ball use ruefully unused fists and muttered insults under this breath next to Ty’s wolfish grin.

This was it, the grail of youth! The golden ticket snatched out of some other poor sucker’s pauper hands! In a dog eat dog world, Ty had suddenly found himself in a position where he could skip school and skip being thrown on the streets until he was thirty.

If winging it was this easy, then Ty could handle the rest. Just wait till his Baby Belle heard about this!

“Why are you still here?” Akanthus opened the door, the horns on his helmet clipping on the steel frame as Ty and Sofist straightened their postures. Rather than face more shame, Sofist bit down and pushed past Ty, giving him an opening to take something of the Security Head’s. “Secretary Melonie, was it?” Akanthus’ attention fell to Ty. “Jaania is pleased with your work.”

Nice, nice! He’ll deal with Mel when the time comes.

“She expects you to succeed with the rest of the list.” Akanthus finished, closing the door again.

Slapping the clipboard on his thigh, Ty groaned until it became a full snarl and almost tossed the clipboard through Akanthus’ window.

Grumbling, Ty stormed down the hall, passing the receptionist on his way to an elevator.

“See you later, daddio.” Ty tossed his way.

“No.” Amadeus stated, continuing his work.

The long elevator ride had actually cleared Ty’s mind of the useless worries and needless stress. You can’t waste time worrying and doing nothing. At least do something you can handle and get the edge off there.

Besides, that meeting took way longer than Ty thought. Probably the adrenaline making him think a mile a minute but it was already lunch.

“Your mom still pack your lunch, Sam?” One of the security guards shoved Ty’s new best friend to the floor, nearly braining him on the edge of an uncaring bystander’s cubicle. He didn’t have to but the guard stomped on Sam’s lunch and headed back to his patrol.

Glum, Sam made sure his squashed sandwich and orange slices stayed in their plastic baggy and tried to pick himself up.

“Is this why you thought I was a cop?” Ty asked, offering to help him.

“Hey you’re back!” Sam practically jumped to his feet, stopping short of hopping up and down. “How did it go? You’re staying around, right? Thanks for coming by!”

“Yeah, I was waiting for you.” Ty said, seating himself back at the desk next to Sam’s. The desk’s occupant didn’t bother at another attempt to make the CEO’s secretary move. Ty was higher on the ladder than them and he at least sat in a way that let them see the screen.

“Uh…” Sam stared at Ty and his booster seat, a little flustered at Ty wrapping and arm around their shoulder, hugging them snug to the crook of his shoulder.

“No thoughts on the whole cop thing?” Ty woke him back up.

“I actually used to go to highschool with Vince,” He said, sitting down. Ty had to strain to hear him among the ringing phones and beeping photocopy machines. “I was even on the same lacrosse team as him but you know, they didn’t want a twig messing up their games. As you can see—“Sam took the flattened, juice drenched sandwich out of his baggy. “—it didn’t stop when I got sent back to the books. Still, I don’t want to be that guy that causes trouble y’know?” He took a bite of his meal, and it honestly wasn’t horrible. “There might be an investigation, we all have to it down in separate rooms to talk again, lots of stuff that’ll make work harder.” Sam sighed, lighting up a bit when Ty placed a coffee can on his desk.

“Let me take care of that,” Ty said, grabbing the plastic baggy. “Jeez, but it’s bad enough that you think the police would get involved?”

“I’m fine! Really!” Sam protested, not at all convincing. “He doesn’t bother me when I’m at my desk.”

An eraser made an arch over the cubicles and struck Sam in the forehead.

“Ouch!” Sam rubbed the spot, realizing the eraser had been covered in wet black marker, and that he had made a big smudge on his face. “Not usually.”

“Ahuh,” Ty said, taking out the walky he had grabbed off Sofist up on the top floor. “You listening in on this frequency? I know you are and I hope you heard.” He said, shoving the walky back into his pocket. Sam was out of his seat, reaching desperately for it but Ty kept him at bay by pressed a tissue to his forehead. Two birds, one ball.

“Why did you do that?” Sam demanded.

“Why did you show me where I needed to go when you knew it was going to make you late?” Ty asked, patting the top of his booster seat’s head as thanks for telling him. “Friends watch out for each other.”

“But—“

“And I need your help again,” Ty cut him off, already diverting Sam’s attention. “Have a sip of that coffee, you’re going to need to be awake.”

“Oh, okay!” He opened the can and downed half of it as Ty continued to talk.

“Me and the person who hired me had a bit of a falling out. Now, it would have been fine if we never saw each other again but they got something I need,” Ty drummed his fingers on his booster seat’s arm. “I have a list of contacts but no line of contact. Raven over at human relations told me about how the person who hired me, Hansa, stepped down from a top position to help the sprouts grow from the bottom.

“Hansa’s really nice, she has an office with Yasimi in the back,” Sam struggled to swallow the bitter drink. Ty should have gone for the au lait version. “What happened between you two? I’ve never seen her get mad before.”

“Well, when Hansa told me about how there weren’t going to be any problems with me getting hired, I said “as far as I can see!” by accident.” Ty shrugged, pretending to be sheepish.

“Wait,” Sam paused for a moment, really thinking about what that meant before his eyes went wide. “No, she’s not going to be mad about that!”

“But, I’m mad about that! I didn’t even know she was blind. The eye scars looked like a fashion statement to me,” Ty was lying through his pearly whites, professionally dipping into his guilty sigh. “I need to get access to the right channels to talk to our partners but I don’t want to make thinks awkward, y’know?” Leaning back over the arm of the office chair and squishing his booster seat’s mouse hand, Ty did another dramatic sigh. “If only I could sneak in, take a look at what I needed, all without having to have that hard talk. I can’t believe I’m putting my job on the line cause can’t talk right.”

Sam scratched his chin.

“I did need some clarification with some of the files I’m handling,” Sam nodded. “Maybe I could get her out of the room for a bit.”

Ty leaped on to Sam’s lap and the office chair slid down the alley of cubicles.

“You’re the best!” He squished Sam’s cheeks until he began to laugh.

Though Hansa could work just fine without needing to see the screen, her tools all made to fit her needs perfectly, Yasimi was around to catch any bugs that got in the way. She wasn’t about to leave Hansa alone with Sam and his one hundred questions fitted into a single sentence.

The two were leaving their office because Sam couldn’t understand their advice from just words and Ty watched them from behind the corner down the hall.

“Anyone listening in on this frequency? I actually don’t know how these things work.” Ty said into the walkie.

It crackled back “Just me now.”

So the thing with Vince bullying their clients did matter.

“Great, I think we left off on the wrong foot this morning. The stuff with Vince taken aside, I’m thinking you were all hired because of this specific thing I saw on the news last year.”

“Maybe.”

What did Sofist mean by “Maybe,” of course the Rose hired him because of last year’s scary mess.

“Not a lot’s happened in a year. They might need a reminder.”

With that, Ty put the walkie away and spotted his target: an unassuming guy at a desk that jumped every time his computer made a noise.

Blowing up Sam’s plastic baggy, Ty snuck it next to his ear, and slapped his hand down. The loud pop made the little man screech and tore out of his seat.

Some people heard the pop, everyone heard the scream, and everyone jumped to conclusions.

Papers went flying and so did a few keyboards. People stampeded down the aisles of cubicles, trampling each other when they weren’t scrambling under their desks. In less than a second, office workers were banging on the elevator doors, rolling down the stairs, or throwing chairs at the bullet-proof windows.

Ty slunk back to the corner of the hall and let the chaos unfolded.

Three floors below, Bradley swiveled his chair to face Sofist.

“We should clear it up.”

“No,” The edge of Sofist’s mouth angled up ever so slightly. “Let the pencil-pushers get some exercise.”

Peeking around his corner, Ty spotted Sam running towards him and reached out his arm.

“Hurry! I see them coming!” Ty yelled and Sam ran faster. He jumped into Ty’s arms and Vince, who Ty had seen behind him trying to make sense of what was happening, heard the secretary and got his baton out. It sparked with electricity, and he stepped around the corner, swooping down on the nearest movement.

Yasimi caught his wrist just as the alarms and sprinklers went off.

“Why did we stop?” Hansa asked, holding on to Yasimi’s shoulder.

“To get one big idiot fired.” Yasimi hissed as Vince steadily grew smaller.

“Hey let’s all calm down now, it was an accident.” Sam tried to soothe the situation and Ty left them to sort it out, slipping past them, and stealing Vince’s handcuffs on his way towards Hansa’s office.

Good news, there weren’t any sprinklers in her office. A safety violation for sure but Ty hadn’t counted on someone getting worked up enough to pull the fire alarm.

Bad news, even in a state of emergency, Hansa had taken the care to sign out of her computer.

“Are you kidding?” Ty tugged on his hair.

“Let me take care of that.” A nice lady with long black hair slick from the sprinkler water, dressed in a gray pencil skirt she quite hated, nudged beside Ty and began typing in the password.

The sign in screen gave way to rows of shortcuts and the lady jabbed a USB into the port, quickly taking what she needed.

“Mind opening this one?” Ty pointed to a folder holding the list of names he needed.

“Depends on who’s asking.” The lady glanced at him.

“I’m Ty, I don’t plan to be here for more than a few years. Definitely don’t plan to remember this.”

“I’m Melonie, I don’t plan to be here in the next five minutes.” Melonie, if that was her real name, opened the folder for Ty.

“Nice meeting you, and thanks for the help.” Ty grabbed the papers that were spat out of the printer.

“Same.” Melonie said, taking her USB and sprinting out of the room, and out of sight.

On the phone in an office, his office actually, Ty chatted up an old friend while Sam toweled himself off across from his desk.

“That’s fourteen out of seventeen names we can hit,” Ty and his buddy laughed over the shared realization. “But nah, I won’t bother you with all of them. You still need business and I only need one of them to make a big enough contribution and get the other shaking.”

“He needed a break from that lady anyways,” The other guy laughed. “The appointment’s for seven o’clock so I suggest you take the car I’m sending you in ten minutes.”

Holding his hand over the receiver, Ty glanced at Sam wringing out his white dress shirt. There was an ink stain on the edges he stuffed into his pants when he had the shirt on. Embarrassed, he smiled back at Ty.

“Sam’s going to do great, I promise. See you.” Ty hung up and heard a knocking on his door.

“I’ll get that,” Sam got up and opened the door to Amadeus who stared at him with stone dead eyes. “Is that for Ty?” He noticed the fancy suit on the clothes hanger Amadeus had dangling from his outstretched arm.

“Baby Belle’s fast!” Ty exclaimed, waving at Amadeus. The man threw the clothes into Sam’s face and slammed the door on him. “And those are for you.”

“I can’t accept these!” Sam marveled at the gray, on the verge of silver, coat and pants ensemble. “These look like they’re worth three times my rent.”

“Belle’s going to be so happy you said that but if you won’t take that as a gift from a friend to a friend, can you accept them as a way to get this super important job done?” Ty clapped his hands together, batting his eyelashes pleadingly at Sam.

Pressing his lips together, Sam wrinkled his nose and struggled to piece the puzzle.

“Are you sending me to meet those super important people on your list?” His breathing sped and he fell back into his chair. “I’m just a regular guy! I’m going to let you down!”

“Uh-uh, you’re going to take the sedan down from to their estate, ring their doorbell, and smile at the lady expecting you,” Ty leaned over his desk and pinched his cheek. “You know how confident I am in you? I’m not even going to tell you what you’re supposed to be doing there. You’re going to be yourself and it’s going to be the best.”

“What?” Sam’s head almost exploded.

“My buddy’s waiting for you downstairs and he’ll take care of you from there.” Ty grinned, tapping a tune on his lap.

“H-how much time do I have to pull myself together?” Sam stammered, rubbing his straining neck.

“Oh, five.”

“Five?” Same blinked.

“Four.”

Positively giggling, Ty chased after Sam on his office chair as he charging down the hall with his new suit. Diving into the elevator, Sam started praying and watched his new friend wave him off.

“You hear that, Amy?” The elevator bell rang as Ty turned to the receptionist, who did his best to keep eye-contact to a bare minimum. “That’s the sound of me and you about to share lunch breaks until you retire.”

Non-plussed, Amadeus dialed a number into his phone and the landline in Ty’s office started to ring. It rang until Amadeus was greeted by voicemail.

“Do you have any idea of what your job entails?” Amadeus asked the voicemail. “Without any softhearts like that Neron character helping you, I’ll be happy to see your bloated corpse floating in the water.”

Ty gasped, eyes shining.

“You do care, Amy.” He blew a kiss towards Amadeus and slid back to his office in search of Neron’s phone number, leaving Amy to grieve over his new circumstances.

Sitting cushy in his seat, Ty read over the notes Neron had been kind enough to jot up for him.

“I would be more upset if I didn’t think whoever wanted to work directly under Jaania would be less honest than a stranger that sneaked into the building.” Neron had said, promising more to come tomorrow.

“So if you don’t want us to press assault charges against your family, and let the facts in the civil case leak to the press, I’ll be expecting that big donation come tomorrow,” Ty talked on his phone, happy with good news for once. “Don’t forget to convince all your friends what a good business decision it is to invest in the Rose!”

Hearing thundering footsteps approach his door, Ty hung up and waited.

“AAAAAAAAH!” Sam burst into the office, looking like he got mauled by a pack of dogs without teeth. His suit was disheveled and torn in places that would get him arrested on the street.

He looked to the desk and yelled again.

“Akanthus, Sir! Am I in the wrong office?” Sam coughed, trying to rub the lipstick stains off his neck and cheeks.

“No, he just needed to use my computer.” Ty scuttled over on his office chair, giving Sam a big hug while minding the bit marks on his tummy.

“W-why?” Sam scratched his messy hair, still way out of it.

Jaania’s second had dozed for a moment, and his helmet had smashed his computer. Was he going to call IT and get it fixed? That meant letting Zadd up here.

“Akanthus, sir?” Sam stammered, but Akanthus said nothing, pouring coffee directly into the opening in his helmet.

“Look at you.” Ty opened Sam’s shirt when he noticed a bit of marker peeking out from his collar.

“What happened? What did they write on me?” Sam frantically scratched at his clothes.

“You got the wife’s number and the daughter’s, woof!” Ty patted his back. “Congratulations, Sam! Your love life is now the healthiest in the building.”

They thought Akanthus snorted at that but didn’t know for sure.

“How about you and me grab a few bottles Friday night, and pop them on a job well done?” Ty winked, tracing a heart around the phone numbers. “I’ll call my girlfriend and you can bring your new friends too.”

“Secretary Melonie?” Akanthus spoke, shocking Sam out of his fifth emotional crisis of the day. He glanced at Ty quizzically.

“Ty is short for Melonie.” Ty shrugged and Akanthus didn’t bother looking up from his work.

“If you’re done wasting time, get to preparing the event. Catering, decoration, stay-at-home parent things, it doesn’t matter. Jaania should have sent you the details along with and a query to which of you account to link to the payroll.”

“Would that be by email?” Ty hesitated, gripping Sam by his lapels tightly. “I didn’t happen to get new any mail.”

“Any contact information errors should be seen to immediately, though I doubt this was a mistake on Jaania’s part.”

“Why her?” Ty chanced.

“Jaania handles her assistant’s information personally.”

Dear lord.

No! No, it was still fine! Did Jaania look at Ty when he was in her office? Nah, she and Cosplay King sitting at his desk were too busy secretly funding overseas criminal syndicates.

There was still time to fix this!

“Hang tight, Sam. I’ll be right back. Just need to head to the bathroom.” Ty left for Jaania’s office, knowing she was in a meeting because he was the Secretary.

Sam winced at the door closing behind Ty, too afraid to turn around.

“Why does it smell like candles and olive oil in here?” Akanthus tsked as Sam quickly wiped the remains off his skin.

Already at the door to Jaania’s office, Ty was ready to get into her computer and change all of Melonie’s contact information, banking info, and resume to his own. Miss. Miss Me would think she had hallucinated the entire mix up before Ty got several years in jail for identity fraud.

Evidently, Ty wasn’t the only one prying at Jaania’s schedule for nefarious reasons.

“Who the hell are you?” Ty gaped at the man snooping through Jaania’s computer, her spare glasses resting on his nose. “Wait a minute, aren’t you that Theano guy?”

Rolling with his mistake, Theano sat back in the CEO’s chair and leaned his elbows on the arms.

“That’s CEO Theano to you.” He pointed a pen at Ty.

“You know what? I don’t have time for this.” Ty grabbed the back of the office chair Theano had stolen and shoved it towards the nearest door.

“That’s a closet! Don’t you dare--” Shoving the pompous man into the closet stuffed full of designer coats Jaania probably wore when she stepped on her enemies, Ty used the stolen cuffs to tangle around the closet’s handles.

“Welcome back, Jaania!” Ty pretended Miss. Miss Me had returned and it worked like a charm. Theano clammed up and Ty sprinted back out the hall to get another chair.

Changing the info could be done during the next meeting. Jaania returning and not finding her chair was missing sounded like an immediate slight that would get Ty tossed out the window, one limb at a time. Any slight, really.

“Thanks, Amy!” Ty grabbed Amadeus’ chair right as he was about to sit down. The man went legs up and Ty was so sad he couldn’t stick around to laugh, even if it meant also getting tossed out of the window, one limb at a time.

He rode the chair all the way back into Jaania’s office, slid it behind her desk, and Jaania leaned over the backrest.

“Take a seat, won’t you?” The CEO motioned to the chair, which might as well have been electric, on the other side of her desk.

His entire upper body drained of blood, Ty quietly stepped around the desk and slumped in the stiff wooden grave.

“Perhaps I should say that my employees are all idiots who can’t see a screaming lie when it’s dancing in front of their noses,” Jaania said, sitting in her new chair and deciding she quite liked it. Behind Ty’s head, the CEO saw Amadeus dejectedly close the door to her office. “But they aren’t idiots. Not all of them.”

Saying nothing, not even breathing, Ty cradled his head in his hands.

“With our partners secured for sponsoring the convention, I suppose this entire debacle wasn’t a loss.” Jaania reached for her phone and the sounds of her finger dialing up a number made Ty deaf.

Time stretched painfully on as Ty wondered how much his parents were going to laugh at him when he used his one phone call from his new cell. He wondered how hard Belle was going to dump him and how loudly she would say that she hated him. Maybe he should punch out his ear drums in advance.

“I’d like to enquire about the work experience program at your institution. I understand that he’s in his senior year?” Jaania’s words suddenly broke through Ty’s despaired stupor. “Weekdays after school from four to two should suffice.”

“As in four in the afternoon to two in the morning?” Ty raised his head and Jaania covered the receiver.

“Would you rather I call the authorities?”

Fair.

Once the arrangements were finalized, Jaania considered Ty like a lion considered a hogtied gazelle.

“If I let you go, I lose a potential for a better than average handler of my mundane affairs. You, on the other hand, won’t leave the building. Do we have an understanding?”

Swallowing, Ty nodded.

“What’s next on my schedule?” Jaania asked.

“The last secretary made this appointment with Amityvale Pharmaceuticals, starting in ten minutes.”

“Your advice?”

Letting out a deep breath, Ty said “Don’t waste energy growing flowers on graves.”

Seeing that her glasses were missing, Jaania opted for white-framed sunglasses.

“I’ll be skipping to visiting the labs. Get the necessary documents on the shelf and follow me there.” Standing, Jaania’s heels clicked on the marble as she headed out to the hall. The moment Ty was able to breathe again, he did five laps around the room.

Whistling a jaunty tune, he grabbed the files from their respective boxes, and listened to the banging coming from inside the closet.

“I don’t have the keys, but since I’m having such a charitable day, I’ll tell security you had an accident and handcuffed the closet shut behind you. I’m sure they saw you on their cameras.”

“When security finds me, I’ll—“Theano paused. “Right. Security.”

With that taken care of, Ty thought of the opportunities. So many of them! Ones in the building, and the ones Melonie probably had waiting for him too. Sure, a lot of them could hit literal dead ends, but Ty could keep walking.

“Sam!” He called to his waiting friend, stepping out of the office and into the garden.

6 notes · View notes

metinthehallway · 6 years

Text

Gaia

Idek what this is, it’s just an idea that came to me upon looking at that one pic of harry sitting on the grass with a red bandanna around his neck and sunglasses on his head. Nothin too serious but I thought I’d post bc it’s 7 am and why not? 4.5k words of nonsense

In the flat green fields of Woodstock, New York, a young man sits with his knees pulled lazily to his chest. He’s found the perfect place to disappear, a tucked away corner in the shade of a large elm tree, a refuge from the constant commotion of the festival happening around him. It’s only the first day and he’s seen about 30 people carted away on makeshift stretchers either due to heat stroke, dehydration or too much LSD, about two thirds of them most likely suffering from all three. Scoping out the bodies swaying barefoot to the tune up of an electric guitar, he lets his mind wander. To this morning, finally dragging himself out of the body-sized indent in his bed. To last night, lying beneath the stars on the hood of his 1957 Cadillac, soft palms resting right on the hot metal as if it could burn the fingerprints right off his body. As if it could burn the existence right out of him.

To last month and the letter in the mail that changed the coursing river of his fate. The swiftness of the water sludged down to a motionless one, not a ripple to be seen for miles. He thought back to the letter, written in blue ink, written five states away in a room he’s never seen before. She sat in that unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar chair and whipped out the most formal stationary she owned and proceeded to cross her T’s and dot her I’s and break his heart. She used to spray her letters with his favorite perfume of hers so that when they arrived they would carry a sweet reminder; that she remembered the small details about him, that she remembered enough of him to call it love.

When the mailman unceremoniously dropped the pile of bills and subscriptions and a single handwritten letter onto his entryway floor he didn’t know he would spend the rest of the day in his room, on his bed, staring at the blazing summer sun making its way across his wall. The letter, adorned with drying tear stains that marred the pretty blue cursive, was absent of any faint trace of lemon. It was more bitter than the words that played on repeat in his mind, a record player skipping on the ugliest part of the song and distorting itself into a continuous screech. Words saying over and over again, “it’s not you, it’s the distance”. As if she wasn’t the one who created the distance in the first place.

The unmistakable sound of a cheering crowd brought him back to the present. Harry felt the grass poking at the tender skin of his hands as he ran them back and forth lazily to the music emitting from the speakers. A band he didn’t know the name of just walked on stage and everyone went wild, tipping their beers and sloshing the beverage all over the ground below them. He frowned, looking across the littered lawn at the variety of trash blanketing the green earth. Piles of cups, cans and bottles discarded, cigarette butts and clipped joints burned amongst wrappers of fast food and flyers showcasing the lineups for the day. He thought it was such an unnecessary thing to do as the large dumpsters lining the perimeters stood empty and void of their purpose. It was unfair. And he suddenly felt a great need to do something about it. Anything to get his mind off her.

Harry stood to his feet and brushed off the back of his pants so they would be free of dirt, ignoring the inevitable grass stains on his dark grey corduroys, and fixed the red bandanna tied loosely around his collar. He took off in the direction of the largest trash pile. He hadn’t even wanted to be here. He loved music, sure, but he bought these tickets months ago with his friends with the money he saved from his shoveling side job during the winter when things were drastically different. He’s been mentally preparing himself for the amazing experience he would soon have at dear old Woodstock. He planned everything down to the minute but what he hadn’t planned on was his girlfriend of 2 years to up and cut all forms of ties she had with him, which nowadays were only came in a weekly letter due to her having moved miles away. He couldn’t even enjoy himself here, couldn’t allow the music to wash over him in that special healing way it did when he heard a spectacular guitar riff or felt the beat of the drums sync up with his pulse.

So he grabbed a leaf bag that lined one of the smaller garbages towards the center of the festival and walked around, picking up single pieces of wayward trash before moving to the more compact piles. He didn’t realize how far he’d walked until his bag was filled to the brim with a plethora of waste and his arms started to ache in protest. Half carrying and half dragging the bag, he headed over to the industrial dumpsters and wrangled the ballooned bag over the top of the container. A hot and soupy liquid leaked onto his chest in the process and he recoiled, dropping half of the bags contents back on the ground. He groaned and with a dejected sigh and began to pick it all up again. When he straightened at the waist, he felt a pair of eyes boring holes into his back. He shrugged off the feeling as there were obviously a lot of eyes in the vicinity today and successfully got rid of the garbage once and for all.

Turning around, Harry made eye contact with a girl about 100 feet away. She looked to be around his age, maybe younger, holding a trash picker in one hand and a nearly full black garbage bag in the other. In a quick once over he notices long black hair trailing onto the ruffled shoulders of a white floral blouse that ended at the waistband of dark brown bell bottoms, giving way to thickly strapped sandals peeking underneath the fabric. She gives him a wide smile and throws up a peace sign, her chubby fingers clad with an assortment of rings on each one. He thought it must be difficult to use the picker with the clunky bands of metal hitting the switch every other second to open up the claws at the end when they didn’t need to be opened up. He tilts his head slightly to the side and furrowing his brows he lets a small, tight smile take over his face. She must’ve thought he was a fellow advocate for Mother Earth like her. He wasn’t really. He just needed something to do.

Averting her gaze, he finds his way through the disjointed crowds in search of his friends, Eric and Johnny. He was hoping he could see Eric’s circular afro bopping above the sea of bouncing heads or Johnny’s tremendously long arms flailing out of rhythm to the heavy music sounding out through the trees. He was ready to go and they had all taken Harry’s car to Woodstock. Fumbling with his keys, he saw a familiar body going hard in the middle of a mosh pit, semi greasy pieces of hair flying about Johnny’s face as his bony elbows found a different target to impale every two seconds. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Harry braved the pit. His feet were being crushed every time he took a step and he stopped just outside of the core of the mosh, hanging low in the outer edge. He called out his friends name.

“Johnny! Johnny Menzel!” Harry repeated his name until the letters no longer made sense and his name no longer sounded like a word. Johnny was too caught up in the music. Harry wishes he could throw away his brain, wishes he could actually enjoy himself this weekend but alas. Here he was, wanting to go home to sulk in his bed after only three hours at the festival. They were supposed to go all night, him and his friends, even after the acts had finished their gigs. He told them he would stay for them because they knew he was going through the ringer at the moment and he wanted to be that reliable Harry he was, not this flakey, emotional Harry. But here he was, going back on his word. Harry traveled further into the dense crowd of flying limbs and swirling hair and tugged on Johnny’s shoulder, turning him around to face him.

“Harry! Fancy seeing you here dude,” Johnny exclaimed, brushing a sweaty strand of dirt colored hair out of his eyes in order to see his friend. Red rimmed the translucent blue irises, eyelids drooping heavily over them as a cheesy grin found its way onto his face. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Johnny was having fun, everyone around him was having fun. So why couldn’t he? Johnny had four months of rent to worry about that was due in two days but here he was, head banging to some obscure band amidst total strangers with their own problems. Maybe that was the way to let forget about it; smoke a whole lot of weed and let your body do all the thinking. Harry felt he couldn’t even do that, though. He just wanted to go home.

One look at Harry’s face and Johnny could tell what he was thinking. Shaking his head quickly, he backed away from Harry with his palms up and started to walk over to the canteen where they were selling bottled water for outrageous prices. Harry followed him and watched as he whistled and started picking at the bush next to the table, seemingly interested in its foliage. Harry knew what he was doing, having seen this same scene play out hundreds of times. The person in the chair counting money didn’t notice when Johnny swiped a cold bottle from the row and strutted away, Harry scoffing and trailing behind.

“Listen,” Harry says, catching up to Johnny. “I’ll stay the whole day tomorrow, I promise. I just can’t today. It’s too hot and...loud,” Harry finished, grasping for any excuse and coming up short. Of course it’s loud and sweaty. They’re at a music festival. In the middle of August.

Johnny could hear the absolute bullshit in his words and whirled around, placing a cold and condensated hand on Harry’s shoulder, chugging half of the water in one gulp before opening his mouth. “Yeah, because that’s totally the reason you want to leave before Janis Joplin comes on stage. You know, the quote unquote love of your short lived life? The woman you’ve obsessed over since you knew what a boner was?” Harry smacked Johnny’s hand off his shoulder, suppressing an intense blush before groaning. He should know by now to never tell his friends anything about himself.

“Man, I told you that in confidence,” Harry whines.

“You were drunk off your ass and announced that Janis Joplin gave you musical hard ons to a garage full of people. Don’t act all scandalized. You do it to yourself,” Johnny quips. “Anyway,” he continues animatedly. “Eric and I told you we were going to drag you out of that house if it was the last thing we did. And we did it. You can’t stay in that musty room anymore. I get that you’re hurt, man, I really do,” Harry crosses his arms at this statement but that doesn’t deter Johnny. “But we’ve been talking about this forever! I should’ve spent most of this money on rent but here I am, getting paid in experience. This is too groovy man, and you’re making it seem like a chore,” Johnny ends his miniature rant with a pouty bottom lip and what seems like a stab at a comforting voice but all it sounds like to Harry is pitying.

“I’m going home,” Harry announces, choosing to ignore the well meaning monologue. He jingles his keys in front of Johnny’s face, the 8 ball accesory almost making contact with his aquiline nose.”With or without you guys.” Johnny rears his head back.

“Looks like it’s without then. I’m going to go find Eric. And together we will find a ride. If not, we’ll just sleep on a bench or something. Maybe even on the wet grass,” he says, letting out an exaggerated gasp. “It’s all about the experience,” Johnny says, before turning on his heel in search of the third staple friend in their group. Harry knows he shouldn’t feel betrayed by them. It would be unfair with all the moping they’ve put up with and all the times they smoked a bowl on Eric’s roof and Harry talked for hours and hours about her. Her pointy ears, her dainty wrists, her brown eyes he wanted to sow seeds in, watch flowers grow out of. Yeah, he was high. He was also sad. And they knew it. They sat there and let him talk for as long as he wanted to, even until the sun came up. They were good friends, he reminded himself on the way to his car. They just wanted to have fun.

Shoving his key into the ignition, he felt the Cadillac roar to life. He spent a full year working on this car, restoring it to its former glory. He loved his baby, even gave her a name: Candace. It wasn’t too creative but it was something to call his own. Putting his car into reverse and letting his foot off the break, he slowly rolled backwards out of his hazardous parking space, in his own little world. He regretted being to lazy to check his blindspot when he heard a dull thud and a grunt, the sound of numerous object falling to the ground. Harry’s eyes widened as he put the car in park, scrambling for the door handle. He missed the lock three times before successfully disarming it and opening the door. He hesitantly made his way to the back of Candace, heart racing. He just hit someone.

In the two seconds it took to get to the bumper, Harry’s thought process went something like this; Oh my god. I just hit someone with my car. I’m in so much shit. Deep shit. Center of the Earth shit. They’ll sue me. Wait, what if they’re can’t sue me because they’re dead? I wasn’t going that fast, was I? What if they hit their head on Candace on the way down to their demise? What if there’s blood? I can’t handle blood! Oh my god, I’m going the throw up ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Rounding the back of the car (and discretely flicking his gaze to the headlight for any sign of damage), he sees a familiar pair of thick and strappy sandals and his heart drops even more. It was Hippie Girl he just mowed over with his car. He stands there, frozen as she begins to stir, loud groans escaping her lips. She tries to sit up and Harry finally moves, rushing over and dropping to his knees, making sure to cradle her head so she doesn’t hurt anything else.

Upon opening her eyes, his breath catches. They’re the deepest shade of brown he’s ever seen and it chills him to the bone. It’s an unsettling stare. Various emotions pass over her face like clouds in the sky ranging from shock, confusion, pain and then finally, anger. She winces and takes a stuttered breath, opening up her deeply bowed mouth.

“What the hell just happened,” she questions angrily. Her thick brows furrow and dimple her forehead in the process. She turns her dark eyes left and right as if to gather her bearings before connecting with his, a recognizance sparking to life behind them like a flame. He gulps, praying silently for the Earth to swallow him up.

“Well,” Harry drawls out, unsure of how to say it. “I kind of backed into you with Candace. But not on purpose! I was...changing the radio station,” he lies, not wanting to seem like a wack job that doesn’t deserve his license. “I am so, so, so, so, so incredibly, terribly sorry. Here let me help you.”

With one hand on her back and the other wrapped around her wrist, he gently helps her up. As soon as she rises to her feet, she swats his hands away. Grimacing, she rotates her neck side to side and finds that it’s only a bit sore and still capable of full motion. Testing out the rest of her body, she stretches out her limbs, flinching slightly when she takes a step forward. Lifting her shirt to expose her hip where Harry assumes he hit with his car, he sees the start of a nasty bruise spreading into the waist of her dark brown jeans the same time she does. Lifting her head, he sees her face turn red with anger. A sharp inhale leaves both of their mouths. Uh oh, Harry thinks to himself. I’m definitely getting sued.

The Hippie Girl starts mumbling under her breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Harry asks uneasily. He really didn’t feel like getting cursed by your run of the mill Woodstock Witch, no matter how much he deserved it. She ignores him and turns her focus to the trash bag lying half empty in the dirt, its contents splayed all around them, many having rolled under nearby cars. She closes her eyes in defeat. Harry, feeling awful, hurriedly bends down to pick up all the garbage he can fit into his arms, not caring this time around if any mysterious liquid drips onto him.

Stuffing the armful of random waste into the bag at her feet, he hears what she’s saying. He stays crouched, cocking his head. She’s not saying any words, just counting. The numbers drop down from one hundred in threes, it seems. He pauses to listens. 97, 94, 91, 88, 85, 82…The numbers stop suddenly at 79 and he looks up to see her looking at him, almost black eyes narrowed. He straightens up quickly, clearing his throat. “Listen,” he says frantically. “You have to understand how sorry I am. I’m not usually the type of guy who goes around running over girls with his car.”

“I would hope not,” she shoots back. “You’re lucky I have somewhere to be or else I would really be laying into you, dude. Changing radio stations? Really? Are you that shitty of a driver?” She puts her hands on her fleshy hips, forgetting about the bruise and cursing quietly. “Whatever,” she says softly, almost to herself, diverting her gaze to the sad looking trash bag. “I have somewhere to be.”

Reaching down to get a firm grip on the bag, Harry stops her. He feels like the worst person in the world. He can’t let her leave like this.

He could’ve hurt her way worse than a bruise. And he already felt horrible about the bruise, sucking in his own breath like he was the one who got hit when he saw it. Taking the bag from her, his hands dwarfing her own ring covered ones, he jogs over to the nearest dumpster before she can protest and throws it in. Returning to her, he holds up his hands in some type of truce.

“Where are you going? Maybe you could let me take you there. It’s the least I can do. And if you’re in such a hurry, driving would get you to wherever you need to go way faster than your tiny feet could. Not that there’s anything wrong with tiny feet,” he hurries out. “Just can’t cover as much ground as my Candace,” he finishes with a proud smile and a knuckle rapping twice on the trunk.

“As if I’m sitting in the same car that ran me over. A car that you named Candace. No chance buddy,” she says, already twisting her body to physically leave the conversation. Harry inwardly groans. She seemed more than capable of doing things on her own and she definitely didn’t want Harry’s company but he felt like he owed her. Scratch that. He didn’t just feel like he owed her: he absolutely knew that he did. He hit her with his car!

He watches her retreating figure for a full minute before deciding to catch up to her. If she didn’t accept his ride, he would at least see her arrive to her destination safely.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asks, side eyeing his profile. She’s made it all the way to the entrance of the festival full of congested cars. He shrugs his shoulder, remaining silent as they walk, not quite together, but not quite like strangers.

She weaves her way in between the vehicles, a bit more wary now that she knows what it’s like to be rammed into by one of them. He walks behind her, observing her straight posture and confident walk silhouetted by the setting sun. The dying star turned the frizzy halo around the crown of her head an orange tint and made her swinging hands glint brightly, courtesy of the multiple rings that called her fingers home. Her blouse was falling off one shoulder, sporting a couple dirt stains on the white fabric from her fall. Another thing he was sorry about. His eyes wander down to the swell of her backside against the tightness of her bell bottoms. He almost doesn’t notice she’s stopped walking and thankfully he does in time, or else he would’ve ran into her. That would’ve been bad. That would have brought on an onslaught of, “You can’t drive AND you can’t walk? How did you even get this far in life being a total safety hazard?”

Harry can just hear it now.

She’s stopped in her tracks because a small fender bender blocks her path. She huffs and turns around not knowing how close Harry is, running right into his chest and bouncing back. “Woah there,” he says, putting both hands on her upper arms to steady her.

She shrugs him off and lets her feet carry her to the left, through a break in bumper to bumper traffic. Harry follows, of course. He thinks just a bit more than normal before opening his mouth. “You think they’d see the traffic and the sun setting and turn around to go home, wouldn’t you? Like, day one’s almost over, the acts are wrapping up their sets,” he says matter-of-factly. She doesn’t say anything, just nods her head infinitesimally in grudging agreement. Harry takes this as a good sign. She’s no longer biting at his head.

“So,” he starts off. “What’s your name? I’m Harry. Harry Styles. And, again, I’m so sorry I hit you with my car.” He finds himself by her side, walking faster to keep up. Maybe her tiny feet aren’t so ineffectual, he thinks with a huff. She doesn’t seem to be too eager to answer him so he presses further.

“What are you doing here anyway? At Woodstock I mean. You don’t look like you were enjoying the music so I’m just curious as to why someone spends their Friday afternoon picking up other people’s messes. Seems kinda pointless if you ask me,” he says, rubbing a large hand around the nape of his neck. This garners a reaction from her and she looks up at him, an incredulous look on her otherwise serene face.

“My name is Cynthia,” she begins, voice gaining more traction as she goes on. “And it’s a good thing no one asked you then. I’m here because a bunch of environmentally challenged idiots get together and fry their brains to the sound of metal screeching on metal and create more litter than what’s found in a town dump. I’m here because no one but me seems to care about the environment. Do you know how much waste this godforsaken festival generates? And do you know how often they let it be stampeded into the Earth? They don’t clean this shit up, man,” she swears and breathes in, continuing her spiel. “I mean I thought you cared. Do you? Or is your favorite pastime just taking out random pedestrians with your obnoxiously red car like it’s a bowling ball and we’re the pins?” She finishes her last sentence with a snark.

Harry raises his eyebrows in surprise, halting mid step. Whatever he says is the wrong thing, so he just purses his lips and stares straight ahead. If I just stayed with Johnny and Eric, I wouldn’t be stuck with this self righteous hippie, he thinks. He knows she has every right to be angry but he’s been in too bad of a mood to even begin sympathizing. Everything feels like a direct attack to him at the moment.

Mentally sighing, he falls back in step with Cynthia, feeling bound to her at least until she knows she’s safe. She may be mean and sarcastic and all the synonyms of angry in one person, but after she’s arrived where she needs to go, Harry will never have to see her again. This thought gives him a bit of relief. She really is draining on his energy and he feels the need to pack a bowl just being around her.

They’ve been walking in uncomfortable silence for a mile now and she stopped protesting his presence about half a mile ago. The sky eventually turned dark and the stars have come out from behind their cloudy curtains when they finally approach a small neighborhood full of neatly stacked white houses and manicured lawns, most of which are full of blooming yellow black eyed susans and crisp white hydrangeas. She walks a bit quicker, a skip in her step as she nears a white blocked house with pale yellow window shutters and the number 19 in gold lettering on the front door. As she hops up the steps, her bell bottoms swish against the ground.

She turns around. Narrowing her dark eyes yet again, she bites out a curt, “thank you”. Harry’s about to smile but before he does she follows up with a, “thank you, really. For hitting me with Candace. That’s a hardcore stripper name, you know,” she blows a piece of thick onyx hair out of her face. “I didn’t need you to walk me home. Really. So I’m not going to give you a heartfelt thank you. You hit me with your car,” she says pointedly. She can’t believe she ended up here at the end of another seemingly routine day, standing on her front porch and looking into eyes so green it feels like she’s staring at a motionless forest, waiting for the trees to move.

“Have a wonderful night, Henry.”

And with that, Cynthia closes her front door with a flourish and in the quiet night, Harry can hear the lock click shut. “It’s Harry,” he says out loud to no one but himself.

“Fucking Cynthia,” he grumbles before twisting on his heel so fast it almost creates smoke, briskly walking down the single road in the complex back to Woodstock. He hears a flutter in the bush to his right and the brisk pace turns into a jog.

“Fucking Cynthia,” he repeats, shaking his head.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #writing #woodstock #1960s au #fic #harry styles imagine

22 notes · View notes

themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy · 6 years

Note

I don't even follow you but you came on my dash because you used a tag I follow... can you write a Theodore Knott x depressed!reader? its kinda vague but.. mess around with it or something I dont really care!! please tag me in the fic so I can read it?? thank you!!

(this was the first pic that came up when i searched his name… i don’t even think this is him but it was the best picture i could find. I do remember his character, and remember his appearances in the movies so i know there was an actor for him, but couldn’t find one of the actor playing him sorry :/)

In the Background - Theodore Nott x Depressed!Reader

A/N: @weird-emo-human I’m so so so sorry love, I just went back through my messages to find our thread and I realized I had given you a different date then when it was really gonna be up! I hope you like it!

Word Count: 1195

Summary: Theodore is pretty sure he’s never met anyone like you before. Problem is, you’ve met too many people like him and are tired of them all.

Warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationships and a depressed reader. Unintentional mentions of self-harm. I didn’t mean to make it sound like that but as I reread it it really did soooo.

You sat in the back of the class, fiddling with your quill. You had tired of hearing about the goblin wars, and were bored out of your mind. Binns voice droned on and on about “Mistreatment of magical beasts”, and, “Discrimination against non-humans”, and your eyes slipped in and out of focus. That is, until a boy in front of you leaned a bit too far back in his chair, and tipped over, hitting his head on your desk. Your eyes went wide as almost everyone in the class turned to stare at the two of you, except for Binns who somehow didn’t hear the boy’s skull practically splitting open. He rushed up and resumed his position leaning back on his chair blushing like mad, pretending like he didn’t just fall over. After all of the commotion had settled, the view of the carving you were making on your desk was obstructed as a hand placed itself right on top of your initials. You slowly raised your head to meet the eyes of Theodore Nott, the idiot who had tipped too far back in his chair.

“Y/L/N, did you catch what he was saying about a minute ago?” You rolled your eyes.

“Nope, the sound of your hollow head hitting my desk at light speed kind of drowned out the idiot we call our teacher” You shoved his hand off of your desk and continued carving your initials into the soft wood. His face fell but only for a second, he regained his cocky composure almost immediately.

“Wow, two people in one sentence, whose side are you on?”

“The side that you aren’t” You snapped.

“God, why are you so mean to me? What the bloody hell have I ever done to you?” He shrieked, and you shushed him, not wanting everyone in the class to know that you were, yet again, willing yourself to fall for tricks like his. Every single person you had met that was like him, cocky, arrogant, narcissistic, had reeled you in, and you had eventually learned to stop taking the bait. Knott had been trying for your attention for months now, since the start of term, and now, in mid March, you were over having to avoid him.

You were opening your mouth to fire back at him, but the bell sounded and there was a rush of students trying to wedge out of the door all at once. You seized your opportunity and raced through the sea of people and right through the door. He shoved his things into his bag and ran to follow you. All he saw was the flash of green from the inside of your robes as you whipped around the corner. He ducked down the hallway that you had gone through and found you inhabiting an empty classroom, pulling out an apple and starting on your potions essay.

He stepped over the threshold, and your head snapped up.

“For Christ’s sake, not you again” you groaned, knowing you couldn’t escape.

“I just want to know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything yet, I’m pushing you away so that you won’t do anything.”

“What the bloody hell does that mean?!”

“It means that every single one of you lot that I’ve ever met has screwed me over!”

“You lot? What the hell do you think we are, a tribe? And who are we?”

“You guys who think you can get with anyone! I swear, every single time I let you guys in you push me around and think that you can walk all over me! I’m sick of it! I don’t need anyone else hurting me, I do it enough myself!”

(Y’all can take that however, I didn’t necessarily mean self-harm but now that I reread this it sounds like I did. I really meant negative thoughts since that’s what really hurts me the most. :/ )

He was stunned into silence. The one person who he had thought wasn’t ever affected by anything, turns out she was the one hurting the most. The only way she could cope was to shut everyone like him out of her life. He understood why she had done it, but he was also determined to break through her emotional barriers, he wanted to make her feel loved.

He knew what his reputation was. He knew he was known as that one flirty guy who hung out with the school arsehole. He knew all of that but never thought it would prevent him from getting close to the people he loved. He wanted to find the guys that had hurt her and hurt them ten times harder. He had loved her for while now. She was always there, just filling in the scenery, a background character. He enjoyed a girl who didn’t push herself chest-first into the spotlight. Those were the only girls that he was ever told to make friends with, away from their parents they weren’t such perfect angels. He was upset that someone with her personality and character wasn’t treated with more respect. She was a person, not a toy. Not a punching bag. He had seen the bruises but it’s not hard to overlook bruises when you play quidditch. He had just assumed a bludger had clipped her arm on the way past her.

He realized now that they were from previous relationships and he wanted so badly to fix that. He wanted to be the one to hold her, why did those tossers get to?

He slipped into the desk next to you, mustered up as much courage as was humanly possible, and cupped your face, turning it to meet his eyes. Your eyes darkened and you went to pull back, uncomfortable with the contact. He didn’t let you, but loosened his grip so that he for sure wasn’t putting too much pressure on the bruise underneath your cheekbone. He took a deep breath, leaned in and brushed his lips against yours. Your breath hitched, and you looked into his eyes.

Screw It, you thought, and inched your lips forward to meet his. He reciprocated immediately, your lips moving in sync with each other.

“Y/L/N! Nott! What are you doing in here?!” You turned to the door to see a very red Flitwick, trying to make himself taller my “subtly” standing on his tiptoes. You both stifled laughs, and Nott laced his hand with yours, leading you out of the classroom and to the Slytherin common room.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #slytherin #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry potter x reader

116 notes · View notes

empressxmachina · 5 years

Photo

Welcome Home, Sasha - One. by Imperial-Radiance (aka me)

To set the mood:

Alexa, play this video containing simulated spaceship bedroom ambiance and featuring a fairly complementing background fitting for the first half of this part.

As for this preview pic that resembles the helm in the second half of this part, it's this picture off Pinterest, I think.

Now, the story...

“So, can you tell me anything about why the hell they were getting emulsified by Commander Martin back there?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, will you?”

“In due course, sure. But everything you need to know, for now, you already do.”

“Well, fuck.”

If you oversleep, then don’t expect to get work or pay during the day. That was one of the general, unspoken rules aboard the space station Novis, and Lieutenant Sasha Keeling had prayed that the team with whom he was meant to scout would be as apathetic as usual and not catch him arriving late to training. Or, they would at least allow him to pull some sort of overtime to make up for the time lost: not much, considering all he had done for them already just trying to fit in.

Washing up and putting on his suit in record time, Sasha had zipped out of his quarters and through the space station’s corridors, hoping to catch up with his presumed partners before they made any bold decisions without him. But they had.

Where he had expected to find them in Hangar C, conversing by and packing gear into the eldest’s parked spaceship, he instead found an empty parking space that had run cold. Any other day, Sasha would’ve just figured that its owner was out for a test run with his partners being elsewhere in Novis doing other things. But, the lack of message left for him, them not answering his calls for verification, and the teasing expressions and chuckles from those in the hanger that caught sight of him set in stone that they not only left him in the space dust but used him, never going to bring him along in the first place.

Sasha hadn’t had much time to wallow in his embarrassment, though he definitely lived up to his given nickname of Sasha the Sheepish. As he turned around to head back to his quarters to nap and drink his shame away, he was stopped by a familiar but a nowadays not-so-frequent face.

He, a superior on various levels except for height, had known all too well that Sasha had no business being in the hangar. He wasn’t enlisted for any mission at the time, yet there he was, ragged looking with his auburn locks going in all directions and his deep-set chestnut eyes no better but everywhere else suited up like it should’ve been.

Sasha easily saw the judgment on his senior’s face, watching his facial muscles squirm and lift the textured, ebony hairs above and on it. But rather than being scolded on the spot as he and all the now silenced onlookers expected, the higher-up just guided him away from all their eyes to his haven with no questions asked, where he could take him in all for himself.

It wasn’t the first time Tshepo Azikiwe, a Novis admiral, had brought him into his laboratory, finally greeting the shy subordinate with a “Glad You’re Back” upon arrival, but Sasha never thought that particular meeting then – one predicted to be another one-hour lecture on how he shouldn't be so susceptible to first-time kindness – would eventually lead to him taking the role not of just a passenger but of his Mission Specialist and potential copilot in Tshepo’s own ship, the Demeter, light years away from Novis and headed to… to…

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” the now lackadaisical lieutenant probed in the present from down the hall, voice floating through the cracked open, milky glass doorway dividing the helm from the rest of the dark and dim ship.

As far as he could tell, there was a blur on all the windows, and all the mapping systems in the Demeter except those in the cockpit were shut down. Sasha had no way of detecting where they were in the caverns of space, and there was no way he was going to be able to get Tshepo's lenses off him that did.

To combat the boredom and Tshepo’s silence on the matters ensued, Sasha wondered to himself, lain with one foot on the bed of his cold cabin, twiddling and examining a miniature of a NASA Space Shuttle from years – decades, a century – past he’s had since childhood between his fingers. He gazed at it intently, still enamored by its attention to detail and maintained quality for something so small and ancient. He could even imagine almost undetectable, tiny navigators inside the orbiter, fiddling with the controls at the helm.

As fun as it was to wonder, it wasn’t long before a wave of angst came through, making him reminisce of its and thus his own origins: his home world he hadn’t seen for over a decade.

Every day, he wondered what his life could’ve been if things didn’t go as they did. Perhaps, he would've been an Earth-based astronaut for NASA rather than the distant affiliate he was now, helping and being a part of humanity directly rather than perusing the galaxies for the unknown just to keep the peace. It would sure be less hectic than potentially starting a war every moment solely by existing.

“Have you finished setting up the mods on your suit?” Tshepo tested back from the driver’s seat, glancing at the rearview mirror propped to aim back toward the lantern-lit dormitory.

It was a simple yes-or-no question: one of the few static binaries in the ever-expanding universe. So, how would a non-answer such as the one Sasha gave for a duration fit into the equation? The jab-less silence from Sasha was telling enough on its own, but with the distant footsteps and rustling and creaking of the bed that followed, along with another verbalized “Fuck”, Tshepo knew his authority still held its strength.

“I thought so,” he chuckled, focusing back on the expanse in front of him. “I figured you would’ve at least tried to get it calibrated, but there’s no use worrying about that now.”

Sasha set his toy down on his bedside table with a groan and hoisted himself off the bed to do as he had been instructed (after volunteering) to do. He began to stretch, attempting to revitalize his limbs and loosen his muscles, simultaneously scanning what practically was his second home – third, counting his quarters on Novis.

A quaint hovel, his cabin was: a mobile, cup-sized, soup can of a capsule containing bits and pieces of him, old and new. Although the technological intricacies of his intergalactic escapades were worthily glorified – the inner, emerald luminescence and trackers of his spacesuit, prototypes and mockups of Tshepo’s various experiments, including those to which Sasha contributed, cycling through a Holo-Display and its cyan figures on his desk, the marvel that was the Demeter itself, etc. – the images of the relatively domestic side of his life overshadowed them through their simplicity and wholesomeness.

Many scoffs and looks of confusion were always sent Sasha’s way about his suit and all of the old-school references and icons of Earth-centric media scattered on its chest plate via decals, but he never batted an eye at them, not ashamed of his roots one bit. Those sentiments spread to more than just absorbed culture, exemplified by all the pictures and video clips of Sasha’s various achievements, large and small, Tshepo pasted across the walls, ranging from his first time completing the Zero-G Hero’s Course as a wee kiddo with bruises for days to the recent ceremony locking in his promotion to Chief Atmospheric Engineer.

Being just twenty years old and hand-picked by the commander, it was an honor in numerous aspects. He had quite a lot for which he could be celebrated, even if his so-called peers took heed to never acknowledge it. Tshepo had every right to be proud of him, but Sasha always wished for the recognition from someone else: two specific people, actually.

Right next to the head of his bed, now behind the Space Shuttle model, was not a hologram or 3D print but an actual paper-printed and framed photo of a preschooler-aged Sasha and his parents together back on Earth. A smaller print also found itself pinned by his heart in his suit, adding to the tradition of having one within every uniform he had had over the years. Looking at the picture, no one would’ve been able to tell the magnitude of the global chaos lingering in its background and out of the frame that eventually led to Sasha’s relocation: just a sweet, happy, space-loving family unit he dearly missed.

Although Tshepo was great in filling the void of his needs and most of his wants, Sasha knew it wasn’t what he wanted deep down. He was never totally sure why his parents couldn’t come with him, let alone why he had to go in the first place. With the fancy gadgets, doodads, and documents they kept around the house as far as he remembered, they had to have been qualified to study the stars and all they held, much more than where he was now. But, what could he do about it, a galaxy or several away? All current worries about them would be produced in vain.

Eventually, his stretching session ended, his eyes shined from familial remembrance, and his hands went for his helmet sat at the foot of the bed. Upon grabbing it and staring into its innards, though, Sasha’s humility toward his abilities and its complementing worries were reignited and heightened as a recollection of Tshepo’s remark burrowed itself deep into Sasha’s consciousness, not for what he said specifically but what was inferred.

“Wait, what?” Sasha muttered to himself, looking back and forth between the helmet and the rest of his suit, trying to remember how to even do the procedure. “If the calibration should’ve been done before landing, then why shouldn’t I be worried about doing it now?”

“Because we’re here.”

Before he could combat Tshepo’s sudden statement, Sasha could sense the truth enveloping under him, feeling and hearing the vibrations and power of the rockets and engines transitioning into the settings needed for a soft landing. As gravity began taking effect on the ship with its descent, Sasha took the moment to look over his shoulder to whatever he could see through his window. Out of all places to which they could’ve been headed, Sasha was shocked to find primarily warm reds, oranges, and browns in view: a spectrum of a hazily familiar planet that usually didn’t require any secrecy to reference.

Perhaps, his eyes were deceiving him, trying to give him a sense of comfort being thrust into what would probably be a challenge. After all, there had to be some reason why Tshepo chose him over someone else with more experience in, well, anything. To see if he truly earned his engineering chiefdom? To test his accuracies as the biogenesist he had been building himself to be through years of lab and class study? Just because he’s a favorite, more or less like a son or brother? With the almost missed plop and anchoring of the Demeter’s landing gear onto an apparently land surface, boosting his hypothesis of their location, it was time to find out.

Feeling confident in where they were, Sasha didn’t bother putting on the helmet just yet, walking out of his cabin with it in one arm while the other tapped his breastplate right above his tucked-in family portrait as both a goodbye and a wish for luck to himself. However, rather than seeing Tshepo doing the same with his suit, approaching him from the helm, Sasha found him still sitting there in the pilot’s chair, not having moved and looking as though he wasn’t going to move, either.

“Uh, are you not coming, Ki?” Sasha queried, stepping across the metal flooring past the lavatory and little lounge area for eating and through the foggy-glassed doorway to his friend/mentor/caretaker with a knock upon entrance.

Tshepo perked up at the polite signaling along with the endearing nickname. While he didn’t feel that Sasha’s feelings toward him had changed since boarding the ship, it was still nice to hear them being as strong as ever, even if they had a sheer veil of sadness over them. The youngling’s sideward approach, leaning close by on the copilot’s chair – his if he wished to contribute – to see his doings hammered their veracity in deeper, making keeping the confidentiality alive all the more difficult with him right there.

“I will if necessary,” he chided, not looking at Sasha as he adjusted the switches, buttons, and screens at the helm.

Only seconds later, Tshepo felt Sasha bend toward him, breaths passing along the bushel of hair across the underside of his chin as the young adult gazed, trying to comprehend anything in sight. He was nervous momentarily, but the worries subsided when Sasha admitted defeat, ultimately sighing and returning to standing position, unable to read the respectively alien language everything was set to. Luckily, their orientation allowed for Tshepo to pull a smirk without notice, glad that his translation scheme actually worked.

“But, right now, I have to make sure levels stay in order,” he continued, finally glancing up at his youthful familiar. “The connectivity to Novis, the Demeter’s power bank, the mods on your suit…”

“And, why can’t you come with me to do that?” Sasha considered through an almost childlike whine. For one, his Ki to the cosmos wasn’t as locked down as he usually was. Or, maybe he was too much so. Either way, it was weird. “Surely, this mission of yours, whatever it is, isn’t time sensitive. You would’ve brought more people with us if that were true.”

“Well, you’re right about the timing. This is a mission searching for accuracy and detail of the ecosphere rather than time being of the essence. Though, being punctual is never a bad thing. After all, your current timeline would be totally different if you had followed that rule, wouldn’t it?”

Sasha caught the reference of petty, partner neglect immediately and couldn’t hold back an audible groan, earning a giggle from Tshepo.

“Anyway,” the youngster tried putting the conversation back on course, “I can wait for you to do your domestic thingies first or even help you with them, and then we can do whatever bio-survey we need to do with you moderating the mods as needed.”

“My suit can only protect me, not monitor you,” Tshepo prompted him, “and the mods are only on yours. They’re still on a test run for which you’ve accepted being the lab rat, so I can only do my part from here.”

Completely disregarding the lack of protection implied, Sasha conceded,

“Fine. Whatever you say, Ki.” He tossed and spun his helmet in the air, catching it like a basketball and observing it like a crystal ball. “I did say ‘Yes’ and all, so I don’t want you to turn me in for insubordination or some shit like that. Not that you would, but I’m not risking it with this secrecy schtick you’re playing right now.”

Tshepo expelled a moan of disappointment, hearing his apprentice of sorts somberly drag him through the ground for what had to be one of the biggest miscommunications in the universe. “All I ask of you is to trust me when I say that everything will be clear as soon as you get out there. Okay?”

Rather than addressing him back directly, Sasha, against his instincts, started setting and securing his helmet on its proper place on his collar, hearing the clicks and suctions of locks and beeps of computer systems turning on to standby, waiting for further instruction. He then turned his gaze away and resumed his ranting through a mutter to himself, given Tshepo’s new, closer proximity,

“You’re already delaying clarifying stuff I was a witness for – what I saw and heard, so I guess it’s not that much of a stretch to think you’d hide stuff I don’t know, too.”

“Sasha, you know I always try to have your best intentions in mind,” Tshepo reminded, rising from his seat and setting a gentle hand on Sasha’s shoulder with an equally endearing soft, russet stare.

Doing so kept the youngling from walking toward the entry latch and expanding both the physical and emotional distance between them just yet. The young man already had enough to be sad about as is, and while the truth would just make it worse, Tshepo didn’t want it holding him back until it was right in front of him with no yield.

“I didn’t think I had to explain how this actually wasn’t a mission for you,” he added with a lecturing cadence, “and I wasn’t supposed to bring you with me but did anyway.”

From the gasp and look Sasha made back, it was obvious to Tshepo that his apprentice wasn’t aware of the helmet’s microphone’s immediate powering on upon placement along with that tiny truth. His slender suit may have been built fully in crimson with an almost radioactive glow of green in every vent and sliver inside and out, it didn’t dampen out the blushing that crept on Sasha’s cheeks through the viewing window.

“Really?” Sasha finally replied after a pregnant pause, to which he received an authoritative nod. If his helmet wasn’t mushing his wispy locks down, then he would’ve been combing through or twirling the ends of them with a hand out of embarrassment: a habit burned into him since he was tween-aged. “Then, why in the fuck did you bring me? Why am I here at all?”

“I already said I can’t test and check at the same time. I have my other reasons for breaking my binds, but don’t tell me you can’t do something as simple as making sure the mods work on the field?”

“Whoa, hold up,” Sasha breathed, not expecting an interrogation, let alone one so seemingly lighthearted. “What are you implying?”

“I don’t know, perhaps that your savant-like styles of science and surveying are bounded by walls.”

As quickly as it came, Sasha’s shame was soon lifted, catching the challenge within Tshepo’s now-apparently friendly berating all the fatherlier. Little did he know that his eventual acceptance of it was falling right into Tshepo's plan. When fitting in a place of comfort, Sasha's cockiness and confidence weren’t hard to pop out.

“No, no. You and I both know that's not true!” Sasha announced, playfully scoffing. “If the commander himself had enough faith to get me promoted – something I'm still not sure I deserve but am grateful of, nonetheless – then I can do a little scan or two. Watch me; I won't let you down.”

“I never thought you would,” Tshepo smiled, patting his youngster's back as he headed for the entry latch to head out. “Just make sure the mods are functional.”

Silence filled the airwaves as Sasha loosened the suction of the heavy latch and trekked down the pebbly path of the exit. He expected to hear winds or animals of the environment or voices of technicians waiting for his arrival, but, surprisingly, he heard nothing on the outside. There was only him, his thoughts, and the beeps and dynamics of his suit. If they weren't the medley of sounds that he was used to on the daily, having never really been talkative with anyone except those of the few positions higher than himself, then he would've thought it was weird.

The young engineer had just made it to the external opening, just about to be exposed to the mystery destination one-on-one, before he heard Tshepo’s voice again.

“One more thing before you go,” he directed through the microphone. “As much as I want you to be quick and correct…” He struggled to find the right words, not wanting to give away the truth about their reason for usage prematurely. “…tread lightly.”

“I, uh…” Sasha caught the hesitation in his voice, frazzled by the strange instruction, but not wanting to restart another uncomfortable back-and-forth, he brushed it aside. Instead, he looked to the metallic, light tessellated walls and ceilings for the camera Tshepo had to have been using to see him, found it, and acknowledged him with a promising salute as he signaled for the doors to open and the exit ramp to be unraveled. “I’m on it.”

Before either of them knew it, the sensors were set off, and the Demeter opened its maw to reveal its insignificant, human inhabitant and release him to the vastness of the unknown, outside world.

#my writing #welcome home sasha #there's no g/t yet but you know there will be #space fic

1 note · View note

thekidultlife · 7 years

Text

The Last Page | Seungcheol

Words: 2683

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff??

Entry No. 187

Our story was the whisper you’d hear between parted lips and within the silent clash of gnashing teeth and tongue.

“Do you still write?”

“Puh-lease. Can you pose a better question after this one? As pointless as it is to answer, yes, I still write. Mostly children’s books, sometimes a few novels. I’m working on a big one right now, one that has taken up years to write. But it’s about to be finished. Heck, why am I even answering your stupid question?”

“I’m so proud of you. You’ve dreamed about becoming a successful writer, I remember.”

“And you’re not so bad yourself. Billboards lift your name up to the sky like the star you are. And magazines, too. I don’t recall seeing any magazines without your name or your face plastered on the front page.”

“It goes with the business. Come the time I turn thirty in the next few years, people will start to forget me.”

“Oh, I doubt it. They even start freaking out when you post pics of your PJs. I honestly can’t wrap my head around that. PJs. Why on earth would they freak out about some goddamn PJs?”

“I’m telling you, this fame won’t last and it makes me paranoid. I think I’m gonna have heartburn before I turn forty.”

“What’s up with you and aging? I’ll bet you a hundred dollars and a cup of your favourite brew that you’re gonna be like John Lennon: you’ll be immortal, timeless, forever frozen back to the time you sang your first song out to millions, along with the others.”

“So you still know my favourite brew.”

“We were talking about your fame.”

“Is it too late to say that I’ve finally realized that all this prestige is so nominal and superficial?”

“Oh, and by the way, I saw this little video clip of you running into an airport restroom. Imagine that. You’re all over the Internet because you simply weren’t able to hold it in. I laughed at that thought, you know.”

“Do you still write about me?”

The first chapter you wrote in this novel about him was far from a fairytale.

It was downright slutty and could be classified as fucking porn classic. You honestly couldn’t think of a better way to describe this one.

It was the story of how you first fucked. Not made love, no (you’ve done that so many times already). This was pure, actual, sinful fucking.

It all began when you lied to your mom about having tutorial sessions. You were like, Mom, I’ve been flunking tests these days, and I think I need to ask someone to tutor me. What do you think? Mom was like, Oh sure, go ahead. You pretend to be relieved and you hug her, and then you leave the room to call Choi Seungcheol, your longtime boyfriend, up into your unit.

“Is your mom still there?” he asked casually.

“Yeah,” you answered as you lock your bedroom door and started to remove your bra. “But she’s leaving for some kind of meeting, so we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

“You naughty, naughty girl,” he teased, his voice dropping a tad lower, making you feel chills up and down your spine, and making you sticky wet between your legs. “Are you really sure about this?”

“About what?” you asked innocently, while removing your shorts and throwing your panties into the laundry basket. “Be here in ten, okay? We’re going to study a lot of equations.”

Your mom doesn’t leave as you expected, though, and when Seungcheol walks in, his eyes widen as she took him into her arms.

“Oh, Seungcheollie! My, how you’ve grown. How is training? I heard you’ll be going around the world for your tour. Is it true?” Seungcheol talked with your mom, but all the while his eyes were taking in your large shirt and the hardened peaks of your breasts underneath. His lashes lowered for fraction of a second, and he grinned as he looked at your red face.

“I’ll fix up something in the kitchen. If only Y/N told me that you were her tutor, I would have prepared something better…” your mom’s voice drifted out into the kitchen.

Seungcheol reached for you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Wow. You really are a writer. Imagine, you created someone out of me so quickly. Imagine, me. A tutor. Where the actual fuck did that come from?”

“Shut up,” you hissed under your breath, before running back into your bedroom to sulkily wear fresh underwear. When you got back to the living room, you were holding a textbook and some paper. You plopped into the carpeted floor, right between Seungcheol’s legs. You smelled udon from the kitchen, and you frowned.

“Let’s start this tutorial, if you may,” you say gloomily. “At least act the part.”

But instead of reaching for the pen on the coffee table, Seungcheol’s hands started to snake in underneath your shirt. A slow ache started to build inside you, making you arch against his knee.

“I’m not sure about what exactly to teach you,” he whispered to you before nibbling your earlobe. “But I’m pretty…handy, you know.”

Yeah, like you couldn’t sense how handy he was from the way he would caress your stomach and the lower part of your back before unclasping your bra.

“I thought I was seeing little rosebuds a while ago,” he teased as he cupped your breasts. His voice was getting weaker and weaker, his hands warmer, and you could feel the hard bulge of between his jeans. You gasp as he twisted a nipple.

You moan softly as he fondles your breasts, his mouth devouring your neck.

“So what’s the first lesson of our tutorial session?” A hand slid beneath your panties to stroke your hot, wet core. He licked your neck and it was all you could do to casually open a page while he continued to rub you.

“Probability,” you gasp as he sank a finger into you. Fuck. You could feel him rubbing you inside. “Teach me about probability.”

He pushed three more fingers inside you, and your one arm reached up to him, clawing his neck, before grazing down between his jeans. You rubbed him contentedly, laughing seductively as you felt him go harder and harder. You tried to unzip him, but he suddenly spoke.

“Fine.” he growled as his hand on your abused breasts left and he roughly turned your face towards his to kiss you with a torrid passion that was to be expected of him. You smile as he pushed his tongue deep into your mouth, clashing with yours. He stopped rubbing you down there and pushed you to the floor. Teasingly, he slid your panties down, exposing you. A maniacal smile curved his lips, and his eyes, hazy with lust, looked at you as you lay there, legs wide open, dark curls leading down to your wet, wet, wet pussy. Fuck me already, Seungcheol-ah.

He eyed the kitchen, where your mom was cooking. Then he laughed softly and sank between you, his hand stroking you slowly, and then faster and faster, making you writhe with restrained pleasure.

“What is the probability of your mom catching me fucking you mercilessly, babe?” His head sank between your legs, and his hand was replaced with his mouth. You pulled at his hair, your eyes at the ceiling, unable to answer as you plunged into wave and wave of orgasm as his tongue sucked and licked you inside and out.

“Cheol-ah,” was all you could say as he continued eating you down there like dessert.

Meanwhile, footsteps coming from the kitchen got closer and closer into the living room.

“I still write about you, but not in the way you would like it.”

“I still sing about you, too. Or rather, rap. But you get the point, right?”

“You’re not paying attention, Cheol-ah.”

“Let’s just get back together, please. That’s all I’m saying.”

Your mom continued to talk to Seungcheol. You were now seated at the dining room table. Your pussy still throbbed with pain and pleasure, but you managed to act normal enough to eat udon noodles.

“I didn’t know you were a math expert as well, Seungcheol-ah. Such a talented boy you are.” You almost blushed yourself all the way to beet red had it not been for Seungcheol’s casual, sunny smile.

“Not at all, Mom,” he said cheerfully.

After a few more minutes of talking, your mom announced that she’ll be leaving for a seminar, but will be back at six.

She winked at the you and Seungcheol conspiratorially. “Behave, you two,” she said before locking the door behind her.

Oh, we’ll behave all right.

You wrote in your first chapter how Seungcheol toppled over a whole kettle of udon as he pinned you down on the dinner table and literally tore your shirt off you, exposing your nakedness. You wrote about how his mouth closed in on one hardened nipple, sucking noisily, and how his other hand thumbed the other. You wrote about how he kept saying, “Undress me now, babe,” while his mouth devoured yours. You wrote about how shaky your hands felt when you unzipped his jeans while he was on top of you and how the dinner table almost broke down as he pushed them away. You wrote about how you marvelled at his large, swelling cock, which drove into you like a sword to its sheath with such a force that you screamed out in pleasure. Seungcheol pummelled inside you over and over, splitting you open, making you wider and wider to accommodate his size. You wrote about how he went faster and faster, about how the table shook and about how noisy and sweaty you both were, screaming the whole unit down. You wrote about how your legs wrapped around him very tightly as he came, his seed spilling into you, about how you almost fainted as he shouted your name in a guttural voice, and about how heavy and comforting he was as he slumped into you, panting, out of breath, and content.

You were like that for a few precious moments, his mouth on yours, his eyes still clouded with an insatiable lust for you.

“So,” he whispered as he licked your lips and then your neck, “I hope you liked our first session.”

You looked at Seungcheol squarely in the eye. “I,” you began haltingly, “I still write about you, but not in the way you would want me to write about you.”

The pain in his eyes was so telling, and tears were welling up, but he just nodded for you to continue. His favourite mug of coffee was still on the table, untouched. He wasn’t paying attention to anything else. He was paying attention to you.

“I write about you the way I would write obituaries. Like you’re dead, a thing of the past, someone to be remembered but not someone to go back to,” you said in a cruel, casual tone. “I write about you when I’m sad, or when I’m lonely, or when I’m so down in the mire that I can’t pick myself up. I never write about you when I’m happy, because you were never a reason for my happiness. And I,” you suddenly caught yourself, suddenly noted that you were crying, that he was crying, and that your voice had gotten loud enough to resound within the almost-empty café. “I…I…” you looked away from him and into the glass-panelled windows, out into the busy streets and city lights.

I don’t know how to stop writing about you.

Silence reigned for a few moments.

And then Seungcheol spoke.

“Is the novel…” his voice trailed off for a second as he leaned close towards you, pushing aside his mug of coffee. “Is the novel you’re writing about…is it about…me?”

Your eyes immediately looked into his, with a deadpan certainty in them.

“Yes.”

“You denied me,” you shouted, tears streaking down your face like the rain during that stormy night. “You denied us. You. Denied. Me.”

He tried to grab your hands but you pushed him away. “I thought you’d understand―”

“I never asked you to make us public. I never asked for you to recognize me in front of anyone. But I never,” you sobbed and sank to the wet asphalt. “I never thought you’d deny loving me.”

For a while Seungcheol was helpless, his hands swaying at his sides, his face contorted with the pain of seeing you like this because of something he did.

“Y/N, you’ve got to understand―” he paused to shake away the pain. “―they were making me choose between my career and…and you.” He was crying now. “I was way in over my head. I wasn’t thinking. But you know differently! You know, the boys know, the agency knows, the whole world knows, Y/N, that I love you.”

You slapped him. Hard.

“Liar.” How can the whole world know when you blatantly said ‘No, I don’t have a girlfriend, she’s someone I barely know’?

Maybe this just wasn’t supposed to work, after all.

Just when you were about to slam the door to his face, he pushed you inside and kissed you hard, the way he would whenever he couldn’t say anything through words.

In the last chapter you’ve been writing, you wrote about how his tears mixed with yours as you melted underneath his hands. You remembered tasting soju in his mouth, you remembered how you cried harder as he kissed your tears away. You wrote about how he unzipped your soaking wet dress and how he carried you across the house and into the privacy of your bedroom. You wrote about how he kissed you from head to toe, of how he parted your legs to kiss you in the place between, and how you moaned out his name as he made you come.

You wrote about how you claimed him that one last time, how you took him gently inside your mouth, and how you sucked at him like he was the one thing you ever wanted to taste. You wrote about how his tears fell on your head as you sucked him to insanity, and how you swallowed all his essence down like it was nectar and ambrosia.

You remembered the last time he laid you on the bed and entered you so sweetly, you wrote about how you enclosed him in your wetness fully. You wrote about how he went slowly, delving deep, pushing inside you, filling you. How he went faster and faster, about how you closed your eyes to take in this feeling of fullness and pain. You wrote about how his body convulsed and how your breasts swayed as he came, and how that with his final thrust came the pain of knowing that this would end. All of it.

You wrote about how you cried all night while he slept, embracing you tight.

“You know,” Seungcheol began as a tear streamed down his cheek, “It’s not too late.” He tried to reach for your hand but you drew it away.

“It is.” You looked down at the coffee cup before you.

“You can still rewrite it. Or change how it would end―”

“―No.” Your voice was firm, like steel hardened by fire. “It’s too late.” Your eyes slowly look up to meet his. “Because I am already writing the last page right now.”

“Funny.” Seungcheol smiled briefly. “The thing is…” In one swift motion, he pulled your face close and kissed you.

Unable to recover from your shock, Seungcheol pulled away and looked deeply into your eyes. “The thing is,” he continued, “I am writing the last line of my song right now, too.” He released you, and leaned back on his chair again. “So which ending would it be?”

You just gazed at each other.

At the back of your mind, another story was forming.

Admin Leanne

#seventeen #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #scoups

105 notes · View notes

powerpuffnstuff · 7 years

Text

2nd Impressions: Shoppies World Vacation Sara Sushi

I wanted to scribble out something right quick for this. I walked over to Wal-Mart this morning and saw the World Vacation version of Sara Sushi and literally said “Yoink” when I took it off the shelf. I think she’s cuter than the first big version of Sara. I knew I wanted this one since I first saw pics of her online.

This doll reminds me of the Asian inspired Draculaura doll from a few years ago, but her hair is more like Abbey’s with the white, pink, and tinsel. She comes with a hair clip, a teapot Shopkin and a teacup Shopkin, a rolling suitcase, a real luggage tag, and a little paper passport accessory. She has a stand too that I almost didn’t notice. She is actually the 3rd doll I’ve gotten to have a rolling suitcase and Asian inspired design, the other two being La Dee Da Tylie and Monster High Scaris Jinafire (who I sold, but I still have Skelita).

Her hair clip is lacking compared to the other more fabulous head bands but her hair style makes up for it, and it is still a very nice accessory. Her hair has 4 braids, and two are looped. This hair style makes me think more of China than Japan, but I dunno much about either country. She still has the sushi theme throughout her outfit along with blossom details. She also has a sailor suit schoolgirl top going on. Her suitcase opens and the handle extends.The wheels can turn but don’t roll well at all. The two Shopkins have nice molded details, but the pot seems little compared to the cups.

The artwork for this doll is adorable. I feel like some of the drawings are great but sometimes the characters look a little funky. In this case her face and hair look awesome but it gets a little weird in the arm and hands area, know what I mean? Her left arm would look really weird under that cloth. Since I’m not in my home country I guess I could actually make use of the tag, but I’ll probably just stick the the ones that are already on my luggage.

Here are my two unboxed Shoppies - Join the Party & World Vacation. Shoppies are on sale now so I paid less for Sara than Rosie. I feel like I got more with Rosie though because of the larger stand and hair brush and big headband. Sara’s hair is straight and I felt the need to brush it out of the package but couldn't, a missed opportunity. The luggage is a nice feature, especially since it opens and it can fit a Shopkin, though not both at once. I would rather have had the brush. Sara’s shoes don’t stay on as well, but I like that she has the additional fabric sleeves while most dolls only have fabric skirts. I can’t speak on accuracy but her outfit is one of my all time favorites for these dolls and her hair is unique. I'm happy with both of them.

#Shopkins #Shoppies #Sara Sushi #World Vacation #Rosie Bloom

13 notes · View notes

naughty-teddy-innit · 7 years

Text

Emily & Ed: Part 1 Forever and Ever…A Love Story.

Title: Ed and Emily - A Love Story Author: @naughty-teddy-innit Rating: PG- No smuts, brief sexy texts, making out

Enjoy, and comments, Asks, Feedback and Reblogs are LOVE! Xoxoxoxo

There are certain moments in my life that I will hold tight and keep just for me, memories that are indelibly inked on my heart. These memories, the building blocks of my soul, could never be adequately captured in a photograph or described in a journal, they exist only in me. They sneak up and trigger that waterfall of emotion that remind me why life is worth living. The first time those beautiful, soft, perfectly pink lips found mine. The first time his soft accented voice murmured the word “Forever”, and every single time after, because “I love you” was never enough. The day I had to say goodbye to my grandmother, when my heart was broken and the arms I needed around me, to keep me strong, were halfway across the world and when I thought I couldn’t feel more pain, he was there, his arms around me, holding me up. Christmas morning. Walking into the living room to the glow of the lights from the tree lighting his face like an angel, and the sight of him down on his knee, pure love in his eyes, and my grandmother’s ring in his hand. The smile on his face when I managed a “Yes!” through the tears. These moments are the ones that will stay with me, seared into my heart and spirit for as long as I live. Today, the one instance that tops them all, the one that will stay with me until my life leaves me, is the look in his eyes as I walked towards him, down that aisle, to become his wife.

From the moment we became engaged, we knew we wanted a wedding just for us, simple, with just our family and loved ones. The people we cherished the most. Ed’s heart lay in his hometown, it always had, and I knew when it came time for us to make those promises, that’s where we would do it. We chose the church where he first sang in the choir as a child for our ceremony, knowing that going back to where it all started was the perfect way to symbolize our new beginning. We debated where to have our celebration after the ceremony, a local B&B or maybe a hotel, but none felt right. One night, laying in the hammock overlooking his gorgeous property in Suffolk, with our cold beers in hand and a blanket wrapped around us, we realized what we’d been missing the whole time. We didn’t need a fancy hotel, we could bring our celebration to us, in the place where our new life was about to begin. From that moment on, every bit of our planning led to home.

All these months later, I couldn’t believe The Day was finally drawing so near. All week we’ve witnessed the transformation of this simple, yet stunning piece of land as it turned into our dream come true. A huge, beautiful marquee would be set up, in beautiful blues and silvers, with what would seem like thousands of wildflowers hung everywhere. Candles and lanterns would line the walkways and delicate fairy lights would line the roof of the tent and the trees that dotted the property. We didn’t want our guests to be separated, so we planned for only two single long tables set up on either side of the tent, with candles and creamy roses scattered throughout the table settings. Our sweetheart table was simple, festooned with daisies and tiny candles, and framed by the glow from the fairy lights. A classic, simple dance floor would be set up at the far end, with a small stage for the band, and in the opposite corner would be a full bar, a requirement for my hubby to be. It was going to be our dream English Garden celebration, and I couldn’t wait to see it all come together.

I opened my eyes this morning to the sound of rain, but I couldn’t have cared less. I rolled over in my bed, a smile plastered on my face as I caught sight of my dress hanging from the window, and the small velvet box on the dresser containing Ed’s ring. Today, he would officially, and legally, be forever mine, and I would be his. We would make our vows and exchange our rings, and our new life would start. I could not wait. I hopped out of my bed, thinking that it possibly was the first and only morning of my life that I wouldn’t need coffee! My family, of course, had flown in for the wedding, and we were staying at the hotel where Ed actually had his first job. Under any other circumstances I would have simply stayed with Ed in our flat in the city, but being the traditionalist I was, I had decided we would not stay together the week leading up to the wedding. Even worse for the poor boy, I had made the decision that sex was off the table for the month leading up to the wedding, wanting our wedding night to be memorable and special. Ed had NOT particularly been a fan of this turn of events, but despite many, MANY temptations, we’d managed to abstain. Barely. Just barely.

I had also insisted on maintaining the age old tradition of the groom not seeing the bride before the ceremony. Ed had always been one to treasure of every single moment; one of the things I loved most about him was how he always wore his heart on his sleeve. He’d talked many times about waiting for this moment his whole life long, and I was so ready to BE that moment. I wanted to see the emotion in his eyes, the expression on his face, as he saw me for the first time at the back of the church. He wasn’t the only one who’d been waiting his whole life, and I wanted to soak every bit of it in.

The hours leading up to the ceremony were a blur of waffles and mimosas, hair rollers and hairspray, and best of all, giggles and time with the ladies I loved the most. My younger sister was my maid of honour, and my childhood best friend, along with my 2 best girlfriends from college, were my bridesmaids. My hair was simple, I wore it half up, flowers pinned behind my ear, soft waves on my shoulder. I kept my makeup soft and natural, Ed had always said less was more, and had never been a fan of any kind of makeup at all. I had never much cared either way, so I went for the natural look, hoping it was enough to look pretty in our pictures. Hair done and face all pretty, it was time. I had been ready to step into my dress for weeks; I think I was in love with it as I was with Ed. From the moment we began planning the wedding I knew how I wanted to look walking down that aisle. Simple, traditional, classic, beautiful. I had tried on only 4 dresses, and from the second that first one slid up my body, I knew it was the one. Fitted to my body perfectly with a slight flair and with delicate, tiny, beaded cap sleeves, it was made of the most beautiful, intricate lace I had ever seen. The embellishment of the tiny cap sleeves was accented by the simple elegance of the illusion neckline, accented with the same lace that flowed over my dress. It fastened with tiny pearl buttons up the back, flowed into a sweep train, and in my eyes, defined simplicity and beauty. Initially, I had fought against a veil, thinking it would be far too much, and really, I wasn’t a bells and whistles sort of girl anyway. That all changed when my mother had managed to unearth the stunning, hand-sewn lace veil my grandmother had worn when she married my granddad. It was light and airy and edged in gorgeous antique lace with tiny pearl accents, and flowed to the perfect length to frame my dress. My mother had gently placed the veil on my head during my last fitting, adjusting the comb so that its cathedral length flowed around my body, and in that moment, I could feel my grandmother’s presence all around me. I knew she would be with me as I walked down that aisle, and there was nothing I wanted more.

I was as desperate for our wedding night as Ed was, a month is a LONG time, and so I had wickedly chosen my undergarments knowing they’d drive him wild once he got to them. I chose a simple lace bustier, sheer with lacy patterning on the boning, with embroidered cups, laced with silky ribbon in the back. To say it enhanced my cleavage would be an understatement, but thankfully the lacy illusion neckline of my dress kept that secret hidden, a little something just for Ed. The matching lacy panties were high cut and butt-cheek baring, with tiny bows at the hips. I wore thigh-highs, specifically for the purpose of tantalizing and teasing Ed later on, and the little straps at the bottom of the bustier clipped to the tops of those. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror, and biting my lip with a wicked smirk, thought maybe I’d share a taste of the view. Grabbing my phone off the bathroom counter, I angled it low and snapped a quick shot. The angle of it showed the lace edging at the bottom of the bustier, the bow at the curve of my hip, and the beginning of the strap that reached down to where it clipped to my hose. I flicked open my messaging app and attaching the pic, sent a quick message to my soon-to-be hubby.

Me: 2 hours to go and you’re all mine…thought maybe you’d like a little taste of what’s waiting for you later…xoxoxox…

Ed: Can’t wait till you’re MY WIFE. Also can’t wait get those fucking sexy panties OFF my wife…Fucking HELL.

Me: You’ll have to unbutton and unlace me first…

Ed: Jesus. Em, you’re the ONLY wedding gift I plan to unwrap tonight….

Me: It’ll be worth the wait. I promise…. See you at the altar, Teddy <3 xoxoxoxox

Ed: I’ll be the one in the monkey suit…probably trying not to cry. Forever and ever Love…

I let eyes my shut for a moment and let the enormous smile inside of me spread across my face. I loved this man so much. I wanted to call him husband and wear that ring and be his wife, I was READY. Well, except for the half naked part, though I’m sure Ed wouldn’t have minded. Time to put on the dress and become a wife! I wrapped a silky robe around me and hurried out of the bathroom, ready to step into my gown and get this show on the road. Our talented photographer arrived just in time to capture the getting-ready moments that I knew would be so lovely to look back on; the smiles and giggles, last minute jewelry and makeup touch-ups, and group hugs with the women I loved the most. I stepped into my dress, carefully sliding it up my body and guiding the tiny sleeves over my shoulders. My sister and mother fastened each button, while my best girlfriends helped secure my tiny teardrop earrings and pearl bracelet. My dress in place, I slid my feet into my comfy, specially bedazzled flats while my bridesmaids held my skirt. Heels and I did not have a good relationship, so this was my special treat on my special day, and I LOVED them. The veil would be placed in my hair once we arrived at church, simply because of its length and my not wanting to ruin it in the car. I swallowed, and with the help of my entourage, turned to face the mirror, ready to see myself as a bride. The reflection that stared back at me was everything I hoped to be on my wedding day. The dress clung to me perfectly and made me feel the most beautiful I’d ever felt. I didn’t feel overdone and gaudy, but rather natural and soft and stunning. I couldn’t wait for Ed to see me. The tear on my mother’s cheek and the looks on the faces that surrounded me…they spoke volumes. I was ready.

We took many photos, I wanted to capture every moment I could. We posed on the bed, by the window, all together and one-on-one. As we finished with photos, and began to gather our handbags and emergency supplies, we were interrupted by a knock at the door. My sister waved me aside as she ran to check who it was, not wanting anyone to see me who shouldn’t. The visitor turned out to be Ed’s older brother, and best man, Matthew. He had the sweetest smile on his face when he saw me, and in his soft voice commented on how Ed was the luckiest man in England today. That brought a blush to my cheeks and a smile to my face, and so I gently hugged him and thanked him. He was carrying a medium-sized, flat box, simply wrapped, with an envelope tucked under the silver ribbon. I felt a hand guide me to the chair by the breakfast table, and someone helped hold my skirt while I sat down. Matthew placed the package on the table beside me, and said simply “He wanted you to have this.” As he stepped back, I carefully untied the silver ribbon, and slipped the card from its envelope, steeling myself for what was written inside. I knew my fiancé better than anyone, and I was betting it was a good thing I was wearing waterproof mascara. I wasn’t wrong.

Em, My Love,

Everything I’ve done in my life has led to this day, and I can’t wait to share it, and every day after, with you. Every moment with you has been the best of my life, and I know it’s only going to get better with you by my side. I can’t wait to be your husband for all of our days.

Hurry up Wife, I’m waiting….

Forever and Ever Xo

Teddy

That man had the power to undo me in a heartbeat, and reading those words, had my heart nearly bursting. I looked to the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that had sprung to my eyes.

I could barely comprehend how one man could complete me the way he did. I felt tissues being pressed into my hands, and heard the sound of my sister gasping that I’d smear my makeup, but in that moment I could have walked that aisle with raccoon eyes, and not cared a bit. I dabbed my eyes, and took a slow, shaky breath, replacing the card on the table. I reached for the package, carefully unwrapping the paper and seeing a simple white gift box. My fingers fumbled with the lid, eagerly trying to remove it so I could see inside, but in my eagerness it didn’t want to cooperate. My mom quickly helped lift the other end of the lid, allowing me to yank the whole thing off, and I tossed it to the side, dying to see what was underneath. My breath slowed and my eyes widened as my fingers found the soft leather cover of the photo album inside. I pushed the tissue paper aside and lifted it carefully from the box, setting it on the table. I could feel my eyes water as I took in the intricate detail embossed on the cover, and the gorgeous smell of the leather. I gently flipped it open, and the only words I could force from my mouth were Oh Teddy, as my eyes welled up. The first page contained the very first photo ever taken of us, a selfie of all things at mutual friend’s holiday party, ugly Christmas sweaters and all. He’d collected photos from our friends and family, combed through our personal collection; even printing snapshots from our phones. I even recognized a couple of photos as shots taken from various Instagram’s. My eyes couldn’t take them all in fast enough; as I continued to flip through the pages, the memories and feelings that came with each one almost overpowered me. Rosy cheeks on a ski vacation when I’d managed to wreck my ankle the second day. Our first New Year’s Eve together as a couple, silly hats on our heads, noisemakers in our mouths. Arms wrapped around each other, goofy grins on our faces at my college graduation. A sneaky shot of us fast sleep on an airplane, my head tucked in his neck, his face buried in my hair. My first (and only!) tattoo experience, the cookie monster on my foot, my hands clutching Ed’s as he tried not to laugh. An intimate selfie of us cuddled up in bed, me in my glasses and makeup free, both of us content and cuddled up in blankets. The two of us entwined under the Christmas tree, the lights reflecting in our eyes as I showed off my ring the morning we got engaged, my face wreathed in the biggest smile I’d ever seen. I noticed looking at it now, how Ed had eyes only for me, there was such love and tenderness on his face; it was like he didn’t even realize the camera was there. The gorgeous engagement photos we had taken on his property in the spring, the sun on our cheeks and the beautiful trees he’d planted in the background. So many precious moments captured, and he’d put them all together in this gorgeous book, and even dated and handwritten a caption under every single one. Our whole life together so far, my whole heart, wrapped up in a box. It was so beautiful, so thoughtful, so overwhelming that he’d put so much time and effort into this perfect gift. I couldn’t have been more in love with him than I was at that moment.

I gently closed the book, smoothing a hand over the cover before placing it back in the box. I looked at Matthew, and still trying to hold back tears, gave him a message for Ed. “It’s perfect. Utterly, completely perfect. I love it. Tell him I’m ready, and he better be waiting!” Matthew grinned, promising to pass on my message, and then politely showed himself out. I stood up from my chair and determinedly declared it was time to go, I was ready to marry my man. “I’m leaving with or without you”, I told them with a grin, and with a chorus of “Yes ma’am’s!” we gathered our bags and belongings and headed out.

I was extremely close with my mom, she was my best friend and most loyal supporter, and I was so thrilled to have had her by my side during this whole wedding planning process, but since the day I was born, I was, and always would be, a Daddy’s girl. He had insisted that he not be told a single detail about my dress, that he didn’t want to see a thing until I was ready to walk the down the aisle, and so he had stayed in the dark, until now. I knew he’d be waiting for me at the bottom of the gorgeous staircase that led down to the lobby of the hotel, and I couldn’t wait for his reaction. My bridesmaids went ahead of me, followed by my mother, and when I could see them along with my dad in position at the bottom, I began my descent. I hadn’t gone down 3 steps when I eyes locked with my daddy’s, and that was it. The pride and emotion was literally beaming from his eyes, and his mouth was open as if in awe. As I reached the bottom, he stepped forward and proffered his hand, assisting me down the last step, with the biggest smile I’d ever seen dancing on his face. He kissed my cheeks and twirled me around, his eyes crinkling as he took me in. He opened his mouth, trying to find the right words, and when nothing came out, that’s when I noticed his eyes were damp and he was struggling to keep it together. Oh my sweet Daddy. I kissed his bearded cheek and told him how debonair and handsome he looked, and that he’d better keep it together or we’d never make it down the aisle. He just grinned and shook his head, telling me I’d always been his voice of reason. He took my hand and we headed for the doors, ready to go to the church. Thankfully, any rain that had fallen that morning had disappeared, and the skies were now clearest blue. The sun was brilliant, its warmth enveloping me as we walked through the door, and I couldn’t help but bask in it, just for the briefest of moments. I hadn’t any idea how we were getting to the church, only that my dad had promised he’d get us there in style. He had refused to reveal anything more than that, so I was more than curious to see what awaited us outside. I gasped when I walked through the doors, seeing the sleek, snow white, vintage Bentley that was awaiting us at the curb. I could picture Princess Diana or Duchess Kate making their grand entrances from this gorgeous car. All I could do was clap my hands and let out a squeal when I saw it, it was just incredible. My mother and my dad helped me climb into the plush backseat, and arranged my skirt just so. I noticed a second, more modern Bentley pull up behind us, ready to chauffeur my mother, sister and best friends to the ceremony, right along with us. After he ensured that they were safely tucked away in their ride, my dad climbed into the backseat right beside me, motioning to the driver that we were ready to go. It was only a short drive, but that few minutes was enough for the butterflies to set in. Unconsciously, I began twisting my fingers together, tracing my manicured nails over and over, and tapping my foot. My gentle daddy, he clasped my hands in his, gently stroking my knuckles, and smiled that reassuring smile that had brought me through many difficult times. “He’s the luckiest man this side of the pond, you know.” He whispered softly. “He’s so good for you, and you bring out the best in him. I wouldn’t walk you down that aisle to just anyone. You know that.”

I swallowed back the tears that threatened, my father’s strength was my strength, and it had carried me through so much. I could only imagine how difficult the prospect of “giving his daughter away” must have been for him.

“There won’t ever be anyone else, he’s the only one for me.” I took a deep breath, and gazed at him, the first man that ever loved me. “I love you so much, Daddy. I’m so glad you’re here with me today. I doubt I’d make it down that aisle without you holding me up!” I let my fingers brush the softness of his beard as I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as I could. Before he could utter another word, the car came to a stop, and there was the church, right in front of me. Gallant gentleman that he was, he stepped down from the car first. I had warned Ed the night before that he was to stay in his designated space inside the church once he got there, no sneaking any peeks, and he’d promised to behave. Two strong hands suddenly grasped mine and helped me step out of the car and onto the walkway. The second car pulled up behind ours and my mother, sister, and bridesmaids were suddenly all around me, escorting me into the church. The bridal room was ready for us, and the flowers had been delivered, much to my relief. We had chosen simple garlands and bunches of wildflowers and daisies for most of our décor, accented by clusters of soft pink roses, to go with the English countryside/garden motif, and I’d wanted to keep the bouquets to the same theme. My lovely girls carried small, simple bouquets of gorgeous, brightly hued wildflowers, and I had chosen a simple bouquet of creamy roses, accented by wildflowers in softer, pastel hues. Boutonnieres had already been distributed, and I watched as my father pinned the corsage he’d chosen onto my mother’s dress, and then kissed her cheek. They loved each other so much, I hoped one day Ed and I would still be that in love when our children were grown.

We touched up our makeup, checked our earrings, and brushed our teeth within an inch of our lives. A visit to the ladies room also became a necessity, and all I can say is thank heavens for helpful bridesmaids! A knock on the door suddenly caught all of our attention, and a smiling, eye-twinkling face poked through. I grinned, seeing Murray, Ed’s cousin, so full of happiness and energy, but then he always was. “I’m told to tell you he’s ready and waiting, love! Church is full and he wants to get married!”

I smiled at him and said “We’ve just got to pin the veil on and we’re ready! Less than 10 minutes, I promise!” I went to shoo him from the room, and a thought suddenly occurs that made me pause and call him back. “Murray, WAIT. You or John or Matt or SOMEONE, make sure he’s done his tie straight! He can’t get it right to save his life!”

“On it!” he says authoritatively, dashing from the room in his usual comic way, causing everyone, including me, to fall to pieces laughing. I shook my head and took a deep breath, all of a sudden feeling the rollercoaster sensation in my stomach again. He was waiting for me, and all I had to do was make it down that aisle.

“Alright girls, veil me!” I commanded with a smile, wanting to get to those doors and see those clear blue eyes gaze back at me. The veil itself had been very carefully cleaned and steamed so that there was not a wrinkle in sight, and it was hanging in a clear garment bag, ready to be placed on my head. I watched my mom unzip the bag and gently pull it from the hanger, laying it over her arm so that it wouldn’t catch or wrinkle. I faced the door so that I wouldn’t have to turn around too much once it was in place. I felt my mom’s gentle hand smooth my hair and position my head, and then I closed my eyes and she slid the comb into the hair that was teased at the top of my head. My sister and my 3 bridesmaids gently fluffed the long length of tulle, arranging the material so that it flowed smoothly over my shoulders, cascading down to my train. I could feel the gossamer light material brush against my bare arms, and my fingers found the lace edging, tracing the lines of the scalloping and the tiny pearl accents that dotted the lacy pattern. Having this piece of my grandmother literally surround me on my wedding day…it was everything to me. I turned to the side, loving the feeling of the veil flowing down my body. Catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, I abruptly froze in place, taking in the sight of myself as a bride. I could barely believe it was me…my dress fit me beautifully, my hair was sleek and beautiful, my face flawless. My jewellery caught the light, and my grandmother’s stunning veil….it took my breath away. I just hoped Ed would feel the same way.

“If he doesn’t cry…I sure as hell will.” I heard my father’s gruff voice in my ear as he took his place beside me, his eyes staring at the same reflection mine were. “You ready to get married, sweetheart?” I squared my shoulders and exhaled, as a grin spread across my face. “Let’s do it, Daddy” I said, the butterflies gone and my heart ready. I squeezed his hand and nodded at him. My three sweet bridesmaids left the room first, followed my mother and best friend. It was just my daddy and I, and he gently scooped up my veil and helped me carefully walk down the hallway to the vestibule around the corner from the big doors that led into the church. The pastor who would be performing our ceremony, a sweet older gentleman whom we affectionately called Father Patrick, was waiting for us. He offered kind words of encouragement and instructed us to wait for the cues in the music before we began our walk down the aisle. With a final smile and a wink, he headed through the doors to take his place at the front of the church, his bible tucked into the crook of his arm. Matthew would be waiting at the front of the church with Ed, as his best man, but Stuart, Murray, and Jovel would walk down the aisle, accompanying my girls.

I heard the soft strains of the piano and violin begin to play, and steeled myself, trying to keep my composure. Matthew had already escorted my mother to her seat before the music began, so it was just us, and it was time. The moment was finally here. He was waiting for me. Stu, Jovel, and Murray all kissed my cheek and squeezed my hand with encouraging smiles before offering my ladies their elbows, and lining up in the proper order. Ed’s little goddaughter was our flower girl and my little nephew was our ring bearer, and we’d see if they made it down the aisle together. They looked completely adorable in their matching white dress and cream suit. The doors were pulled open, and one by one, my girls made their way down the aisle with their dashing escorts, to take their places at the front, followed by the little ones, who were so excited they fairly tore down that aisle, forgetting even to spread the flower petals from the basket. They were so sweet, I truly didn’t even care. Then, it was time. The music faded out for a moment, and that was our cue. I felt such affection as I watched my father fluff and straighten my veil, and brush a strand of hair from my eyes. He kissed my forehead and lifted his arm up, tucking my arm through his, holding me tightly.

I hadn’t allowed myself to look to the front of the church, I didn’t trust myself to keep it together, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to and he was there, my beautiful Teddy. He wasn’t facing me, not yet. He’d wait for the cue from the pastor to turn around, but oh….the way the lights caught the fire of his hair, the soft curls like spun gold. The lines of his broad shoulders, and the way his tux jacket hugged him, oh my…. I could see his foot jiggling nervously, and then his hand reached out to touch Matthew’s shoulder as they exchanged a grin. His head lifted suddenly, looking up to the ceiling and I could see him taking a deep breath, trying to prepare himself. I could feel that strong, familiar hand holding me steady, and squeezing my hand, as the notes of Pachelbel’s Canon (Didn’t I say I was a traditionalist?) filled the church. I lifted my head, smiled at my Daddy, and took the first step.

I held it together until I looked in his eyes. I could see Father Patrick with a broad smile on his face, gesture to Ed that it was time. That I was ready. His shoulders lifted, and with knowing smiles from him groomsmen, he turned around. It was as if everyone else disappeared, the music faded, time slowed and my heart felt as though it was going to thrum right out of my chest. His eyes widened, his mouth parted, and the wonder and joy in his eyes…it would stay with me every day for the rest of my life. His hands were clasped in front of him, and it looked as though he’d forgotten how to breathe, but he never took his eyes off me. My eyes found his, those clear blue eyes that could see into my soul, and the love that fairly shone out of them, I couldn’t get to him fast enough. The grin that spread across his face, it spoke of pride and love and pure joy, and it was like pure sunlight shining over me. I took slow, shaky breaths, reminding myself to breath as I slowly made my way down that aisle. I couldn’t see a single face in that church, besides Ed’s, and I could feel the tears as they spilled down my cheeks. He was everything. After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the front, and Ed stepped forward. I looked in to my father’s eyes, and lifted my face for a kiss. His fingers brushed my face, wiping the tears away before he kissed my cheek one last time. Ed reached his hand out to grasp my dad’s, and in return, my dad raised his eyebrow in jest, and wrapped his arms around him in a big hug. A smile lit both their faces, and it meant the world to me to see the love and affection between the two most important men in my life. My dad stepped back, and we all faced the pastor, waiting for the words that would finally allow me to join my soon-to-be hubby. He asked the traditional question, who gives this woman to this man, and when my father responded: Her mother and I do, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Ed. He was standing proudly, his chest puffed out with his hands at his sides, but they were restless, like he just couldn’t wait any longer. My dad lifted my hand and with a twinkle in his eye, finally, placed my hand in Ed’s.

His hands, they were so soft, so warm, and so strong. They cradled my fingers, while the pad of his thumb skimmed gently over my knuckles, in such a gentle, tender way. I squeezed his hands, and we both just gazed at each other, our eyes locked, and the most ridiculous of smiles on our faces. There was such joy coursing through me, I could barely contain it. I squeezed his hands and bit my lip, ready to marry this man. He shook his head slightly, almost as if in disbelief, and when he mouthed “So beautiful…” the look in his eyes was almost reverent. Our ceremony was to be traditional and spiritual, and so we bowed our heads and spoke our prayers, and both of our mothers read beautiful passages from the bible. We sang a beautiful hymn in honour of my grandmother, and Ed’s Granddad, who were no longer with us, and knelt down to be blessed. The pastor invited everyone to sit, and motioned for us to stand and face each other. His hands found mine, and my fingers slid around his, holding on as tightly as I could. We’d contemplated writing our own vows, but ultimately had decided those sentiments would be ours to keep private, and to stick with the traditional vows in church. The only thing we both agreed we didn’t care for was the “till death do us part”, and so we chose to change it to “for the rest of our lives”. I spoke my vows first, my heart beating out of my chest, repeating the age-old words that Father Patrick murmured to help us along:

I, Emily Grace, take you, Edward Christopher, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish for the rest of our lives, according to God’s holy law. This is my solemn vow.

As I finished speaking, I saw Ed swallow hard, the emotion on his face threatening to spill over. I couldn’t help myself as I gently reached up with my hand to caress his face, mouthing the words “Forever…” so only he could see. His face split into that brilliant smile, and his lips formed the words that always followed, “…and ever…” He adjusted his stance as if to steady himself and gripped my hands tight as began his vows. “I, Edward Christopher, take you, Emily Grace…”

Every word he spoke was fervent, passionate, and clear as a bell, there was not a shake or stammer to voice, not one trace of nerves. We never broke eye contact, his clear sea-blue eyes fixed on mine with such devotion my tummy danced. I could lose myself in those eyes every time I looked in them. When the last word left his mouth, he exhaled, and lifted my hand to his mouth, brushing his lips across my knuckles, his eyes crinkling as the biggest smile spread across his face. I tried so hard to pay attention to the pastor’s words, but looking into Ed’s eyes, holding his hands, the smell of his cologne wafting over me, I was just lost in him. Father Patrick began to read the passage that would have us exchange our rings, and suddenly, I saw Ed’s little goddaughter running up to us, waving the ring pillow frantically with a grin on her face. My heart just melted as Ed knelt down to meet her, kissing her cheek as he palmed our rings. She threw her arms around his neck with a squeal and he squeezed her right back, a gigantic grin on his face as he lifted her right up into the air in a bear hug before he put her back down. She skipped off to find her mum, and the chorus of Awwww’s that echoed through the church definitely included every of us standing at the altar. Her dad, Jovel, was beaming and trying not to fall to pieces laughing, and even Stu had a grin on his face. It was a perfect moment. Oh my Teddy, he was going to be the most amazing Daddy one day.

His hands found mine again, and we bowed our heads as a prayer was spoken over the rings. Father Patrick placed Ed’s ring in my hand, and asked me to repeat after him:

Edward, I give you this ring

as a symbol of my vow. With all that I am and all that I have

I honour you, in the name of God.

I let my fingers quickly brush across his knuckles as I repeated these words, and I couldn’t help but bounce lightly on my toes and lift my shoulders in excitement as I slid that simple gold band onto his finger. I looked up at him, and grinned, and the look on his face as gazed down at his finger. It was just so adorable, like he couldn’t quite believe it to be true. Ed was handed my ring, and he gently slid his hand underneath mine and lifted my hand to his lips, kissing it softly before repeating those same traditional words to me; “Emily, I give you this ring as a symbol of my vow…” I’d chosen a simple, delicate gold band that matched Ed’s, and we both let out deep, shaky breaths as he finally slid it onto my finger; It sparkled in the light, and I loved how it nestled perfectly against my grandmother’s ring. Neither of us could control the smiles on our faces as we clasped our newly ringed hands, and it took every ounce of control I had not to grab his face and kiss him right then and there. The pastor lifted his hands and recited a beautiful blessing over us and our marriage, and then together with our family and friends, we spoke The Lord’s Prayer. His face beaming, Father Patrick had us join our right hands, and then raised his hands, uttering the words we’d been waiting over a year to finally hear.

Edward and Emily have joined themselves to each other by solemn vows,

signified by the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of a ring.

I declare, in the name of God, that they are husband and wife.

Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder.

I thought Ed’s face would split in half his smile was so big, his eyes were dancing, and he literally was bouncing on his feet waiting for the signal that he could finally, finally kiss me. I kept pressing my lips together while I squeezed his hands so tightly, wanting to wrap my arms around him and never, ever let him go. I was trembling and giddy and impatient, and I truly thought I might actually burst if I couldn’t kiss my husband right that very minute. I fully expected the traditional words from the church ceremony when Father Patrick opened his mouth, but his eyes had an extra twinkle when he turned to Ed and proclaimed “Lad, what are you waiting for??”

Before I could even breathe, his lips were on mine, a kiss so full of love and promise and adoration, and he was everything and that kiss was the only thing in my world. I cupped his cheeks with my hands, kissing him back with more fervour and promise than I could ever have thought possible, loving how his lips were just made for mine. I could feel his arms lift me up under bum, and I squealed and locked my arms around his neck as he spun me around and kissed me again, like he just couldn’t get enough. My eyes filled with happy tears at his jubilant expression. I suddenly was aware of everyone in the church clapping and cheering and hollering for us, and I couldn’t stop laughing as Ed set me back on my feet, and grabbed my hand, lifting it in the air with what I can only describe as a triumphant expression on his face. He was my husband, I was his WIFE, I couldn’t believe it, and we were married. He was irrevocably mine and I was NEVER going to let him go, ever. He laced his fingers through mine and led me up to the altar, followed by my sister and Matthew, where we officially signed our wedding register, and posed for some photos. The exuberance that was positively radiating from his face was incredible, it lit his face up like an angel, and I couldn’t stop looking at him. As Matthew finished signing his name on the register, I felt a soft, fuzzy cheek press against mine, and his warm breath tickle my ear as I heard him whisper softly so no one else could hear. “Love you forever and ever, Wife…” He pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed my fingertips softly, without taking his eyes off me. We finished with the signing, and Ed helped lead back to the steps at the altar, where we faced towards our friends and family, hands and hearts intertwined, ready to be introduced as a married couple. Father Patrick ended our ceremony with a beautiful blessing and the sign of the cross, before he raised his arms once more and announced with great enthusiasm and gusto;

“I’m proud and pleased to introduce to you to the new Mr. and Mrs. Edward Sheeran!”

Cheers, applause and roars of excitement filled the church as everyone jumped to their feet, and I took that perfect opportunity to sneak one more kiss with my new husband before we headed back down that aisle. It was a sweet, perfect kiss, and I loved that even with my eyes closed I could tell he was grinning as big as I was. The processional music swelled, and I pulled back, ready to walk down the steps and back up the aisle, this time as husband and wife. I noticed the look on Ed’s face before I even had a chance to move, and before I could guess what he was up to (I KNEW that face!), he’d swept me up in his arms and was down those steps! I threw my head back and wrapped one arm around his neck, while I lifted my bouquet in the air with the other, waving it in celebration! I kicked my legs up, waving to everyone while I shook with giggles. What better way to start our journey, then in the strong, sexy arms of my husband?

Once we made it to the back of church, we were supposed to head outside to greet our guests and take pictures, but all I wanted was just 5 minutes alone with my new husband. I looked down the hall, and looked at Ed with a grin, pointing to the door of the bridal suite I’d left behind not so long ago. “Just for a minute…” I whispered in his ear, biting my lip. “I want my Teddy all for myself, just for a moment…” He dropped a kiss on my lips and nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yes!” He murmured with a grin, setting me down on my feet, and then gripping my hand and fairly yanking me down the hall into that room, slamming the door behind us. It just the two of us, no one else, and I wanted to just absorb every bit of my handsome, sexy, adorable new husband before I had to share him with the world.

“Jesus…” he murmured, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Em, you’re so goddamn beautiful. And you are ALL mine forever. And ever. And…” His words faded out as his hands found my hair and his lips caught mine, softly at first as we savoured our first embrace alone as husband and wife. I locked my arms around his neck, pulling him close and loving the sensation of the tickly hairs of his beard against my jaw. He tasted so good and his lips were so soft, and the kiss deepened as I tried, somehow, to absorb every bit him. His hands traced their way up my body, his fingertips leaving fiery tingles in their wake, from my hips to my waist to the curve of my jaw, as his hands finally found my face. His kisses, lingering, deep kisses so full of passion and promise, they stole my breath and lit me on fire. My hands wound their way into his hair, those silky soft curls at his neck begging to be tugged. His tongue begged access to my mouth and oh, God, any self-control I had was slipping at the fervour and intensity of his lips, his tongue tasting every bit of me and me trying to taste every bit of him. I felt his hands leave my face and his fingers trail back down my body, down my arm, along the curve of my hip and then his hands were gently cupping my ass as he pulled the length of my body as tightly against his as possible, leaving not the smallest space between our bodies. It was the sudden feeling of his hardening length against my leg that suddenly jolted me back to reality, reminding me that as badly as my body wanted me to hike my skirt up and consummate our marriage right then and there, we couldn’t, not in church, not with our families and friends waiting outside the door. Tonight would be the one of most incredible nights of our lives, I could wait for just a bit longer.

“Teddy…” I gasped, breaking away from his kiss with a giggle. I dropped a kiss on his nose. “”We have to behave. There’s about 100 people waiting on us out there and I don’t think a catholic church is the place for us to be….well…”

Ed’s face was flushed, but he was giggling too as he straightened up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Just got a bit carried away with my wife, didn’t I?” he said with a grin on his face. “Guess I can behave for a while longer if I have to…” I bit my lip and tried not to giggle as I noticed him adjusting his pants while he took a deep breath, trying to, um, calm himself down before we faced the masses. I smoothed out my dress, checked my hair and touched up my lipstick, making sure that I did not, in fact, look like I just came out of heated make out session.

“Shall we go, Husband?” I said teasingly, lacing my fingers through his as I pulled him through the door. “I am ready to be adored, worshipped and praised by the crowds!” As we set off down the hall, I felt his soft breath in my ear, and it sent prickles of electricity through my body as his lips caught the soft skin under my jaw.

His voice was low, teasing, as he murmured softly so only I could hear, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you’re wearing under that dress, Love. You will be worshipped and adored. All. Night. Long….”

To Be Continued.... Xox

*MASTERLIST HERE*

#Ed Sheeran #Ed Sheeran fanfic #Ed sheeran fanfiction #ed sheeran love story #Code Ginger #Teddy Sheeran fanfiction #Teddy Sheeran fic #Ed sheeran fic #Ed and Emily #Teddy Sheeran

11 notes · View notes