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bokutoslittlebird · 3 years

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In Your Eyes

Bokuto Kōtarō x Chubby!Reader

Author’s Note : There are some dark things in here and if you feel suicidal please do not keep it bottled in. It’s not healthy and needs to be addressed. The really bad stuff isn’t until the middle (right before the smut, basically), so be warned! That’s where the suicidal stuff is and like I said, if you do any of this or feel suicidal please seek professional help because it’s not worth keeping unhealthy feelings inside ; If you are wondering why Bokuto’s obsessed with licking and biting in this, I have been rereading a doujin where Bokuto does that and, well, it’s hot ; I swear this would not have taken me so long if I didn’t keep crying while writing it omg I would be dead if I had a shot every time I had to stop writing so I could wipe my tears and snot. This is why I don’t like to read or write angst but wow was that therapeutic.

Warnings: angst, fat shaming, use of the word “pig”, body dysmorphia (inability to look in a mirror), vomit, suicidal tendencies/intention (via overdose) + implied past actions alcohol, soft!dom Bokuto, choking, creampie(s), mating press+doggy style, licking and biting, facesitting

The cheers of the crowd erupted as the whistle blew. Once again, the MSBY Black Jackals had won. This match was against the Red Falcons, another team in the V.1 division. It was a close call, but Hinata managed to break the deuce with his monstrous quick attack and seal the set with their victory.

The team was jumping and bouncing, giving out high fives as they did. Of course, they had to shake hands with the Adlers, bowing to the audience and thanking them for their support. When Bokuto did his classic ‘Bokuto Beam’ move towards the audience, you could hear the girls squealing and giggling. It isn’t like they didn’t do the same when Atsumu or Hinata waved to them, but it hit you different. After all, they were beautiful in your eyes, slim and flawless.

Oh, yes. You’re the MSBY Black Jackal’s manager, being a classmate of Hinata in his second and third year (as in you tutored him and helped manage the volleyball club with Yachi). Hinata was your first friend, which kind of sounds pathetic. It was, if you were being honest with yourself. Being heavier than the average girl at your school subjected you to bullying and pranks that ended with you crying until you threw up. Hinata never made you feel like that, though. He always made sure you were comfortable and every member of the club at Karasuno treated you like an angel. You ended up applying to be the MSBY manager when Hinata asked, saying they needed a manager and wondered if you could apply. Well, it was either that or finding a job at the circus, as your family would sneer at you. Truly, Hinata was the first to accept you.

Once you got the job, it was like being back at Karasuno, honestly. Everyone was friendly and treated you no differently than they would treat others. However, you wished one of them would treat you differently.

Bokuto.

He was the ace of the team, a goofy fella that could make anyone smile. Including you. Aside from Hinata, he made you feel accepted and made you forget about any woes and horrid thoughts you were facing. He didn’t know about them like Hinata did, but you were sure he’d treat you different if he knew.

Once everything was packed up, you and the coach headed out, the team not too far behind you.

“Shōyō-kun, that was one of yer best sets yet!” Atsumu cheerily piped up, walking behind Hinata. Hinata was right beside you, as he always was.

“I’m glad you think so! I don’t know if we can surprise the Adlers next time, though. Kageyama still knows my tricks,” he huffed as he finished his statement, putting his hair down so he could mock Kageyama. You giggled at his antics.

“Alright, change up and meet at the bus in 10 minutes, let’s go!” Coach commanded. Each member voiced their acquiescence. You decided to use this opportunity to go to the bathroom. After all, their match lasted almost an hour, if not more.

In the restrooms, you were almost done when you heard a bunch of girls giggling as they entered. Instead of leaving, you stayed in place, waiting for them to go.

You wish you hadn’t.

“Gosh, those boys are so attractive!” One of them said. Two voices agreed.

“Have you seen Atsumu and Kageyama? They’re both so hot!”

“I was too focused on that number 12,” oh no, “Bokuto, I think? He’s a good looking man, bet he has the stamina of a god, too,”

“Yeah, it’s a shame their brand is ruined by that mascot of theirs.” What?

“Mascot? Oh! You mean the pig? Yeah, she does put a damper on everything, doesn’t she? Imagine being that attractive and having that thing follow you around!” The girl cackled, her friends following suit. You felt your stomach drop, tears springing in the corner of your eyes as you listened to them.

It was easy to forget you were different when you with the team since they made you feel normal, but that didn’t mean others wouldn’t notice you.

The girls eventually left, the door slamming shut behind them. Whether they came in there to do makeup or just talk shit about you knowing you were in there didn’t matter. Not when you were crumpled up on the floor as sobs wracked your frame. Life sucks.

It’s not like you didn’t try! That’s the other thing! You try to lose weight and nothing happens, exercising doesn’t do much and diets are practically useless. You used to go to the gym, but stopped when you kept getting stares. You also used to run with Hinata in the mornings, but since he was so much faster than you, you stopped. What’s the point if you’re panting and breathless after a minute while he’s still going strong after 30 minutes? It felt like nothing would ever help.

A buzzing interrupted your crying fest, you sniffling as you wipe away the tears and look at the screen. It’s from the groupchat, Hinata asking if you’re okay and they were all at the bus. You typed back a quick ‘K’ and got up. The best you could hope for was nobody would point out the red eyes and the sniffling.

Hinata knew of your troubles, being there for you when you broke down in school more often than not. When you confided that he was the first person you felt comfortable with, it broke him. Seeing you had bottled up your emotions because nobody bothered to listen or care, it made him want to include you in his life. He would invite you over for dinner and his sister would excitedly talk to you, never making you feel uncomfortable. When he heard that you were in Osaka, he immediately called you up about being the MSBY manager.

He also knew of your crush on Bokuto. It was obvious to him, with how you looked at the ace with longing. Hinata even encouraged you to confess, but that was quickly dismissed when you told Hinata how you felt like Bokuto deserved better than someone like you. Bokuto was muscular, attractive, and charming — in your eyes, he deserved to be with someone his equal. That did not mean you. Hinata knew of your troubles, but he also knew of Bokuto’s. Bokuto has a crush on you, too, finding himself more accepted with you around. Contrary to the ace’s personality, he was insecure in a lot of things. He wasn’t very smart, which was often pointed out by others. He knew when someone was upset, though, so he always knew he needed to make you feel better.

Once you arrived at the bus, Hinata greeted you as everyone else had boarded. “What’s wrong?”

“The same old thing, you know,” you sniffle, your voice cracking as you remember the hateful words. Hinata’s face soured as you said those words. Back in high school, he would sit down and cry with you. Now, he was tired of you still being picked on as an adult.

“Immature, that’s what they are. Come on, we’re gonna stop by that restaurant you love.” Oh great, food. You may have been starving when the match ended, but after the incident, you just wanted to go home and cry. You numbly nodded and followed Hinata onto the bus. The coach didn’t bother pointing out anything, but he sent you a sad look when he noticed the red eyes on you. You sadly smiled and continued to your seat, behind the coach as the bus started to move. Curling into your jacket, you tried to think of something else.

The restaurant was a disaster. Everyone had been excited and gotten off the bus when a bunch of fangirls came up to them. You had just smiled and shook your head, feeling better already. At least, you had been until the girls noticed you and gave you looks of disgust. It was short lived, their attention turning back to the boys, so you briskly walked off, into the restaurant, away from the crowd. It took almost 5 minutes for the girls to leave, but you refused to eat anything other than a salad and drink water. Even then, you excused yourself to the restroom to take a break, crying and attempting to force yourself to throw up. Once home, you locked the front door and let your emotions spill out. Crying and screaming was common, so that’s what you did. Then came the process — getting rid of any reflective surface. Turning off the lights, turning on the tv, covering the mirrors with sheets, closing the blinds, shutting out any possibility of looking at yourself. Even with nobody around, those words and looks stuck and struck deep, you eventually curling into yourself on your bed as you cried yourself to sleep.

The next day came, your alarm ringing and the sound bouncing off the walls. You turned it off, completely turning off your phone. Instead of dealing with alarms and people, you’d suffer alone behind the comfort of your home.

The team was worried, you were never late. Bokuto was more pouty than normal, your cheerful greeting missing from his morning and his bear hug. Atsumu also missed your cheerful greeting, asking Hinata if he knew of anything. When Hinata said he did not, he texted and called you, receiving no answer.

Okay, then he’d go to you.

Hinata had stayed at your apartment before, spending the night or just to hang out. Sometimes he brings you food and snacks when you need it, or he just checks on you. He has a spare key in case of anything and he’s glad he does when the door’s locked with no answer. He calls you once more time, knocking until he hears something. It’s faint, but it sounds like movement. So, you’re awake. But not answering the door. Sighing, he unlocks the door.

The apartment is not surprising to him, the windows covered and reflective surfaces covered. He was afraid of this, but he continues on. When he reaches your room, he hears more sniffling and crying. “[Y/N]?”

“Leave me be, Shōyō,”

“[Y/N], please. The team misses you,”

“Fuck off. I’m a charity case to them, I know it. Why else would they keep me around? I should just wallow away,” your voice sounds tired, the thought of the boys sticking with you out of pity a common thought you’ve had.

A thought that isn’t true, but breaks Hinata’s heart. “You know that’s not true. Everyone loves you! Even Bokuto,”

“Shōyō, shut up. Empty words do nothing. Maybe it’d be better if I just... stayed here. Maybe I should just end the misery,”

“Do not. Talk like that. Please.” Hinata’s voice cracks with each word. He knew you were bad, but you could pretend like everything was fine. He should’ve known the harsh treatment yesterday would affect you like this. He should’ve spent the night with you when you ordered a salad and a water. He should’ve told the coach or Meian when you went to the bathroom for 10 minutes that you were trying to throw up. Your lie of there being a line was obvious, a common excuse after a long time away. Hinata felt his chest tighten as he realized you didn’t answer him. “I’m getting Bokuto.”

“Shōyō! Don’t you dare!” Your screams do nothing as he basically runs out your apartment, you flinging the door open to see him gone. You start crying more, afraid that Bokuto will see just how pathetic you are. If he ever looked at you with disgust, the way everyone else does, you don’t know if you could continue on with your life.

Maybe it’d be better that way.

Bokuto doesn’t really know what’s going on, one moment he’s stretching and the next he’s running to the train station with Hinata’s words repeating over and over again.

‘[Y/N] needs you’

Bokuto’s first thought immediately went into the gutters, a blush coating his cheeks until Hinata continued.

‘I think she’s in trouble’

With those two sentences, Bokuto ran off, forgetting his bag and just taking his phone with him. He only needed his phone, really. Strange stares from the public didn’t bother him, he knows he’s still wearing his practice clothes and his knee pads, the material looking like leggings. He made it to the train station before it left, getting on and calling Hinata back.

“Bokuto?”

“I’m on the train, is everything okay?” He was panting, the train station being a bit away from the practice gym. He didn’t even bother sitting, just standing beside the doors.

“I don’t know. She’s.. She’s in a bad place. She won’t listen to me, but she’ll listen to you,” Hinata’s words are slightly muffled, sniffling accompanying his sentence. The words make Bokuto’s chest tighten.

“I don’t know what I can do, you’re her best friend. What could I do?”

“She’s in love with you. Has been for a while, actually. I know you can help her where I can’t. Just — I’ll give you her apartment key when you get to the station. Once I do, please go to her. Please,”

“I—“ Bokuto’s eyes are wide, his face definitely pink now. He’s still worried about you, but the idea of you actually liking him — no, loving him the same way he loves you, it makes him giddy. It gives him the push he needs to make it to you.

As soon as the doors open, there’s Hinata, holding a key ring for him to take. Bokuto doesn’t hesitate, a quick nod in Hinata’s direction before he rushes off to your apartment complex. All of the boys have been to your apartment before, but Bokuto and Hinata are the only ones who know the way to the place. Bokuto has gotten a bit drunk before and ended up crashing at your place, as well as just staying there when practices run late since his place is the farthest away from their practice gym.

Arriving at the apartment, he slides the key in and turns the knob, momentarily confused at the sheets covering your glass coffee table and the TV, but he continues in. He knocks on your bedroom door. “[Y/N]? Are you in here?” When he gets no response, he freaks out. Turning the knob, he notices you’re not in there, but there are more sheets covering things, as well as the blinds being shut. Even more confused, he turns back to the hallway and notices the bathroom door is closed. Fear strikes him as he thinks he knows why you’re not answering — he hopes he’s wrong.

When he opens the door, he realizes he was partially right. With a bottle of wine pressed to your lips, an empty pill bottle in one hand, your eyes wide as Bokuto’s golden eyes met yours. A brief moment of anger flashed across his face before you were forced over the toilet, his thick fingers going down your throat.

“Shtap!” Your muffled voice comes out, gagging around his fingers as he attempts to activate your gag reflex. He doesn’t stop, your squirming easily quelled against his strong grip on your arms pinning them back. You feel the bile rise and then you’re expelling the contents of your stomach into the toilet, coughing and sputtering as the painkillers you just took are now emptied into the porcelain bowl. Bokuto doesn’t let go of you as you cry, trying to get out of his hold.

He doesn’t know what he should bring up first, the fact Hinata called him over or the fact he caught you in the middle of a suicide attempt. You’re screaming and telling him to get off of you, but he instead holds you closer, your sobs fading as tears spill out of his own eyes, staining the hoodie you’re in. “Why would you do that?” He whispers.

You don’t know how to respond to that, instead choosing the phrase, “why not?” His face scrunches up and you don’t know if he’s in pain or angry as he shakes you.

“Why would you do that?! Don’t you know how many people would be distraught over you? Hinata would be inconsolable! Who would TsumTsum and I joke with? Did you even think about that? Did you think about me?” His voice is loud and it makes you cry harder, the weight of his words hitting deep. Bokuto’s been there for you through a lot and you’ve been facing all your problems on your own. “You can’t just do that! That’s selfish!”

“Why would it matter, Bo? What’s the point? I can’t face myself let alone face my feelings! Why not just stop hurting?” You’re both crying, him holding onto you tightly as you dry heave a bit, a stinging in the back of your throat and an arrow in your heart.

“Why can’t you face your feelings? You have Hinata and me!” Before you can tell him something else, he presses his lips to your forehead. You freeze. “I don’t know what I’d do if you left me. I don’t think I could live without you,” He dryly chuckles, tears still streaking down his face. You hiccup and look down, afraid to face him.

“You don’t mean that. You’re trying to make me feel better, I know. Just be honest with your feelings. I’m already low enough, no reason to keep up appearances,” more tears come out as you try to not break into another fit. Bokuto would never look at you the same you looked at him, especially not after seeing you like this. You couldn’t blame him, you look like a mess in your old sweatpants and the old hoodie that felt too tight even if it was one of the largest sizes you could find. Your hair is no better, hasn’t been brushed and you’ve been in bed for a while.

“Hinata said you loved me—“

“Stop,”

“So I came because he said he was worried—“

“You don’t need to say it,”

“If I had been a second later—“

“Stop it, please,”

“I wouldn’t have been able to tell you my feelings—“

“Please, don’t,” you cover your face, tears blurring your vision anyways. Bokuto removes your hands, looking into your eyes. His own are full of warmth and love, not disgust or regret. It makes you cry more, a horrible wail as you dive into his chest. He laughs as his arms wrap around you, comforting in these dark moments.

“I love you, you know? I have for a while,”

“Why? What do you see in me? What could I possibly have to attract you? I’m not—“

“Don’t say it. Don’t say ‘I’m not like other girls’, because everyone’s different. You make me want to be a better man, you make me excited for each new day. Nobody can compare to you,”

“I can’t.. I’m sorry, I can’t trust you. I’ve— I’ve been made fun of for too long, I want to trust you, I want to love you, I want to be with you, but I don’t know if my heart can take another one,”

“Another— what?”

“It’s a long story, I don’t want to bore you,”

“Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he nuzzles your cheek, more tears spilling out as your chest tightens with love.

You decided to explain to him what happened in the past and how you trusted Hinata. Bokuto brought you to your room and made you some tea, brought a bottle of water, and also made you a snack. The thought of eating made you feel sick, but a pouty buff man had you slowly nibbling on the piece of toast. You hadn’t eaten since dinner the previous day, so you wanted to inhale it, but you didn’t think you could stomach it.

After explaining everything to Bokuto, you tried to laugh it off, saying it wasn’t a big deal, but he refused to accept that. A quick call to Hinata to let him know you were okay and that Bokuto would be taking a day off was the next step, letting Bokuto stay with you for the rest of the day. He didn’t want to leave you alone, the fear of almost losing you still making his heart race in a bad way. Even as you just scrolled through InstaGram on your phone, he worried if he left you’d go back to the dark headspace. He couldn’t stop it, but he figured he could prevent it.

The first thing to change your mood is get you in the shower.

When he bounced back into your room, you looked at him from your position. You looked exhausted, the toast only half eaten but the glass was empty. Bokuto shook his head and clicked his tongue. “You need to refresh yourself. Time to take a shower!”

“What are you, my dad? If you want me to do it then make me,” You muttered, snuggling back under the covers. Bokuto closed his eyes and sighed, trying to not say anything sexual.

“I will throw you over my shoulder and into the bathroom. Don’t underestimate me, [Y/N],” the bed dips as he sits on the edge. “I’ll strip you down and wash you if I have to,”

“Why are you so forceful? Damn,” you made it sound like a bad thing, but you were smiling. “Fine, I’ll shower. You don’t gotta wash me, I’m not a baby,”

“But you’re my baby?” He sounded so confused, you freezing half out of the bed. Clearing your throat, you continued.

“Uh, sure. Are you planning on leaving soon? Or..”

“Nope! I’m staying over. I’ll change the sheets while you shower, too!”

“Oh, okay,” you say, numbly getting up to get clothes. With the lack of clean clothes, you have a few shirts and some pajama pants, but your stomach twists as you realize why they’re clean. They don’t fit as nicely as the other clothes, so you face two options: reuse the hoodie you’re wearing or face the humiliation of putting on a tight shirt. Thinking of the restriction, you decide the hoodie would be best. A large pair of pajama pants and a pair of panties is all you take, but Bokuto notices the lack of clothes.

“Are you just changing your pants? You’re showering, right?” Hes rifling through his bag, planning on changing out his practice clothes while you’re in the shower. He doesn’t want to get your clean sheets dirty, after all.

“Um, I’m out of shirts, so.. I’ll just reuse the hoodie,” you shrug, not seeing a problem. His eyes light up as he holds a finger up, digging through his bag once more. Apparently, Hinata dropped it off while you were taking a nap, all that crying had exhausted you. Bokuto smiles brightly as he pulls out his own hoodie, the black hoodie with the golden MSBY brand and the Black Jackal claws. “I don’t think—“

“I’ve been dreaming of you in my hoodie for some time, so this is a perfect opportunity! I’d prefer you to wear this,”

“Uh, I’m pretty big, Bokuto. I don’t think it’ll fit, if I’m being honest,” you look down at the ground, the disgust from earlier rising in your chest. Bokuto just tilts his head to the side.

“I think it’ll fit. It’s pretty big on me, so it’ll fit. If it doesn’t, let me know. I’ll get you something else,” he just shrugs, holding out the hoodie. His name is on the back and in a way, it feels like he’s marking his territory. You take it, thanking him as you head towards the bathroom. If it didn’t fit, you didn’t know what you’d do.

When you finished washing up, you put on the clothes. As big as Bokuto was, you still didn’t expect the hoodie to fit. When it slid on easily, you were highly surprised, but also it took you a moment to collect yourself. Seeing you in his hoodie was something out of your wildest dreams, him even telling you he’s fantasized about it making your body hotter than it should be. You had to calm yourself down before exiting the bathroom, entering the bedroom to see him lying on the bed in sweatpants. That’s it.

“Where the hell are your clothes?!” You cover your face, spreading your fingers a bit to see him stand up excitedly.

“You look so good in my hoodie!” He hugged you tightly, lifting you up a bit.

“Don’t pick me up, put on a shirt!” The only thing separating your skin from his was the hoodie which, well, wasn’t very thick. The zipper itself was as high as it could go but still felt too low.

“Why? Don’t I look good? Are you uncomfortable?”

“Yes, you look good and I’m uncomfortable. This is just a weird situation,” you try to explain... as if you had a shred of dignity left. The laptop propped open with the opening of your favorite movie caught your attention. “Are you gonna watch a movie?”

“We’re gonna watch it! To make you feel better, of course!” He seemed so proud of himself, standing with his fists on his hips as he smiled. You shook your head, rolling your eyes.

“Okay, then. Do you want snacks?”

“Snacks?!”

After getting snacks for the movie, to which he fed you some while you fed him, you ended up falling asleep as you watched the movie. It was nice and warm under the covers and Bokuto’s body heat right next to you helped to lull you to sleep. He didn’t seem to notice you falling asleep until your head hit his shoulder, eyes closed as you peacefully slept. After pressing a kiss to your forehead, he closed to laptop and got comfortable under the sheets. The worry of him losing you was still there, but he kept his arms around you tightly in case it was a dream. Like you, he hoped it wasn’t.

Waking up wasn’t that bad, an urge to quench your dry throat a common thing to wake up to. What wasn’t common, however, was the thing poking your butt. Now fully awake, you tried to shoot up in bed to see what was going on but Bokuto’s arms held you down. It was then you realized what was poking you. Attempting to get his arms off of you was a hard feat, trying to squeeze out of the grip when he moaned. You froze and looked at his face, still asleep. Attempting to move again, he let out another one. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

He was having a wet dream. In your bed. Beside you.

Your immediate thought was who? Your next thought was me? You dismissed that idea, rolling your eyes as if that could happen. Well, until your name came past his lips. You were surprised to hear it, even if he showed and attempted to prove his feelings for you. Him dreaming of you subconsciously? It gave you confidence.

Enough confidence to wake him up and let him continue his dream in reality? No.

But, you didn’t think you’d have another dark episode anytime soon. He didn’t seem to relent his grip on your body, so you dealt with it, staring at the wall in the dark as he continued his noises. Well, at least until he bucked his hips. You gasped as he did, him waking up to your noise. “You ‘kay? Somethin’ wrong?”

Wide eyes looked at him, before glancing down and flickering back up. He follows your eyes and his face goes red. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but the moonlight coming in from the uncovered window illuminates enough. “I am so sorry, I’ll le—“

“Why?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, immediately smacking your forehead. He’s a bit confused from your actions, but you continue. “Um, I’d, uh- I’d like to know what you dreaming about.” Confidence? Yeah, right. You’re practically shaking from the fear of his answer. Of course, it was your name but you could’ve heard wrong, right? Yeah, you—

“My boner speaks for itself, doesn’t it?” Does he have shame? You just look at him so exasperated as he just stares at you, not too sure what you were expecting. “Or do you not know?”

“I— Okay. Was it me?”

“Who... who else would it be?”

“Oh, okay. Why?” You’re both so confused, you not understanding the appeal while he’s not understanding why it’s so weird. Or confusing.

“Why not? I’m in the bed with my girlfriend, longtime crush, who I find extremely attractive? Is this too much? Is it wrong for me to, um, wanna do that? Or dream about it?” No shame!

“I’m still having problems seeing things from your perspective, but okay. Still cannot see the appealing side of me, so it’s just... it’s weird for me to actually realize you like that. You actually,” you gulp, “like me,”

“I’ll say it as many times as I need to, [Y/N]. You’re perfect in my eyes. I want you to see that in your eyes, too,”

“I cannot, if ever, do that. Sorry,” you just shrug, going back to lay down. It isn’t long until he’s straddling you. “What are you doing?”

“I want to make you see things how I do. You gave me this,” he gestured to the bulge in his sweatpants. Looking at it too long scares you, the size scaring you more. “I want you,”

“Oh my god, I’m being dead serious now: you are not gonna like what you see. I’m not attractive, Bo,”

“Let me be the judge of that, hm?” It’s the only thing he says, but you hesitantly nod. He smiles and as much as you want to enjoy it, you’re still shaking. You have no idea what’s coming next, you don’t know what he’s gonna do once he sees what’s underneath and it scares you. So badly. His hands go underneath your—his hoodie, running over your skin. “If you’re scared, I can stop. I don’t want to push you into anything,”

“It’s not that, I just can’t see what you see. But I want to. I want to see myself in your eyes, if you can do that,”

“All you gotta do is give me a signal if you want me to stop. I’ll try my best but you’re gonna have to relax, baby,” he has no idea what his words are doing to you. You just nod as he smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. He isn’t rough and excited, but rather gentle and soothing. Hands running under the hoodie eventually go up to the zipper, slowly pulling it down. It’s a small thing, but you notice his eyes flickering to your face for any sign of distress. Evening your breathing, you let him completely pull the zipper down as your skin is completely bare to him. You hide your face in shame, ready to apologize and have a million excuses lined up, but he doesn’t let that happen when he starts licking your chest.

“Oh!” Your hands thread through his hair, softer than you expected as it barely brushes against your skin. His eyes are still on you, your fingers moving his strands away so he could clearly see you and you, him. The way his predatory gaze latches onto your face has heat pooling between your legs, rubbing them together to create some kind of friction. Keeping his tongue connected to your skin, his eyes on yours, he moves onto one of your breasts. Popping your nipple into his mouth, he swirls the perked nipple in his mouth as his hand tweaks your other nipple. You’re panting, your head is thrown back as he continues. Soon enough, just rolling your nipples in between his fingers is not enough.

Gathering spit in his mouth, he lets it dribble onto your skin. It’s warm and slick, when he smears it across your other breast as goes back to tweaking your nipples. You look down at what he’s doing only to find him grinning devilishly at you. He then goes down to your stomach, biting into the flesh there. “Bokuto!”

“What? I just wanna taste you,” he shrugs, before licking the area he bit. He has a lot of spit, too, sucking into your flesh and leaving behind a bite mark and his saliva. It’s.. kind of gross, but hot. When he comes back up to your face, he pushes his lips against yours so forcefully that you’re reeling back, mouth opening as he slips his tongue in. It’s a deep, passionate kiss as he runs his hands over your body, squeezing anything he can as he slips his fingers into your pants. “May I?”

“Of course.” Once he has the okay, he moves back down, occasionally leaving love bites as he does. Pulling down your pants, he finds himself face to face with your damp panties. You don’t have time to get embarrassed, however, when he sticks his nose into your crotch and licks the fabric. “What is up with you and licking?” You giggle, finding humor in it. He just pops back up, shrugging. You giggle again, throwing your head back in the pillows. He goes to pull down your panties, sliding them down your legs until they’re completely off. Except for his hoodie, you’re completely naked.

Now if only you could have his cum in you, then would his wet dream be complete. However, there was one more thing he’s always wanted to try, but he’s worried you’ll be against it. “Babe?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No! Nothing’s wrong!” He hates how your mind immediately goes negative. Your shoulders relax and your wide eyes slowly lessen as you realize nothing wrong, yet. “Um, can you sit on my face?”

“Bokuto, I don’t-“

“C’mon, please? I’ve always wanted to try it! Especially between them delicious thick thighs of yours,” he then licked his lips with a resounding moan. Although embarrassed, you roll your eyes.

“If I’m too heavy, let me know. I’ll— I’ll get off,” you prop yourself up on your hands, feeling his spit ooze down your body. “You have a lot of spit. Reminds me of how much you sweat,”

“I produce a lot of liquids, y’know?” If it wasn’t for his wiggling eyebrows as he widely grins, you would not know he meant it to be sexual.

“Lay down!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he excitedly gets on his back, his bulge much more prominent than before now that it’s just there. You can see it. You’re still hesitant, but eventually move to straddle his face. He helps you, easily maneuvering your dripping cunt over his mouth. With his strong hands, he forces you down on top of him to the point where your legs can’t keep you up. You attempt to get up, afraid you’re crushing him but he keeps you firmly planted on his face.

A growl erupts from his throat when he gets tired of your squirming, you halting your movements as you try to calm down. His thumbs run over the skin of your thighs to try and soothe you. And it works. You’re feeling lightheaded as he sucks and licks your cunt and probably makes it messier than it is. He brushes his teeth over your clit, sending shivers down your spine as you moan from the feeling. With a grin, you can tell, he gets to work on tongue fucking you as well as sucking on your clit. It isn’t long until your fingernails are digging into his abdomen as you let out a high moan as you come undone on his face. He moans himself, using his thick tongue to gather up every ounce you produced. He also makes a loud slurping noise as he cleans it up.

You move off of him, panting as you look at him. He looks absolutely blissed out, like he saw Nirvana and Heaven all at once. You smile at him, his own smile wide and proud. He immediately gets up, pushing hips lips against yours once more as he licks the corners of your mouth. He is quickly moving to pull down his sweatpants and boxers, but hesitates. “You sure you want this?”

“You aren’t allowed to stop now,” you giggle as he glows, pulling down his pants. Your eyes go wide as you realize how big he actually is. The bulge in his pants was nothing. It is scary, you wondering if it’ll fit.

“Everything okay? Do you— Do you not want it?” He sounds so sad, you immediately coo at him, forgetting the third leg he has.

“No, no, no baby! It’s just— you’re very big. I did not expect that. Just be gentle, yeah?”

“Of course!” Another kiss to your lips, this one more of a peck than a passionate open mouthed kiss. “Can you get on your hands and knees?” You listen to him, rolling over on your stomach before getting in position. This way, you don’t have to worry about seeing him and can focus on what he’s doing, so it’s better in a way. Really, Bokuto just wants to end the night with you on your back and he plans on having you shaking from multiple orgasms before it’s over. He guides his cock to your entrance, a shaky breath leave him as his tip brushes against your folds. You shiver yourself, feeling yourself about to cry, but you wait.

Once he pushes into you, the tears come out for a different reason. “I’m sorry, it’ll feel better in a moment,” he licks your cheek, nuzzling you. You nod as you try to relax, him continuing to push into you. It isn’t until he nudged against your cervix does he stop. Even then, he is still not completely in you. He focuses on evening his breathing, inhaling your shampooed hair. It’s hard to not blow his load so quickly, you squeezing him so tightly. You’re nice and snug, though, your walls eventually relaxing as he stays inside.

“You can— you can move, Bo,”

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling out only to roughly thrust into you. You lurch forward from the thrust, immediately dropping your mouth open to moan as he sets a steady pace. It’s not fast or slow, but he’s definitely rough with his thrusts. It’s the grunts that really do you in, the way his hands grab at your ass and hips, sounds of pleasure coming from his as sinks his cock into your cunt that has you tightening around him. With a mewl, you have another orgasm and he curses, a low “shit” coming out as he struggles to pull out. He leans down to put his mouth next to your ear, biting the shell as he continues. He doesn’t even break a sweat as he does, stilling himself deep inside you as he lets out a low groan, your eyes scrunch together as you whimper. His cum fills you up to the brim, his hips swiveling to make sure he’s all done.

Well, for that round.

You’re panting heavily as he leaves you, leaning back as he watches your legs shake. His cum oozes out of you, your cunt clenching as it makes more pour out. It’s a beautiful reality, but he wants more. You’re soon flipped onto your back as he is over you again, his hands on the back of your knees, pushing them up. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not a very comfortable position, either. Confusion is etched in your face as he does, but his lidded eyes as he licks his lips tell you he’s not done. You’re exhausted, but he’s not.

He wastes no time in sinking himself back into you, his eyes focused on your face as you moan. His grin is almost evil, the way his lips stretch as he bottoms out inside you before roughly thrusting into you. It didn’t take long for another orgasm to start to buildup in you, your head thrown back as your back arches, your head turned to the side as he leans down to lick and bite your collarbone, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. His hands find yours, intertwining his fingers with yours as he brings them up to your head. You focus on the way his arms flex, the muscles bulging with each thrusts as he puts every ounce of effort into the action. It really shows to how much he loves you and your body.

Even with all the marks on your body, even with all the places he’s touched and licked, that gnawing thought of you worrying nags him. The thought that you’ll still not know just how much he loves you. The thought that you’ll think it was a one time thing. He needs to know you know. He needs to know you’re seeing things in his perspective now. One hand leaves yours, it finding itself around your throat.

“Say my name,” he grunts, alternating his gaze between your face and his cock disappearing inside you. It’s something he’ll never get over. Maybe next time, he can record you two.

“B-Bo—“

“No, my given name. I want you to scream it,” his grip on your neck gets tighter, your walls tightening at the same time. He groans as he throws his head back, his thrusts slowing down as he drags his cock against your walls. “I want your neighbors to know who’s fucking you,”

“You, Kōtarō!” You loudly moan, humming in pleasure as he picks up the pace.

“Who’s making you feel this good? Who does your little cunt belong to?”

“God, you! It belongs to Kōtarō!” You scream, your eyes rolling back as his hands go back to under your knees, pushing them up to your chest. It’s hard to breathe, but you’re clamping down on his cock as a sheen of white forms around it, your slick dripping down your ass and down his balls. The last urge he needed to fuck you like an animal was that, you screaming his name. Your ands wrap around his neck, the material of his jacket rubbing against his thick neck as your nails take down his back. Hissing, he fucks you faster and harder, determination set to get you to one more orgasm. It doesn’t take long, your mouth hanging open as you come undone for one last time, him burying himself as far as he can as he spills another load into you. It’s heavy and fulfilling, but it’s wonderful. A wonderful feeling of being loved.

As you both come down from your highs, he gives you another sloppy kiss. Instead of pulling out, he released your legs and lays on his side, taking you with him.

“Shouldn’t we clean up?”

“That can wait. I don’t wanna leave quite yet,” he pants out, another sloppy kiss. Like he can’t get enough.

Really though, he can’t. He loves you too much

#haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #Mr. Kōtarō #bokuto smut #BB.Kinky #BB.Angst #Bokuto.Angst #Bokuto.Spice #tw.alcohol #tw.suicide mention #tw.blood #cw.food #tw.fat shaming #cw.razors #body dysmorphia #body dysmorphic disorder #tw.overdose #haikyuu smut

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Practice Makes Perfect. Narancia x F Reader 🎀

a/n: this is a scene that i imagine taking place on narancia’s route! the dialogue in italics is spoken in english.

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

Pleasant chatter from multiple languages buzzes around you, warm and enveloping. This street acts as a melting pot of nationalities. You usually try to avoid Via Toledo during peak tourist hours, as for all its appeal, there are disadvantages. The one that troubles you the most is how some street vendors try to sell their goods at a marked up price, mistaking you for a tourist. Maybe you would’ve fallen for those tricks a year ago upon arriving in Napoli. Now you know better, and can navigate accordingly.

It’s a longer walk home, but extra exercise never hurts. The scenic route is a breathtaking one.

Walking down cobblestone paths, you recite a mental checklist for the day. There’s grocery shopping to be done, maybe picking up some in season fruits for a salad later. Bucciarati recommended a recipe for salad dressing you want to try out when you get the chance. On a less exciting note, you have a job tonight. It’s a shame it couldn’t have been in the afternoon like you’re used to. Adding some grilled chicken to your dinner may be a good idea, to hold you over during the night hours. Normally, things go without too many complications. In the event you’re held up for whatever reason, at least you won’t be hungry.

Your thoughts cease at an unmistakable sight of messy black hair and an orange bandana.

Narancia is sitting on a bench to the side of the road. He’s hunched over, laser focused on an object in his hands. Is that… a book? A bright yellow one at that. To your knowledge, Narancia has stated he doesn’t like reading (“If I really need to know something, I’ll ask Fugo!”), so this makes for a rare sight. Before you get the opportunity to call over to him, you stop yourself, noticing how his lips are moving. You can’t recall the last time you’ve seen him this concentrated. What is he saying? There’s no one around him, so he can’t be talking to anyone.

“Pr… pretty?” Narancia murmurs to himself, eyebrows furrowing. You blink and tilt your head. He’s speaking English? What for? Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to listen in more before approaching him. Luckily he’s too inundated to notice you.

“Dammit, that isn’t right either,” he brings the book closer to his eyes, hoping it’ll help him retain the knowledge better. “Pre-ty!”

His pronunciation isn’t all that bad, you note. It still leaves the question of why exactly he’s trying to speak English. Upon closer inspection, you catch the title of the book. English for Dummies. Did Fugo give him that? You sigh, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. It sounds like something he would do. You can picture it now. Narancia, hopeful as ever, going to Fugo and requesting tutoring in the language. Then Fugo giving him this and a dismissive “Best of luck”, afterwards.

“Okay, good, now for the rest.” Narancia clears his throat. Taking in a deep breath, he prepares himself, looking uncharacteristically serious.

“You look… pretty!” He exclaims, oblivious to the looks people passing by are giving him. Narancia pumps his fist in victory. He continues to say the sentence with unbridled enthusiasm, and shuts the book. You have to admit that it makes for quite an endearing scene. Now that he seems to be done with his lesson, you decide to walk over, leaning down to get a better look at his book.

“Hey, Nara, I didn’t expect to see you here,” you greet, noticing how his eyes widen at the sight of you. He fumbles the book into his lap, covering the title to the best of his ability. “Were you out doing stuff for Bucciarati?”

“Y-yeah! I was… going shopping, for stuff.” Narancia has difficulty maintaining eye contact with you when he offers his answer. You know Narancia and his education can be a sensitive subject, and assume he finds being caught studying embarrassing. Smiling, you sit down next to him on the bench.

“You’re good at it, y’know,” you reassure, nodding in approval. “English. It can be tricky at times, but you did well.”

His eyes shine in delight at your praise. “You think so?”

“Yeah, you’ll be a pro in no time at this rate.”

You scoot closer to him on the bench with the goal of seeing the book better, an action that makes his entire body stiffen. Narancia smells of citrus, you notice. He’s remaining adamant on obscuring his book from your view for whatever reason. As if hoping to distract you, he suddenly presents a question.

“Would you teach me some English?” Narancia blurts out, looking equally as surprised as you at his own straightforwardness. When you think about it further, it makes sense. He has an interest in Western pop culture, specifically, the music. Maybe he’s wanting to understand the lyrics better by knowing the language.

“I can’t promise that I’ll be the best teacher, but I’ll do my best.” You fix your posture and smooth off your skirt in an attempt to appear more professional. What is Narancia going to choose for this impromptu lesson? Maybe he’ll ask to learn some of his favorite lines from rap, or the basics to everyday conversation.

“How would you say, ‘I like you’?” He inquires after a moment’s deliberation. Huh. Well, that’s not what you were expecting, but it’s a place to start. It’s a tad embarrassing to go over this in public, especially when there are tourists around, but it’s for Narancia. He’s not someone who usually tries to rely on others. The least you could do is help him out here.

“I like you.” You pronounce each syllable with care, drawing it out so he can understand best. Narancia repeats your words, voice low, concentrating as well as he can. It’s a simple enough phrase to figure out. There’s an accent in the words, but that’s to be expected. He continues to reiterate it, making minor adjustments to match how you said it. You give him a proud pat on the shoulder.

“That’s perfect, Nara.”

His tan cheeks flush and he clears his throat. “It’s just a few words, not that big of a deal.”

You’re about to chastise him for not accepting your compliment, and then remember you need to get going. “Let’s pick this back up another time, I still haven’t had dinner yet.”

Narancia’s shoulders slump when you stand up from the bench. He’s always been someone who wears his emotions on his sleeve, and you can’t help but compare how he looks now to a kicked puppy. Leaving him here in this dejected state doesn’t sit right with your conscious.

“Wanna walk back with me? I don’t know much you like Caesar salad, but what’s what I’m planning to have.”

Energy is infused into him, Narancia springing up from his seat at your offer. You can’t help but find his excitement contagious. That’s one aspect about Narancia you’ve always admired, how lively he is. He’s easily the most fun member to be around. Always down to do whatever as long as he finds it interesting. You’re grateful for the chance to get to spend some more time with him.

“I’ve been trying to eat more vegetables lately anyways. I’m down.”

With his confirmation, you continue the journey back to your apartment building, Narancia stealing occasional glances at you on the way.

#Narancia #narancia x reader #narancia ghirga x reader #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventures #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #vento aureo x reader #vento aureo #narancia ghirgha #jojo reader insert #scarlet ribbons #my stuff

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chayacat · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Sweet Star (19)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

***

Ahhh...Love. The most wonderful thing in the world for anyone. Being in love and loved by someone can make you grow wings... figuratively. Life seems more radiant, exciting, fun, enjoyable when you are in love. A bond is forged between you and the one you loved. This bond can become, at the end of each road, stronger or more fragile. This is what I will call: gold yarn and black yarn. The golden yarn represents a strong love, a love that has gone through all the trials and that has come out stronger and stronger. This yarn is unbreakable.

The black yarn on the other hand... Represents a broken love. A love that ends up cracking on all sides. A love in which arguments follow, which sometimes comes to the hands. A love that, despite the desperate attempts of one or the other, ends up broken permanently. And in the end, we separate, each one rebuilding his life. Sometimes you get there. But some can't stand it... and the consequences are irreversible.

But let's go back to the positive side! It is in a serene, cheerful mood that you got up this morning. After all, there's enough! You and Jed are dating now! last night was the best night of your life. Knowing that it’s reciprocal, and that, despite the arguments to come, he will support you when it’s necessary, makes you feel lighter, more soothed. It will all be very different compared to Alex... you promised yourself that.

You and Alex dated for two years. You’ve met him in high school, he was a little genius and a sportsman, while you were more linguistic and theatral. While the first year was pleasant and fulfilled, the second was a disaster. He cheated on you from the beginning with someone else, but he didn't want to tell you. The worst part is that for him, all this was normal, the other girl was prettier, more... generous in terms of her forms. While you were just a little girl in her eyes. It broke your heart and you kicked him in the ass.

“This is all he deserves for doing that to me. Bastard.” You said to yourself.

And you’re right. No one should play with feelings. No one. But Jed is different. You know that. He'll never let you down for another one. But... What if another woman tries to steal him from you? What if she used her charms to seduce him? And that it worked? You couldn't stand it; you couldn't bear the fact that you were still abandoned because of a hottie who only wants sex and nothing more.

Don't start thinking about that! this is just the beginning of your relationship. You've got time. And knowing Jed, you think he won't be stupid enough to succumb to the charms of another.

“I’ll treat you like a queen. Do you prefer a boring life to that? Think carefully...He or I.”

The words of Ghostface came back to you. It's true that you like to have a life of risk. That you're willing to do crazy things. But you have your own business now. Maybe it's time to think about a more settled life. Quieter. And with Jed, you can't dream better. And then, Ghostface treating you like a queen? What a good joke. You imagine Ghostface bringing you a cup of tea... filled with sleeping pills. And once asleep.... he could do whatever he wants with you.

And then, if in the early days it would be "nice", Later it will be blows. insults. And in the end, he will force you to participate in his massacres. A life that would shame your parents if they were still alive. In a sense, and even if it's sad and mean to admit it, you're glad that your parents are no longer here, or that you don't live in the same city as your uncles and aunts. Who knows what Ghostface would have done? Kill them? Surely. To use them to blackmail you and never leave him? Also. And you don't even dare imagine if you had children with this lunatic. Explain to your child that his father is a murderer, but otherwise everything is fine. You're talking about a family life.

Today is your day off. Yes, technically you spent two days in the hospital because of a fool who had the good idea to attack you in broad daylight in front of everyone. Let's hope he enjoys his time in prison. So, in real life, you could have worked today. But you're not sure you'll have a lot of people. Melina isn't working today either. It's her day off. She sent you a message last night saying she would come by today to discuss it. So, she's going to hear the news from you. And knowing her she's going to bother that poor Jed, as soon as she gets back to work tomorrow.

“Melina is Melina. I don’t think that anybody can change her. But at least, it may be better that she is so. You never get bored with her. And then... I know that she will move away all those who want to separate us, knowing her temper.” you said to yourself, laughing.

First thing to do...clean the apartment a bit. Because since you've been here and especially since your short stay in the hospital, you live with dust sheep. And if you personally don't care, to receive guests it's not very elegant. And after cleaning, a good shower is required. Then kitchen operation! Knowing that Melina will surely come to eat at your home, hurry to know how yesterday's evening went.

You spend a good hour cleaning everything before you shower and you dress comfortably. That's when Melina knocked on the door. All excited she gave you a big hug, a little too tight for your liking. But she finally lets you go and both go into the living room. You serve her a glass of rosé, the only alcohol you have for the guests. While for you, a homemade orange juice is deserved.

“Then tell me! How did it go last night? How was he dressed? What did you eat?? Did you kiss? Are you together??” She asks, excited like a child waiting to receive his gift at Christmas.

“Calm down, calm down. I'll tell you all about it. But stay quiet, you look like a little girl at Christmas or in an amusement park.” you respond laughing, seeing your friend's enthusiasm.

“Sorry! It's just that...when he told me that you have a dinner with him, I was so excited to know how it happened!”

“Well... he was really cute. Very elegant, we had a good laugh. And we eaten very well. He had made everything from starter to dessert. And we explained and...”

“Aaaaaaand ?”

“We kissed. Twice. So, we can say that we are officially in a relationship.”

“I knew it, I knew it, i knew it! Oh (y/n) you don't know how happy I am for both of you! She answered so happy.

you can't help but laugh. She's really sweet. You both eat a small pasta salad, with surimi, piquillo's, and a little tuna followed by a strawberry pie. Melina had taken the cheese and bread; she was not the type to come to someone's house empty-handed. You talk about everything and nothing, laughing at jokes, innuendo and other stupid things like that. It was good for you. You needed it. Then the phone rang: Mr Parkson. There was a click in your head.

It's been a week. And you haven't even thought about inheritance. What are you going to tell him? To give you an extra week? impossible, he had told you: a week no more. He warned you that he'll be here in an hour to talk. Then he greeted you before hanging up and when Melina saw your face restless, her smile disappeared. No choice... you’re going to have to tell her, too.

“Somethings wrong?” she asks worried.

“It was Mr Parkson. He'll be here in an hour.”

“Your Banker? It must be important for him to come to your house.”

“Well...He’s not my banker.” you answered by going back to sit down.

You tell her everything in detail. The death of your parents, the fact that you are the only heiress, that you've pushed back, all this time, that fateful moment because you're still struggling to accept this... Melina had listened without saying anything, going from attention to emotion, very sad to know the reason why, you have family photos everywhere at home.

“Well...you lie. But that is clearly understandable. No one wants to tell that kind of thing. We would like to forget it or that it never happened. We always hope that it was a nightmare and that when we wake up, we see our loved ones or call them. But deep down... we know very well that it’s real. And so, this guy... is there to carry out their last will. But you're the only one? no other family member can touch it?” she said confused.

“No. I’m the only Heiress. But my uncles and aunts deserve their shares too. My parents bequeath their house to me, and the total of their life insurance. As well as a small pecul that they had set aside. And the jewels. But I don't want it. It would hurt me too much.” you respond sadly.

“I understand. But you should take it. And then give it to your uncles and aunts. Or ask him if he can do it. “

“Yeah...you’re right.”

Melina changed the subject to make you smile, cheer you up. She's so adorable. She's the perfect best friend for you. And yet, you only know each other recently. After an hour, Mr. Parkson knocked on your door. You don't even wonder how he knew your address, he said it to you: when he has to find someone, he's looking for information. He greeted Melina and you explain to him that she knows about it and that so she can stay. He nodded and settled down to a chair coming out of his little briefcase the documents. you offered him a coffee which he accepted as well as a coffee for you and Melina.

“Right. I don't think I need to remind you why I'm here. I left you another week to think. Now I'm going to need an answer: yes, or no?” He said placing his glasses on his nose.

“Yes. But I want to be clear: my uncles and aunts inherit on the one hand. Everything I want to keep from my parents... are their wedding rings. Plus, my mother's amethyst. Everything else, the house the money and everything else will go to my uncles and aunts. Do you understand that?”

“...As you wish. But your parent’s life insurance goes obligatory to you. It will be paid into your bank account automatically. It will be up to you to withdraw the money and give it away or send it to your uncles and aunts if you wish. As for the rings... I've got them here.” He replied before taking out a small jewellery pouch where your parents' wedding rings and your mother's rings were.

“I knew your parents well. They were great people and very good friends. They wanted you to give their wedding rings for your wedding day... and your mother absolutely wanted you to give her jewels. The amethysts is there, too. If you'd rather keep only this one and give the rest to your family, I will." He said a little smile on his face.

“Thanks a lot Mr... I appreciate it. Have... Have we found the murderer? Or at least, did we find clues to know his identity?” you ask.

“Unfortunately, not miss. He vanished. And he may even be dead by now. I am afraid that unfortunately we never know the answer to this terrible question.” he responds.

You sign the documents, to which he adds notes on your exchange, then got up, greeted you and Melina before leaving. He left you a copy of the documents and, as requested the desired rings. Then it was Melina's turn to leave after 2 hours of discussions to cheer you up. Again. She left you her phone number and you gave her yours, so you could communicate.

You clean the table, do the dishes and sit on the couch, the rings on the coffee table. You take them gently in your hands, tears rising slightly in your eyes. From the beginning, they intended to give them to you on your wedding day... Day they will never attend now. the rest of the day was sullen. In the evening even more. All you wanted was for Jed to be there, to hug you right now. But the poor man already has a lot of work, it's better to let him rest for now.

He sent you a message to find out if everything was okay, and you answer him by lying so he wouldn't worry. The poor man replied that he had a lot of work to do between the two Ghostface murders, but with a little coffee, he was going to make it. He wished you good night hoping to see you again soon, and you did the same. You put your phone on the table before looking at the rings again, no longer holding back your tears. They hadn't done anything...

“Well, if I knew I would have brought a handkerchief. Unless you prefer a hug? I'm very good at comforting people you know... especially women.”

You look towards Ghostface which was leaning on the table making you this little hand sign so special of the character. he's the last person in the world you want to see right now.

“Are you really going to come to my house every night? You have no better thing to do like killing poor innocent people like the sick you are? Or am I doomed to support you for the rest of my life as you told me so well?” You said a little grumpy.

“But it's that we're a little cranky tonight... my poor darling, I sympathize with your sorrow.” he said, approaching you.

“You? have compassion??? You kill innocent people who have asked for nothing and you DARE to say that you have compassion for me???”

“hey calm down my angel. I’m maybe a psycho to you but I'm still a human. I know what it's like to lose those you love. Especially when they are killed without them being asked for anything. In those moments when you have the murderer in front of you, you want only one thing: to make him regret. But back to us. I see you've made your choice quickly. I wonder if he enjoyed your lips as much as I loved them. Definitely I think I would never understand women.”

“What does that have to do with you? I much prefer Jed than you!”

“Sweety; sweety, sweety... You don't realize how lucky you are. I keep you alive because I have a soft spot for you. I could have killed you, gutted you, dismembered you, made you the most beautiful of all my masterpieces.” He lay you down on the couch, blocking your arms and legs with all his weight, and through his mask, you can guess a demonic, unhealthy smile. He drew his face closer to yours, very close to your ear. “Compared to him, I can take you beyond the seventh heaven... You'd be happy every night.”

He freed one of his arms, holding yours with the remaining arm to raise his mask slightly at the level of the mouth. Then he lifted your t-shirt stripping you to the chest. Then he lowered his head to your belly button and threw a tongue at it. Little by little, he went up his tongue to your chest. He smiled as he felt your skin shivering at his touch, while you're holding out a single sound. With his free hand, he unbuttoned your jeans, just enough for his hand to attack your privacy. You bite your lips, holding you to moan at all costs. Don't give him what he wants. Or he'll benefit even more.

“Are you resisting? How cute. I like it even more. I don't like easy women. There is no pleasure.” He replied, pressing his finger against the sensitive point, causing you to startle a little.

He chuckled, passing his finger up and down on your intimacy, which eventually made you let go of a little moan. He continued for a few minutes before stopping and getting up, hiding the bottom of his face again, allowing you to get dressed. he recoiled, sneering, while you stare at him, ashamed and angry.

“I'm going to make you languish a little. That'll be your punishment. maybe it'll make you think. or maybe not. But in any case, I'm going to enjoy it. Remember that you belong to me. On this... I wish you good night my sweet little star. Sweet dreams.”

Then he vanished like usual. you sighed, slightly annoyed by what had just happened. He's strong, very strong even. But at least you know he's lost people in his life. At least that is what he suggested. If that happens, it had nothing to do with him. But keep that in mind. That's a good clue. In the meantime, it's time for you to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day, and you need all the rest you need.

Sleep well...

Little one.

***

(And that’s it! I'm not too far from being able to pass my code exam! but I confess that driving does not enchant me too XD but hey it's always like that at first, right? If you have any questions, feel free! Oh, one last thing! I wouldn't normally be present from April 6 to 8. So, the current chapter at that time will come out a little later than expected! this will also be the case on April 16, 17 and 18! I apologize in advance I would do my best to advance them as far as possible! Good weekend everyone! See ya!)

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by deadlight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (22/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Everyone take a moment to check out the INCREDIBLE drawing that @carpedzem did that was inspired by this story. It can be found | Here | and deserves all of the likes and reblogs for bringing the Killian in this story to life!

Have a good weekend! ❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog@cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @youraverageshipper

-/-

“You haven’t updated your Instagram account in weeks.”

Ariel says this as they sit in the hotel restaurant with their plates full of salad, grilled chicken, and rice. Killian’s been eating like shit lately, and as good as it feels in the moment, he can tell that it affects him and the way that he functions on a daily basis. So he’s been eating the same thing for every meal for the past week, but since they’re on the road where he doesn’t have constant access to a fridge and stove, he’s had to get a little creative in obtaining his food. Ariel is pretty much an expert at finding whatever it is that he wants when he wants it, and he cannot thank her enough for it.

Stabbing a piece of chicken, Killian lifts his fork to his mouth and takes a bite while he taps his passcode into his phone to see if Ariel’s statement is actually true. He really wouldn’t know, but it looks like he has several photos from the last few weeks on there.

“You can very clearly see all of these photos, A. Why are you so big on my social media presence lately?”

“These are all professional photos,” Ariel sighs, an emphasis on professional, and she pushes his phone back toward him. “You need more personal photos. You look like a baseball player.”

“I am a baseball player.”

She waves him away. “You know what I mean.”

Killian arches a brow and scoops up some of his rice. “I really don’t, love.”

Ariel rolls his eyes, and he settles a little further in his booth, his eyes glancing around to the people sitting around them in the restaurant. It’s not very crowded, just a few people here and there, but that’s par for the course considering it’s tentwo in the morningafternoon on a Wednesday. Not a lot of people are chilling in a hotel restaurant in Boston when there are approximately fifty-two other things they could be doing within a five-foot radius. And that’s only the tourists.

And he’s pretty sure that everyone in here can hear his conversation, is probably judging them for the particular subject of it, but he knows that no one cares.

He certainly doesn’t, but if A cares, he should for her.

“People like a little personality,” Ariel explains, ripping up a bit of her napkin. “I know we’ve talked about this before, Killian. You’ve got to show a little personality outside of baseball. I’m not saying put your diary on there, but post a picture with someone outside of baseball.” “Literally, everyone in my life is involved in baseball in some way.”

“Okay, true,” Ariel laughs. “It’s the same for me, so I get it. Still, though, think about it.”

Killian hums noncommittedly, pushing his rice around before looking up at Ariel and wondering why the hell she’s looking at him like she’s holding all of the secrets of the world in that mind of hers.

“Did you really ask to meet me because we needed to talk about my Instagram feed?”

“I mean, obviously not,” she huffs. “I had a few work things to talk about with you, but I’ve also missed you. I feel like it’s been so long since we all spent time together with you guys not in uniform. It’s got to have been months, and I miss it.”

His heart swells and breaks all at once while his head tilts to the side to look at Ariel, eyes glancing up and down over her as he studies her. “You okay, A?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Ariel.”

“Killian.”

“Ariel, I am here to talk if you’re upset about something, and, literally, say the word and I will get all of us together to do something. We’re here for five days before we’re back in New York for a week. I know we’re in the crazy part of the season where it feels like we can’t breathe, but I promise there’s time for us all to spend time together.”

Her eyes glance down at her food, and she swishes her water around in the glass before taking a long, slow sip that he knows is to take up time.

“I really am fine,” she promises. “I’m just a little stressed with it all, and I feel like I need some time with all of you guys and Belle and, um, Emma too. I’m trying to make contract negotiations for Eric, which has involved us talking about a lot of future stuff that I wasn’t quite ready to talk about yet.”

“Babies?”

“Ding, ding, ding,” she laughs, even if it’s kind of pathetic. “I mean, I want kids. I do. I want them with Eric especially.”

“Well, I’d be a little concerned if you didn’t want them with your husband.”

She flicks a piece of lettuce at him. “Shut up.”

“Never.”

“Why do I love you?”

“I literally have no idea,” Killian teases, reaching over the table to grab Ariel’s hand so that he can squeeze it to reassure her. “Go on, A. I’m listening.”

“I just – it’s hard, you know? Obviously, Eric and I are financially secure right now, but you can’t plan life when that’s exactly what we’re trying to do. Because what happens if Eric gets traded somewhere else? We have to uproot everything, and having kids will complicate that. And we have to have a plan for Eric after he retires. Like, I have a pretty nice job because of all of you, but he’s going to need to have something to do. It’s just…it’s a lot on my plate when I’m already balancing so much. I mean, haven’t you thought about all of that?”

Damn.

Like, damn.

No, he hasn’t thought of any of that. Not at all. Well, that’s a lie, but it’s a small lie, a white one really. When he was out after the accident, his future was always on his mind, but it was never any concrete thoughts. It was always depressing ones about him never being able to play again, about him having no discernable skills outside of a sport, and about him wondering if he was going to fall into women and bars once more simply because things weren’t going his way. It was never a concrete answer about what he’s legitimately going to do after baseball. Money isn’t really his concern as long as he handles it all correctly, but how will he spend his days? What will he be passionate about?

Is Emma going to be by his side through all of it?

Woah.

Okay.

That’s not at all where he thought his mind was headed, but his brain apparently had a much different roadmap than he thought. Killian loves Emma, undoubtedly, and he does want his future to involve her, but it’s like Ariel said…they can’t plan life.

And he doesn’t know what Emma’s plans are.

Realistically, too, Killian isn’t exactly sure what he wants out of life, and he already knows that he most likely won’t have a career as long as a lot of other guys in the league. They haven’t had broken arms and rotator cuff tears that still bother him like he has.

Fuck.

This is not how his morning is supposed to be going, and the way that his heart is hammering in his chest is far worse now than it will ever be when he gets out on the mound tonight.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Killian squeezes Ariel’s hand again. “It’s hard to think about, A, but you guys will figure it out. I don’t think life can ever really be planned. I sure as hell have planned none of mine, and if I didn’t have you, I think it’d be a much bigger mess.”

Ariel’s cheeks flame up to be the same color of her hair, but she smiles at him anyways. “You’re right. You would be a mess without me and everyone else. I am the glue that holds you together.”

“You and a couple other people which means you are all very weak glue to need that many people to hold me together or I’m just that resistant.”

“The second option.”

“You’re going to be okay, A. You and Eric are solid. And if or when you do have that baby, no matter what city you’re in, I’m going to be there to be that kid’s favorite person in the world.”

“Please,” Ariel laughs even as water fills her eyes, “no one could ever compare to me. I’m definitely going to be my kid’s favorite person.”

“Whatever you have to say to make yourself sleep at night.”

-/-

Killian gets booed when he steps out onto the field, and he can’t imagine a more fitting welcome in Boston since that is what usually happens.

But then it continues past that first moment.

And he very much deserves it for how he’s pitching, though that booing is probably from the Yankees fans and not Boston natives. His arm is stiff, a bit of pain running through it, and he’s too stubborn to ask to be relieved early or to admit that he’s in pain. He tries to convince himself that it’s all exaggerated, that he’s simply been in a negative headspace all day since eating lunch with Ariel and all of the heaviness that was in that conversation, but he knows that it’s not exaggerated. Killian knows that his shoulder is bothering him, his mind is bothering him, and nothing is going to get him out of this foul mood.

Especially not when Al pulls him after the third inning once again and yells at him to get his shit together. Will does too, and even if it’s in his joking tone, Killian doesn’t take it that way. He doesn’t take any of it as a joke.

Who the hell cares about what he’s going to do after baseball if he can’t even figure out what he’s doing right now?

And in all of his anger, in all of his frustration at himself and at his team, the thing he hates himself for the most is brushing off Emma when she asks for an interview. He mutters a no under his breath and keeps walking down the hallway back to the locker room so that he can take a shower and get a massage.

She’s the woman who he loves more than anything or anyone else, which he didn’t even realize until right now, and he just blew her off when she was simply trying to do her job.

He’s such an asshole.

They lose 3-17.

-/-

Elsa: Are you okay?

Elsa: Killian.

Elsa: I know you’ve checked your phone. The game ended three hours ago. Five hours ago for you.

Elsa: I’m going to start calling you and won’t stop if you don’t text me back within the next five minutes.

Killian sighs and rolls over on his hotel mattress, phone still in hand, and sends Elsa a text back because he really does not want to talk on the phone right now.

Killian: Yes, Els?

He expects the bubbles to pop up to tell him that she’s texting back, but they don’t. Instead her face pops up, a picture of she and the girls from Christmas last year, and he wonders if she was ever not going to call him. The answer is most definitely no since he’s been ignoring her – and everyone else – all evening. Eventually someone was going to call him out on his shit.

Sighing again, he hits answer and presses the speaker button as Elsa’s voice comes through the phone.

“Why are you ignoring everyone?”

“I’m talking to you.”

“Only because I just promised to harass you until you did. Seriously, Killian. Your brother and I have been calling you all afternoon, and you’ve ignored us. And when I texted Emma, she said that you were ignoring her too.”

“Bloody hell,” Killian grumbles aloud, sitting up in bed and moving his arm so that he’s not pressing down on it so as to agitate it more. “You texted Emma?”

“Um, yeah?” Elsa questions, the hesitation obvious in her voice. “She’s your girlfriend. She was at the game. I kind of figured she was with you, but apparently the two of you haven’t talked either. What the hell is wrong with you that you’re not even talking to Emma?”

Well, he’s an asshole for one. He’s also never told Emma about his shoulder injury and the full extent of the accident. He doesn’t want to. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, but he doesn’t want Emma to know about it. Not now. As irrational as he knows that it is, she might think less of him. And maybe just maybe, if he doesn’t tell more people, the problem will somehow go away.

This is all becoming more irrational by the second, but it’s fine. Everything is going to be fine. That was such a dark place in his life, one he doesn’t want to keep repeating and reliving even if Emma already knows parts of it, and he has no idea how he’d even talk to her right now since she’s very obviously, and rightfully so, pissed at him.

It’s all so easy to mess everything up in the blink of an eye.

“She’s likely pissed at me since I brushed her off for an interview. I didn’t even say hi or smile at her or find her afterwards. So, I didn’t text her, and she hasn’t texted me. I don’t know…she’s upset with me, right?”

“She’s concerned about you,” Elsa breathes out, and from the lack of noise around her, Killian imagines that she must have locked herself in the study so that no one bothers her. “Killian, Emma loves you. Anyone with eyes can see that, and you guys are a team. Granted, you’re a brand new team, but you’re a team. You have to work together and share stuff like this.”

“I know that, Els.”

“Then why isn’t she with you right now?”

“Because my shoulder feels like shit today, and she doesn’t know anything about the accident besides the broken bone.”

Silence fills the air around him after he says the words, and it’s exacerbated by the fact that Elsa isn’t saying anything on the other line. The only sounds are the sounds of his television playing some kind of celebrity gossip show. How out of touch is he if he doesn’t even know the name of the show?

Why would it even matter to him?

“Killian,” Elsa whispers, and he’s so damn tired of hearing people say his name in sympathy today, “you haven’t told her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I haven’t told anyone else, Els. Eight people on this earth know about it, and I don’t even know how I would tell her. I don’t want her to look at me out of pity. I don’t…my life has had some pretty shitty periods, and that was one of them. Emma didn’t honestly know me then. She didn’t know how fucked up that I was, and even if I’ve told her about Milah and all of the women after Milah and – I’ve told her a lot, and at some point, she’s going to flip out on how messed up I am.”

“First of all,” she starts, not even allowing him to take a breath or truly think about everything that he just said, “you are not messed up. You, even with all of your privileges now, have had some really hard times in your life. You lost your mom at a really young age and had a pretty shitty dad who took advantage of you and your talents. And then you had a really big love kind of blow up in your face, as well as everything that came after that, and just as you were getting over that, the accident happened.”

“It’s even more depressing if you say it all in a list like that.”

“But,” Elsa continues, “you got through all of that. Are you still struggling with it? Absolutely. But it hasn’t kept you from continuing to live your dream even though things are frustrating. It hasn’t kept you from finding a really great girl in Emma. You’re okay, you know that? And we all love you so much that I don’t think I can even express it with words.”

Killian smiles to himself and twists in his bed, a bit of water coating his eyes, but he blinks the tears away and runs his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. “I love you guys too.”

“Good. Now text your girlfriend and think about telling her some of this stuff that you’re carrying around on your shoulders.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“A little.”

“You have no shame.”

“I know. Call me tomorrow, okay?”

“Will do.”

The line goes silent, for real this time, and Killian slams his eyes shut simply so he can have a moment to breathe. Today has been a lot for him, and he knows that Elsa is right about everything. He does. But he’s not quite ready to be that open with Emma. He will be. He does actually want her to know about everything even if he thinks it’ll make her run for the hills, but he’s not ready. And he tells himself that it’s fine. Emma has her own hang-ups, her own past, and not everything has to be shared right away.

They have time.

And his arm may very well start feeling better soon, and his freak out will all be for naught.

Killian: Can I come up to your room?

Emma: Ruby and Graham are in here.

Killian: I don’t care if you don’t.

Emma: 514.

Rolling off the bed, Killian bends down to his suitcase to grab a shirt, not caring which one, and tugs it down on over his head and shoulders before grabbing his phone and wallet to walk up to Emma’s room. He’s not even wearing any shoes, just socks, but he doesn’t notice this until he’s looking around the hallway to make sure no one is around and then quietly knocking on the door.

Graham opens it, a smile on his face, and for some reason it makes Killian think that maybe Emma isn’t as pissed at him as his mind has convinced himself that she is.

“Hey, come on in,” Graham says, opening the door a little wider and letting Killian inside. “I’m sorry about the game.”

“I’m sorry that you used vacation days to see us all play like shit.”

“Yeah, well,” Graham laughs, “at least I’m not at work.”

“This is true.”

Killian takes another step in the room and sees Emma sitting on her bed dressed in a pair of shorts and his old Vandy sweatshirt. He’s going to have to get something else because she’s going to wear that thing until it is nothing but threads. Ruby is sitting next to her, laptops on both of their laps, and he imagines that they’re simply working. Or, at least, he hopes.

“Hey,” Killian greets, crossing his arms over his chest.

Emma looks up at him, a slight smile on her face, and his chest practically heaves. They’re not even in a fight. Why does he feel like they are?

“Hey,” she says. “I’ve got to finish up this article, okay? And I have a little bit of prep work to do for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Swan, that’s fine.”

“It’s only going to take her thirty minutes,” Ruby starts, slamming her laptop shut, “and then she’s going to yell at you for how pissed she is at you for completely ignoring her today.”

“Hey,” Emma gasps, reaching her hand back to slap Ruby, “you weren’t supposed to say anything.”

“Well, I knew you weren’t going to.”

“I was.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I was going to talk to him.”

“No, no you weren’t. You two are ridiculous. It’s not that hard to talk to each other.”

“Sweetheart,” Graham sighs, tilting his head to the side, “why don’t you let them deal with their issues on their own? I think they can handle it.”

“You know Emma almost as well as I do, so you know that’s not true.”

“Oh my God,” Emma groans, sinking down further on the bed, “this is why I should have left the two of you in New York.”

“Technically,” Ruby laughs, “David sent me because this is a big game, and he didn’t want you to produce on your own.”

“Yeah, well, I should have convinced him to let you stay, and then we definitely could have left Graham behind.”

“Hey,” Graham scoffs, and Kilian can’t help but laugh. He’s only spent a little bit of time with the three of them all together, but they obviously get along great. Ruby is definitely an acquired taste, but Graham kind of evens things out. “I am on vacation. I don’t need to be berated.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma huffs, rubbing the palms of her heels under her eyes. “I’m just a little stressed.”

“Do you want me to go get you a cup of coffee, love?”

Emma glances over to him and shakes her head from side to side. “No. I’ve had enough caffeine today. Thank you, though.”

Silence falls between all of them, only the hum of the air-conditioning remaining, but Killian’s gaze stays on Emma even when she goes back to typing on her laptop.

“Ruby, let’s go out to dinner,” Graham suggests, walking over to the bed and beginning to pack up her stuff. “We’ll all have to do something together tomorrow night, yeah?”

“That sounds great, Graham,” Emma promises. “There’s a seafood place down by the harbor that I want to go to.”

Killian watches as Ruby and Graham collect their things and leave, saying their goodbyes to both he and Emma, and it’s not awkward until the hotel door slams shut behind them and he’s left with just Emma.

When was the last time he felt awkward around Emma?

Probably during his interview back in March. That was a lifetime ago.

“I had a shitty day,” Killian blurts out, walking over to the desk that’s next to Emma’s bed and sitting down on the edge of it so that he’s not talking to her from across the room. “That’s not an excuse. God, love,” he huffs, running his hands through his hair, “I know that’s not an excuse, but it’s mine. I’m sorry that I brushed you off, that I barely acknowledged you at the stadium, and that I didn’t text you while I’m here.”

Emma’s nails clack against the keyboard, and he swears every letter is being burned into his skin for how anxious he feels until she’s closing her laptop and placing it next to her on the bed, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Why have you had a shitty day? Just because you played poorly? Because I’ve seen you play poorly before, and it’s never resulted in you ignoring me while I’m trying to do my job. I get that reporters suck and that you have to talk to a million of them. And I don’t expect special treatment because I’m your girlfriend, but you can’t just brush me off like that and then basically be a ghost for hours after that. I mean, you weren’t even answering your family’s calls, Killian.”

How is he a functioning human being? How? How does he even have people who love him?

Killian’s got answers to all of her questions, to every single one, but he doesn’t know how to say them without talking about his arm and that’s…that’s not going to happen today when he needs more time to accept it all himself.

Emma will understand. When the time comes, she will.

“I’m an asshole, Swan. I am. I know you probably think I’m great with expressing my emotions because I usually am with you, but sometimes I still struggle with it. I had a day where nothing seemed to go right, and instead of seeking out the help of people who care about me, I isolated myself. It’s not right. I know it’s not, but it’s a pattern that I fall back into time and time again.”

Green eyes glance over him, studying him, and he feels her everywhere, like she’s able to peer deep into his soul and see all of the things he’s hiding from her.

Or the one thing.

It’s just one thing

And it can’t be that big of a deal. It’s not. He’ll tell her. Later. Tonight is not the right time.

“You’re not an asshole,” Emma sighs, flattening her lips. “I know I call you an ass all of the time, but I don’t mean it. I just – you had a bad day. I get that. I have bad days all the time, but, and at least I think I’m right about this even though Neal and Walsh never did this with me, when you have a shitty day, you’re supposed to share it with me, come to me, lean on me. If you need time to yourself, fine. Take it. That’s probably a good thing, but I don’t want to do this if every time things don’t go your way I’m pushed away.”

“Did you rehearse that?”

“Does it sound like it?”

“A little bit,” Killian chuckles as he scratches behind his ear. “If only because everything you just told me not to do is everything that I know you have a history of doing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a hypocrite.” Emma lets her legs fall against the mattress before standing up and stepping into his space so that she’s standing between his thighs with her hands on his shoulders, nails curling into his t-shirt. “Obviously, we both have our own issues, but let’s try to be better, yeah? And if all else fails when it comes to talking, I’m a really good person to eat junk food with and possibly get a little drunk even if those are terrible coping mechanisms.”

He huffs, his hands finding her hips so that he can tug her closer. “I’m on a diet, actually.”

Emma’s nose scrunches up in that way that he loves before she’s dipping her head down and softly, thoroughly moving her lips over his in the way that he’s been craving all day. He hasn’t seen her today, only those few seconds after he got pulled out of the game, and he had no idea just how much he missed being able to feel her against him, to be able to smell the scent of her shampoo, until right at this moment.

“I know,” she says when they pull back from each other even if he doesn’t let his grip on her hips go. “We’ve been eating like crap lately.”

“I’m trying to rectify that. I know you are too.”

“Actually, Ruby and I signed up for another Pilates class at home, so I’ve been working my ass off to still eat my onion rings. Literally.”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Killian moves his hand back to squeeze her ass, reveling in the way that Emma rolls her eyes. “I like this ass too much.”

“Well, consider it some kind of punishment for being a broody ass today if my butt happens to get smaller.” She smiles at him before kissing his forehead in a move so gentle that he wonders how in the world this woman has so many wonderful facets. “Now, do me a favor and find something to watch while I finish up my assignment, okay? I have to talk about everything you guys did wrong today.”

“Just punch me in the gut why don’t you.”

“I try. C’mon, twenty-nine. I think we both deserve a relaxing night.”

“Yeah, Swan, me too.”

They don’t get drunk and eat junk food, but once Emma finishes her work a little under twenty minutes later, she turns her laptop off as well as turning off the hotel room lights, and crawls under the covers with him so that her feet are tucked into his calves. Killian loves that she does that, that she feels comfortable doing that, and it brings him comfort even if her feet are far too cold. Seriously, it’s like she sticks them in the freezer before she gets in bed.

As if that would be possible.

Emma absentmindedly playing with his chain and his mother’s ring is something he’s also grown used to recently, something that brings him peace, and Killian continues to trace words of affection into the skin of her back as the night goes on. They don’t talk much, just a few exchanges of words about Emma’s day, her plans and schedule for tomorrow, and she drags just that little bit more information out of him. It’s still not everything, was never going to be everything, but it’s a start.

And his shoulder doesn’t bother him nearly as badly when Emma is sitting beneath it with her head on his chest laughing at his truly terrible Arnold Schwarzenegger impression. He’s usually much better with accents, but this one is apparently too much for Emma to handle.

Weirdly, though, or maybe not so much, all of his concerns that sparked after his conversation with Ariel this afternoon fade away with each passing second. Killian’s got no clue what’s going to happen or if things are going to work out, but at the end of the day, all he wants is for Emma to laugh with him and kiss his collarbone before she falls asleep.

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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lettucetacoboatsix · 4 years

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Eating Ass: Yay! or nay

Anonymous asked:

It's me again: the kinky one. I want my partner to eat my ass. How do I tell him it's not gross?

Hello, my kinky friend!

Thanks for reaching out again! I am more than happy to respond to this message and provide an educational view on this topic, but I want to start with a brief conversation about consent. I am not saying you’ve done anything wrong, but there is a difference between educating someone and trying to convince someone to do something you want. If this is a hard limit for your partner, you must respect that. If your partner seems unsure and wants information and wants to make sure that their safety is guaranteed, please do what you can to make sure that they know they have every right to say no at any point. Be willing to hear “no” and understand that consent can only be given without any sort of coercion and ought to be given enthusiastically. It really is more fun that way. Bodies are weird and gross, and a lot of people consider this specific part of the body to be particularly taboo. Tabooty, if you will.

The technical term for “eating ass” is “analingus” (see also “rimming” and the colorfully named “tossing salad”). Before anyone reading this says, “Ewwww! Gross!” I encourage you to keep an open mind. It absolutely may not be your thing, and that’s 100% okay. Then again, if you’re comfortable with the idea and experimental, you might find a new trick to add to your sexual repertoire. If the thought makes you squirm in your seat, and not in a good way, then go ahead and click away—but if you’re even a little bit curious about bucal anal contact, then stick around. We’ll make that journey together. Can you imagine your current sex life without any form of oral stimulation? Blowjobs are the subject of many cringe-worthy 90s teen comedies. We have a song flooding our airwaves right now that tells you to swipe your nose like a credit card. While we like to pretend that sexual liberation is a linear progression, that is far from the case. Oral sex of any kind used to be a “no-no” in polite society (especially from around the turn of the century until the 1960s), although it certainly still happened when that was the case. There was a time when it was outlawed in most states, and it was considered a perversion. In fact, there are still sodomy laws on the books in Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Louisiana, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, North Carolina, Oklahoma and South Carolina. Some of these still include statutes regarding oral sex of any variety regardless of a participants genitalia or outward expression of gender. While it is rare that these laws are enforced, they still can be, especially for gay men. But if you go back far enough, like to Ancient Egypt, you might see that wearing lipstick was a sign that you were open to oral sex. Sexual practice is as varied as the human experience. It always has been.

Analingus is one of those sex acts that still remains in the sexual dark ages, but it does seem to be coming back into the mainstream (see previously mentioned song about swiping your nose like a credit card). While we can probably credit “the gays” with this rimming Renaissance, the actual practice is documented in Middle English literature (see ”The Miller’s Tale” from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales) and while I can’t cite an example off the top of my head, I’m sure I could find a reference in Ancient Greek poetry or Roman graffiti. The point is it’s nothing new. People have been eating ass as long as it has felt good, and since our biology has remained relatively the same for 200,000 years or so, the cultural misgivings are far more recent. It’s time we brought that dark, forbidden kiss into the light (for those who want to venture into that arena). While shame is necessary for the development of our internal moral compass, there should not be any shame associated with any sexual act among any number of consenting adults—rimming included. Still, feeling some hesitation and even a little embarrassment about rimming is normal, for that very reason—the anus is one part of our body that we have internalized a great deal of shame about in our culture. The prevailing cultural means to overcome that shame isn’t really fitting. Reading Everybody Poops to your partner is a very specific type of foreplay that will probably be counterproductive if you’re bringing this desire up for the first time. It takes overcoming some of that to even entertain the idea, let alone actually attempt it. You might want to try some other forms of anal play first—fingers or toys—before you introduce the idea of anal oral contact. Since you’re asking, I’m guessing you have that experience, but your partner may not. Likewise, dear readers, if you’re actually curious about it, and not just reading this out of some morbid curiosity like someone slowing down at the scene of an accident, you probably have already been involved in some sort of anal play. Sometimes people fall into this experience through a delightful mishap—someone is going down on you, and—oops! The tongue slips down lower than either of you expected, and you jump and moan and you both look at each other like: “WTF! What was that?!” Things happen in the dark. If it feels good, and you’re partner’s okay with it, then make your inner Bob Ross proud with your happy accident. I want to reiterate here, If you’re interested in it, but your partner isn’t, let it go. One sex act shouldn’t ever come between you, and who can enjoy something if they know the other person isn’t enjoying themselves, too? But if you’re both curious and interested, just not sure how to proceed, then talk about it. Who wants to give? Who wants to receive? Sometimes it’s both of you, sometimes it’s just one of you. Make sure to tell your partner why you enjoy it and what you get from the experience. If there are concerns about hygiene, then read on, because I’m about to assuage them. The biggest fear with oral/anal contact is fecal matter and bacteria. That’s certainly understandable. A lot of people won’t put food that’s fallen on the floor in their mouths, so it makes sense. If you can get past the psychological aspect of it, though, the reality is that with proper hygiene, there is very little danger of coming in contact with any sort of fecal matter. A bit of a biology lesson: fecal matter is actually store above the rectum in the colon. It only moves into the rectum and out through the sphincter when you are defecating, or when you are ready to. There are only trace amounts that remain in the rectum or on the anus, which can easily be washed away, and if you are looking for actual oral penetration of the anus, not even Gene Simmons’s tongue could make it to the colon. If you are really concerned, there are also things like enemas or anal douching that can help give that extra feeling of cleanliness, but do not overdo it. If you do choose to go this route, use clean water at a safe temperature. Over-douching can lead to a tear in the rectal lining. Infection is the real concern, here—the possibility of introducing bacteria into our digestive tract from oral-anal contact. The dangerous bacteria are e. coli, salmonella, intestinal parasites like giardia, and of course viruses like Herpes and HIV. The good news is you can seriously minimize your risks. If you are practicing safer sex and you know that neither of you is HIV positive, has any STIs, and are free of parasites, careful washing should be sufficient. You can shower together, which is always fun foreplay, anyway. One technique I’ve learned is to fill the tub halfway, squat down, and engage in some manual stimulation. If you do feel like it’s necessary to use soap, use a mild soap like Dove. You don’t want to upset your microbiome. Press the pad of your finger gently against the tissue of the finger and move in gentle circular motions until you feel it begin to relax and welcome penetration. Turn your finger around a few times, so the water washes away any residue in and around the area. If you or your partner are still hesitant, you can use a dental dam (think of it like a condom for the mouth). You can also approximate one of these using unlubricated condoms (don’t use any lubricated ones or any with spermicide!) Now, on to the fun part—actually doing the thing. It helps to get relaxed. A sensual massage from the giver to the receiver can only be helpful. Whatever you can do to relax each other, do it. Find a position that is comfortable and allows access to the area in question. Popular positions include being on all fours, or standing and leaning over the bed/counter/arm of the couch for two reasons: it provides maximum exposure but still allows for genital play, and it is the most vulnerable. One of the turn-ons of rimming can be the surrender in it. You are opening up parts of yourself to a lover that are generally not touched—not only that, they have been culturally shunned and rejected. Many of our associations with the anus are negative: that it is a “bad” part of the body. This is a way to give yourself wholly and completely to your partner, and for your partner to accept you that way as well. These positions also allow the receiver to hide their face in a pillow at first to deal with any shame that comes up.

With any new sexual experience, I would encourage a session of after care. Check in with your partner. Tell them what feels good both in the moment, and afterward. Ask your partner how they are feeling now that they have shared that experience with you. Show them your appreciation through words of affirmation or gentle physical contact.

So, yeah, in general our meat suits are a little gross, but this is no more gross or shameful than anything else you can do with your body, but there are appropriate ways to have that conversation with your partner and maybe share a new experience together.

I hope this helps, friend!

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years

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RFA + V & Saeran W/ an MC with Gastroparesis

This is one of those personal headcanons that I’ve been meaning to write for months since I know nobody else might wind up writing one for this. It’s hard to imagine myself personally with characters at times because I can’t exactly do things that I used to. Hopefully, if any other fans struggle with a similar condition, this might make their day.

Basically, this condition means that your stomach doesn’t digest food, for some people that means that they can’t eat solid food and require a feeding tube, and for others that means a very strict diet that you cannot deviate from otherwise you’ll have to deal with the dangers of impaction, reflux, etc. It’s a rare disease, and for me, it’s idiopathic, meaning they cannot explain why it happened. It can be very difficult for me to deal with because I can’t enjoy one of the simplest pleasures that we all take for granted, and that’s food.

I spread out some of the symptoms and degrees of severity between the characters so it’s not exactly the same reaction. Also, a fair warning! There are mentions of feeding tubes, nausea, and other like-minded stomach issues so if that makes you uncomfortable, this is your warning!

Yoosung

Yoosung knows that you’re the person for him right from the get-go. It’s just the way that your laugh stole his heart when he first spoke to you on the phone.

You have a... well, he’s not sure if it’s a quirk or not.

It’s a surprise to him that when you mention that you haven’t really had that much to eat when he inquires if you’ve already had something for lunch. You off-handedly mentioned that you’ve just had this and that, which doesn’t exactly sound like a filling meal.

His first assumption is just that you’re on one of those wacky diets that he always hears about.

Which isn’t exactly a bad thing, he’s just surprised to learn that you’re doing that sort of thing.

Yoosung was used to Zen following those sorts of things for work, not really anyone else in his life.

He shouldn’t really pry into your business without knowing for sure, so he leaves it at that at first and knows if you wanna chat about it, you’ll bring it up.

You’re really tiny though, and he does worry about you!

Yoosung is smitten with you. And boy howdy, is he ever interested in doing all sorts of things with you when he gets the chance to do. He has a lot of plans! One of which is a date where he can sit down and properly cook something for you.

It isn’t until he surprises you with such a thing that you have to sit down with him and explain why you’ve been so avoidant about this. You explain to him that because of your condition, you’re always struggling with what you can only call unbelievable nausea. It’s hard enough for you to eat what you’re supposed to, and when you’re supposed to do it, but the sensation is always in the back of your throat and you just can’t force yourself to eat when it’s this bad.

You’ve always struggled to be around others during celebrations or big events because you never know when you’ll be able to have something as small as one bite.

Often times, people have tried to guilt you into eating anyway, because you look as thin as a rail and on the outside, it looks like you’re as “normal” as any other person. You would do it just for the sake of getting people off your back at first, but you would pay for it by being sick for the rest of the night.

You avoided people for a while before you joined the RFA, and now that you had gotten close to everyone and Yoosung, it was hard, to be honest about this. You hadn’t even really talked to anyone about your conditions, sans Seven, because of this very problem.

You were fearful that they wouldn’t want you around anymore. Often times when people realized that you couldn’t go out anymore or do what everyone else was doing, they would slowly drop off like flys and you would wind up isolating yourself.

You can’t look at him as you finish explaining yourself. “It’s not that I don’t want to, Yoosung, I really do. I know you spent a lot of time trying to make this. But I’ll wind up feeling awful for the rest of the night if I do it. I don’t want to let you down but at the same time, I don’t think I can put my body through that.”

“I... I see. I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“You couldn’t have... I never told anyone.”

“Let me make this right, okay?”

Yoosung decides that he’ll make it up to you by changing his direction and doing what is comfortable for you. If that means that all that you can have is something to drink or soup, he’s cool with you. First and foremost, he wants you to be comfortable around him.

He doesn’t quite understand how hard it must be to deal with it, but he does his best to make sure that you feel as included in everything. He’s clumsy and doesn’t know what the right thing to do is, but it’s the fact that he tries that you feel happy that you have.

Jaehee

Jaehee thinks you’re a very sweet person right off the bat.

You have this energy about you that seems to radiate pure genuine care. You’re always quick to make sure to ask if she’s gotten around to getting something to eat, whether it be morning, noon, or late at night when she gets off of work.

Whenever you send her selfies throughout the day, you’re always snacking on something. Of course, it’s never a lot of food either, it’s just small bits of this and that, like a salad or nut bars.

Although, with how sporadic your habits are, she can’t help but to wonder if you’re taking care of yourself as much as you try to take care of everybody else. Sometimes it seems like you’re only snacking and not doing much else besides that; But, you always reassure her of your habits.

It’s a big boost to her mood to see you and to know that you’re taking care of yourself while she’s hard at work.

Sometimes she has to forgo her own meals when she’s in a time crunch but she always makes up for it when she gets the time to fix that. It’s a bad habit of hers when things are busy, but she gets better about it when you come around.

Things actually do get a lot better for her once she’s got you on her team. She can’t believe how great she’s fairing after everything that’s happened. She decidedly breaks free of her slump and wants to find her new passion with you.

Although, that’s when the trouble starts to arise.

It’s obvious that when the two of you are together and working on new recipes for the cafe, you really want to take a taste of things to make sure that they’re right, but you always ask Jaehee to do so. She’s a little suspicious, but you wave it off saying that she’s got a better palette than you do.

Which isn’t entirely wrong!

It’s just not the whole story.

You do wind up eating more than you should most days and wind up paying for it later in the night when it hits your stomach.

And as of late, you’ve been coming into work looking a bit tired and though you haven’t gotten much sleep. She knows that something is up, but you’re always dodging the subject. It isn’t until she comes to check on you one evening that she puts two and two together, you had mentioned that you had issues with your stomach, but you hadn’t told anyone how bad it could be.

You had been spending most of your nights with your back pressed to the cool tile floor of your bathroom to subdue the burning heat or lurched over the toilet when nausea struck it’s ugly face once again. Jaehee made sure to help you off the floor and help you back onto your couch once the feelings had subsided.

You could eat but if you went over what was normal for you or ate something that triggered your guts, it meant that you would be miserable.

“Why didn’t you tell me that it was this bad?” Jaehee asked outright.

You sort of looked away. “You just seemed so happy… I really didn’t want to get in the way of that. Besides, it’s nothing I can’t handle…”

Jaehee isn’t about that nonsense. “You need to be honest with me if it’s too much, if there’s something that you can’t do, it won’t get in the way. I can always replace or get more help, I can’t replace you, Y/N.”

Jaehee makes sure that the two of you are always clear on how you’re feeling, and that you’re following your schedule. She’s very meticulous, much more than you had been, but she sincerely means well and only wants for you to feel alright in spite of your condition and the pain it can bring.

ZEN

Zen knows very quickly that you’re a stickler for certain things. It has to be a certain way, otherwise, you just aren’t into it. It’s sort of cute, actually. He doesn’t mind that as he has the tendency to be like-minded.

That sentiment holds for a lot of things, be it aesthetic or down to the little details in things such as meeting at this time or that time. It’s good to be on top of what you have to be doing, and having your day planned out can really make things easier to deal with.

You seem to have your day lined up from waking up to how many times a day that you have to eat.

When he hears about that in particular, he can’t but help to mention that he’s sort of like that.

When he mentions offhandedly that he follows a pretty healthy diet (aside from his vices), you mesh well with that idea. He gets used to people being pretty tired of hearing about what he’s doing. He’s glad that you don’t mind that he’s such a nut when it comes to extraneous self-care and his eating habits.

You had told him early on that you did something very similar, although, what you were on tended to leave people disgusted or not wanting to hear more than just that. He wondered what you meant by that, but you had changed the subject before he could inquire about the meaning of that statement. Of course, he learns pretty fast why you hadn’t said anything to him about it when he actually meets you for the first time.

You were having a particularly bad flare this year, and it had gotten bad enough to the point where you needed a temporary fix for your difficulties.

You could still eat solid food to an extent but you have to keep your safe food list to keep your body in check, along with the vitamins and all. But it just was really proving to be hard this time. That’s when your doctor had suggested that you use an NJ tube for a little while until this flare calmed down.

This is the type of tubing that feeds in through your nose and down your esophagus, it can be removed without too much trouble, but it stands to benefit those who need to let their stomach rest when it gets hard. But it can be an eyesore and make people stop and stare when they notice someone with one.

You were rather insecure about it since this was the first time in a while that you had to resort to taking care of yourself in this manner. People staring, whispering, or pointing was one of your fears, and it had gotten worse as of late.

You decided not to bring it up when you were talking to the RFA, as you knew that opening those food gates could lead to endless questions and things that you just didn’t want to deal with.

Zen’s reaction isn’t quite what you expect. He notices but he doesn’t bring it up, he’s far more excited about being able to speak with you in person and hang out with you in general that he wastes no time jumping onto other subjects. It actually sets your mind at ease with how nonchalant he is.

Most of the time you can feel people staring at you, and it’s the kind of stare that makes you want to go back home. It’s not that way with Zen. He’s looking at you but he’s not looking at that, he’s meeting your eyes and never missing a beat.

You do eventually bring it up to him at some point because you know he’s got to be curious and you feel the itch, “I know I didn’t mention it but… it’s been pretty hard for me lately with my condition, I have to supplement some of my meals with the tube so I get what I need.”

“I… assumed that was the case,” he told you. “But I figured that it was a touchy subject for you, since you always avoided talking about this sort of stuff with on the phone. I get it now.”

“And it’s alright if that puts you off, I wouldn’t be surprised if it did.”

Zen corrects you pretty fast. It doesn’t matter what you may think about yourself at that moment in time, he still thinks that you’re the sun to his moon and the stars to his sky. He’s one of the few people in the world that understand what it feels like to struggle with your personal image, he can’t control the way he looks more than you can control what’s happening with your body.

He’ll make sure that you never feel bad about yourself.

Seven

One of the first things that he comes across during your background check is your extensive health records. Like, it’s almost alarming how big the file is in the directive. He nearly has a heart attack himself as his eyes darted through it, he doesn’t go snooping too far into it, just enough that he catches a glimpse of the issue was.

It was bad enough that the hacker dragged an innocent person into the RFA for whatever reason, it was another that they used someone with poor health. You’ve had a rough go the few years, not just physically but mentally. You’ve gone through a lot more than someone as nice as you should.

He makes a point of trying to make your day.

At first, he reasons at it as trying to make sure that he knows that you’re completely clear from relation to the hacker, but it’s obvious to him that after the first couple of days that he’s explicitly getting so close to you because he really wants to protect you. You had all of your troubles and still, you went out of your way to try and help someone else in spite of that, and while it was admirable, he knew very well that good people could be taken advantage of just like that.

It also may or may not be because you remind him of someone important to him.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“What makes you think I’m not alright, Seven?”

“I’ve never seen someone sleep against a wall like that. I wasn’t sure if you meant to have a sleepover in front of the camera! You know you can sleep on the bed right?”

“It’s easier for me to fall asleep upright, Seven. It’s pretty much the only thing that dulls the white-hot passion I have for you.”

Seven would always sputter when you tried to play it off with your own jokes. But he knew that you were struggling off and on.

For you, it’s the light of your day when you can speak to Seven. It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to actually laugh. He just seems to always know what to say to get your mind off of things. It’s in between the hours when you feel absolutely awful that he always seems to get in touch with you.

It may or may not have to do with the fact that he's got a camera in the hall that can see you when you flop on the floor and sigh, waiting for nausea to pass. The hardest thing for you to deal with is a mixed bag, you always feel sick to your stomach, but you also have the world’s worst case of reflux. You’re always feeling the burn of acid in the back of your throat and no amount of Pepcid or fluids ever kill it.

You tried to chew ice cubes to dull it sometimes, but that just makes people look at you like you’re a mad-man.

Well, not Seven.

Seven looks at you like you’re the light of his life.

He’s actually really great at making you feel better when you’re feeling the worst of it. He seemingly already knows what the issue is when he finds you curled up on the couch, trying to hide the fact that you’re crying but he can tell it’s bothering you. He might seem like the world’s biggest goofball but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a brain.

He’s the first to stay up with you for as long as he needs to if you’re having a bad night. Actually outright refuses to sleep if you’re not sleeping. Whatever you need, he is on top of that like lightning.

Jumin

Jumin knows right off the bat that you’re a very intriguing person. He can’t seem to tear himself away from a conversation with you, it could be about something as simple as the weather and he finds himself enthralled by it every time. It’s obvious that it’s a touchy subject.

You’re always pretty touchy about food. It’s nothing else that makes you get nervous and clamp up.

Just that one little thing makes you behave differently.

He ponders why that reason may be. If he brings it up, you sort of laugh it off and hurry your way through that portion of the discussion. His first guess is that you may have struggled with an eating disorder in the past, as that tends to be why people avoid talking about food with friends and family.

He’s never exactly been the best at picking apart emotional subjects, but it’s clear that you have some sort of unspoken issue. If you wanted to discuss it, you might have brought it up with him first. Although, he wouldn’t let it go very long before he would have to step in and learn for himself what was up.

Jumin figured out what exactly that is sooner, rather than later when you wound up showing up to his penthouse. That’s when he mentions dinner with you, and you can’t avoid telling him about your condition.

The reason why you were so touchy about it is that you don’t really even touch solid food anymore. It wouldn’t hurt you if you ate normally but you tended to avoid it for the most part, since it caused a lot of distress.

You’re pretty much reliant on your feeding tube to get all the nutrients and energy you need, and you haven’t touched anything solid in quite some time. Your condition had gotten so bad when you were younger then it became a medical necessity to bypass the upper stomach entirely.

So, you’ve got a small intrusion in your stomach where the tubing feeds into your body from the inside out. It might not be what people expect to see when you stretch and your shirt rides up just enough to reveal what’s underneath. The J tube is pretty much a medical godsend for a condition that doesn’t have much in the realm of a cure or big fixes.

You weren’t insecure about your body by any means.

It was just hard to open that conversation with new people. It tends to gross others out, as do most conditions that afflict the stomach.

You weren’t sure how Jumin would take to it, either, knowing that he’s always had the best of the best in life, and never had to deal with something as difficult as this. Surprisingly, he’s fairly understanding of the situation at face value and wants to learn more about the fine specifics so he’s got everything right.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this sooner,” you admitted over drinks. “I realize it can be pretty… shocking to see. It doesn’t usually come up so I don’t really mention it unless someone suggests we go out for a meal. So, when I told you I couldn’t go out with you earlier, it wasn’t intended to come out as rude.”

He shook his head. “On the contrary, Y/N. I’m glad that you told me. Now I can make sure that when we go out that it’s to the appropriate setting. The last thing that I would want to do is make you uncomfortable.”

Jumin is really great at sympathizing with people, much more than he’s given credit for, and first and foremost, he wants to make sure that you know that he cares about you. He would want to do everything that you’re comfortable with, and if that means getting you the best care he can get, he’ll do it, or if that meant you wanted to handle things your way, he would listen.

He would never make you feel like you’re different than anyone else, and God, if someone said otherwise in the media, he’s quick the correct the hell out of them.

“So, that’s what I deal with. I can’t always eat like everyone else does, I have to follow a pretty strict plan, just smaller meals spread out throughout the day and night instead of the usual three. It can be pretty isolating to deal with... I don’t really go out with people anymore because it just makes it harder for me.”

“I see. It must be very difficult, Y/N.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of used to it now, though.”

Something about that defeated tone made V determined to make things easier for you. He may not always know the best way to handle things, but God, if he doesn’t try to make things right even when he fucks up. And with you, he doesn’t want to mess things up.

You’re the best thing in his life in a very long time.

V is no stranger to human strife.

Although, it is new for him to deal with something like this. He spent numerous years dealing with and trying to help Rika with her emotional and mental ailments to no avail, so when he learns that the person that he’s growing closer to now has similar struggles just in the opposite realm of affliction, and he isn’t quite sure how to handle it at first.

He doesn’t want to treat you like glass.

Yet, at the same time, he doesn’t want you to feel like he doesn’t care about you.

It’s one of those internal struggles that he tends to have more of these days, and because of that, he’ll probably avoid discussing matters with you at first. He’ll do his best to mind his manners and only inquire about your needs and what works best when the timing is right, or when you start the dialogue with him.

A part of what made it hard for him with his former lover was that he always came on too strongly, and tried to do his best to take care of things the way that society said that he should, but in doing so, the way that he tried to help just caused a tear between the two of them that couldn’t be mended. He fears that that may happen between the two of you.

Of course, not the severity of what had happened in the past, but any small rift now might break his heart.

V spends a lot of his free time learning more about your struggles, and what others can and have experienced with your condition. He knows that it can turn like the flip of a coin, so his mental preparation actually helps him at understanding more of what to do.

And when he listens to you talk about yourself, he tries to make mental notes of it all. He’s very quiet in what he does.

Whether it is slipping his hands in yours when you’re crying or putting a blanket over your shoulders when you’re sitting in the hallway, unsure if you’re going to need to go back to bed or to the restroom.

Saeran

Similar to Seven, he knows what you’re dealing with before you have a chance to tell him. He didn’t intend to snoop that far, but he wanted to make sure that he knew every little thing about you as to not disappoint you or do the wrong thing. The last thing that he wanted to do was to be the cause of your pain or discomfort.

Saeran has always had his struggles with his health.

There wasn’t ever really a time where things were easy for him. However, his struggles weren’t anything compared to what you were dealing with on a daily basis. That’s his opinion on the matter as far as it goes. You took your pain like a champ, and he wished desperately that he could ease it somehow or in some way.

You’re a very sweet person. He struggles to understand why the universe would be so cruel to someone like you, he’s since accepted that his own circumstances were poor from the start, but you… it just happened out of the blue.

You empathize with his internal struggle with the idea. Sometimes it wasn’t easy to be you, but you loved yourself, condition and all. You too have spent many months going through all the stages of grief, and you would cycle through all of those feelings every now and again when the world smacked you in the face.

You appreciate his compassion but things have been difficult for you for a very long time now, so for you, this is just your every day. You have to shift between solids and the NJ tube, it just depends on what your body is doing at that time of year and how badly the symptoms are occurring.

There are times when you can enjoy what you’re eating but there are also times where you can’t eat a bite. It’s a daily fight, and you never know when things will be alright, or when they won’t be.

Very similar to Yoosung’s reaction, as he is also very fond of cooking and baking, he’s a bit stumped when it comes to the realization that you’re very limited in terms of what you can and can’t enjoy. When you do have a good day, he puts a lot of work into making you the best thing that he can make!

He loves the way that your eyes light up when you can eat.

You savor every little thing because you know how fleeting life can be. That just doesn’t pertain to your eating habits, you’re always quick to hold his hand in the dark, or pull him out into the rain during a storm. It’s those moments that mean the most when you’re having the worst day.

“Saeran, you’re the best,” you would tell him. “You don’t have to go through all the trouble when I feel alright.”

“I do,” he insists. “I want to make sure that you’re happy on your best days and your worst days, It’s the least that I could do for all that you’ve done for me. I want to go above and beyond that, princess.”

He means well, but you do your best to take care of him just as much as he tries to do the same for you. When he has his own struggles with his mental health you’re the first one to put everything aside and help him. Just as he’s the same one to help you when you’re in need. Of course, the two of you needed to work on making sure that you were taking care of yourself alongside that.

On the bad days, he’s always there to hold your hand in the dark. It doesn’t matter how gross you feel or how tired you are, Saeran’s always there.

“Alright, but if I see you get up at 4am again to make a full breakfast on a good day just cause, I’m gonna have to get onto you!”

MOD KAIT

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multiphandomunnies · 5 years

Text

Tete-a-tete || Yves

Requested: Can you write a fem reader x Yves from LOONA, where Yves is known as kind of a player but really likes the reader and tries to convince them to go on a date with her?

Admin: Heather

A/N: My first LOONA request! Hope you enjoy it ^-^ Sorry it took so long, I have tons of work in school right now :c

Words: 3,905 (hope it’s not too long, I really got into it)

Warnings: I used like a curse word or two. Also some food mentions for everyone sensitive to this kind of stuff.

“Y/N Y/L/N great work as always.” Your teacher commented dryly, handing you your graded paper. Even without looking at it, you knew it was another fail. A third one in a row.

It wasn’t that you were a bad student or something. Your grades varied from subject to subject, but learning French was your Achilles’ heel. No matter your efforts, you just couldn’t get it right. It didn’t help that your teacher was the least sympathetic human being on the planet. So you could just suffer in silence.

“Why the long face, Y/N?” your friend, Yeojin, asked while stuffing her face with a sandwich. Heejin wrinkled her nose in disgust a little.

“I got another F.” you mumbled and picked on your salad. You weren’t in the mood to eat lunch right now.

“Let me guess.” Heejin inquired. “French.”

You could only nod helplessly.

“Why can’t I just… get it?” you asked rhetorically. “It’s not that I’m not trying.”

Yeojin pat you on the back with a little too much force.

“Maybe you just need a little help.” She suggested. “We will find you a tutor and they will guide you through everything.”

“Heejin!” you facepalmed yourself for not thinking about it earlier. “You’re great at French. Please, please, please make me understand this stuff.”

Your friend looked conflicted. She didn’t want to disappoint you and make you helpless once again.

“I’m sorry girl, but I’m already tutoring someone.”

You and Yeojin exchanged confused glances. Heejin was blushing because of the unwanted attention.

“Who are you tutoring?” you asked slowly. Maybe it was just some loser who could be ditched in the name of friendship.

“Hyunjin.”

Well, fuck. Heejin was whipped for that girl.

“Maybe you thould athk Yveth?” Yeojin mumbled incoherently because of her stuffed mouth. Heejin offered her a napkin with a scoff.

“Swallow and repeat, child.” She chided. The younger girl rolled her eyes but did what she was told to.

“You should ask Yves.” She said, making Heejin choke on her water.

“Ask who?” you questioned. You didn’t know anyone named like that.

“One of the biggest players in our school, Yeojin are you thinking straight?” Heejin explained, glaring at the small girl.

“Straight is not the greatest choice of words here.” The little girl snickered and continued devouring her food.

“Who is he?” you asked impatiently. You really needed help.

“She is a total womanizer and I don’t support her tutoring you.” Heejin huffed stubbornly.

“Isn’t Yves a name for a dude?”

“She knows something! Maybe a tutor won’t be necessary.” Yeojin teased with a bright smile.

“People gave her that nickname because she’s good in French.”

“French everything.” Heejin rolled her eyes at Yeojin’s comments but didn’t deny.

You couldn’t deny that it piqued your interest. Whoever that girl was, she definitely had some reputation. Maybe she was your only hope and you desperately needed to pass the next test.

“Can you introduce us?” you asked and Heejin shot you a disbelieving look.

“Have you heard anything from what I told you?”

“Please, Heekki.” You begged. “I can’t get another bad grade.”

Heejin looked conflicted. She avoided your eyes and tried to find good reasons for you to not ask Yves for help.

“Fine.” You squealed and Yeojin whistled. This couldn’t be so hard.

You were right, it wasn’t hard. It was freaking impossible. You imagined Yves to be some kind of cliché delinquent from a painfully overrated fanfiction, leather jacket and a cigarette in her mouth, shooting lame pick up lines like a jerk. She certainly wasn’t supposed to be a stoic graceful girl with flowy dark hair and a pristine white shirt.

“You should focus on the pronouns, Y/N.” she advised in a low tone. It almost sounded like a whisper. “That would prevent you from losing points on nouns.”

Yves examined all your failed works and calmly explained you what needed to be improved. It turned out to be almost everything, but she didn’t criticize you even once.

“I always mess up the conjunction of verbs.” You pointed out. “The sentences don’t make any sense because of that. Yves chuckled softly and it was adorable.

“Yes, your sentences are quite interesting.” She admit. “But we will focus on that later. Prioritizing and revision are keys to success.”

Did she say “later”? How many sessions would you need? You were already starting to feel attracted to her. Maybe that was her plan. She didn’t release her full womanizing charm on the first meeting. She will wait and make you fall for her more and then she will crush your heart and-

“Y/N?” Yves put her hand on your shoulder and you flinched. She took it back and you blushed.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“I can see that.” She smirked a little. Oh no, no. Heejin was right! Yves almost got you in her trap and it was just a first session. “We should plan the next meeting. Is Friday right for you?”

“Yes!” you blurted out and she raised her brow. Your face turned pink.

“Great.” She whispered in that hushed tone. “I’ll see you then.”

When Friday came, you were ready. A long phone call with Heejin helped you make a plan and stick to it. Don’t make eye contact with Yves, don’t talk with her about anything other than schoolwork, don’t pay attention to her appearance, don’t have any physical touch and don’t let the flirting start.

“We should start from when we finished last time.” Yves smiled at you and opened her notebook. You tried to ignore the way she tucked her hair behind an ear. “Or maybe you have some homework we can work through together.”

“Yes.” You answered curtly and took an exercise book from your bag. Nailed it.

After digging it from your bag, you resurfaced and exhaled sharply through your nose. Yves looked up from the pages and shot you another brilliant smile. Seeing her just sitting there shouldn’t have made your brain stop like that, but you have always turned into a mess in front of beautiful girls.

“I see you’re ready.” The smile on her lips almost made you lose your composure again. Almost.

“Yeah, I am. Can you help me with that task? I’m not sure how to fill the gaps.”

Yves pushed her chair closer to yours and turned the book a little to have a closer look. You tried to keep the distance as big as possible without losing sight of the text.

“You have to use the words in brackets.” Yves tapped them with her pencil. “Then you will have to make correct forms.” You just kept nodding. “And after that we can go grab a coffee?”

“Yeah, oka- wait!” Your thoughts raced like a fancy sport car. “You want to do what?”

“Drink some good coffee.” She repeated. “With you.”

No talk with Heejin could prepare you for that. You didn’t expect Yves to make a move on you that quickly. Guess she really lived up to her reputation.

“Sorry, I don’t really have time today.” You finally managed to reply. “And I’m not a coffee gal.”

Yves didn’t make any comment on your lame excuse and just nodded with a slight pout.

“Maybe another time.” She smiled and swiftly went back to helping you with homework. As if you never rejected her. And “another time”? What was that supposed to mean?

“Y/N?” you snapped out of your thoughts. “Focus just a couple minutes, okay?”

The gentle smile never left her face and it made turning her down seem like an awful decision. But it was for your own good. At least that was what you were trying to tell yourself.

On the next session Yves brought cake. Packed neatly in a white cardboard box and decorated in a pretty, lilac icing. You shot her a disbelieving look.

“It’s from the café I wanted to take you to.” She explained with that gummy smile of hers. “You said you’re not a coffee gal, so I got a little creative.

“What if I’m not a cake gal either?” you struggled to remain unbothered with the fact that a beautiful girl did that for you. Said girl tilted her head with a little smirk.

“Stop looking at it with such desire and maybe I’ll believe you.” You blushed a bit, cause the cake definitely wasn’t the only thing you wanted to desire. Wow, Heejin would have smacked you for such impure thoughts.

Yves kept looking at you expectantly and you realized that she was waiting for you to try the pastry. Your brain kept telling you that it wasn’t the best idea if you wanted to stay away from her, but your heart wasn’t so sure.

“Need a little convincing?” Yves picked up the fork and jabbed the cake. “Open up.” She demanded playfully and moved the fork closer to your lips.

At that moment your brain and heart were in a heated battle for dominance, but ultimately it was your stomach that made the call. The cake was way too temping to ignore, so you let Yves feed you. It was a great decision. Your taste buds were overwhelmed by the sweetness and it was another thing that made you regret refusing her previous invitation.

No, it was probably just your sweet tooth talking. Yves was bad news for good, innocent girls and you shouldn’t let her get too close. You were convinced about that. And then you made a mistake and look up.

“Seems like you like it.” Yves was resting her chin on her hand with the raven hair framing her face perfectly in that angle. The sight almost made you choke on the cake. Will you ever catch a break?

“It’s amazing!” you almost squealed and quickly changed your demeanor. “I mean, it’s good… I guess.”

Yves giggled a little. God, this girl would be the end of you.

“Thanks… I guess.” She teased and opened the notebook. “You can eat everything, cause I assume there is no use in trying to ask you out again.”

Sirens blared in your head. There she was, going straight for the kill. You had to admit; it took you by surprise. Till that moment Yves was very sweet and even kind of timid, not something you would expect from a womanizer like her.

“You- you were asking me out?” you stuttered dumbly. As if she was going to fall for that. Yves raised a brow.

“Trying to tell me you had no idea?” she asked in disbelief and you tried to avoid eye contact with her.

“Exactly!” you cleared your throat and tried again. “I mean, yeah. I thought you were just being friendly. Not that you weren’t friendly before, just... super friendly?”

If Yeojin was there, she would slam your head against the desk. Who in the world used phrases like “super friendly” towards a stunning girl hitting on them? Have you always been such a disaster?

Yves’ low hum made you reconsider planning an elaborate scheme to fake your own death and leave the city. Complete loser or not, she was once again grinning with that little smirk of hers.

“I’ll remember to more direct in the future.”

“Please don’t.”

“A little louder please?”

“Piedmont!” you blurted out. “Like the region. In Italy. We were talking about it in geography. It has nice… mountains.”

“It’s cute how passionate you are about other countries.” It was obvious that Yves had a hard time keeping amusement off her face. “But maybe we should focus on French right now. How does Paris sound?”

“Paris sounds amazing.” Safe answer, great save, you got this.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She mused. “Keep learning and I would take you there someday.”

You didn’t get this. You definitely didn’t. But that was okay, right? It was a normal thing to feel a little thrown off because of a blatant pick up line. Everyone would get flustered if they were in your shoes. Your ways will part soon anyway when your study sessions finally give results and you will get over her.

“Hey, Y/N.” Yves looked at you with a glint in her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“This is not a friendly invitation.”

It was a miracle your head didn’t snap off with how fast you raised it. She was sitting there, chin on her hand and hair framing her face perfectly. This time she left you no other choice, you had to answer here and now. All this time you were sure what would you tell her if it came to that. Now that it really happened, you weren’t fully convinced.

Heejin’s words were still in your head like a blinding red light. Yves was a player that flirted with every student she tutored. Plenty of girls have been wooed by her and toyed with before getting their hearts broken. That girl was trouble and agreeing to a date equaled an unavoidable pain.

On the other hand, she didn’t fit that description at all. She was gorgeous and flirting didn’t seem like any trouble for her, but it was never aggressive or pushy. All this time Yves showed you patience and gentle kindness even if you were an idiot who couldn’t construct a proper sentence in French. Maybe it was worth a shot.

“There you are spacing out again.” Yves teased with a smile as soft as ever. “Should I be clearer with my intentions?”

You exhaled nervously and collected your thoughts. A date with her sounded amazing, but you still had some doubts. And had to pass your classes before even thinking about dating anyone. But after everything was settled... why not? You only had to express that without any misunderstandings.

“Look, Yves, I think you’re amazing” Something flashed in her eyes after that and her posture turned stiffer. “Can we make sure I get a decent grade and come back to this conversation?”

“I don’t think it will be necessary.” She replied a little coldly and straightened herself on the chair. You didn’t think your words were insulting, but maybe she took them the wrong way.

“Are you okay?” Silence and a blink-and-you-miss-it nod. “Yves?”

“I’m fine.” She insisted, but you could see her knuckles becoming white. “Let’s just focus.”

“And then she just stopped talking about anything other than schoolwork.” you finished with a sigh. It’s been four days since the whole Yves fiasco, and it’s been bothering you a whole lot. The second half of that session was one of the most awkward experiences of your life. Yves became distant and dodged your question about the next meeting.

“Maybe she just realized you weren’t going to fall for her games.” Heejin rummaged through her locker and tried to reason with you.

“I’m not sure, Heekki.” You went through that fateful conversation for what seemed a hundredth time. “She got upset for some reason and I can’t pin that on anything.”

What could have gone wrong? You approached the invitation gently and tried to avoid being rude to her. It wasn’t like you turned her down impolitely or anything. You didn’t turn her down at all! You really wanted to have that date… maybe. But there was nothing insulting in your behavior.

“Are you Y/N?” you and Heejin both jumped a bit at a sudden voice next to you. The harsh words seemed to come from a glaring brunette in a denim jacket.

“Be nice.” A cute redhead accompanying her reprimanded with a slight pout. The girl sighed and rolled her eyes but complied.

“Hello.” She started over. “Is there any chance your name is Y/N?”

The redhead shook her head a little and shot you an apologetic smile. She looked like sunshine embodied and it was a start contrast to her companion’s demeanor.

“Can we help you?” Heejin asked cautiously. The girl in denim opened her mouth to speak but was beat to it.

“We just want to talk with Y/N for a second!” the bright girl explained and beamed at Heejin, who softened. “Can you give us a minute?”

There was no arguing with that smile. Heejin nodded and looked at you with slight hesitation. You nodded and asked her to save you a seat at lunch. After your friend left you gave your full attention to the girls.

“I’m sorry, but do I know you?” you measured your words in order to avoid upsetting the brunette. She wasn’t here to have a pleasant girl talk.

“I’m Jiwoo!” the tiny redhead introduced herself and put an arm around the stone faced one. “This is Jungeun and you are-“

“And you are the dumbass that hurt Sooyoung.” Jungeun raised her chin and looked you in the eye. It didn’t ease your confusion.

“Sooyoung?” You didn’t recall anyone named like that besides a pretty cheerleader from class. “Park Sooyoung?”

Jungeun rolled her eyes even harder than before and Jiwoo scrunched her eyebrows a bit.

“Did that whole Park Sooyoung teach you French?”

“Oh, you mean Yves?” your response made Jungeun grunt and run a hand through her hair. Her reaction made you a bit uneasy.

“Stop with that idiotic nickname already, will you?” she turned to Jiwoo. “Who came up with it anyway, it’s a male name for crying out loud.”

She got a solemn nod as a response and you followed their interaction dumbly. What was that about? Who were they?

“I’m sorry, but I don’t get what’s going on here.” You admit and hoped Jungeun won’t kill you for saying that.

“Our dear friend Sooyoung or Yves if you may.” She cringed after saying that. “Came from a meeting with you feeling all humiliated and upset. We want to hear your explanation.”

You glanced at Jiwoo who looked like a kicked puppy.

“She really likes you, you know.” She smiled sadly. “Everything she talked about was getting to know you better and how awesome you are.”

“We shouldn’t tell her that.” Jungeun warned her and her friend pouted.

This interrogation was becoming tiring especially that you had no idea what was the point of it. What happened to Yves- Sooyoung? Her friends blamed you for that and it made you nervous.

“Jungeun.” You started softly. “Can you tell me what I did wrong? I really didn’t mean to upset Sooyoung-“

“Then why would you call her like that.” Surprisingly it was Jiwoo who interrupted you. “It took her a while to get over these awful rumors and she really didn’t expect it from you.”

Rumors? What was the history behind Sooyoung’s nickname?

“My friends recommended me to get her help with French. To be honest, I didn’t really know her real name until you mentioned it.”

Jiwoo gaped at you with pure shock written on her face. Even Jungeun hesitated in her aggressive behavior.

“You didn’t know?” she asked. “You weren’t making a jab at her fabricated reputation.”

“I didn’t even know she existed before my friend mentioned her.” You assured. “I heard it came from her abilities in French.”

Jungeun scoffed and Jiwoo sighed.

“That’s a cute understatement.” The brunette chuckled bitterly. “Okay, sorry for judging you, but Sooyoung is really sensitive about that. When we were younger, she was called the Ice Queen because she didn’t really date anyone.”

“But then I asked her to get a coffee!” Jiwoo piped in. “Cause I had a tiny crush on her.”

“Another understatement.” Jungeun clarified with a slight smirk causing the other girl to blush cutely. “But yeah, Sooyoung went out with Jiwoo as friends, cause she had no idea about her feelings.”

You looked at the tiny ray of sunshine who nodded. Whatever crush she had on Sooyoung; it was long gone as she didn’t seem bothered by the story.

“And this one girl got extremely jealous and started a rumor that Soo stood her up and convinced some other ones to tell the same story.” She completed.

“That’s why you may have heard she was a huge player or something.”

Hearing everything made you feel sad and guilty. Sooyoung was just an amazing girl who wanted to hang out with you, and you made her feel humiliated.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Jiwoo put a hand on your shoulder with an encouraging smile. “Just explain everything to her and it will be alright.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“Not sure about what?” Jungeun inquired sternly, but without ice in her tone. “Your feelings for Sooyoung? Do you like her? More than a friend of course.”

You nodded sincerely and Jungeun’s features softened, making her look less intimidating.

“Then go and tell her that.” She smiled at you. “You would make her really happy.”

Jiwoo nodded and started bouncing enthusiastically. Jungeun rolled her eyes at her friend’s antics, but the smile didn’t leave her face.

“You know what to do.” The brunette added and they both made their way to class, leaving you in the hall. But she was right, you knew exactly what to do.

Your fingers gripped the soft material as you tried to stop your heart from racing. Sooyoung was sitting in a library reading a book. This was a perfect chance and you just had to gather courage. Now or never. Inhale, exhale.

You approached the beautiful brunette and carefully placed the plushie on a table in front of her. Sooyoung’s eyes moved up a bit with vulnerability shining in them.

“C’est un hibou.” You stated in a shaky voice and a rusty pronunciation. There were two words for owl, and you had no idea which one was more correct, but it didn’t matter. You weren’t sure if it was an owl in the first place. It could be anything to be honest. “For you.”

Sooyoung hesitantly traced the purple toy with her fingers. She smiled a little and took the little piece of paper attached to it. You nodded in order to encourage her.

“Impressive.” She praised softly. In her hands was your pop quiz. You got a B, which exceeded the expectations of everyone.

“I had a great teacher.” You smiled. “Can I sit?”

She nodded and held the plushie closer to herself.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Sooyoung. I’m so sorry that my words hurt you.” You apologized from the bottom of your heart, looking in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have judged you after hearing a stupid rumor, especially after you were so kind to me and-“

“Say it again, please.” She whispered with a smile that made you melt every time.

“Say what again?”

“My name.” You smiled back at her. “It’s been some time since I heard it said this way.”

You took a deep breath and put your hand on hers, trying not to faint when she didn’t move it away.

“Sooyoung.” Her eyes sparkled and smile got even wider. “Is it too late to get that coffee with you?”

The girl pressed the toy against her chest and grabbed your hand properly.

“It’s not Paris.” She teased with a grin. “But we have to make you get that A on the next test.”

You giggled and rubbed her hand with your thumb.

“I like girls who challenge themselves.” Your words made her blush and she hid her face in the plushie. “Hey, Sooyoung.”

She shyly peaked from behind the purple material and you smiled at her. You adored saying her name as much as she enjoyed hearing it.

“This is not a friendly invitation.”

#kpop #loona #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #loona imagines #loona scenarios #loona fluff #loona yves #yves scenarios #yves imagines #yves fluff

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fangirlinsweden · 5 years

Text

Promises 6

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: Angst, yelling, fluff

Word Count: about 2800 words.

Square Filled: Crying themselves to sleep for @star-spangled-bingo

Summary: Y/N always keeps her promises. Always. This time that hurts her.

A/N: This is my second fanfic series for the @star-spangled-bingo.

And I would like to thank @kaunis-sielu & @allaboutthebooz & @itsanerdlife for their help and support. These women are amazing writers, that you need to check out if you haven’t already.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Promises Masterlist

Next morning you walk out in the hallway. You had slept for a few hours after the hot chocolate, but you were still tired. You were dressed in a pair of black tights and a hot pink top, as ready as you could be to train with Natasha. It was going to suck because you hadn’t train anything but a few running passes with Wyatt in the park. And you knew that Nat was going to hand your ass to you on the training mat.

Steve sees you in the hallway.

“Y/N,” he says and you turn to look at him.

“Steve,” you say and flash him a small smile before you turn and walk away to the gym. You did not want to talk to him now. You were not ready yet, not some more time to yourself. No, what you needed right now was to get your ass kicked by Nat. Or needed and needed. You needed to talk to your friends and get some well-needed advice. There were still butterflies in your stomach when you saw Steve or talked to him. You still had feelings for him. Strong feelings.

When you walked into the gym you saw Nat and Wanda talking in the middle of the room. You know that they were waiting for you so you walk over to them.

“Bucky said he found you and Steve in the kitchen last night,” Nat says smiling.

“Good Morning to you too,” You say and start stretching. Wanda smirks and looks at Nat.

“So it’s true,” Nat says looking down at you.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I made some hot chocolate and Steve came into the kitchen,” you say shrugging your shoulders. “I shared my hot chocolate with him and then Bucky came in and I gave him some as well.”

“If this was a few days ago, you would not have given Steve some of your hot chocolate,” Wanda look knowingly at you.

“I know,” you say fiddling with your hands. “I just.. I had a talk to Wyatt and I don’t know.. I think..” Both women were hanging on your every word. They don’t say anything.

“I think I want to give him another chance,” you finally get out. “Or at least try to get our friendship back.” They nod looking at each other smiling.

“I think that sounds like a great idea” Wanda beams at you.

“But if he hurts you again I will break him,” Nat says stone cold.

“I don’t think that will be an issue,” Wanda mumbles so only Nat hears.

“Are we going to talk the whole day or should we train,” you ask. They both understood that you wanted to drop the subject. So they let you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You walk into the kitchen with Nat and Wanda, after your work-out. Tony is sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee.

“Ah, Y/N,” Tony smiles at you. “Just the person I wanted to talk to.” You take a water bottle from the refrigerator and sits down next to him.

“What do you want, Tony,” You say and smile at him.

“It’s your birthday in 6 days,” he smirks at you. “Have you changed your mind about having a party?” You laugh at his hopeful face.

“No, Tony,” you say and take a small sip of your water.

“Then how do you want to celebrate your birthday,” Tony with a slight pout on his face.

“I would love a big family dinner here at the compound and then a movie night with pj’s,” you answered honestly. Tony had promised you that it would not be any party.

“Your wish is my command,” Tony smirked and stands up pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you, Tony,” You smile at him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve was happy that things started to get back to normal between Y/N and him. Or as normal as it could be between them after everything that had happened. They still hadn’t talked about everything that had happened between them, but they talked to each other about other things. Y/N smiled at him sometimes and he tried his best to give her as much time and space as he could. He wanted to be by her side and it was hard. He knew he needed to talk to her sooner than later, but he was afraid of messing things up more. Instead, he tried to show her that he cared. Small things like giving her coffee in the morning, just the way she liked it or making sure that there always was a stock of marshmallows and chocolate in the cupboards in the kitchen. Steve was looking forward to spending Y/N birthday, with a family dinner. It was more much better than Tony’s big parties and he hoped he was going to get a chance to talk to her, really talk to her. He needed to make things right between them, without fucking everything up again. He wanted to take her out on a real date, tell her that he was in love with her and wanted them together. In the end, it was all up to her, but he needed to be honest and try and do it the right way this time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was the day before Y/N birthday. Steve, Bucky, Wanda, Nat and Tony sat in the kitchen eating lunch talking when Y/N skipped into the room.

“Tony, can you make sure there is room for one more person at the dinner?” You giggled. Steve’s head shot up. Where you seeing someone? And how had he missed that? Wanda and Nat smiled knowingly at you. Steve’s chest started hurting and he had problem breathing.

“It’s your day,” Tony said with a smirk. “You can invite whoever you want.” You smiled at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” you said and walked over to the kitchen and took out some salad. Steve quickly got up, put his dishes away and left the room, not saying a word. You looked questioning after him.

“Anyone else get the warm and fuzzies from Capsicle? No? Me either?” Tony says looking around the room. Bucky looks at Tony and shakes his head. This gets a couple of laughs, but you really did not understand why Steve was so cold against you. Everyone in the kitchen understood why Steve left the room, well everyone but you. After looking around the room confused, Tony clears his throat.

“What is wrong with Steve?” You asked. Nat and Wanda looked at you but stayed quite. Bucky shrugged his shoulders but did not look at you.

“So, Y/N,” Wanda asks smiling. “Who have you invited to your dinner?”

“My father Frank,” you respond eating your salad. Bucky excuses himself and leaves the kitchen walking away to find Steve. “I want my whole family with me for my birthday and I realized that my father had not met the whole team yet.”

“I am looking forward to finally get to meet your father,” Wanda smiles.

“Frank is the best” Nat smirks and you look at her shaking your head. Nat and your father had a kind of flirty bantering going when they meet each other.

“My father has never met the whole team,” you say. “But I thought it was time now.” Tony nods in approval. You eat your salad, and then Wanda and Nat follow you to your bedroom to have a small spa day together.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bucky finds Steve in his room, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. Bucky fake coughs and Steve looks upon his friend.

“Kill me, Bucky,” Steve groaned. “It hurts so bad.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Punk,” Bucky laughs. He walks over to the bed and sits down beside his friend.

“She invited her father,” Bucky continues. Steve shots up.

“What?” He asks.

“She invited her father to the birthday dinner,” Bucky responds with a laugh.

“I thought..” Steve says running a hand through his hair. Jealousy had overtaken him.

“I know what you thought,” Bucky says. “Maybe you should not let your imagination and jealousy get the best of you before you know the whole story.” Steve nods at that.

“So did you come up with something to give Y/N as a present?” Bucky asks, changing the subject. Steve looks at him with a big smile.

“Yes, I did,” he responds and walks over to his dresser and pulled out two presents from a drawer. Bucky smiled at him and Steve explained how he had gotten the ideas for the presents.

Steve had spent the last couple of months trying to get the perfect present for Y/N’s birthday. He had wanted to get her something on his own, without any help. The first presents that he had thought about had been too impersonal and after his talk with the bartender at Tony’s last party Steve had come up with the best present ideas. Or at least he thought so. He knew that Y/N would like a present from the heart more than something expensive. He had taken his knowledge of the woman and found two presents that he thought she would love. Steve was a bit scared that she would not like them or that she might not want anything from him. But over the last couple of days, thing started to get better between them and he wanted to show her that he loved her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You were still with Nat and Wanda in your room an hour later. Getting your nails painted and feeling giddy about your birthday the next day. You were looking forward to spending time with your family. You had been talking and laughing.

“You know that Steve left the kitchen before because he was jealous?” Wanda asked out of the blue. Apparently, it was something that she had been thinking about since lunch.

“What? Who was he jealous on?” you ask confused. Wanda laughs at your confusion.

“Oh, Sweetie,” Nat says. “He thought that you had invited a guy, like a boyfriend.” You look from Wanda to Nat.

“He is an idiot,” you sigh after a while.

“Yes, he is,” Wanda agrees.

“When the fuck would I had time to meet someone new?” You ask starting to get mad. Nat and Wanda share a look. “And why the fuck is he jealous... He has no right.” You start getting worked up. “If I have met someone, then that is none of his business.” Nat and Wanda nod. You were pissed.

“Excuse me,” you say and stalks away with your hands fisted.

“Should we go after her?” Wanda wonders looking at a smiling Nat.

“No, I think Y/N needs to get this out,” Nat says knowingly. “She needs to yell at Steve before they can go past his behaviour.” Wanda nods.

You knock hard at Steve’s door. He opens the door. When he sees it is you he smiles bright and you feel those damn butterflies in your stomach, but you are to mad to let them stop you.

“What the fuck is your problem, Steve!” You yell at Steve. The smile drops from his face.

“You are a fucking idiot. You know that, don’t you?” Steve opens his mouth as to say something.

“No, you keep your mouth shut and listen to me,” you demanded. You take a step forward and point your finger into his chest. “First you play games with me, trying to get me jealous. And end up hurting me. Then you say that if I put my friend before a mission, I don’t any longer have a place on the team. Kicking me out from my family.” Steve wince at this.

“And now, when I invite someone to MY birthday, you have the audacity to get jealous. You have no fucking right to be jealous.” You stop pointing at his chest and take a step closer. “I have not done anything wrong. And I think that me inviting my father to my birthday is my right. We are not in a relationship so I could invite any man that I see fit to my birthday.” With that, you turned around and stalk away from him.

Steve stood looking after Y/N. He knew that he had to talk to her, but he was afraid of the outcome.

“I was wondering when she was going to snap. It’s been like the peace before the storm here this last couple of days,” Tony sniggered. Steve looked at him with his mouth in a tight line.

“He deserved that,” Clint shrugged. Steve huffed, he knew that he probably should let Y/N have some time to cool down, but he needed to talk with her. He closed the door to his room and went after her.

“Y/N, please talk to me,” Steve comes running after you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You had just yelled at him and more or less made fool at yourself letting your emotions get the best of you. You want to run away, but you knew you needed to face him. You stop.

“Doll… I know I made a mess out of all this,” Steve says when he comes up to you.

“And you are right, I have no right to be jealous,” Steve continues drawing a hand over his neck. “I think we need to talk”

“I think so too,” you agree and look into his blue eyes.

“Captain America,” FRIDAYS voice is heard. “You are needed in the conference room. Fury is here with information about a mission.” You look at each other.

“We will talk when I get back,” Steve states and you nod.

“Please be careful,” Y/N whisper to Steve. “Just because I am mad at you don’t make me care any less about your wellbeing.”

He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and walks away. You slump against the wall.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was a knock on your door. You groaned it was too early, but the knocking continued. You yawned and walked over to the door. Outside was Steve, he looked at you and blushed.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N,” he said a bit hoarse. It took a moment for you to realise you just opened your door in nothing but one of Steve’s old t-shirts and a pair of panties on. In his hands, he held a bouquet of hot pink roses in a vase. You smile at him as he hands you the flowers.

“Thank you,” You say and step aside to let him into your room. You put the flowers on your dresser and see your robe so you put it on. Feeling a bit exposed to Steve, and a bit embarrassed that he caught you sleeping in his t-shirt.

“I wanted to be the first one to wish you a happy birthday,” Steve admits drawing a hand through his hair. “I just got back from the mission.” You nod at this. Steve was standing in your room, you had invited him in. What were you thinking?

“Y/N, I know that this might not be the best time,” Steve looks down at the floor. “But I would really appreciate if you could hear me out.” You nod taking a seat at your bed.

“I have liked you for some time now,” Steve admits giving you a small smile. You feel the butterfly dancing around in your stomach. “And I fucked it all up. To my defence, I don’t know a lot about women or how to show someone I like them. I just got scared of rejection and thought it would be easier if you came to me.” He walked over to your bed and kneeled in front of you. “And then when I didn’t think I could mess it up any more, I told you that you were off the team. I just panicked. I was scared of losing you and instead of being there and understanding I made it all worse.” You look into his beautiful blue eyes and felt all the anger starting to melt away. This was the man that had always been there for you, from the moment you become an Avenger he had been by your side. Been your friend.

“Could you ever forgive me?” Steve asks not wavering his eyes from your face. You give him a small smile.

“Yes,” you say and pull him in for a hug. “You are forgiven, Steve.” You realised him from the hug and you both stand up. His posture is more relaxed now. “What kind of friend would I be if I did not forgive you?” You missed the flash of hurt in his face and how his body went stiff. Steve opened his mouth to say something when you heard a bunch of voices starting to sing happy birthday outside your room. You laugh and walk over to the door. Outside are Wanda, Sam, Bucky and Tony singing to you. Wanda takes your hand and drags you out in the hallway. They lead you to the kitchen. Steve is walking behind you, but nobody seems to notice that the smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Promises tag list:

@njayfbi @ncrediblelove @keithseabrook27 @donner5822 @thecauldroncake @tessvillegas @denzmallows @allaboutthebooz @sister-winchesters99 @ilanay41004 @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @xmtd5 @mrsseizetheday @boxofteenageideas

The tag list is still open. Comment or send me an ask if you want to be added to the tag list.

#Star Spangled Bingo #Star-spangled-bingo #starspangledbingo #Promises #Promises Series #Promises 6 #Steve Rogers #Steve #Captain America #Steve x reader #Steve Rogers x reader #Captain America x reader #Marvel #Avengers #Marvel Fanfiction #Avengers Fanfiction #Steve Fanfiction #Steve rogers Fanfiction #Captain America Fanfiction

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thejollyroger-writer · 5 years

Text

Odd Choice of Dying Words

Summary: Based on this post. Emma is reminded of a terrible first date. Thankfully, her bartender has a son who would be the perfect fit for her.

Tagging: @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @distant-rose @shireness-says @kmomof4

Also on AO3!

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she mumbles, running one hand through her hair while the other manages to not slam her phone down on the bar hard enough to shatter it. She was enjoying her night alone, slowly sipping on her second glass of whiskey while she scrolled through Instagram when the notification popped up: “New email: Walsh Oz. Subject: Notes from Our Date, 9 February 2019”

At first, she wasn’t going to open it. Honestly, she didn’t even remember Walsh at first, just another meaningless name added to the list of incredibly shitty dates she’d been on in the last few months. She’s not sure what it is about her that seems to draw in assholes recently.

Okay, not recently. Her whole damn life, actually. Never, once, has she been in a relationship with a decent man, and the one person she thought was decent turned out to be the worst of them all.

That’s the last place her head needs to be right now, she tells herself.

Looking down at the words on her phone once more, she finishes the rest of the glass and sets it down on the bar, perhaps a little harder than she anticipated, and she doesn’t fail to notice that she’s caught the attention of the bartender, a rough-looking older man with short grey hair, a trimmed grey mustache, and a dot on his right cheek that Emma originally thought was a mole, but has since realized is a small black heart tattoo.

“Another?” he asks, and she knows the answer should be no, but there is something about the man’s sweet smile that makes her say yes. When he comes back with the bottle, giving her a bit more than a single shot, he leans against the bar, his still-toned forearm pressed against the shining marble. “Something the matter, sweetheart?”

She shouldn’t tell him. There is absolutely no reason that she should burden this wonderful older man with her problems. But sitting here, drawing her refilled glass back into her hand, that’s exactly what she wants to do. She taps the edge of the glass against the bar a few times, pursing her lips for a moment before she turns her eyes back up to the bartender.

“A few weeks ago, I went on this date with this total idiot that I met online, his name was Walsh. He was the rudest man I’ve ever met, the worst conversationalist, and it became the absolute worst date I have ever been on. So bad that I completely forgot about it, until about three minutes ago, when the bastard emailed me a list of things I did wrong on the worst date of my life.”

He raises his eyebrows at her, in absolute disbelief of her words, and she sets her phone down on the bar to show him. He does not read the whole thing, but enough to get the point, his eyes wide with incredulity when they turn back up to her. “Darling, this man is an insolent sniveling pup and I hope you ignore every single word on this email,” he says, then smiles at her again.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, pulling her phone back across the bar, and when the bartender walks away, she is so distracted by the words on her screen that she doesn’t realize he has pulled out his phone and is quickly typing out a message on it, peering at her out of the corner of his eye.

The night passes slowly, the minutes ticking away as songs blasting out of the crackling speakers. Emma has finished her third glass and has moved on to her fourth when she feels someone slide into the seat beside her, the seat that has somehow managed to remain empty throughout the night. Was she just that unappealing, that no one wanted to sit next to her, even in a packed bar? Was it her resting bitch face?

“Rough night, love?” he asks, his voice low and thick with an accent.

Not your love. The words are on the tip of her tongue, her mouth open to say them, but when she turns and looks at the man that has taken a seat next to her, her words stop dead in their tracks. Because there, sitting next to her at the bar, is the most beautiful man she has ever seen. She’s half-tempted to reach out and touch him, make sure that he is real, but when he cocks his eyebrow in response to her silence and her agape expression, she knows that there is no way that he could have come from her imagination. She’s simply just not that good.

“Uh, yeah,” she chokes out finally, choosing this moment to take a sip from her glass only to realize that her hands have started shaking.

“In need of someone to complain to?”

She should say no, turn him away, tell him to find someone who might actually be interested in him. But she raises her eyes and meets those of the bartender, delivering a drink to the man next to her, and he winks at her, a soft smile on his face — for some reason, the bartender brought this gorgeous man to her, and he has never let her down so far.

“As a matter of fact,” she says softly, turning on the barstool to face him. “Since you offered, I do have a few things I’d like to get off my chest.”

He takes a long sip of his drink, and for a moment, Emma thinks he might regret his decision to become acquainted with her, but when he sets his glass down and the bar and turns his full attention towards her, all worry melts away.

“Hit me, love.”

She takes a deep breath, then does exactly that: “A few weeks ago, I went on the absolute worst date of my life. All he did the whole time was talk about himself, save a few questions that I was absolutely not going to answer on a first date. He was an absolute cheapskate, ordered a side salad and a water, then got mad at me when I offered to pay for my own meal. It was terrible, the worst night of my life, and there have been more than enough awful dates. And I forgot about it completely, not even caring to think about Walsh anymore.”

She pauses for a moment, taking another sip of her drink, and she does not fail to notice that his eyes are wide with interest. His blue, blue eyes, a color so piercing that it cannot possibly be natural.

“Until earlier tonight, when he had the audacity to email me a list of things I could have done better during our date, including my wardrobe, my lack of make-up, and my dinner choice.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” she replies, pulling the email back up on her phone before setting it on the bar between them. “Here, read it in its entirety. It’s terribly poetic, an excellent way to make someone want to go on a second date with you.”

As he reads through it, Emma does the same, overcome by another wave of anger by it as she does so.

Hello, Emma.

A few weeks ago, you and I went on a date, and I figured you were wondering why you hadn’t heard from me yet, so I would like to explain. There were a few things you did on the date that I didn’t much appreciate, and while I apologize if any of them offend you, I think I should let you know what you did wrong.

Your natural dark hair would look so much better with your facial structure, especially if you grew it out more. Long hair is much sexier

You have such a great body but you wore jeans and a leather jacket? That was a huge turn-off for me

Your face would have looked much nicer if you used a little bit of make-up. Just a little cover-up, some concealer, some color. Just so I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you.

You seemed a little unsure of yourself the whole night, you should learn to be more confident. Confidence is sexy!

You ordered a burger. I shouldn’t even need to explain this one, it was just unappetising to watch you eat and you could have gone without that many calories

Diet Coke would have been a much better choice as well

You kept ignoring my questions, I know you said you didn’t want to talk about your life but I didn’t expect you to avoid talking at all

You think I didn’t see you roll your eyes while I was talking? That was incredibly rude

Even though I told you all about my job and how much money I make you still offered to pay, like you didn’t think I was capable of it, and it made me feel like shit

I tried to compliment you so many times and you didn’t try to return them even once

Not to mention I made so many jokes and you didn’t laugh at a single one.

Not only wouldn’t you kiss me, but you jumped back every time I so much as touched you, which tore a large hole in my ego. If you’re going out with someone you should at least let them touch you

But you also wouldn’t even give me a kiss at the end of the night. I thought we were doing well before that but you really made me question whether I wanted to see you again

I will give you a month to take these into account and decide whether you can become the right woman for me. I hope you take these all into consideration in the future.

- Walsh

He is silent for a moment, most likely trying to come up with some sort of response, and the one that he finds does not disappoint.

“Odd choice of dying words,” he says, a radiant smile spreading across his face.

While Emma understands what he means, she still wants to know why this is what he decided to comment with. “What?”

“Well, obviously, you’re an incredible woman and a bit of a fighter, and if I were you, I would find that absolute tosser and beat the daylights out of him.”

“I appreciate that compliment, but I think the best plan of action is to just stay here and drink until I forget about him again.”

“Would you like a companion?” he asks, and when she turns to him, she is ready to tell him that he is under no obligation to stay here with her. But there is something about the smile on his face and the sparkle in his blue eyes that stops her words again.

“I would really appreciate that, actually,” she says, a smile of her own growing across her lips. “I’m Emma.”

“Nice to meet you, darling. I’m Killian Jones.”

The night passes as they continue to chat with each other, recalling memories of other bad dates, but Walsh takes the cake — even compared to the woman who asked Killian to come home with her, only to remember as she unlocks her front door that she’s married and has a family. But the end of the night approaches much faster than either of them anticipate, and before they know it, the bartender is announcing last call, only a few patrons left at their seats.

Emma’s face falls, honestly not ready for the night to end, but Killian just smiles at her, winking as he pushes his barstool away from the counter. “No worries, love. I have an in.”

Emma has absolutely no idea what he means, but watches as he makes his way around the bar, kissing the bartender on the cheek before grabbing one of the rags. “Hey, pa, I’ll take it from here.”

The man wraps his arm around Killian’s shoulders, squeezing him against him.

“Thanks, son. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a seat here next to this lovely lady.” When Emma realizes that he is talking about her, she blushes softly, not for the first time that night. The older man smiles widely at her before removing his apron and hanging it on a hook on the wall, coming around the front of the bar to take a seat next to her as Killian begins to sweep behind the bar.

“I’m Teddy, by the way. I’m hoping that my son provided much better company than that dolt that emailed you earlier.”

Emma can’t help but smile in return.

“Did you tell him to come to the bar tonight?”

“You looked like you could use some company, sweetheart, and he’s the only cavalry I have left. I’m hoping that he proved himself to be the perfect gentleman.”

It may have been the glasses of whiskey that she’s been slowly downing all night, or the sincerity in the man’s eyes, or some mixture of both, but Emma leans closer to Teddy and mutters in his ear, “I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better.”

When he turns to face her, his eyes are wide with excitement. “Is that so?”

Taking another sip from her glass, she nods at Teddy, smiling at him again, and she realizes that she does not want the night to end.

So it doesn't. Killian offers to walk her back to her apartment, just a few blocks away, and before he can even ask her out on their first date, a joke about making sure it's not the worst of her life on the tip of his tongue, Emma reaches out and grabs him by his leather jacket, pressing her lips against his.

It is, without a doubt, the best first kiss of her life, simultaneously soft and passionate, and much like that night, she doesn't want it to end.

When they pull away from each other, it is only enough to keep their foreheads against each other.

“Come upstairs with me,” she breathes, at the same time he says, “Go out with me.”

“Okay,” she responds, noticing that he does not respond right away.

“Emma,” he whispers after a moment, raising his hand to press his palm against her cheek. “I don't — I don't want to rush this.”

“I've never met anyone like you, Killian,” she says, snaking her arms around his neck, his hands warm against her face and her hip, even through her jacket. “We weren't even on a date and it was one of the best dates I've ever been on.” She leans into his palm.

“Are you sure, love?” His expression is so serious, so caring, that it sends a chill through Emma's body.

“I've never been so sure about anything,” she says softly, smiling at him, and he returns it. “Make sure to thank your dad for me, too.”

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fics #my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #crackship #fathership #daddy shakespeare #i have no idea how to tag this??

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eldritchsurveys · 5 years

Text

476.

Would you rather lose your best friend or your boyfriend? >> --- Do you think people who pay hundreds of dollars on perfume are ridiculous? >> If you have hundreds of dollars to spend on perfume, then you might as well. I imagine high-end perfume probably smells better than the shit they sell in Meijer. What is the last thing you tried on in a store? >> Jeans, probably. Do you know who Georgia Nicholson is? >> No. Do you ever sleep through your alarm? >> I use an alarm so infrequently and I sleep so lightly that there’s probably no way I’d ever sleep through one.

What is the dominant color in the room you’re in? >> Beige. Do you think Sophia Bush is a good actress? >> I don’t know anything about her. When did you realize you are no longer a child? >> I suppose my father refusing to be the person the hospital released me to was the point where I realised I was legally an adult and therefore had to find my own way. I never had any rite of passage that marked a transition from childhood to adulthood for me, it was just “okay, now do adult things because the calendar says so, even though you’re functionally and emotionally unprepared for any of these things”. Is sleeping naked more comfortable then in clothes? >> No, I can’t have my skin sticking to itself. Also, I generally don’t feel comfortable nude because of, you know, dysphoria. Are you comfortable enough around your friends to change in front of them? >> --- Does your best friend wear makeup? >> --- Who is someone you do not understand at all? >> I’m reasonably sure I could understand something about a person, even if we have nothing in common. What is your morning routine? >> I don’t have a routine -- I’m kind of allergic to doing the same thing every single day unless I’m so stressed that it’s the only way I can stabilise -- but I tend to read a bit and then journal, then do bio stuff and eat breakfast. Have you already met your true love? >> “True love” isn’t a thing for me. Have you ever had a dream in which you were making out, or more, with someone? >> I’ve had a lot of dreams like that, for some reason. Do you prefer to fix the problems or just end the relationship? >> It depends on the problems. I used to be more inclined to try and fix things, but I’ve noticed that I kept trying to do that in unfixable situations and just made an ass of myself. Have you ever accidentally stepped on a cat tail? >> Yeah. Did they meow really loud? >> More like a yelp. Do you ever go to Plyrics.com? >> I think I have in the past. Did you know that when a worm is cut in two both pieces grow again and continue living? >> Yeah. Do veggies gross you out? >> No. Do you know what Bluekaffee is? >> No. Chicken burger, fish burger or ham burger? >> Hamburger. What is the best brand of ketchup? >> I don’t know, I’ve never compared them. Would you run down the street completely naked for 1,000$? >> No. Have you ever dated someone in secret? >> No. How do you get splinters out? >> I don’t even remember the last time I had a splinter. But I assume I’d just use tweezers. What is something all relationships need to be healthy? >> Still not sure I’m the person to ask. Do you know who sings ‘Lover I don’t have to love’? >> I didn’t, but I googled it because the title sounded familiar. Don’t think I’ve ever actually heard that song, though. Do you bring pillows and blankets on road trips? >> --- If a stranger adds you on facebook, do you add them back? >> --- Does walking by yourself make you nervous? >> No. When dog’s bark, do you think it actually sounds like ‘ruff’? >> Some barks do. What about when cows moo? >> Yeah. How far is the airport from your house? >> Like, 20 minutes or something. CSI or Crimnal Minds? >> --- Can you make cookies from scratch? >> Maybe if I had a recipe to follow. Do you ever send people good morning texts? >> No. Is there someone who makes you blush when you just say hi to them? >> No. Do you kiss your pets? >> --- Have you ever forgotten where you parked your car? >> --- Does your leg itch right now? >> No. What’s worse then a stomach flu? >> I don’t know. Can you fall asleep in cars? >> Yeah, if I’m sleepy. Why did you go to church the last time you went? >> It was Easter. Who made you supper last night? >> Sparrow. It was pesto tortellini from the Dinnerly box. Really fucking good. Do you say mag or magazine? >> Magazine. Would you rather marry someone repulsive or be alone forever? >> I’d definitely never marry someone I thought was repulsive. That idea is repulsive. Would your parents approve of you dating someone of a different race? >> --- Whose the richest person you know? >> I don’t know a whole lot of people, and the ones I do are mostly just working-class folks or professionals who probably don’t make as much as they should. So the richest people I know are Sparrow’s parents, who are upper middle class. How old is the oldest person you know? >> Early sixties. Do you think Americans are pigs? >> I don’t think anyone is a pig. What was on the last sandwich you ate? >> Turkey, pepper jack, coleslaw, and pickles. Whose the last person who asked your name? >> I don’t remember. Remember the loot bags you used to get at birthdays? Weren’t they awesome? >> --- When is the last time you saw a monkey on TV? >> I have no idea. Do you buy scratch tickets? >> No. Who has it easier: adults or teenagers? Why? >> You can’t say one age bracket has it “easier” because that’s a subjective value, not to mention that calculating ease of living would require considering a lot of variables that change from person to person. What’s the last thing you spent over twenty dollars on? >> I spent exactly twenty dollars on another bottle of CBD capsules. Would you be sad if you were 50 and still not married? >> Well, that’s not going to happen. But I doubt it’d make me sad if that was how my life went instead. Have you ever been so drunk you couldn’t even talk right? >> Maybe? I’ve been so high I couldn’t talk right, but I rarely have problems speaking when I’m drunk. Do you know anyone with a million middle names? >> No. Are brand name food items really better then store brand ones? >> Sometimes, but if the ingredients list is pretty much the same then they’ll probably taste alike. Is ceaser salad the best kind of salad? >> Not for me, it isn’t. Is it dark out yet? >> No, it’s morning. Do you believe that love is just an excuse to get hurt? >> That’s a new one. Is there a Booster Juice in your city? >> No. If its called INTERNATIONAL house of pancakes, why isnt there one in Canada? >> Heh. Do hugs help when you’re sad? >> Outworld hugs do not help. Inworld hugs do. How did you meet the last person you kissed? >> --- Do you buy more things online or in stores? >> In stores. What is the best thing to eat with fish? >> There are a lot of things that are good to eat with fish. It also depends on what kind of fish it is, and how it’s cooked. Isn’t it annoying when people treat music like a trend? >> I don’t really know what that means. Do online dating sites ever work? >> I had a relationship that started on an online dating site. So yes, the site worked. The fact that our relationship didn’t isn’t because we met online, lol.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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elfnerdherder · 5 years

Text

The Unquiet Grave: Chapter 20 Pt. 2

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Chapter 20: Where does the Swallow Fly? (Pt. 2)

Dolarhyde handles his broken arm much the way a seasoned FBI agent would. He cradles it but made little to no comment. There seems to be to him far more pressing matters, so the matter of his pain can wait. In it, Will senses a familiar pressure of someone having been used to dealing with long periods of excruciating pain.

He sits where Will once sat, and Hannibal had taken the place just across from him, poised on the edge of his seat. He made no move to adjust his collar or tie, although it left them askew and exposing the mottled skin beneath. Hands best fit to choking. Hands best fit to hurting.

It left Will to leaning on the desk, his back to the flames and eyes fixed to the people before him that are the literal reason for why his entire world is attempting to come crashing down around him.

Oh, but wait; he’s missing Abigail. Truly, it was her that led to all of this around him?

“Have they done your evaluation?” Dolarhyde asks Will.

Will nods, but his eyes are on Hannibal. “What did you mean?” he asks. Behind him, the fire sears hot, but it’s a reminder for him to stay grounded. The longer the quiet sits, the longer he’s sure he’s done something wrong, but if it’s wrong Dolarhyde doesn’t seem to realize it. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong enough not even a powerfully unhinged E-2 can sense it.

“You’re full of questions this evening,” Hannibal notes.

“Hannibal—”

“It’s as I said. You began to rage at me about how I had this edge of sorts over you, how you had a distinct lack of…tools…” His lip quirked. “But when you finally let go, when you finally allowed yourself to feel something other than the control and restraint you’ve been subjected to your entire formative life, you were able to so completely and effortlessly weaponize your power that your emotions bled into the Great Red Dragon of all people, and he began to mimic you. You took control of him.

“Not even I can do that,” he adds after a beat.

The quiet in the wake of his clipped speech is a heavy kind. It’s the same kind as in funeral rooms, when acquaintances are forced to reminisce about distant relatives, the very same as the new girlfriend meeting disapproving parents; it’s the same as when Will first dreamed of another boy’s nightmares in school and was able to somehow help him by easing the terror of it.

“And you worry about what I Dreamed into your mind?” Hannibal wonders savagely. His eyes still sit like delighted almonds on his high-cut cheekbones.

Will wants, for a wild moment, to stab them out.

Not my thoughts, think of walls, Will, walls…

Will rubs his bare hands onto his pants, but he’s not sure he can scrub away the rush of disgust that roils through him. It’s a punch of disbelief, coupled with a trickle of a sick certainty of his capability to be savage, given what he’d done to Agent—

—Mr. Jackson, now. Agent no longer.

Was that truly Dolarhyde’s madness clinging to him, or was it his own when he’d encountered the doomed agent in the restroom?

“Tell me about Red Dragon,” Dolarhyde cuts in. If Hannibal’s words condemn Will in his eyes, it doesn’t show. He leans in, and his stare is with the same heated focus as it had been in the hotel. His broken arm rests at stiff, ugly attention.

“What do you want to know?” Will asks. Shame sits with the yolks in the bottoms of his shoes. He wonders what Jack thinks of his lead.

“I’ve…I’ve killed s—some… a person, I think.” Dolarhyde confesses. His lips slur over the ‘s’, and a hand lifts to cover it. “Each time I lose time, people die.”

Will frowns. “Who’s hunting the hunter?”

“Purnell.” His lip curls. “Agents that work directly under her.”

“The Great Red Dragon worked under her until you started asking questions. How are your walls?”

Dolarhyde looks at him the exact same way that he had in the hotel room; his eyes flash with something, a dark and wicked sort of hunger, then it’s gone. “I think now you’d be able to Dream me walls. I think they’d be compelling, too.” He looks away to the bookshelves whose inhabitants now litter the floor every which way, pages crushed beneath spines that fell with careless, haphazard violence. Something in them stiffens his spine, and his jaw hardens.

“I don’t want them anymore, Will Graham. I think the time for my walls are obsolete.”

There’s a moment where Will immediately looks to Hannibal for his reaction, but he stops himself just in time. There are no safe spaces here. Hannibal is anything but his paddle. “You don’t want them, or the Great Red Dragon doesn’t want them?”

His nostrils flare. “We are the same.”

“If you were the same, then wouldn’t you remember who he murdered before he came here?” Will challenges. “Wouldn’t you remember why he tracked me down?”

“Because We watch the Hunter, Will Graham. The only way to do so is by tracking him down.”

Who watches the watcher? Who hunts the hunter?

“Do you feel protective of him, given all that he’s done?” Hannibal cuts in before Will can fire off the feelings that sit on his tongue. “Given all that you think you’re going to get him to do?”

“Speak for yourself,” Will snaps, and he looks to Dolarhyde. “I’ve had my evaluation, and I passed. Purnell sent someone after me, which means you can’t be here with me.”

“They know,” Dolarhyde replies.

“Which means you shouldn’t be here,” Will repeats, harder. “I told Jack I had a lead when I came here, so the longer I’m here they’re going to send someone after me. They already think you’re after me.”

“Are you going to continue helping the FBI after everything they’ve done, Will?” Hannibal interjects. His surprise sounds almost human.

Dolarhyde looks at Hannibal, and something in his expression holds enough interest that Will is immediately put on edge. The two of them shouldn’t be alone in a room together. “That’s not a priority to me right now,” he says. His gaze rests on Hannibal’s shoe. “There’s the matter of you.”

“Of me?”

Will scoffs, “If you think I’m going to wait for you to try and kill me, you’re mistaken.”

“I’ve had many opportunities to kill you Will, and I haven’t,” Hannibal reminds him genially.

“If you go back in there, you won’t come out alive,” Dolarhyde cuts in bluntly. “They will kill you and alter the results. You know too much about what they’ve done. With Purnell in charge, that’s how it will always be.”

He believes it, but the alternative is no more promising either. The alternative…

Will’s compelled, for just a moment, to laugh at the sheer irony of the situation, that an E-3 with supposedly unlimited power is stuck between a rock and a hard place. It’s like being in that fucking cabin all over again, only his hands are on Abigail’s throat and he’s remembering just what its’ like to live a life where one never truly seems to have a choice.

He doesn’t laugh; he manages a dusty exhale and a cough, and he buries his face in his hand.

“Then let’s find a way to get to Hannibal’s house,” he suggests into his palm. He scrubs at his scruff and looks at Hannibal with something much akin to violent intent. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight now that I know what you are.”

Hannibal has the grace not to say anything snarky about it. In the background, the fire pops and cackles at their misfortune.

Hannibal doctored Dolarhyde’s wound after they safely and discreetly reached his house, and they retreat into the kitchen as he makes a tea that will help with the pain. Will rests with his back to the pantry, his eyes on the killers just in front of him acting for all intents and purposes like something other than killers.

Hannibal’s neck has lost some of the redness to it, but there’s a tinge of purple to it instead, a darker hue from bruises already forming. Red Dragon’s grip had been no joke—he’d truly meant to kill him. Will studies it for longer than he likes before he skips over the not-so-good doctor and studies the room around him, once an intimate space of creativity and now holding something of more sinister intent.

Not for the first time, Will is very much aware of how all it takes is one moment—one second, in truth—to shift an entire perspective. His life of late has felt like nothing but one second after another of turns on turns on turns, and maybe it’s now that he truly, truly fathoms the twisting halls in the House of Mirrors, the fucking irony of Hannibal being the one to find him and right him.

Now that he has had time and tainted silence to retreat into himself, Will finds himself thinking over the very first time he’d ever eaten something offered from Hannibal Lecter. The salad and the rabbit and the terror.

The meat sometimes tastes like terror.

Hannibal hadn’t seemed too offended when he couldn’t eat the meat offered, cooked with care. I can’t account for how the hunted behave before they die. He’d almost seemed more curious and amused, like it was a quaint allergy revealed at a tea party than anything else.

And the care he’d showed in escorting him from the Callumny of Appelles, like he actually worried at Will’s mental space. Will’s thinking, and down the halls of his mind behind his walls he’s opening doors, retreating farther and farther away. Hannibal’s neck will be bruised beyond hiding tomorrow, and he’s the one that threw that young woman onto the antlers of a stag just to hear her scream. A choking scream, but musical all the same.

The worst thing, you see, about being an empath is the horrifying burden of imagination that comes with it.

“Are you going to brood all night, or have you thought of a plan?”

It takes a dragging moment for Will to register Hannibal’s voice. He looks away from the corner of the refrigerator and fixes his gaze just to his shoulder, unable to truly pull himself much farther past that. “If you’ve killed Slowinski, then your final goal is Purnell, right?”

Dolarhyde’s large, capable hand makes the teacup inside of it fragile and small. He lifts it and sniffs suspiciously at the contents before he sucks it down and grimaces; still hot. “Yes.”

“And then?”

“Then?”

“What’s your plan after that? Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go into hiding.”

Will’s lip curls, and he looks to Dolarhyde’s teacup. “Are you going to let him continue to kill people? More blackouts?”

“If he said no, would it absolve him of all of the other murders?” Hannibal wonders.

Sometimes the meat tastes like terror.

“I wanted help, and they wouldn’t give it, Will Graham.” Dolarhyde replies, ignoring Hannibal. “I will help myself now.”

Will chews on his bottom lip, watching Hannibal pour Dolarhyde another cup of tea.

“You’ll need to go far from here. If not me, someone else. Someone on a tighter leash.”

“And what about you?” Dolarhyde challenges. Something about Will’s words drags a wan smile to his lips. “Are you also going to go into hiding? Run from them and keep running until you can’t anymore?”

“Their hearts race, their eyes widen, and in that final moment their muscles tighten. That was a very terrified rabbit.”

“I’m leaving, but where I’m going doesn’t concern anyone here. I want that made very clear,” says Will. He rests his hands on his hips, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “The only reason we’re all in this position is because of the FBI. The way I see it, the farther apart from one another we are, the harder time they’ll have finding us, and the higher our survival odds.”

Will won’t look at Hannibal, but he can hear something smug dripping from his lips as he says, “If you believe the only thing entwining the three of us together is the FBI, you’re willfully misinterpreting the evidence just before you.”

“Regardless—” Will snaps, glancing to him before looking back to Dolarhyde— “I have to go and call Jack Crawford. I have to pretend that I lost the lead, and by tomorrow we all need to separate.”

“That is easily remedied,” Dolarhyde replies, and he stands up. His large stature beside Hannibal is a chilling reminder of how easily he could have killed him, and Will manages a glance to his face, as empty as it once had always been.

What Will wouldn’t pay to go back to the time when looking at him had only brought silence.

I’ll call tomorrow with a follow-up.

Will turns his phone off after sending the text, and he looks out of the window rather than look at the man sitting across from him, observing him.

“Do you think if you keep a wakeful vigilance over me in my home, I won’t be able to hurt someone?” Hannibal wonders.

Will ignores him, favoring the snowfall outside instead. In the still, awful hours of the night where the air presses too close, Dolarhyde had slipped into the quiet with little ceremony, his splinted arm tucked against his chest. For some reason, Will had almost expected a resistance from him when Will had told him to leave. Back at the office, he hadn’t seemed in any place to leave.

“Or did I accidentally allow you to go too far,” he muses, more to himself than Will, “lost to the wayward machinations of thought.”

“I have nowhere to go,” Will says to the snowfall. With the curtains pulled back, frost crawls with a lazy intent around the corners of the panes. “I’m right where you’d like me to be.”

“One can be sitting mere feet away and still have travelled too far,” Hannibal replies.

There’s nothing else, though, that he is able to pry from Will. Silence lingers, and he enjoys a cup of something stronger than the tea he’d given Dolarhyde, a burn to soothe the throat aching from the grips of death.

“When I was small, I saw what it was to be an empath,” he says after a time. Will gives no indication that he’d heard, lost among his walls and doors. “My family thought to protect me from being sent somewhere to be tested, to be sold to something before I’d even had the chance to learn what it meant to even be what I was.

“In Lithuania, to not report your child is a death sentence. Naturally, the government has ways of finding out when someone is lying to them.”

Hannibal allows that to linger in the air, as though he is a storyteller to a rapt audience.

“Although they could not have said who the empathic child was…they could try to figure it out. To force their hand, should they threaten their family. Ironically, the detainers used were always empaths because the government couldn’t be sure if the family had taught their child to weaponize their gifts,” he muses, and he takes a sip of his wine. Will feels the pressure of his stare on his skin, pushing for entry. “They found out which of us was the empath as easily as if we’d told them ourselves, but by then the damage was done…lines had been crossed, Will. Lines no one truly can forgive.

“They found the empath, but I think that if any one of us could go back to that day, we’d have each done it a little differently.”

Will can imagine it, but is that really so surprising? His skin feels over-sensitive despite being cloaked within his own clothing, and he wants to scrub his hands raw despite the fact that they’re safely tucked away from the world. Within a slow exhale, he’s just as easily imagining what it is to peel the skin away from bone, to feel a sort of fascinating power as the shine of membrane reflects in the light. A fast-running river of thought takes him, and he’s opening doors that should be closed, wondering just how long it would take to build his own plots of mycelium in the ground, something that would reach and know when he was there.

“The very first time that I weaponized my gift, I didn’t kill a single soul,” Hannibal continues, reverent.

Will’s gaze slides slyly to him, and his lip curls. “I don’t believe you.”

“I could show you, if you’d like,” Hannibal offers, and he leans forward in his chair, gaze fixated now that he has Will’s attention. He seems to be painfully aware of how tentative it is, as though he could lose it at any moment to the rushing tide. “Would you like to see?”

“No.”

“I think you would,” Hannibal replies, quiet. “Because the first time you weaponized your gift, you completely eradicated their entire existence as though they never were, and the second time you assumed control of their very will, their essence with the same effort as it takes to breathe.”

“And you wonder why the Academy encourages self-control,” Will retorts, only it’s half-assed because his horse isn’t quite hitched to their post any more than it is to Hannibal’s. He’s adrift, and he thinks of the times he used to sit in the fields just behind his house, the tall grass high enough to rise up about him like golden waves. The wind would blow, and his house would sit adrift in a sea of sunshine sprouted from the earth; a gust from the other side would bend stalks, bowing to its promise of sanctuary, and then another gust would tumble him under waves again.

“What did it feel like?” Hannibal asks.

Will wants to be sharp, then, and cruel. He can’t sense Hannibal’s curiosity, but he can see it in the way he leans in, inviting. Will is uncharted territory for Hannibal, too. An E-3, and isn’t that curious?

He thinks of his house, standing alone in an ocean of nothing but the earth and the woods and the trees. His lips part, and he can all but see Hannibal cease breathing to catch his words. “Do you think if I describe it easily enough, you can replicate it?”

“I only Dream things, Will; you make them real.”

“I wasn’t aware I’d even done it, and you want to know what I felt,” he mutters. Then, “I felt…I felt a need to build my walls. The Great Red Dragon’s emotions were…” God, they were, and it was pure vitriol at his back as he tried to keep a battering ram from hitting its mark. “I was imagining my walls, and then I felt him help me keep them that way—well,” he tacks on, savagely, “I thought he was helping. But I must have been taking.”

“If it’s any consolation, there may have been a point where your emotions overlapping with his made it impossible to distinguish who was giving and who was taking,” Hannibal says, gaze still fixated. A predator who’s caught his prey.

Will would take no such consolations from him. He looks back to the window and the snow adrift to the demanding breeze. “It may have started that way, but it didn’t end that way.”

“And so you remain awake rather than allow yourself to Dream.”

“I’m awake because I don’t trust you not to stab me in the back for knowing too much,” Will retorts.

“Am I the FBI?”

No, worse; he was curious.

“You’ve given me your secrets, Will. I’m more than happy to give you mine,” Hannibal offers genially, and he stands, crossing the short distance to hold out his hand. “Haven’t I been forthcoming in the past?”

Will looks at his hand, bare and open with an offering as tempting as it is poisonous. He thinks of the rabbit that just hadn’t hopped fast enough, how everyone loved Hannibal’s cooking and how he maybe may have started out a victim, but he certainly didn’t remain that way.

“I don’t want your secrets any more than I want to give you mine,” Will admits, and he stands up so that he is chest-to-chest with him. Hannibal doesn’t step back to give him room, crowding into his space, and Will thinks his walls high, strong and resilient in the face of someone that slipped something dark and sinister within their depths without telling him.

And with that thought, he slips around him and dismisses himself to instead keep a better vigil within the safety of the guest bedroom.

Will Dreams of bare hands offering Monkshood wrapped in lace. He tastes a rabbit running scared.

He calls Jack in the morning, standing in the snow on Hannibal’s back patio. The snow is a wet kind that will turn to an ugly slush that could ice if the temperature drops—Will feels it in the bite of the wind on his nose.

“What was the lead?” Jack asks the moment he picks up. If he knows about Slowinski, he gives no indication.

Will isn’t sure whether to think of that as a good sign or not. “I got to thinking maybe the rogue empath was a fan of the arts. There’s a lot of symbolism in the last piece.”

“So you’re, what—scoping out art galleries?” Jack sounds skeptical, and Will feels the distinct impression of a memory from the drawing on Hannibal’s desk, the one that’d shown him everything.

I wanted to see this painting one last time before I left.

“Just certain art pieces. Certain painters. I didn’t really get much, but…” he lets it linger a second before he exhales a laugh. He’d slept like shit. “I think I just need to stay busy, and maybe I’ll see something.”

There’s something surreal to the idea of talking like this, like he’s truly about to go back to work and pretend to stay busy, like he’s truly about to pretend that everything is okay. He’d passed his evaluation, and wasn’t that something to celebrate?

“If busy is what you’re looking for, then I’ve got something,” says Jack, and he sounds none-too-pleased with it. “Abigail Hobbs has taken off, and no one has a damn clue where she’s off to.”

There are several ways that people respond to shocking news. More often than not there is a certain denial to it because neurotypicals generally hope for the best despite evidence to the contrary. This, though, in the wake of the night prior seems only to confirm something deep in his gut, something he’d wrestled with as he’d tried to fall asleep in the house of a serial killer:

If he was leaving, Abigail had to come, too.

“Can’t make my schedule any busier than it is,” he says dryly, and he squints up to the sky. Looks like freezing rain. Smells like it, too. “I’m on my way.”

#The Unquiet Grave #LiaS scribbles #hannibal fanfic #hannibal au #hannibal fanfiction #hannigram #someone help will graham #empath au #hannibal empath au #LiaS AU

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cjxkpopxwriting · 4 years

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Extra Stuffing - Sinday Drabble

Taehyung x American Reader - 🔥💕

Note: This is purely self indulgent and I didn’t have anything for Tae on the list yet! There is definitely some humor and hopefully some enjoyable smut. The other members do make an appearance. Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

Note note: omg this was longer than expected. I was hella sick for the last two days, but here it is. Hope everyone had a good holiday!

So far, the guys seemed to enjoy Your American traditions. Everything from exchanging valentines all the way to hunting for colored eggs and even stealing kisses under mistletoe. You hadn’t had the chance to subject them to the wild day of over eating and taking naps and shopping online yet, however, and it was that time of year. “Kookie, you better get out of the kitchen! I swear if you stole another-“

The Maknae gave you a sheepish, deviled egg grin as he swiped the remaining filling off the edge of his lip and tilted his head. His English had greatly improved, though it still had an adorable accent and fumble to it that made you grin as he quickly apologized. You still didn’t know why he had to speak in English when you had learned Korean. “Noona, I’m so sorry. These egg... things are... so good. We need more.” You nodded, shooing his large frame out of the kitchen only to be pushed back in by another large frame.

Taehyung didn’t care too much to apologize to Jungkook as he shoved him aside for you, only giving the younger man a playful eyebrow waggle, his eyes going up in that silly face he made before he grabbed the ladle from the crock pot to pour himself another cup of apple cider. “This is good. But... I’m afraid I’m going to drink it all.” They were all in and out of the kitchen now, examining the plates you had assembled. Jin and Yoongi were really the only ones allowed since they cooked the most, but it seemed the smells were too much for the others to resist. “Don’t drink it all or you’re gonna be sick, Tae.”

He shrugged, and after eyeing you for a long moment, he retreated. Things had been different between the two of you. Stolen glances, less than innocent flirting and suggestive gestures. You had always known he could be down right dirty, keeping up with even Jimin and Namjoon, but lately it seemed he’d fallen into a habit of making you blush. Earlier, when you’d been found searching the cupboards, he’d all but given you a heart attack when his hand slid up the inside of your thigh to support you.

Originally, you’d passed it off as a caring gesture, one he’d do for any of the guys as well, but the rush of desire that came when he actually hefted you off the counter when you found the can of corn spoke otherwise. Maybe you were projecting your desire for him, but you couldn’t help but feel your body heat when his gaze left you to disappear under his lush lashes. Why did he have to look so damn good?

Could you just eat him for dinner?

“Namjoon!”

The scuffle in the dining area and several mumbled apologies from Namjoon alerted you right out of your wandering thoughts, making you gasp as you narrowly dodged burning yourself on a hot casserole dish. “What happened?” Tae came rushing in to pull off his shirt, the warm drink he’d just served himself staining the front of the white sweater. “Oh no.” You rushed to him, wiping the sticky liquid from his chest with a wet dishtowel before you looked his shirt over. “Go wash it according to the directions. It should be ok if you do it fast.”

He had frozen in place, missing your command while he gawked at your hands on his abdomen and chest. There had been several times the two of you had touched, but never like this that he could think of. Your touch was soft and careful, like you were somehow concerned over him being burned, though he was sure it hadn’t been quite that hot. “Noona, it’s ok.” As your eyes lifted to his, you finally snapped out of it to realize what the hell you were doing. “Oh! Sorry... uhm. Hurry! Dinner is ready.”

Aside from Namjoon, who was cleaning up the spill, you asked the others for help as Tae backed away toward the laundry room, and thanked the heat of the kitchen to explain your flushed face. The guys did not need to know that you were crushing on Taehyung. It would... be disastrous. “Careful, guys.” Hoseok and Jungkook placed your perfectly roasted bird on the table and you clapped your hands. “Oh my god, Norman Rockwell would be impressed. TAE! Put a shirt on and come sit for a picture.”

And so you could fucking breathe again.

The guys sat while Jungkook set his camera up on a delay, rushing back to his seat beside Jimin before he held up two fingers as they posed. The flash of the camera saved the moment in time as you let Jin cut the turkey, the others digging into the dishes. Green bean casserole, candied yams, dressing, salad, potato salad, mashed potatoes, rice (per their request), macaroni and cheese, deviled eggs, kimchi that Jin and Jungkook demanded, pumpkin pie, apple pie, and a caramel cheesecake, what was left of the cider, Soju, beer, soda, gravy, ham, and rolls.

If this wasn’t a carb load, you didn’t know what would be. They better be energized after this and ready to go... though the turkey might slow them down. “So... most of these are things I am used to eating at my own family gatherings. But we added some of your things so everything is balanced! Eat up!” You didn’t have to speak twice, the seven men around you stuffing their faces. Animated chatter had you distracted, but a tap against your shin made you turn to look at Tae, who offered you a bite of ham, rice, and kimchi. “Noona, this is good. Try.” You took the bite, the smirks around the table missed by your eyes.

Tae had voiced his interest in you several times with his members, but he had never really imagined you were going to even come close to reciprocating until now. The blushing cheeked glances and giggles and touches spoke volumes to him about your comfort with him, and he was not afraid to use that to his advantage. “Wow. That... the kimchi... it totally made that better!” Tae nodded and laughed softly, taking a sip of his cider as he eyed you over the rim of the cup.

If you could actually melt... you would’ve.

Between reminding Jungkook to chew his food fully so he didn’t choke and coordinating how to have them put whipped topping on their pie without unloading an entire can on their hands for a trick video for tik tok or their mouths to just eat it, dinner was rather entertaining. Eventually, the tryptophan started to kick in, however, Yoongi being the first one to retreat for a nap. Jungkook and Jimin had attempted to watch a movie while digesting, luring Namjoon and Jin in before they were all snoring.

Hoseok was able to help clean up before he retreated too, and you were sure you’d seen Tae disappear to his room. “Thank you Hobi!” He nodded and shuffled out, leaving you alone. Or at least you thought you were. Humming softly, you began putting the bit of leftovers away, leaning into the fridge. You closed it and turned only to immediately press back into the cool metal, Tae’s face right in front of you. “Kim Taehyung... where do you get off thinking you can just-“

The hungry kiss was not expected. How had he even just snuck up on you?! His lips were needy, working yours open to plunge his tongue past, leaving your reeling. Nope, this was not real. You had simply fell into a post feast day dream. There was no way you were playing tonsil hockey with Tae. But you had to let yourself enjoy it, moaning into the kiss as you threaded your fingers into his messy hair. Being lifted from the floor, you wrapped your legs around his waist and let him carry you, hiding your face in his neck when he proudly toted you past the snoring pile of men on the couch.

Maybe it wasn’t a dream?

The click of his door shutting as he shuffled with you in his arms pulled you from his neck, and he laid you down, lips finding yours again as he climbed between your legs. “You’ve been torturing me all day... and months before that. How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself?” He spoke softly against your lips before he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. “I... Tae...” He worried for a second if he had read the signals wrong...

But then your hands pushed his new sweater up his back and he groaned softly when you nipped his bottom lip. “I’m still hungry... for you.” If that wasn’t the way to melt your panties you were sure the slick between your thighs was arousal for him then. His left hand pulled your body tight against his, right arm switching as he rotated out of his sweater you so insistently tugged over his head. “Tell me this is what you wanted... tell me I wasn’t wrong.” He was practically begging you to reinforce your attraction to him, and you whimpered and nodded.

Not satisfied, Tae caught your jaw in gentle fingertips, eyebrow raised as if he was waiting for you to clarify. “I... yes. I want you, Tae. God, I want you.” That was all he needed to hear, it seemed, his kiss feeling like it would swallow you up. Who knew he’d be this intense? Well, based off of Singularity, you should’ve known. His hands left your hips to tug your longer sweater dress off your body and over your head. You laid beneath him now in only leggings, leg warmers, and your underwear.

Long, delicate fingers traced the lace detail on your baby pink bra before they dipped up and inward to map out the swell of your cleavage. “Fuck... I can’t believe this... look at you.” He seemed beside himself and you blushed under his gaze, eyes tracing his features. He had gained a lot of muscle over the last few months, looking absolutely delectable. Your tongue and teeth were practically itching to trace every inch of him. And dammit... you meant every inch.

He called you up with the waggle of his fingers before he reached behind you to undo your bra. It took a moment, and he laughed in his frustration before you helped him, his laugh softening against your lips. “I’ve dreamed of this moment, baby. Making you mine... showing you how you make me feel.” His deep voice left you vibrating under him, pressing closer wherever you could for contact. His fingers hooked under the tack of your bra and tugged, freeing your chest from its prison. You didn’t miss the little inhale he did as he laid eyes on you.

Your mind could have never imagined being the reason for Tae’s undoing. He looked so enraptured by just looking at you, but acted like a man starved as he kissed between them, over the soft mound of each as well, before he swirled a nipple with that skillful tongue of his and then all but swallowed it up. The sound you made was probably just as unbelievable because you were sure you didn’t sound like a damn pornstar. “God... Tae...”

He felt the need in your pleading words and use of his name, deft fingertips already shedding your leggings and panties right along with them. He needed to feel you. Instantly greeted by your slick arousal, he groaned and pulled back to watch his fingers work you into a panting frenzy. “That’s all because of me? Damn baby, I should’ve made a move a long time ago... fuck, look at you.” You wished you could. For now, you’d have to take his word for it. “Ah... mhmm, like that.”

“I’ll taste you fully another day baby. Right now I need to fill you up.” He sucked his fingers clean so lewdly that you clenched around nothing, dazed and needy as he stripped off his jeans and boxers. Jimin hadn’t lied. Tae was impressive on all accounts. He was perfectly thick, longer than you’d expected, and the softest dusty pink you had ever imagined. Any other day you might’ve sobbed and begged to suck him off. But right now... you needed him buried to the hilt inside you.

“Condom?”

You almost missed the question, and you sputtered to life, fingers reaching to touch him as you kissed his lips. “No, I’m a big girl. I come protected thanks to Mirena.” He blinked and you laughed. “Sorry... birth control.” Finally understanding, you squeaked when he launched forward, scooping you up to drag you up the bed, before he dipped between your thighs and wasted not another second in connecting your bodies.

You’d never felt so full. So whole. So... stuffed.

“Oh my god.”

He grunted when you grappled with his body, trying to hang on somehow when he thrusted. It was so much all at once that you made a ridiculous attempt to catch your breath at the same time it was being forced out of you. “Are you ok?” He whimpered, his next thrust gentler as you nodded. Your Head was too far gone to form sentences, so you inhaled softly, able to breathe again, and stroked his face. “I’m fine... so big. Fuck.” His smirk was your only warning before he snapped his hips again, with gusto, earning frantic noises from your lips before he tried to silence them with a kiss.

“You’re so fucking tight... damn.”

You were vaguely aware of his arm over you, gripping the headboard so it didn’t hit the wall. Legs hitched up higher, your brain spiraled down into pleasure as he let himself go, fucking you into the mattress. His pace was almost bruising, the poor man having been driven insane over the last few months, wanting you but not knowing if he could have you. Gasping your praises as he pushed you over the edge, you caught the perfect sight of Taehyung losing his mind over how you clenched around him through your blurry vision.

“Fuck baby, that’s it... take it.”

He was so damn dirty, and you loved it. Feeling him empty himself into you after a handful of stuttering thrusts, you fell limp under him, only to be scooped up and held close. Taehyung groaned as he laid back in his bed, letting you straddle him. Hot kisses spread up your throat and along your jaw before he kissed you in a much softer way, almost lazy and indulgent. “I promise I’ll go softer in round two baby... I just couldn’t wait...” you found your words as you laughed, pulling from his lips to look him in the eye. “Wait for what?” His smirk told you something dirty was coming, and he snorted. “You know... like you said about the turkey...” He chuckled at your face, and licked his lips.

“You said it needed extra stuffing.”

#bts #bts writing #sinday #taehyung

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nyappyforeverbr · 5 years

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100 Questions&Answers: Yuuki MEMORIAL ARTIST BOOK

In addition to several photos AN CAFE Memorial Artist Book also brought an interview and a special questionnaire of 100 questions with each of the 5 members. Here is the translation of the 100 questions with Yuuki’s 100 answers.

Translate: Japanese>Portuguese by Hiyori Portuguese>English by Shiro 001 How many sushi can you eat? 15 002 Which sushi's ingredient do you like? Breaded shrimp, tuna, corn and salad 003 If you have to eat something until you die, what it would be? Mochi 004 Which kind of lamen do you think has the strongest flavor? Tenkaippin 005 What do you in like in a hot drink? Bergamot Orange by Earl Grey 006 Which mixture do you think most matches rice? Shogayaki 007 What flavor of chewing gum do you like? Blueberry 008 What flavor of candies do you like? Milk-based 009 Soba or udon? Udon NOTE: Soba is a pasta made from buckwheat and udon is made from wheat only 010 Of your whole life, what was the most painful experience you've ever faced? (referring to physical damages) When I fell in the show 011 One part of body that demonstrates more confidence? Nose 012 What do you think about old times? Sloth 013 If you had won 100.000 yen what you would make? (Around 900 dolars) Renovate the furniture of the house 014 And about 100.000.000 yen? (Around 900.000 dolars) I would buy a house for me and my family and put the rest into the savings 015 I know this is kind out of reality, but if you could have a wild animal, which would be? I would be the capybara, they are very cute 016 To Cook, wash clothes, clean the house. Which one do you do better? Cook 017 If you were going for a walk with your girlfriend, where would you go? Hot Springs 018 Where would you spend your last days of life? (If you were an old man where would you want to live?) and why? Somewhere in a countryside, I think because I would have more social contact and I would do an exchange program 019 Is there anyone you consider to be the strongest person in the world? Of course it’s the candies 020 An anime character, manga, etc. that you consider to be the strongest?Deadpool 021 If you could turn into some anime character or something like this, who would you choose? The spiderman 022 First CD you bought? The album of Morning Musume 023 Your preferred winter song? “Yuki no Hana” 024 Your preferred xmas song? Meri Kuri 025 Forgetting that you were part of a band, if you were about to start one, what would it take? And why? A bass, they play fast and I can barely hear 026 And what would be the name you would choose for the band? Sweet Sweet 027 If you went to a desert island and could only take three things, what would it take? 1. Survival Knife2. Solar battery3. Cellphone 028 Do you know how to swim? Yes 029 Something you would never want to happen? Bungee jumping 030 If you were a child, how would you like to be called? At that time I seriously wanted to change this, something like Ramune, I even thought in DQN 031 Do you speak when sleeping? If yes, talk about something already happened to you.For now there is no information to prove this 032 If it was your last day of life, what would you do? I would like to stay with the person I like 033 What was the longest time you could stay awake? I guess it was about 60 hours or less? 034 If you could become someone important in history, who would you be? I don't admire anyone in particular... 035 Do you use a lot of emoticon on LINE? Have you been using LINE lately I’ve been using! The emoticon is Tsukkomi Kuma 036 What's the biggest lie you've ever told? "Hm? This? Afro? Yes Yes! It's my natural hair!" 037 Write the kanji that you think represents 2019 and why? 探 Because I'm looking for my new “me” NOTE: kanji's meaning is: to feel around for; to fumble for; to grope for; to search for; to look for 038 The most expensive thing you bought this year? On Kanon's birthday, I bought him an automatic machine to prepare several types of egg NOTE: If you’re interested in know how this looks like: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zk0dfEiiBS8 039 The most convenient thing you bought recently? A cardcover for the Suica card, I bought this year NOTE: Suica (スイカ Suika) is a rechargeable contactless smart card, electronic money used as a fare card on train lines in Japan. 040 A number from 0 to 9 that you like more than others? 04 41 Your longest finger without the middle finger, is it your index finger? Ring finger? Or are they both the same size? Ring finger 042 The word you most speak? “I don’t know, but…” 043 At what time do you think "I'm being bourgeois"? When I prepare a dish and the ingredients are all very expensive 044 If you could have powers, which one would you choose? Power to make barriers 045 If there was a magic word that said things would happen, what would it be? Oh, yes! 046 If you have to choose a follow up for the curry what would it be? Cheese 047 Some kind of punishment game you'd like to avoid? Need jump from somewhere high 048 Do you like of a specific hour? Why? The night. Because I prefer night-time habits 049 How much would you pay for a T-shirt? 2.900 yen (Around 27 dollars) 050 Tell something you would say to you 10 years ago.Are you living!? Are you happy with this!? 051 If it was 50 years ago, what would you be doing? I would be happy... I guess? It would be all right... I guess? 052 How could you imagine yourself 10,000 years ago? I think the language would be completely different... 053 What is the first impression you have of each member of An Cafe? Miku: A handsome guy; Takuya: A reserved stylish dandy; Kanon: Ha? He scares me? He scares me?; Teruki: has a high voice 054 If underwear could have another name, what would you call it? “what you wear underneath” 055 A live that you can not forget? The first live in Shinjuku 056 During those 15 years which member has changed the most? I would not say one in particular. Other than me, if it's just about them, I think their feelings have changed. 057 Do you prefer the traditional breakfast or bread? I don't eat breakfast 058 A teacher you always remember? He was a teacher who was always angry 059 The most fun song in a live? "Darling” and “Hatsumitsu + Lemon = ?” Look like happy songs to me 060 Where do you most like to do a live? Shinjuku Reny 061 A thing you most buy at a convenience store? Jasmine tea 062 If you were not an artist, which career would you choose? A confectioner ... I guess? 063 Which city goes through your head before a live? After I joined An Cafe,, the first city we come back, Kagoshima 064 A stationery item that you like? Ruler 065 An electronic device that you like? Electric oven 066 A person you think is erotic? A friend from high school age 067 What do you think of the vocaloids? Incredible. They are conquering the world, no? 068 A TV show that you like? Ame Talk 069 What's the first live you've been? Precisely in Bou's last live 070 How many pairs of shoes do you have? I think about 3 pairs 071 What is your average time in the bath? 30 minutes, I think 072 A mobile app you liked right away? LINE 073 Do you use a computer for what purpose primarily? I want to use at the same time I use my cell phone 074 What have you found funny lately? Those funny things that happen on TV 075 Who would you most like to meet? My best friends of long time ago 076 When you were a kid, who was your superhero? It was a Power Ranger (I just can't remember which one) 077 The flavor of Umaibo that you like? Mentaiko (Pollock roe) NOTE: Umaibō or "delicious stick" is a small corn cylindrical snack from Japan. 078 An entertaining artist that you like? Tokyo 030 79 First time you did a makeup? After I joined An Cafe 080 Talk a little bit about your first live. I didn't understand very well what I could do and always was standing without doing anything at all (lol) 081 Do you prefer night or day? Night! 082 When you can't sleep what do you do? I watch lives about games 083 Not counting your part in the band, which musical instrument do you like? Guitars, because they're so stylish, no? 084 The oldest memory you have? When I was a kid, I asked them to buy me a gumball machine 085 What color do you like? Black and white 086 What is your favorite mascot? Kanon 087 Where do you usually buy your clothes? GU! 088 Are there any manga or magazines that you buy frequently? One Piece 089 How long you already waited for a person who did not show up? I calculate the exact time of things, so it was about 3 hours and 24 minutes 090 How many times can you do sit-ups? Lately I'm not counting, so I don't know... 091 At this exact moment how much you have in your wallet? When I saw it was 534 yen (Around 5 dolllars) 092 Which Cocoichi curry do you think is the most spicy and the topping? Level 2 and cheese topping NOTE: Cocoichi is a Japanese restaurant franchise specialized in curry 093 Subject at school that you was better? Physical education and music 094 Subject at school that you was worst? Apart from those I’ve mentioned now... 095 What do you do before each live? I get worried about the setlist and keep reminding myself over and over again 096 What is the essential item for a live? Cell phone and recharge batteries for backup 097 Are there any objects that you can not throw away? Things that make me have memories, even just a little bit, I can't throw it away 098 What do you usually buy at McDonald's? French fries! 099 What do you use at bedtime? For over 1 year I have been wearing a jersey shirt 100 Leave a message to Caffekos. Thank you very much for your support! From now on I want us to continue living supporting each other!

#an cafe #antic cafe #an cafe yuuki #an cafe memorial artist book #an cafe interview #an cafe translate #an cafe q&a #visual kei #jrock #oshare kei #rockstyle #an cafe keyboard #keyboardist #harajuku #Harajuku Fashion #japanese #jpop #cafekko #nyappy

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thepatricktreestump · 6 years

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I Love Her Anyway: Chapter 6

A/N: holy guacamole! my stats are alive, my inbox is popping, i have new followers, and people are actually reading my writing??? i feel like my blog just got revived, thank you! thank you! thank you!

tag list: @un-amoosed-padalecki @mtb04308 @dragonqueendany @cupcakesweetness @kitykatnumber @svintsandghosts @greatheromuffinpalace @echoloki @geekybeauty8793 @jigglypuff1999 @timisnotmontydlc @galaxy-moon @lugialagia @pageoftheclouds

All day, you couldn’t help but wait for the time when you’d be in his car, him driving you home. You tried not to give yourself any expectations, but you couldn’t help it. All night you were imagining giant chandeliers and a gorgeous ballroom, four stories with elevators and butlers and maids, lavish furniture and an indoor swimming pool, a golf course in the backyard along with a private lake. After all, he was the richest businessman in the town. Your father was lucky enough to work for him, much less you. Just the thought of stepping into his home made your heart skip a beat. As you entered his office that morning, you tried to contain your excitement, but couldn’t help it. As soon as you set both of your coffees down, you wrap him up in an embrace and bury your face in his chest as you giggled with glee.

“Someone’s rather excited today, hmm?” he can’t help but laugh himself. God, you loved him so much. You were terrified to ever tell him though.

“Just can’t wait for tonight,” you admit, blushing. “I hope what I’m wearing is okay.”

“What you wearing is just perfect, darling,” he reassures. You’ve picked out a blush colored blouse with a floral skirt and you spun around for him, making his smile widen. “It’s almost just as cute as you are.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “So what do you have planned for me today?”

“Before we begin, I just want you to know that packages came in last night,” he gestures to several bags that are waiting on the sofa for you along with a box which you assume the dress is folded in. “However, I think we should wait until tonight to open them.”

“Thank you,” you beam.

“Today both of us have a lot going on,” he returns to the subject. “We have a business conference across town. That’s why I had planned dinner for us tonight as a celebration for sitting through an entire day of boredom.”

“W-wait,” you stammer out. “I’m coming with you, sir?”

“Why of course,” he replies. “I need a secretary to take notes over the information we discuss. There will be food and drinks there, along with several presentations, a meeting, and speakers. It’s about the San Antonio project, the one with the four-lane bridge.”

“Oh yes,” you nod, although you’ve emailed so many projects in just the past three days this one doesn’t seem to stand out in your mind.

“We’ll be leaving in fifteen minutes and stay there until the end of the day, but we will come back here to gather our things and then leave from this location,” he explains.

“Hold up,” you stop him. “Fifteen minutes?”

“Why yes, darling. There’s no time to lose. You’ll need to bring your laptop and several files,” he instructs. He says it so casually and calm you have to check the clock to make sure he’s not making this up. You’ve just walked into his office, you can’t believe he didn’t tell you to arrive earlier. Then again, you’re dependable when it comes to showing up on time and never disappointing. You pride yourself in this conclusion.

In just a couple minutes, you find yourself in the backseat of a taxi with him with a briefcase on the ground. There’s tinted windows and the driver seems to be distracted, so you don’t feel too bad when he reaches for your hand in the back and lets you lean on his shoulder. You feel so strange, being out of the office with him, sitting in the back of a cab, being able to touch him. If you had told yourself several weeks ago that this would be happening, you wouldn’t have believed it at all. You notice him squeeze your hand and then move it towards your thigh, making your breath hitch. The driver switches the radio station and turns up the song playing and you close your eyes as you feel his hand move farther up your thigh. Why would he being doing this here? In the back of a taxi? Wasn’t he just as afraid of getting caught as you were? Even if there wasn’t an age difference, you still shouldn’t be doing this!

“Brendon,” you hiss. “Cut it out.”

“What?” he whispers, glancing at you and making your insides squirm. “You don’t want to have a little fun?”

“I do,” you whine softly. “But what if he sees us?”

“He won’t,” he reassures, then travels his fingers underneath your skirt, making you bite down hard on your lower lip as not to moan. “Is this okay?”

You nod your head several times, your legs already trembling as he reaches to drag his fingers across your panties. You want it so bad. He shouldn’t be surprised that you’re already wet, but he still lets out a small hum as he begins to move your panties aside and drags his fingertips against your folds. You’re dripping for him. He slides a finger up and down before pushing it in slowly, your head tilted back and your legs instinctively closing together shut, and he has to take his other hand and pry them open before slowly working it in and out of you. He’s about to add another when the driver takes a rough turn, making his finger press deeper and causing you to yelp aloud. He instantly retracts his hand in his lap and you shove your skirt back down to your knees.

“Everything alright back there?” the driver wonders. “I know a hit a bump on that turn, sorry about that.”

“It’s o-okay,” you clear your throat, still shaken up by the prior events, nervously straightening out your skirt, legs still trembling. “D-don’t worry about it.”

“Just wait until later,” Brendon whispers in your ear, and you melt as you watch him stick his finger in his mouth and suck your juices off of it. It only makes you even more wet.

The following minutes until you arrive at your location, Brendon stares out the window. You assume it’s for the same reason he had once kept his eyes glued to his computer screen, because if he takes so much as one look at you, he won’t be able to control himself. When the cab stops, you thank the driver, Brendon hands him a tip, and then he helps you out of the cab and carries the briefcase for you, helping you onto the sidewalk. You don’t get very far.

“Mr. Urie!” a reporter rushes towards him, catching him by surprise. “Before you go, can we please ask you some questions about the conference?”

“I’d be honored,” he smiles. “First let me introduce you to my newest secretary, Miss y/n Jackson.”

“Lovely to meet you,” the reporter eagerly shakes your hand.

They ask him all sorts of questions about the upcoming project, things about how the architectural culture has shifted throughout the years, what kinds of collaborations he’s looking forward to, and even presses him on some touchy subjects as to how much money he’s made the last year or why he hasn’t reached out to a certain company in the past few months. You stand there, perfectly poised, glued on smile and false attentiveness. You aren’t listening to anything he’s saying, but rather just focusing on his voice, the highs and lows and the different tones. You wish you could just record him and put him on an endless loop. It’s like music to your ears.

Before you know it, it’s time to go, and so he ushers you into the building where there’s thousands of other men dressed identical to him, along with their secretaries and assistants and other coworkers. It’s a bit breathtaking, seeing so many people in one place, all dressed up in suits and blazers and ties and heels. You take a seat towards the stage and Brendon gives an apologetic smile towards you as if saying sorry for taking you along. You tell yourself it can’t possibly be as boring as he says, and even if it is, nothing could ever come close to your old algebra class from last semester. Much less, you’ll be sitting right beside him, and if you ever get bored, you can just stare at him. In fact, you silently tell yourself that’s honestly what you’ll probably be doing the entire time you’re here.

When the speaker opens up the power point presentation and begins to speak, you pretend to act interested, opening up your laptop and taking a skeleton of notes. However, you’re only taking glances at the man sitting just a couple feet away from you. You make note of the stubble covering his chin and cheeks, the way his plump lips press together in thought, how he furrows his brow. You look at the different shades of brown found in his eyes, the chestnut and mocha, tan and honeycomb, burgundy and cocoa. His hair is done up effortlessly each time, strands in a perfect swoop upwards only to fall down, styled somehow both messily and flawlessly at the same time. You’re so fucking infatuated with him it’s ridiculous.

“Hey,” he nudges you, waking you up from your daydream. You’ve lost track of what had been happening. “It’s time to move. Come on, we’ve got a luncheon to go to.”

“Right,” you nod, staggering up from your seat and following him. There’s a massive ballroom filled with tables and chairs, waiters running around pouring glasses of wine to each table and placing baskets of bread rolls down as well. You take a seat alongside him and some others do as well. As soon as they’re served the soups and salads, they instantly chatting about prices of piling, which doesn’t seem the most interesting of topics to you.

After poking your salad around with your fork, the waiters clear the table and begin to set down a variety of appetizers including raspberry jam drizzled brie, caviar on crackers, toasted ravioli, and onion blossoms. The second they are set down on the table, your eyes grow wide. “Eat up,” Brendon chuckles at your reaction, reaching for several petals of the onion blossom and dipping it into the sauce before taking a bite. The food is absolutely gorgeous. All of it.

The rest of the meal consists of plenty of other delicacies you wouldn’t even dream of. Steamed lobster, veal chops, roasted lamb, and slices of salmon are displayed upon the table and you don’t even know what to go for first. You sip on your Shirley Temple and slowly pick up a plate of your choosing before going to work. It tastes absolutely divine. You’re just glad nobody’s talking to you so you have time to devote simply to scarfing down food. This has to be the best thing you’ve ever tasted in your entire life. Well, other than Brendon’s lips. You chuckle to yourself at the thought. If any of the people at this table had known the kinds of things you two had been up to… God, you would hate to know what would happen.

Dessert comes next, which you can’t even begin to describe. You would’ve eaten more but you’re already stuffed and can only manage to grab a couple bites of tiramisu and a small serving of Sakura jelly, along with a handful of macaroons. “Enjoying yourself?” Brendon smirks at the way you stare at your empty plate with complete awe. “You look kind of stunned.”

“I am,” you confess. “That has to be hands down the best meal of my life.”

“I’m glad,” he beams. “Sorry I can’t give you all my attention, I promise I’ll make up for it tonight.”

“Don’t worry about that,” you narrow your eyes. “You’re at a conference right now, you have other things to attend to, people to talk to, a reputation to keep up. There’s no need to babysit your little secretary.”

“Thanks for your understanding,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, I promise it will be over soon.”

When you walk back into the hall, there’s more speakers and meetings, and at one point, you almost even doze off. He was right, it was quite boring. By the end of the day when you get back in the taxi, you find yourself falling asleep on his shoulder. You dream of being at the meeting and him tugging you towards the bathroom in the middle of one of the speakers, locking you both in a stall and making out with you, pressing you up against the back of the door and- he shakes you awake. “S-sorry,” you quickly stammer out, getting up from him.

“It’s okay,” he insists. “I know you were tired, it’s alright. But we’re here. It’s over now.”

You try to shake the thoughts from your dream out of your mind as he helps you out of the vehicle, pays the driver, and then you both enter the elevator together. It’s just you two, and as soon as the door closes, you wrap your arms around his waist. “I was having quite an interesting dream before you woke me up,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

“Were you now?” he raises an eyebrow, amused by your sudden behavior.

“It involved you and me skipping one of the talks at the conference to have a little naughty fun in a bathroom stall,” you confess, a smirk tugging at the edge of your lips. “A shame it didn’t happen, really.”

“I hope you know you’re far too precious to fuck in a bathroom stall,” he narrows his eyes. “Or this elevator for that matter. You deserve nothing but a bed full of satin sheets and red rose petals, my love.”

“I don’t care where I am as long as it’s with you,” you argue and he sighs, kissing your lips. His tongue is about to slip into your mouth when you hear the elevator ding and you immediately back away from each other, swallowing your nervousness as several workers file into the elevator beside you. Some greet Mr. Urie while others simply check the time on their watches, glad to be out for the day.

That’s when the thing you least expected to happen, happened. Your dad got into the elevator, eyes lighting up upon seeing you. “Y/n!” he grins. “How’d work go today? I think I overheard someone say you left with Mr. Urie for the big San Antonio conference? Fun stuff, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod awkwardly. If only he knew you had just kissed your boss. Well, technically his boss too. Fuck.

“I hope she’s behaving for you. I told her your expectations remain quite high,” he jokes with Mr. Urie and Brendon simply laughs. Behaving would be the last word you’d use to describe how you’ve been handling your new job. More like misbehaving thanks to Brendon.

“She’s exceeded my expectations, really. Truly exceptional, your daughter,” he gives a polite smile. “Mr. Jackson, I cannot tell you just how glad I am to have her working for me. She took plenty of notes and learned quite a lot today. I’m sure in a few weeks she’ll know this job like the back of her hand.”

“Beautiful,” your father beams. “Y/n, you said you were going to the mall with your friends after work? Will you need a ride?”

“No, I got one,” you reassure. “Thanks for asking though.”

“She might get home late,” Mr. Urie warns, making you tense up at his comment. “She’s been telling me about how excited she is to go see this movie with her friends afterwards, but the showing doesn’t begin until eleven and they might not even get out until one.”

“Oh, that’d be just fine,” your father waves off. “Just make sure you have a ride and you’re able to wake up early for work the next day.”

“Perfect,” you give a fake grin, secretly wondering where the hell Brendon’s going with this. Why would he need you to stay later? Much less, as late as possibly one in the morning? Not that you were complaining, but he was making you a little bit nervous.

As soon as you got out of the elevator and reached the floor, you and Brendon stepped out and walked into the office. “Ready for tonight?” he wonders. “Thanks to that little conversation with your dad, we’ll have plenty of time.”

“About that…” you stare at him strangely. “Why?”

“Why I would want to spend more time with you? That seems like a ridiculous question,” he says flatly. “You know I’ve always wished we had more time together.”

“No,” you shake your head. “Why so late?”

“Guess you’ll find out tonight,” he winks, picking up the bags and the box from the floor and then pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But you’ve got to get there first to find out.”

“Right,” you draw the word out, picking up your purse and drawstring bag with your clothes inside.

His car is luxurious, a fancy black Bugatti Chiron with electric blue trim. You’re almost afraid to even touch it. Getting inside only has you twice as amazed, and he can’t help but chuckle at your reaction to all of this. First at the luncheon and now in his car, he must think that you’ve never seen anything in your life compared to him. He lived and breathed money, and while your dad worked for his company as an accountant too, your lifestyle didn’t amount nearly enough to his. Yeah, you had a pretty great life, you got three meals and your own bedroom along with a closet full of clothes and your own cellphone, but you weren’t spoiled either. You worked your own job and paid for your own hobbies and interests, plus your parents taught you to be humble and keep your head on straight. Brendon on the other hand, didn’t even have to say a single word to become a show off. Just his possessions spoke millions for him already.

“You can relax,” he laughs, starting down the street and making note of the way you haven’t been able to exhale as soon as you’ve sat down.

“I’m just a little awestruck, that’s all,” you admit, forcing yourself to ease into your seat. You look at him smiling back at you.

“This thing can reach 260mph,” he says casually, and you instantly shake your head.

“Please don’t fucking show me,” you beg, only making him burst into chuckles.

“I promise I won’t,” he insists with a laugh. “Just sharing a fun fact.”

“I think I’d vomit if I ever heard the price of this thing,” you confess. “Jesus, I knew you were rich but holy shit. I think I might pass out when we roll up to your house.”

“Probably,” he teases, reaching out to hold your hand. You quickly take it, squeezing his hand as he sped up a little bit once you hit the highway. “But don’t worry, I’m right here beside you.”

“It’s just a lot,” you sigh. “God, I still can’t believe this is real.”

“Well you better believe it baby,” he grins. “Cause it’s only going to get more unbelievable from here.”

“Trust me,” you smirk, giving a laugh of your own at this point. “I don’t think you need to tell me for me to know.”

#i love her anyway #miss jackson #panic! at the disco fanfiction #brendon urie fanfiction #panic! at the disco imagines #brendon urie imagines #panic! at the disco x reader #brendon urie x reader #tagging is for losers

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vaderssidechick · 6 years

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FIC Snippet: A Little Fire (From The Chronicles of House Vader Verse)

A little snippet of total Piett Domestic Kink.

Ship: Pielissa (Piett and OFC Palissa)

Palissa turned the corner to her right. Piett followed her into the long, gleaming galley kitchen of polished durasteel and black granite counters. The smell of the roasted meat in the oven enveloped him as he stepped in. Covered side dishes warmed on heated slabs. His eyes set on a decadent choco and cream dessert on the counter. His mouth watered-- he hadn’t seen food like this in ages. “You cooked all this yourself?”

Palissa set her glass down on the counter. “Mmm hmm.”

“No droid to help you?”

She smirked at him. “You Navy berks, with all your droids and tech.” She grasped a handle hanging from the ceiling, pulling it down. A UV-lit pallet emerged, bursting with green leaves and living vegetables of all colors.

“Hydroponics,” he exhaled. “Well. I’m impressed.”

She picked fresh greens and bulbs out of the decanters. “Don’t you have hydroponics in the officers’ mess?”

“No, not at all. Our meals are all prepackaged, balanced with only the essential proteins, carbohydrates, and k-cals required. Served with a delicious side of chloro-phyto nutrient capsules for dessert.”

Palissa grimaced. “Yuck.”

“It’s not all that terrible. Some of it is rather good. Considering our meals are all prepared by droids, they’re quite palatable. And much better than the grub we got on the anti-pirate ships around Axxila.” He indulged in another sip of champagne.

“No wonder you officers are all so thin,” Palissa quipped as she carried an armful of fresh vegetables over to the counter.

Piett chuckled. “We must maintain regulation body mass. If we ate like this every night, we’d all be the size of Hutts.”

“Can you imagine that? A crew of Hutts?” She snatched a large chef’s blade from a magnetic strip above her head. “Most of their days would be spent just getting from one place to another! Nothing would ever get done!”

“Exactly.” He raised the glass to his lips again. Already, he could feel the champagne’s infamous effects soothing out the ridges in his neck. “However does the Baroness stay so slim eating like this?”

Palissa hiccupped a laugh. “I’ve never seen anyone eat the way Lylla…” she winced a little before she continued, “the Baroness does. I think she could put any Hutt to shame with her appetite.”

Piett cocked his head. “You call her by her first name.”

“In private, yes.”

“Hmm.” He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised by this, as he and Veers were also on a first-name basis in private. Then again, Veers was not the betrothed of the Dark Lord of the Sith. He found himself wondering again about her relationship with the formidable Baroness until he shook it off. “How can I assist you, Lissy?”

“By staying over there and keeping me company while I cut this up.” He watched her set the head of green leaves and assorted colorful bulbs on the counter. Then, with astonishing speed and almost inhuman precision, Palissa shred through the vegetables with the knife. His mouth dropped as she sliced and cut, her hands almost a blur, and flipped the blade over her hand, catching it in the air, then sliced some more, then miraculously bounced the handle off the counter and caught it in her other hand without even looking at it.

“Do that again!” he exclaimed.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Do what again?”

“That, what you just did with the knife.” He indicated it with a nod.

“Firmus,” she giggled, suddenly self-conscious.

“Do it again,” he repeated, this time softly. “Please?”

An expression that could almost be described as smug cross her face. “Alright. You might want to step back.” Piett grinned, obviously intrigued, and obliged her. Palissa took the knife again and twirled it through her fingers, constantly keeping the blade in check. She bounced the handle off the counter again, caught it, then actually flipped it behind her back up over her shoulder, caught it again. Piett watched in utter amazement as she twirled it over, around, and through her hands. Her eyes never left the blade as she tossed it about, faster and faster, until she caught it one more time, spun to her side, and threw it. The blade sliced through the air, just centimeters from Piett’s nose, down the long galley until it sank into far wall with a resounding thunk, the handle still wobbling from the impact.

The Captain gawked at the knife, then back to Palissa. “By the Force, Lissy,” he exhaled.

Palissa merely simpered and shrugged. “I told you I was pretty good with a vibroblade.”

“Pretty good? You’re a regular assassin with that thing.” He saw her smile fade and her eyes darken at the remark. He furrowed his brow at her reaction. “Is that who taught you? An assassin?”

“A… friend,” she said quietly as she strode past him to retrieve the knife from the wall.

“Oh.” He watched her wrench the handle out of the wall and come back to finish making the salad. The hesitation in her answer did not escape his notice. “A male friend?”

Palissa stopped for a moment, and her back stiffened. “Yes.” She tapped the sonic hand-cleaner installed over the counter on and ran her hands under it.

“A lover?” he asked, an odd heat rising on his neck.

Again she stilled, pursing her lips, before she scooped the cut greens evenly onto two small plates. She picked the plates up and, when she turned to face him, he saw a quiet anger smolder in her eyes. “Yes Firmus. A male assassin lover friend. If that is any of your business, which it isn’t,” she said, her softness in volume doing nothing to disguise her irritation. “And salad is served.” She brushed past him back into the dining area.

Piett winced. He turned around and followed her. She set the plates down on the table with a bit more force than needed. “Lissy,” he murmured. She straightened, but didn’t turn around. He drew a breath. “You’re right, it’s none of my business. I… don’t know what came over me.”

“I haven’t been a virgin for a while, so I don’t need you judging me--.”

“I never expected you to be, Lissy,” he said, confused.

“I’ve only been with three people my whole life, including you, Firmus--”

“Lissy,” he soothed, stepping toward her, concerned by her heated, almost panicked outburst. “Forgive me. It’s been… a very long time since I’ve been involved with anyone. I got jealous.” He huffed an embarrassed breath as he looked into his glass again. “It’s silly, really.”

“Oh,” she said, very softly. She turned over her shoulder. “I thought you were insinuating…that I was… promiscuous.”

“Stars, no,” he breathed, coming to the table and setting his glass down. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “And even if you were, it’s still no business of mine now, is it?” He sighed. “I am married. I have no right to judge you that way.”

Palissa exhaled, and set her hands on his waist. She drew her lips in. “I see the way they look at me. The men. The officers.” She looked up at him. “If any of them say they’ve been with me, they’re lying, Firmus--”

“I know they are,” he murmured, stroking her cheek, trying to calm her unease and his own rising anger. The men’s indecent attitudes toward her didn’t just anger her. “They frighten you, don’t they?” He felt her hands shaking on his sides, and covered them with his own. “Lissy, they wouldn’t dare touch you. And if anyone is foolish enough to even try, Vader is the LAST person they should fear.”

Palissa looked up at him, surprised by the ferocity in his voice, no matter how quiet it was. “Firmus, you can’t...you mustn't...please, don’t endanger your position because of me--”

“My duty above all others,” Piett murmured, gently cutting her off, “is to ensure the safety of every being aboard this vessel.” He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “It is my duty to protect you, Lissy.” His gut clenched at his own words. In avoiding or dismissing himself from his fellow officers’ lewd conversations about her, that was the last thing he was doing.

Palissa noticed his jaw work and his eyes darken. “Firmus, what is it?”

“Lissy, do you carry a vibroblade on you?”

“Only when I’m planetside with the Baroness,” she answered.

“Start carrying one on the ship, at all times. Even when you’re with the Baroness. And don’t conceal it. Carry it openly.”

She blinked a few times. “All right.”

“And don’t hesitate to practice in public. Especially in front of the officers.” The intensity in his face cracked a little when he smirked. “Show them what you can do with that thing. Especially where their bullocks are concerned.”

“Firmus!” Palissa exclaimed in an incredulous laugh. “These are your own men you’re talking about!”

“Damn right they are. And it’s about damn time they started conducting themselves like Imperial officers.” He gently pulled her into an embrace, set his chin on her head. And sighed. “That includes me as well.”

Palissa nestled her cheek into his chest. “What do you mean, Firmus?”

“Never mind.” The growl in his stomach led to a welcome change of subject. He planted a kiss atop her head and looked down at her. “May we start?”

NOTE: Yes, I totally cast Juno Temple as Palissa.

#star wars #fanfic #chronicles of house vader verse #piett #domestic kink

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