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luvnami · 3 years

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𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou @amjustagirl (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.

“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”

The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist.

You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet.

You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.

Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip. He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week.

“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?”

“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”

“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”

You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.

Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders.

You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.

Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.

“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.

He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”

You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.

“Need any help?”

Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.

“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.

Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.

“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”

Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward.

“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?”

You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief.

You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.

Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know.

Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.

(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.

You shoot him a glare.

“I fried this rice.”)

2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.

What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow.

“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.

“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.

You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.

He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.

It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?

However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.

“Having fun?”

You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.

“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”

His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Do I really?”

“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”

You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds.

“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.

You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second.

“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”

You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to-

Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry.

“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”

“Kita.”

“Kita?!” you gasp.

Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants.

“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”

You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though.

The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat.

Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.

“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.

Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat.

Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.

“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.

“Atsumu just sucks.”

When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.

“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.

“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes.

Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.

“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.

In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.

The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.

“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?”

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up.

“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.

“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”

Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”

Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.

“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!”

“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”

“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”

Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch.

“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled.

You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag?

“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.

“What?”

Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold.

“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.

His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest.

You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality.

“Oi.”

You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.

“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.

You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.

“Are you crying?” he questioned.

You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“Oi. Answer me.”

This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry?

“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”

You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked.

“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?”

You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”

You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.

“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.

The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.

“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.

Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.

“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.

You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.

“What t’hell, man!” he snarled.

Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.

“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”

Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.

“It’s not worth it, Rin.”

Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.

You were right.

Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it.

4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.

A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.

As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided.

“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”

“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”

“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Miya-san!”

Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know!

You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.

“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable.

Wait.

You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.

“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”

The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy.

Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.

“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over.

You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.

“They keep bursting,” you sniff.

“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”

You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his.

“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”

Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them.

Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?

“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully.

He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.

“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!”

You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.

You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.

5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.

You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.

After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time.

Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.

You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.

“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.

“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together.

You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.

Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.

“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.

“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say.

“Are you okay?”

You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again.

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies.

“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”

You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron.

Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.

But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?

“Osamu,” you breathe.

His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree.

“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.

“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”

“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”

“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”

“A little is better than nothin’.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”

Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?

A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved.

By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed.

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes.

He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.

“Yeah, really.”

A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?”

You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger.

You giggle.

Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.

6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.

“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.

Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order.

The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway.

Another long day ahead, you think to yourself.

“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!”

Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”

The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!”

A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.

You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.

Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years.

“Come back soon!”

The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).

A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight.

“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”

You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.

“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.

“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.

Your heart soars in your chest.

Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it.

7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu angst #miya osamu fic #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #osamu angst #osamu fic #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq angst #hq fic #hq osamu

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elius-learns-to-write · 3 years

Text

I Guess I wasn’t Worth The Effort

for all my amazing 200 followers <3 y/n is a little bit of a bitch in this and I have no clue why hehe.

Summary: you didn’t trust Tony so he stopped trying

You had a good life

A mum who loved you

Friends who cared about you

It didn’t matter that you didn't know who your dad was

You laughed as you watched your mum try to show MJ and Betty how to knead bread. “Come on put your back into it then” you called from the couch laughing even harder as Betty tried to flick some of the dough in your direction “oh shut up L/n, if you’re so good then do it yourself” MJ glared. It was a day like this you treasured. Days the girls would come over and just spend time with you and your mum, sure you loved spending time with Peter and Ned as well but there was just something bliss about this little group you loved. You were a family. “I don’t think the couch is really comfy” you smirked.

Sure you got curious from time to time but you never pushed the subject

It was the only time your mum ever got defensive

When you talked about him

“Can you at least tell me what he was like! I have a right to know” you shouted, arms waving and pointing, face turning red from frustration in a way that made you look like seom exotic bird doing a mating dance. “Look I know you want to know about him but he really isn’t worth it” your mum tried to reason, she knew you’d want to know about him eventually she just wanted to leave it until the last minute. “Why don’t you let me decide that” you asked, a sense of pleading clear in your voice.

Knock knock knock, your mum’s knuckles lightly tapped the door, she didn’t even wait for an answer before popping her head through the door. You never understood why she did that; knocked to ask for permission but never waited for an answer. “Hey sweetie, look I know you want to know about your dad, it’s just he was never there for me and never tried to support me. I left before he knew I was pregnant. I did it so you wouldn’t have to grow up going through what I did” she sat on the end of the bed, the soft white covers giving her a sense of hope that maybe she could preserve your innocence or rather ignorance over what your father was like. “I understand and I’m sorry I guess I was just interested but now I’m not sure I want to know anymore” you smiled.

You always ended up talking things through though

So over time, with the drip fed information about him your mother gave you, of course you grew to resent the non existent man

The once childish wonder soon vanished

Sure you wanted to know who he was still

But it just didn’t feel worth it

“So you don’t want to know him anymore?” Betty asked, still not getting it because the last time you talked about him you had your heart set on finding out who he was. “It’s not like I don’t want to know him, it’s just that if it didn’t happen I wouldn’t feel sad or let down” you explained, sipping your drink eyes focusing on the other people in the cafe rather than the stare they were both giving you. “And this my friends is why i read about people, so confusing” MJ muttered into her cup a smirk clear on her face

But then it happened

You found out who your dad was

And for some reason you resented him more

“Oh don’t play dumb Tony you know exactly why I didn’t tell you, you and your privileged rich fucking ass didn’t care about me and I didn’t want��that to happen to them!” you could hear your mum screaming down the phone, words fueled by years of pain and bitter memories. “Mum? Who is it?” you called walking through the hallway into the room she was currently arguing in “No they’ll decide what they want to do, not you” finger hitting the end call button with so much force you would have thought it would break. “Was that my dad?” you asked the same childhood innocence your mum had wanted to protect seeping into your tone, the same voice you used to ask if your dad was coming to your party at age 5. The same voice that cried when he didn’t show up. The same wide eyes that would stare out the window waiting to see if anyone would turn up on Christmas after you asked Santa for your dad. This was either going to break that little heart of yours or make it blossom into the person you were meant to be. “You know who Tony Stark is right?”.

Of course you’d seen him on the news

Him and his little group of heroes saving the world but destroying cities at the same time

You didn’t hate them, in fact there were people on that team that you held great respect for

Just the ‘let’s splash the cash and party’ attitude Tony seemed to have

Anyway you agreed to meet him

Decide if he was worth it

And what better way to do that then in the tower for dinner

“So what do you like to do kid?” Tony asked watching as you drank the glass of water Steve had poured you earlier “I don’t know normal stuff, I enjoy writing and English but apart from that I don’t know. Doing up old cars is fun'' the man's face lit up at that. At least you were giving him straws to grasp at. “Maybe we could do that together some time?” he asked, hoping to fill his words to the brim until it overflowed into his smile. “Maybe” you shrugged, turning to look at the awkward and polite smiles the rest of the team wore, clearly noticing your discomfort. “So Iced Americano, I heard you draw? That’s pretty cool” trying to diffuse the tension was probably the best way to go but a part of you just wanted to give Tony a sense of hurt he had given you by abandoning you even though it wasn’t his fault. “Uhhh yeah I do, not very good writing though” he chuckled eyes looking at Sam for help on what to say next. “So what do you like to write?” Sam asked.

It went on like that for the next few times you went over there

You didn’t want to hate your dad it was just you were too scared to let him get close

What if he left again?

Your bond grew with the others though

Especially Steve, Sam and Bucky

“Okay now you have to pick up 4” you explained to Bucky who was still confused about how Uno works “Ohhh okay okay” he was drawing the needed cards as Steve spoke from his place on the floor “why do you hate your dad?” What a question for 2 in the afternoon. “I don’t hate him, I just don’t trust him, I grew up waiting for him and he never showed up and now I’m meant to let him into my life and act like the perfect daughter to fix cars and read silly stories to him? I don’t think so” you replied, shaking your head. The one thing you tended to forget about the tower was anyone could hear what you said. Tony could hear what you said and he did it here. That was the start of the end.

After that conversation Tony began to grow distant

Just when you were ready to open up

Starks never did do very well with communication

So your already sketchy relationship got even worse

He didn’t know you trusted him

And you didn’t know he was hurt by your comment

So you stopped going and he stopped picking up

“It’s fine mum I guess I just wasn’t worth trying”

#tony x reader #tony x teen!reader #tony stark imagine #tony x platonic!reader #tony x y/n #the avengers #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #steve x teen!reader #bucky x teen!reader #sam wilson x teen!reader #tony x daughter!reader

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Just Another One

Sequel to: ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’

Corpse Husband x Actress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Mention of bad past relationships, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They keep proving each other right in the most wrong ways possible. They each want to be guarded even if that means the other will be hurt. Maybe that’s what they want - to hurt one another because they’ve already hurt each other once before.

Requested by the lovely readers who enjoyed the previous fic ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’. Sorry for the large time gap between the posting of the two fics but I still hope you guys will take the time to read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love you all with all my heart, Vy ❤

When you go out of your way to avoid leaving the house your options of entertainment are severely limited and you can’t blame anyone or anything but yourself for it. Today, I wouldn’t have gone out of my apartment even if I was one of those people who frequent the outdoors seeing as how the sky is trying to flood the Earth with all this nonstop rain. It does set a mood for a perfect night in but when you spend all your nights in doing the same thing over and over again, the atmosphere is practically meaningless. And so I ‘ve decided to resort to channel surfing as though I’ll find something interesting on TV that I haven’t yet seen on one of my social media timelines.

I pass several cooking channels on my journey, making a mental note of their individual numbers in case I don’t stumble across anything capable of better distracting me from my boredom and loneliness that’s slowly starting to creep in. I pass by a few movie channels showing teenage romcoms as if to celebrate the start of summer so you can imagine how quickly I moved on from those. Then come the celebrity channels which can often get a laugh out of me because of how pathetic and unbelievably ridiculous they are. And so, I stick around one where there’s a broadcast on a movie showing that’s happening tonight in LA. Oddly enough, despite my anxiety, going to a movie showing has always been on my list of things I’d want to do. This can be considered living vicariously or rubbing salt into the wound that I’ll probably never go because my anxiety and fear of being recognized is too severe. Either way I stick around to watch it.

And man do I regret it now looking at several different angels of a couple of actors entering the venue where they are to be photographed and asked questions by the mob of paparazzi that’s gathered due to the massive event. That in and of itself doesn’t sound - and really isn’t - so bad. However, it’s important to note that the actress in this duo is Y/N. Y/N L/N. My Y/N....shit, sorry, I mean my FRIEND Y/N, her arm linked with whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is who is holding an umbrella above the both of them, shielding them from the downpour of rain that is also taking place in LA apparently.

“The two were seen entering the venue earlier this evening, looking particularly cozy in each other’s presence if I do say so myself. The rain probably worked nicely in their favor.“ The first reporter says, her teasing tone of voice sending chills of anger down my spine as I glare at the screen, hands balled in fists, jaw clenched - all my body’s instinctive reactions to what is being shown to me. I know I technically have no right to behave or feel this way, in fact I should be fucking happy for Y/N and her successful career and the progress in her love life. But damn it how can I?! I was so damn close to kissing this girl! I was so fucking close to falling in another trap, tripping and landing in the embrace of another liar and user, another girl who switches partners more often than shoes. How could I’ve been so reckless to get so close to her even platonically? How did we become close enough for me to 1) show her my face; 2) start inviting her over to my apartment regularly; and how didn’t I notice the kind of messed up person she was all that time.

She was all sweet and flirting and shit a week or so ago and now she’s doing the exact same thing with him! The cameras are capturing them perfectly: every laugh, every exchange of a knowing look or nod, ever smack to his arm when he tells a joke. But what bothers me most is the many times he’s wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. Not just for pictures, but just because the fucker felt like it! And Y/N doesn’t seem to mind it at all.

“They have been the talk of the town recently, so while they could just be adding fuel to the fire, they could also have been caught by the flame and ‘caught feelings’ as they say. Regardless these two are a view we’d like to see more often.“ The other reporter says and that’s the final straw.

In one swift motion I turn the TV off and throw the remote across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the ground in several pieces, broken by the force of the impact. Just like I am broken by the force of the impact of these news. I don’t know which is worse: the fact that I fell for her and almost let her know it; the fact that she’s just another member of the club I don’t want anywhere near my life; or the fact that I can’t believe it.

Yeah that’s right - one foolish part of me refuses to believe that’s she’d do such a thing. I think that’s the same part which is still in awe of her so you can bet I ignore that part the majority of the time.

She is just another one. Not the one. Having been hurt before doesn’t mean she won’t hurt me or anyone else she’s gonna be with. Hurt people hurt people.

And damn has she hurt me, probably without knowing a damn thing. How selfish can you be, Y/N? How selfish can you really get? And how much am I going to allow you to hurt me?

* * *

“Thank you so much, Andrew. I would’ve died on the spot of anxiety if I was on my own.“ I say to my best friend who is currently sitting next to me on a park bench, in a tux, eating a cheeseburger. I too am still in my gown and am also gorging on a cheeseburger of my own.

“Don’t mention it. Us anxious people need to stick together.“ He bumps his shoulder against mine, stealing a small genuine smile from me, “Plus I couldn’t not come with you. You know how much I like a good rumor.“

I scoff, “Of course you do, but then again there was no need to add to what the media has already made a whole-ass ship out of.” I roll my eyes and take another bite. My appetite hasn’t been in its best condition so I’m only eating this under Andrew’s orders. I have no idea how people can ship us romantically, he’s the definition of an older - and very bossy - brother to me. I wish I could tell each and every single one of those girls who hate me because I’ve ‘stolen their man’ that I’d most likely be their sister in law rather than man snatcher, seeing as how my relationship with Andrew is so sibling-like.

That’s because we’re too alike, no one gets that. People play the ‘opposites attract’ car more often than I consider rational. But then again when they see a couple like Andrew and I - who are basically the same person in different bodies - they suddenly think we’re super compatible. Trust me, we’re not. And everyone who’s been on set with us will tell you the same.

“What can I say...“ he shrugs, smirking at me, “I like the fun. I bet Becca doesn’t though.“

I can’t help but huff. Andrew is the only one I’ve ever openly expressed my frustrations with Rebecca to. He was super helpful on the subject, seeing as how he can relate - many partners of his have tried to use him, some of which even succeeded. He’s more than qualified to school me on the topic but it turned more into sharing bad experiences. One of which was that instance back at Corpse’s apartment.

“And neither does Corpse I suppose.“ As though he’s read my mind, he pokes the hurt spot, pouring salt in the wound causing me to visibly cringe as though the pain was physical - because it was, I felt it in my chest and in my gut, a sharp stab of guilt and regret.

Why did I let it come to that? Why did I let us get so close? How did I not think of the consequences?

“I don’t care if he does or doesn’t.“ My hand automatically reaches for the pocket of the jeans I’m not even wearing in search of a cigarette. Not that I’d be able to light one even if I had them on me - Andrew would smack it out of my hand before I could even take a single puff.

He has the audacity to laugh, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.”

That’s all he needs to say really - that’s enough to make me feel seen and understood. Though that’s not always a good thing. I often times wish he couldn’t read me so well. Better said: I wish I didn’t let myself be so readable, you know. I’m just glad he’s the one who sees me because if it were anyone else they’d use this vulnerability of mine against me. I’m well aware that it’s a weakness, a really inconvenient one, but damn it I can’t get rid of it. I feel like I’ll be less human if I lose it. Everyone’s allowed to be vulnerable, some just are lucky enough to choose who they’ll be vulnerable around. I’m lucky enough to to have a choice, not so lucky in the people I choose to trust. Guess that’s not a luck thing, it’s just my inability to decipher whether a person is worth all the pain and torture of coming clean to them or not. So far many people have burnt me but two stick out in particular - Becca and Corpse. Corpse especially, which is the odd thing considering he hasn’t even wronged me in any way. At least not yet.

“Your phone’s vibrating.“ Andrew says, pulling me out of my overflowing head when he hands me my phone which I handed to him because of my dress’ lack of pockets.

“Thanks.“ I mutter through a sigh as I take it from him, checking the notification I’ve gotten.

My stomach drops: it’s a message from Corpse.

“Hey I saw you are in LA but we have a stream tomorrow, will you still be participating?“

Before I can reply, he sends me another message.

“I know you’re probably very busy but we get the most viewership on the streams when you’re in them so....“

I’ve probably been staring at my phone screen for longer than I thought since Andrew felt the need to make sure I was still breathing: “Hey, you ok? You look terribly pale.” I can barely hear him let alone reply. I can’t hear my own thoughts to know what to reply to him. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring myself too, Andrew. I’m scared too. I’m scared of how broken my picker has become. I almost kissed this guy! I almost entrusted all my thoughts, hopes, wishes and goals to him! What the fuck was I thinking?! Well, at least I know what he was thinking about - viewership. Likes, subs, views, publicity. The more eyes on the stream the better for him and everyone else. I genuinely want to applaud him, no one has been so direct about using me before. I was in a relationship with Becca for almost a year before I accidentally found out what she had been doing the whole time. No one’s ever smacked me in the face with this much honesty. It’s bittersweet really.

I want to laugh, I want to cry, slap myself across the face, slap him...I want to do so much, but all I can do now is sit in silence and think of how I could be so stupid.

He’s just another one, how did I not see that? How do I never see it until it’s too late? Why is one part of me still screaming: ‘He didn’t mean it like that!’

AND WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT TO BELIEVE IT?

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words-etched-in-her-skin · 3 years

Note

Cuddling with Sal that turns from her kissing your neck to biting all over you until you beg for her touch. Please.

I.... had wayyyy too much fun writing this one, dear 😏 So, thank you 😊 It was truly honor to not only get the okay, but the approval of the incredibly talented @classyfruit to write for this soft, snarky, and insanely gorgeous creature! I can only hope that I did her justice! ♥️ So, without further ado, my dears.. I give you my first genderbent Sal fic! (at just about 3300 words - this deserves a cut!)

****

It was in the murky undertow. In the infinite darkness that filled the waters on the humble outskirts of the village. An absolute starless night enveloping you as you made your way to the water’s edge, keeping your eyes keenly focused. It had been months since you’d seen her last. Since her sea-kissed skin last touched your own. You had ignored all the rumors and hateful words that danced across the stale air of the village. It was no secret that the Lords instilled a great fear in the sheltered minds of the townspeople, but you had learned a long time ago that most of those people didn’t know what they were talking about anyways.

“Fuck, Sal.. Come on. Where are you?”

You were about to turn around, admit defeat and start the long trek back to the village when it hit. The unmistakable mix of fresh rain and cinnamon. It wafted over you warmly like an old friend, forcing your eyes to focus even harder. Smiling as you caught the sharp gleam of her teeth in the moonlight. A supremely smug smirk across her lips as the length of her rose from the dark water.

“‘Ey there, love. Lookin’ for me?”

“No, I’m looking for the other gorgeous sea creature that resides in these waters.” You replied, smirking as you rolled your eyes.

“That right?” Her sharp teeth elongating in the moonlight as her smile grew even wider. “What? One gorgeous sea creature ain’t enough fer yeh?”

“Cute, Sal.”

“Mhm.”

You heard the soft whisper of a chuckle skip across the cool night air as Sal began to close the distance between you. The exposed parts of her skin shimmering as her body seemed to glide seamlessly towards the water’s edge. One who didn’t know any better, would think she controlled the tides, that they bent to her every will. But you knew how strong the tentacles that propelled her towards you were, and you knew it well - so well, in fact, that the thought alone brought a swift blush to your cheeks.

“Blushin’ already, love?”

She gave you a full toothed smile, wrapping you in a warm embrace before her feet even had a chance to meet the wet earth. Her strong pheromones, supremely intoxicating as they rolled over you.

“Shush.”

Her breath was cool against your skin as she chuckled.

“Nah.”

“Heh.. little ol’ me?”

Burying your face into her shoulder, you allowed yourself a moment to linger in her scent - to relish in her very being. She was comfortable in a way that no other person had ever been - she felt like home and adventure, all wrapped up into one delicious package,

“Fuck.. I missed you, Sal.” You murmured into her, pulling a low chuckle from her throat.

She ran the tips of her nails softly through your hair, pulling you closer.

“Yes, Sal. Little ol’ wonderful you.”

You leaned up, to place a soft kiss directly under her chin, forcing a prompt shiver to shoot across her body. The pale moonlight above you, just luminous enough to allow the pink hue that splashed across Sal’s cheeks to shine brilliantly. It was a sight that you would never grow tired of - one that you would always strive for. You could make Sal Moreau blush a million times over, and forever be one short.

“Aye, flatterer.”

“It isn’t flattery if it’s true, Sal.”

“Mh.. ‘spose not.”

She chuckled again, her breath warm against your neck - causing you to shudder against her. Not even aware of the cold setting into your bones as a dense fog rolled in. Sal’s presence never failing to envelope you completely. You shuddered again, this time involuntary, compelling her to wrap her arms around you even tighter.

“Cuppa tea, love? Warm yeh up a bit?”

“Mmh.. you read my mind.”

She rubbed her hands affectionately down your arms, attempting to warm you before taking your hand in hers. Leading you both away from the water’s edge and closer inland towards her humble home - a subtle swirl of smoke from the fireplace told you that she had likely recently baked something. A splattering of flat rocks in the foreground that were perfect for stargazing - or so Sal had assured you many times. And you couldn’t help but smirk when you passed them by.

“Too bad there’s no stars out tonight.”

“Mh.. ’cept fer the ones in yer eyes, o’ course.”

You blushed as she looked over her shoulder at you, deep crimson across your cheeks.

“Smooth, Sal.”

“Mhm.”

She chuckled again, opening the small wooden door as she led you into the small home. The comfortable scent of fresh baked goods and Sal swiftly enveloping you as you stepped inside. Warm undertones of chocolate still lingering in the air as you made your way into the kitchen. There wasn’t a single thing about Sal’s home that didn’t give you comfort - that didn’t make you feel inherently safe. Every part of it overflowing with her essence. It was warm, and inviting, and every bit of who Sal was. You wondered how anyone who’d met her could ever call her a monster.

“Hava seat on the sofa, sweetheart. I’ll put the kettle on.”

You watched how Sal’s body moved fluidly throughout the small room. How her muscles flexed with each subtle movement that she made. She dropped her coat from her bare skin effortlessly, allowing the landscape of it to be truly appreciated. A small smirk to her lips as she caught your eyes on her, fully aware of the effect she was having on you. There wasn’t a single part of her that wasn’t toned, that didn’t look absolutely delicious in the low lighting of the room. The warm hue from the fireplace dancing exquisitely across each and every exposed inch of her, like rogue embers upon a driftless sea.

“Heh… see sumthin’ yeh like, love?”

“Perhaps,” You replied, blushing slightly as you bit your bottom lip.

She chuckled softly as she took down a small box from her pantry, placing it next to the two cups on the table.

“New kind of tea? I haven’t tried that one before;.”

“Aye, not so much new. Jus’ special..” She paused, giving you a wink. “.. like you.”

You averted your eyes for a moment, blushing as Sal chuckled - never failing to disarm you.

“Always the charmer, Sal.”

“Mhm.”

She laughed as she shook her head, swirls of steam encasing her face as she filled both mugs to the rim. An earthy but delicious scent immediately rolling over you. The name on the box was unfamiliar - and honestly, seemed a little fancier than Sal’s normal tastes, which only left you wondering.

“So.. do tell, Sal… what makes this tea so special?”

“Yeh mean other than the fact that I’m drinkin’ it with you?” A keen smirk across her face as she stirred what looked like honey into each cup. She was on her game that night, and she knew it. You bit your bottom lip, clearing your throat before replying.

“Ahem… yes, other than that.”

“Heh.. jus’ so happens to be my favorite kind.. but it’s only found in a small shop o’ the other side of the village. So Donna brings me a box whenever she visits.”

You felt a sharp pang in your heart as your eyes fell to the almost empty box on the table - immediately wondering how long ago that had been.

“Oh.. does she not visit you very often, then?”

“Ey?”

Sal looked confused as she caught the melancholic look upon your face, a large and husky laugh ripping from her body as her eyes followed your gaze.

“Aye, no.. she visits me once a week, hon.. I just really like tea.”

She laughed again, filling the small home with so much warmth that it was all you could do to chuckle along with her. A bright gleam to her eyes as she gave you a fond smile.

“Yer cute, love.”

“Hush, Sal.” You blushed.

“Nah… yeh’d think after so many months, youd’ve gotten used to me by now.”

You slowly stood from the sofa, meeting Sal as she came over to the quaint living area. A teasing grin across her lips as she stopped in front of you - raising an eyebrow as you smirked.

“Oh? So you think it’d only take a few months for someone to be used to an incredible, warm, charming, sweet, funny, smooth, insanely attractive goddess, such as yourself?”

You smirked proudly as you watched the fierce blush spill swiftly over her cheeks, a slight bite to her bottom lip as she did her best not to drop the two mugs in her hands.

“Aye… now who’s the charmer?”

“You deserve nothing less, Sal Moreau.”

Sal moved suddenly and without much warning. Placing the two cups on the coffee table before effortlessly pulling you both down onto the sofa. Her strong arms wrapped firmly around you as you settled onto her lap.

“Fancy a cuddle?” She asked with a wide grin, forcing you to laugh.

“You’re cute, Sal.”

“Mhm.”

You laughed again before snuggling into her, the gentle feeling of her fingers in your hair as nestled into the crook of her neck - humming with content as she placed a small kiss to your forehead. You wondered how many had been in your spot before, how many had been lucky enough to bask in the warm affections of this gorgeous sea creature - and if any of them had appreciated it as much as you did.

“Sal?” You asked softly, the tips of your fingers tracing gently over the muscles of her forearm.

“Mh?”

“Have... you ever been in love?”

You almost expected the question to catch her off guard, perhaps cause her to pull back a bit - but she only tightened her hold on you even further.

“Aye.. a few times, yah.”

“And?”

“Eh.. with some, time jus’ gottaway from us.. others jus’ lost interest.”

“Ah... And the rest of the Lords?”

She placed a small kiss to the top of your head before answering.

“Heh.. Alcina has had several who’ve caught her eye.. Her current handservant and companion bein’ my favorite, tho. And Donna… why she could ‘ave any maid or maiden she wanted, tho she’ll never see it.”

“And Heisenberg?”

A deep and boisterous laugh rose from Sal’s body, the rich tones of it dancing melodically throughout the air as she almost doubled over into you.

“Karl loves himself enuf on his own, love.” She replied, continuing to laugh.

You chuckled softly before placing a small kiss at the base of her neck, a slight hitch to her breath as your lips placed another. Her indulgent pheromones sweeping over you with each deep breath that she took. They were sea-kissed and spiced and everything that reminded you of Sal. You placed another kiss against her bare skin before snuggling back in.

‘Hey Sal?”

“Mh?”

“Those others that lost interest.. they were fools, you know?”

“That so?”

You could feel the low chuckle that radiated throughout her throat.

“Mhm.” You replied as you began to reposition yourself, eventually straddling her thigh. A light pink hue already splattering itself across her cheeks as you settled in. The feeling of her incredible body pressed firmly against yours swiftly igniting a fire deep within your core. “You’re fucking perfect, Sal.”

You felt her flinch slightly beneath you, her hands moving quickly to rest on your hips as you moved in a little closer.

“And so gorgeous.. and kind.”

A slight whimper upon her lips - a deep crimson on her cheeks - the exposed skin of her chest growing steadily more flushed as you leaned in further, wrapping your arms around Sal’s neck.

“So sexy.. and wonderful.”

The stunning blush that spilled so beautifully across the murky undertones of her skin, the slight bite to her lip. There was nothing that could rile you up faster - nothing that could make you wetter. - than the absolute fluster of Sal Moreau.

A deep hitch within her throat, a breathy whisper across her ear.

“And so delicious.”

You felt several parts of her move at once. Her arms wrapped securely around your waist - pulling you closer. Her thigh pressed firmly against your core - forcing a lightning bolt of pleasure straight across your body. The sharpness of her teeth - nipping at your supple flesh - ripping a prompt whimper from your lips.

“Speak fer yerself, love.” She replied, allowing the length of her tongue to lick over your freshly bitten skin.

“Mmph.. fuck, Sal.”

She nipped at you again, this time sucking over it. The soft rhythm of her thigh against you, making you all too grateful for the thin fabric of your stockings. Warm juices quickly gathering in your core as your wetness for her grew with each slow rock of your hips.

“I was trying to fluster you here, babe.”

“Heh… how’s that going fer yeh, sweetheart?”

She pressed her thigh into you even further, compelling a deep moan from your body. Another indulgent bite to your neck - the heated sting of it swiftly spilling over you.

“Ah-! It was going good for a minute there.”

“Mh.. it was.”

The exquisite shiver that ran across your body as she placed a kiss to the soft curve of your collar bone. Fingers wrapped firmly in her hair as you eagerly pulled her closer - a desperate and silent plea for more.

“Don’ wanna leave too many marks on yeh, love. What’ll the villagers think?”

“Fuck the villagers.”

“Nah.. rather fuck you.”

She chuckled as her thigh pressed firmly into your core, moaning slightly as she felt the heartbeat of it against her. Your warm juices dripping down - seeping into the soft scales of her skin. An immediate and absolutely desperate moan forcing past your lips as you ground your hips down into her. Her warm breath against the flushed skin of your neck as she tangled her fingers deep into your hair, tugging on it as she gently pulled it back. A trail of heated kisses up the length of your neck, nipping at your jawline before her lips crashed into your own.

You whimpered as you melted into her - into nothing more than the feeling of her - the utter and all encompassing sensation of her tongue dancing exquisitely with yours. And oh, how the world spun - how it rotated intoxicatingly around you - lifting you onto one axis with only Sal to hold you up. It was almost more than you could handle. With your core deliciously grinding against her. A deep heat building steadily within you as your hips slowly quickened their pace.

“I want to touch you, Sal.. I need to-!”

She moaned deeply as her mouth eagerly met with yours again, pulling you back in. A swift movement of her hand, taking your own as she brought it down exactly to where you both wanted it most. Moaning in return at the feeling of just how utterly wet she was - at just how badly she desired you. Juices immediately coating your fingers as you slid them over her clit, teasing her entrance before sliding three in. An exquisite hitch to Sal’s breath as you curled them deep inside of her.

“Mmh.. Fuck, love..”

She lifted her thigh up a little more, resting her food on the coffee table. Her hands firmly on your hips as she perfectly matched their pace to the steady rhythm of your fingers. A deep heat spilling over you - a desperate need for more. Rolling your hips down onto her as your wet folds slid deliciously around the defined muscles of her thigh. Every inch of her taut - firm beneath you as she pulled you closer still. Her hands moving - roaming over your body as if it were a handwritten map of the stars. The tips of her fingernails grazing over the soft skin of your ribcage.. ghosting over your nipples and down your sides. Crying out for her as the sharpness of them found your back, slightly digging in as you increased the speed of your fingers.

“Mh.. you feel so good, love.”

“You are so good, Sal.”

Her hips jerked, whimpering at your praise. A shot of pleasure shooting straight through you as your bodies connected - as they desperately crashed into each other - clawing at the other’s flesh like it was all that you had. Like you may lose each other at any moment.

“And so sweet.”

You placed the softest kiss to her lips, thrusting your fingers deep inside of her. Your own pleasure building with each masterful swirl of your hips - the firmness of Sal’s thigh delicious against your core - juices soaking straight through your stockings, dripping down the sides of it.

“Fuck, love.. I’m..”

The great Sal Moreau, the smoothest creature in existence - not even able to finish a sentence - to mutter a quip. Completely and utterly flustered beneath you. Her normally strong breath hitched, her cheeks a deeper crimson than you’d ever seen before. Slitted embers as her eyes grew increasingly half lidded. You had never seen her look more beautiful - and you felt bad for anyone who wasn’t there to witness it.

“You’re what, Sal? Hm? Stunning? Amazing? Perfect?”

You punctuated each praise with an indulgent thrust of your fingers. Her nails in your back, muffled moans against your skin as she sunk her teeth back into your soft flesh. An unrelenting heat sweeping over you with each delicious sting that marked it’s way across your body. Her hands back on your hips as she sped up their pace to match your own. Fingers strong , merciless inside her - forcing the sweetest juices to gush from her core. Body flushed, writhing against her as you moved as one.

“Come with me, love.”

The words lept from her tongue like a prayer - like an order that had been rolled up in nothing more than a desperate plea.

“Mmph-! Fuck, Sal.”

The heat between you was electric - charged in a way that you had never felt before. Beads of sweat dripping deliciously from your bodies as your pleasures continued to build.. as your fingers curled.. as she took your hips into her hands and forced your aching core down against her. Compelling a cry to rip itself from your lungs. Bodies jerking as a hot white pleasure spilt relentlessly over the both of you. Breathless, shuddering into each other as a tidal wave of it crashed over you… as utter bliss seeped into every cell that you had to offer… as you screamed her name out into the starless night - willing her to scream out yours in turn. Juices gushing - slicking over thighs, and dripping down fingers. And you held each other closely, riding out the infinite stars behind your eyes until neither could move.. until your hearts were beating as one. Your forehead resting gently against hers as you placed soft kisses to her dew stricken skin.

‘Fuck, Sal.. I missed this. I missed you.”

“Heh.. jus’ havta come back sooner next time, yah?”

“Touche’.” You chuckled, placing a sweet kiss to her lips. Her eyes closed as she tried to steady her breath. “So does that mean you won’t mind if I spend the night?”

“Bold o’ you to assume I planned on lettin’ go anytime soon, love.”

As though to prove a point, she wrapped her arms securely around you. The strength of her embrace holding you close as you settled back onto her lap, snuggling into her. The nightly sounds of the reservoir soothing as they swam throughout the late night air - calming as they softly drifted over you. Allowing the two of you to linger in the solace of the moment - in the feeling of nothing but each other - before Sal safely carried your slumbered body to the bed.

#depravity answered #resident evil village #resident evil #re8 village #genderbent sal #genderbend #sally moreau #inspired by classyfruit art #classyfruit art #resident evil au #re8 au #resident evil fanfic #re8 fanfiction #sal is hot #i hope you like it!

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clintbartonswife · 4 years

Text

if you asked me i would lose it all

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier Summary: Jaskier will be loyal to Geralt until his last breath, this he swears. Notes: im sorry. descriptions of torture. mentions rape (not graphic in the slightest, more like an allusion, but tagged it just to be safe) masterlist || part two

Jaskier had always felt too much, falling a little bit in love with almost everyone he meets. The seamstress from Beauclair with the deepest green eyes he had ever seen, the knight from Kerack who had muscles the size of Jaskier’s head, the innkeeper and his wife from Rinde who had the warmest smiles he had ever seen.

All loves that he treasured, yet let go after a night or two, the heartache keeping him company until he found another gorgeous person to fall for.

When he finds Geralt at the ripe age of 18 it’s different, for once the bard doesn't want to leave, a nagging feeling pulling him along the path by the Witcher’s side.

His love grows easily, from that of shallow appreciation of his honey golden eyes to a fierce want to protect his love from those that scorn him in every village they visit, a need to nurture the fragile relationship they were building.

It’s only Jaskier’s luck that the only person to ever intrigue him enough to stay seems to want him to leave, impenetrable walls built around his heart.

So, Jaskier writes songs of their travels, being respectful of Geralt’s boundaries whilst still trying to provide as much tender love and care as he could without scaring the Witcher, all the while falling deeper and deeper in love.

Everything starts to go wrong after the djiin.

He watches through the window as his heart breaks with every thrust of Geralt’s hips, the Witchers disinterest (which he had assumed was general Witchery distance) suddenly making more sense - he just didn't like Jaskier.

Still the bard stayed, sewing his heart back together with every step he took beside the Witcher. His affectionate touches didn't falter, not allowing his own personal hurt to affect his Geralt negatively. He still deserved as much softness as he could bring himself to provide - Melitele knows Yennefer wasn't providing that.

Jaskier funnelled all of his creative energy in to his songs, more and more of them staying in his private notebook, too personal to be sung in front of Geralt, let alone the general public.

After each time they met with Yennefer, Jaskier was there to pick up the broken pieces the Witch left behind, baring the brunt of Geralt’s bad mood for a week after she had gone, heart chipping a little more each time as his hatred for the woman grows.

The last straw was the dragon hunt. The whistling winds whipping Jaskier’s hair in his eyes as Geralt’s words lashed out at him, vicious and hateful.

In the following two weeks, Jaskier drank to forget, falling back into old habits and into strangers beds with a new desperation.

The young farmer with hazel eyes - not as beautiful as Geralt’s. The miller’s daughter with blonde hair - not light enough.

The people begin to blend together, yet it doesn't work. The heartbreak still radiates through his body, numbing him from any other emotion.

He’s too drunk to register that Cintra has fallen.

Too drunk to hear the rumours of the bounty on his head.

Too drunk to notice the Nilfgaardian soldiers entering the tavern.

Too drunk to defend himself against their arms that steal him away that night.

When he awakens the next morning, head throbbing with the familiar pain of a hangover, Jaskier is hit with a wave of nausea.

Turning his head to the side, he reaches for the bed-side table, blanching when he finds his arms restrained. It takes a few seconds to register that he’s in unfamiliar surroundings: the distinctly tavern smell (of weak ale and piss) gone, the slightly scratchy linens of the bed replaced with a hard wood surface.

Unrestrained panic swelled up in the bard’s chest, his instincts kicking in as he tried to mimic sleep.

‘Just breathe slowly, keep your eyes closed and stay calm’ repeated through his brain, sounding suspiciously like Geralt’s voice.

“-the bastard up yet?”

“He wasn't the last time I checked, no sir”

“And no sign from the Witcher?”

“None sir”

Jaskier heard a scoff as the door opened, two sets of feet stopping at the side of the chair. Unnerving silence fell for a few seconds, before a heavy kick was given to his ribs, punching the air from his lungs in a loud exhale.

“Now listen here, bard” the bigger of the two men all-but-growled, looming over Jaskier as the singer blinked heavily to clear the daze that had settled over him, “We’re going to make this real simple. You tell us what we need to know, and maybe we wont kill you”

Scrunching his nose in disgust, Jaskier considered his options, “What is it that you want to know?”

Another scoff.

“Maybe he’s not so useless after all” the tall man sneered, exchanging an amused glance with the man stood in the corner, “Tell us where the Butcher of Blaviken is”

Self preservation was forgotten as the nickname stirred up anger deep inside Jaskier, the unfairness choking him, “I’m afraid I don't know any butchers, not the biggest fan of hanging around long enough in towns long enough to befriend anyone in that profession I’m afraid”

That earnt him a sharp slap, the sting helping to ground him.

“Don't try to be smart. Where is the Witcher - Geralt of Rivia?”

“Oh, I do know him” Jaskier answered, tone kept light and conversational, “Of course I haven't seen him in months so I’m afraid I’m really of no use to you gentlemen”

Another slap.

“Now that must be a lie. Why would the Witcher leave his little whore behind?”

Now that one stung, the frown forming on Jaskier’s face before he could stop it.

“Aw, struck a chord with that, did I? He found someone else I assume - though Melitele knows how anyone can lay with a monster like -”

Rage finally overflowing, Jaskier spat in the man’s face, “How dare you call him a monster. He’s a better man than you’ll ever be”

A bitter chuckle, followed by a punch that left the bard tasting copper.

“I think you might actually be in love with that thing” he said, amused, “That just makes this all the more fun”

Jaskier held eye contact with the man, glowering as he slowly spat out the pooled blood onto the floor.

“Tell me where he is”

“No”

Two punches to his stomach, and a hard kick to his shin.

“My sister hurt me worse than that for stealing her brush when we were seven” Jaskier sneered.

“Where is he”

A backhand across the face, followed by three hard kicks to his ribs.

“Toss a coin to your-”

Another heavy kick to his stomach, winding him slightly as he keeled forward, a burning pain spreading over his chest.

“Oh valley of plenty” he wheezed, forcing his head back up to stare at his captor’s face.

The day carried on very much the same, Jaskier working through his repertoire of songs as he was beaten black and blue, the lyrics keeping him focused and alert.

The man in the corner just stood and watched, his silent presence looming over the beating.

“I must say” Jaskier eventually huffed, directing his words at the man in the corner, “Your indifference to this situation is highly annoying. Are you not enjoying the performance?”

His question was met with another heavy hit to his stomach, the skin there surely covered in a patchwork quilt of forming bruises.

“You bore me”

The voice was cold, cutting through the pain like a knife and replacing all feeling in his body with the need to flee, an innate wrongness surrounding the man.

He stepped forward into the light, pink eyes flashing at him, “I think it’s high time we shut you up”

The taller man grinned, a shark-like expression that just added to the bard’s discomfort, moving behind him to grab him by the sides of the head, tilting him so that his neck was bared to the room.

They’re going to slit my throat, Jaskier thought absently, half delirious with pain, this is it.

The slimy tendrils of magic prodding at his mind made Jaskier’s eyes widen in panic, struggling against the bonds in a fruitless effort to get away from the unsettling sensation.

No. No this was so much worse.

He could handle pain. He could handle taunting words and harsh treatment. The one thing Jaskier couldn't handle was fucking mages.

“No - “ he gasped, voice distorted by the angle of his head, “please-”

Yellow eyes. Lips curled in to a snarl.

The mountain.

“Damn it, Jaskier!”

No. No no no no no no no. Not this. Anything but this.

“Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, its you, shoveling it?”

White hair. Curled fists.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands”

Wet eyes. Shattered heart. A wasted life.

“Damn it, Jaskier!”

And it looped. Again, and again, and again,

“Ready to talk, bard?”

His eyes fluttered open, eyelids heavy, fighting to remain closed.

“Fuck. You” he hissed, words mangled through gritted teeth.

The mage smirked, fingers reaching for his temple again, “Very well. It seems like one hour wasn't enough”

The last thought Jaskier had before being pulled back to the mountain was one of horror, that one hour had felt like an entire day.

When he came to once more, Geralt’s voice still ringing in his ears, Jaskier realised there was a new man in the otherwise empty room.

“Going to talk yet little birdy?” the man asked, voice far too light for the circumstances, his posture reminiscent of those that approached him in taverns with hopes of charming him into bed that night.

The realisation occurred to him as he noticed his hands were free, a rusty cot added to the corner of the room.

“No” he whispered, the horror palpable in his tone.

“Well that's too bad” the man sneered, his too-rough hands dragging him out of the chair and towards the cot.

The irony was that in that moment Jaskier would’ve given anything to have been back on that mountain, Geralt blaming him for everything, rather than be faced with his current reality.

Of course, the mage wasn't kind enough for that.

Jaskier wasn't sure how many days had passed since his capture.

What he did know was this: his throat was too sore to speak, ruined from both abuse and lack of water; his body was so mottled that it looked like he had begun rotting, greenish-yellow marks covering almost every inch of his skin; his back shredded by the impromptu whipping session earlier that morning; and he wasn't sure he could muster a smile, even if informed of the untimely and gruesome death of Valdo Marx.

But, no matter what they threw at him, he would not betray Geralt.

He had made this vow to himself during a quiet moment on (what he guessed was) the second day, that no matter what faced him - be it further torture, mutilation and eventually death - he would not speak a word of the little information he knew.

He may have ruined Geralt’s life, may have annoyed him with his incessant and unwelcome company, but one thing Jaskier could give him now was his undying loyalty, the one thing that no one could take away from him.

They wouldn't take away his love.

So he breathed steadily as he looked as his hands, tied down firmly to the arms of the chair, taking in every detail of the calloused fingers that made him the famous bard that he was today.

“Last chance. Where is the Witcher”

Jaskier just grinned, the smile bloody and insincere.

“Fucking your mother I would imagine” he croaked, withholding the wince of pain from the strain on his throat, instead widening his grin at the look of anger on the man’s face.

With a growl, the man brought the hammer down heavily on Jaskier’s left ring finger, smiling sickeningly at the bard’s agonised scream.

“Where is he?”

Head fuzzy with pain, Jaskier scowled and spat his blood in the man’s eyes.

The sickening crunch of bone echoed around the small room, Jaskier’s scream ringing out as another two fingers were smashed.

The line of questioning continued until all of his fingers were unrecognisable, the bard humming ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ through tears as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

“What a shame” the captor said, fake sympathy swimming in his cold eyes, “Looks like you’re worth even less than you were when we found you. What worth is a bard if he cant play anymore?”

The man pretended to think, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “Of course! A brothel worker!” He paused, tutting again and shaking his head, “No you cant even be that, we’ve made you far too ugly”

Jaskier tried to ignore his words, focusing on his rattling lungs instead, forcing them to inhale and exhale.

Unconsciousness crept forward, the pain finally overwhelming him, Jaskier falling into it’s open arms gladly.

“-cher isn't coming for him. We’ve had the word out for two weeks and got nothing”

The words drifted in to Jaskier’s cell, the conversation prying him from sleep.

“So what do we do? The bard’s not talking”

“We were meant to give a destination by yesterday”

“So we make one up, blame the bard when it comes back empty”

“... That could work”

“Then I’m guessing we kill him afterwards?”

“Theres no reason to keep him”

“Well-”

“You’re not using army funds to feed just so he can be your personal whore, Cahir would skin you alive if he found out”

Jaskier huffed a laugh at that - the realisation that his worth had finally been reduced to what his father had called him all those decades ago, ‘a worthless whore’, ‘useless to polite society’.

The conversation carried on, though Jaskier’s mind drifted, thoughts racing yet head surprisingly clear. He shifted in his seat, only slightly to the left, wincing as the healing whip wounds on his back pulled open again, the stinging pain keeping him tethered to consciousness.

Not for the first time, he wondered where Geralt was. Safe, that he was sure of, hidden from the greedy eyes of the Nilfgaardian army if their unhappiness was anything to go off of.

Had he found Cirilla yet?

Was Roach okay?

Was he taking proper care of himself?

And - in even his lowest moments - he found himself wondering how Yennefer was.

If she was handling the break-up better than he did.

If she was safe, happy, looked after.

Or maybe, perhaps even back with Geralt. The three of them playing happy families while Jaskier rotted in a cell and waited for a hapless death.

Being on your deathbed gave you a lot of perspective, Jaskier had realised, and he found it hard to even hate Valdo on occasion (until he regained some energy from a piece of stale bread thrown at him and immediately felt disgusted that the thought had even crossed his mind).

As the fog in his brain seemed to seep into his dimming vision, his thoughts returned to Geralt’s eyes.

“Goodnight my love”

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carrottuan93 · 3 years

Text

Haven’t met you yet| Mark

Masterlist (4/4)

Starring: MK x You

Tags: Mark Tuan, Fluff, Destiny, Waiting, Christmas, Bookworm, Nerd, Love, Fate

Total WC: 3075

An hour left before Christmas, Mark told you that he doesn’t believe in Santa Claus. He said he’d rather believe on the existence of aliens because he watched too much American movies about the extraterrestrial life. That sounded cool for you that you both share the same interest for the unknown life out there, but you don’t want to discredit Santa for giving you Mark to spend the Christmas eve with. He did not only hit the roof of your standards, but he exceeded them. He never cease to met all the bars for your ideal type and he’s never failed you so far with his vast array of knowledge of all the topics you guys are talking about in the past 2 hours. Guys for you are sexy if they can carry a proper conversation.

“I swear to God if an alien comes out of nowhere, I’d let him take me and I’ll fly with him in a heartbeat.” You’re a whole lot better now that you’re sharing a lot of jokes and making fun of each other. Setting aside the world and the rest of the others. Just you, him and the wine under the starry sky.

“Jesus, out of all the people in our planet, you chose to elope with someone from the outside world. In my case, I’d let them take me as long as they will show me how spaceships work so I could finally meet my childhood dream of becoming a space police, riding those cool ships and chasing bad aliens.” Your topic reached the outer space already but you’re now laying on the floor beside Mark, as you watch the open glass roof ceiling of the observatory with eyes wide awake.

“What’s wrong with dating an alien? At least, I get to experience travelling to different galaxies and planets. So much for the trouble of chasing bad aliens for a living.” You snickered, earning his grumpy voice.

“If you’re going to date alien, at least choose someone handsome.” He replied, placing both of his arms underneath his head.

“I haven’t seen any handsome alien yet, I mean all the creatures that they show on tv are the ones with the big bald heads, oval shaped eyes, and lanky thin frames. I don’t think they’d fit the definition of handsome.” This is your first time watching under the stars on top of the freaking Namsan Tower observatory and you’re delighted to experience it on a Christmas day with Mark.

“I am just right here beside you. I’m handsome since I was born, that’s already a given, I know. So just save yourself from the trouble of finding the alien guy of your dreams because Mark has come to save the unbothered princess from distress.” You don’t know if he’s still sober enough at this hour but you can tell that you aren’t drunk enough to be hearing this from him.

“Handsome guy perks, a ticket to finding instant dates. Why do you even want to date me?” You turned to your side, facing him. You're curious and you want to get straight to the point.

“Now that we’ve got to the topic of impressions, I think you’re quite interesting. That maybe you could make my Christmas eve a little less lonely, perhaps. Scratch that, maybe you could fit on all types of holidays and occasions. Maybe you’re a girl matched for all the seasons.” You felt giddy now that you’re facing each other, side to side, but still, you need to calm your high hopes for this guy.

“If this is a date, I’m ditching you already.” You glanced at him quickly and was rewarded by his cute eye smile. Oh cupid, this is not fair play for showing up earlier than your scheduled season in February.

“Why not? Am I not appealing to you? Come on. Try me." You watch his eyes examine your face, those hazelnut orbs are beautiful, and you want to train your eyes and treat them as their home. You never experienced staring at any guy for the longest time until tonight and all you can hear is the sound of him breathing, reciprocating your own rhythm. You aren’t aware that silence is actually too deafening when it’s the heart that does the talking. Those tall buildings appear smaller from a distant and they're glistening different hues and wavelength of bright lights, which are now witnesses to you finding love in the most unexpected way. But you don’t have the concrete definition of love because you haven’t felt it before. You just know and you can feel the unfamiliar zip of current travelling on your bloodstream. It’s just the two of you, and you’re under the supervision of the constellations in the open sky above, and it’s magical that you feel like these were the exact same stars that the first lovers saw on earth. How come it's too peaceful up there when you lay next to him? It’s a perfect moment for your exhausted soul to recover from your endless pursuits and maybe this is your fate taking its move. You are no daredevil to begin with and chasing ecstasy aren’t your cup of tea because you’re always craving for assurances in all the right places. But Mark is your risk and guarantee, all at once.

It is really tiring to find something when you don’t even know what you’re searching for in the first place. One thing is for sure, you haven't met anyone so random and fascinating like him. He's unique, overflowing with charms and maybe a box full of surprises for you to discover. Deep down, you've been wanting to get to know him more and you're aware that you're crossing oceans knowing that you’ll meet him on the other end. It is very unlike you to just casually lower your guard down for someone upon your first meeting but when it comes to Mark, everything seems to magically untangle in all the right places.

“Because I’m beginning to think that I misplaced my heart somewhere when it is still right here, intact on my rib cage. It’s just that my heart feels foreign to me now that you’re slowly owning up most of the empty spaces in my atrium.” He smiled like a panacea of all earthly ills and his smile could heal the world.

“I am no poet, but Paulo Cuelho once said ‘if it’s still in your mind, it is worth taking the risk’. I could see the thrill of chase, the first time I laid my eyes on you last night and you never left my mind ever since I got to talked to you tonight. Actually, I’ve met you already a long time ago. So you need to catch up with me and we all have the days on our feet to go on a lot of spontaneous pursuits, and you’ll make up for the lost time that you’re supposed to have known me already.” He’s too good with words and you’re drowning and drowning and you never wanna be saved. You’ve encountered almost all kinds of contracts on your work already and you always make sure to read the terms and agreements regardless of the number of pages but when it comes to Mark, you’d gladly sign the papers right away even with your eyes closed. But something doesn’t feel right with what he is saying.

"First of all, I haven’t met you yet not until this evening.” Maybe it’s the wine that’s getting you drunk, hearing things and such.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I tell you that you’re the reason why I traded my Christmas in the US for a night here with you in Seoul for a blind date. I might sound stupid, but you should thank Jackson for all the credits. He introduced you to me a year ago and I stopped attending parties ever since my cousin did all the marketing strategy and such. It’s crazy right? For all I care, I’m tired of all things temporary so I trust my cousin when he said that you’ll give the permanence that I’m searching for. I don’t really know, I’m a random guy and I told my mom I’m hopping on a 14 hour flight to Seoul on Christmas eve to meet this girl so I went here for risk’s sake. And my luck has never failed me when you come to my place last night, barging in like some kind of an annoyed girlfriend coming home from a party. Damn, you nearly broke my unit’s lock system. You can claim your stuff at my place later when we go home, and you owe me a ‘Thank you’ because I saved you from carelessly sleeping into someone else’s bed. I respected your drunken state and I slept on the floor, so you have nothing to worry about. I’m just surprised that you disappeared in the morning all of a sudden without even saying anything.” You sat on your place, unable to process everything that he just said. You realized you’re so done, the heavens above could just open up and take you already because there isn’t any influence of wine taking over your completely sober minds. Everything is real and happening and you’re overwhelmed, and you don’t know what to do anymore.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT???!” You screamed to your shock, running all over the place like you killed somebody and you badly want to escape the room due to your embarrassment.

“Wow, you even curse louder than I’ve imagined. It’s alright, Y/n. I’m fully aware that you love the scent of fabric conditioner because you can’t get enough of me last night. I can’t blame my parents for giving birth to myself. I left your stuff in my room, but I know I got something that you badly need right now.” He fished out your planner from the pocket of his coat, waving it like some kind of a show money in the air and you’d do what it takes to retrieve it back to your possession.

“Relax, I didn’t mean to interfere with your personal schedule, but I just saw a picture of pink roses at the back of your planner.” He gave you the planner and you hugged it like your world depended on it. He clapped his hands in the air and a guy came out of nowhere, carrying a bouquet of full-grown pink roses. It’s your first time receiving your favorite flowers from a guy and you feel like you don’t deserve Mark because he’s too good for you. Your eyes are now brimming in tears, knowing that God already gave the sign that you’re looking for. He’s standing right beside you and all you need to do is to take a leap, because it’ll be all or nothing.

“Jackson, you’re so dead to me. He sold me even without my permission and now that you’re right here, I’m suing you as well because of the amount of emotional damaged you have caused to my system. Now I’ll never be the same again because you gave me an ocean when I’m only asking for some rain.” You’re crying because of happiness. He dried your tears and he hugged you, so tight, you never wanna let go of him anymore. He smells of fabric conditioner and you’re never going to shut up about it.

"If only you can see yourself from my own perspective, you'd want to date yourself too. You sound scary whenever you want to sue someone because of something. First, it's my cousin Jackson and now you're suing me as well. That makes you interesting. A tough nut to crack. You're a challenge and I'm always up for the stakes of it. I'm not a perfect guy but we can save all the paralegal proceedings with just settling everything in our own terms, alright? I'm a man of my own words. I might be a pro player, but only in games for your reference, because I don't play with hearts, I win them. You just need to chill and worry about not falling too hard for me. Because I'm pretty sure, I'd beat you up to it." The man's got a way with his words. He's the definition of smooth and speed at the same time. But he's more than that. You like smart guys, you're attracted to their brains and you'll be placing all of your poker cards on the table for this sweet bounty.

"I'm not sure if our personalities coincide or if our interests are compatible but I'm hoping that whatever it is, this mutual attraction tonight isn't just a one-time thing. Just so you know, Eunhee has given me enough stress with all the troublesome blind dates I've been to lately. All I’m asking is for you to be sincere and honest because once I let you in my life, you'll never be allowed to leave anymore." You glanced down on your fingertips, too afraid to enter a commitment, you feel like you're having a mini heart attack. You swear that Mark could really hear your heart pounding louder than ever.

"Fate is really unpredictable. If you will ask, I'd rather believe in the existence of aliens more than Santa but what if he's really residing in the North Pole and he gave you to me as my Christmas present? I’m not going to run away because the chase is finally over. All you need to do is surrender yourself to me. No more buts, and what ifs. Only if you'll gonna agree to date me, my Dad will be really proud of raising a gambler just like him.” You could only wish for time to stop right there on your spot. You couldn’t ask for more, you began to doubt yourself if you really deserve all the good things that has come to your life. You wouldn’t want to wake up from this fantasy, but your eyes aren’t going to lie, there is love all over the place and you can see that it is real and happening this time.

"I don't know much about you, but I would love for you to to bring me into another spontaneous trip of yours cause I'm absolutely up for more of your surprises." All you can ever hear is the sound of a loud bang with all the fireworks lightning up the sky in iridescent hues as you froze right on your spot, eyes wide open, when you felt his lips on yours in one swift chaste kiss. He's too gentle, you can feel his breath becoming one with yours. He pulled away and you both greeted each other a 'Merry Christmas' as a couple. That was your first kiss taken from you and it tasted sweeter than wine.

“I want to let you know that I’m actually your secret Santa. I may have come to the party without bringing my gift, but I made sure to tag you here along with me so you could appreciate my gift in person. It's me, I'm the gift itself and I'm already yours, Y/n." Did he just show you an aegyo? Gosh, you almost melted with how cute he is. Mark must have been blessed with all the charms in the world. He showed you a piece of paper with your name written on it. You don’t believe in destiny until you brought out your own paper and saw his name written on it.

“I didn't know if Eunhee and Jackson has something to do with this but I’m your Secret Santa too. If this isn't destiny, then I don't know what is. But you can have my heart for Christmas, and I hope you'd take care of it from now on.” You showed him his name written on the paper and everything became irrelevant all of a sudden. As if floating on a zero-gravity dimension, you felt like a lifeless feather on thin air but your heart is betraying you by falling too deep for this guy. He's a one chance in a lifetime, an answered prayer from your last lifetime and your sweet serendipity.

"Now that everything went the way I wanted it to be, I'm up for another trip this New Year's eve, on your birthday." Just when you thought you've been blessed with so much this year, there are actually a lot more surprises to come.

"Jackson has told you a looot about me, even my birthday, and I'm not going to be surprised about that. Anyways, what about the trip?". He reached for your hand and you felt delicate in his grasp. Too weak and too fragile but your heart is full and that's the only thing that matters.

"My father is the CEO of TUAN RESIDENTIAL, a US based real estate developer which also means we are your firm's newest client. I know this is the craziest coincidence on top of everything, but I just discovered it this morning when I saw your planner and read the details about the meetings you've attended in the past week. I find out that you're actually part of the accounting firm that we hired. With that, I want to formally introduce their Vice President, Mark Tuan. We're acquiring a domestic corporation here in Seoul so we could expand our own line of business here in Korea. Trust me, this looks like a prank but I guess fate will really find a way for us to cross paths together no matter what. But we aren't talking about work here. Instead, are you ready for another surprise? I'm taking you with me in the US ahead of New Year’s Eve so you could meet my father and discuss a little about the liquidation proceedings. And of course, my mom would love to meet the reason why her son traveled to the other side of the world. She'll be glad that his eldest son will finally bring a girl in the house. So be prepared, Y/n, because we're leaving in the next 24 hours.”

and all this time you thought 'why are people too patient when they are waiting?' Simply because you wouldn't want to come under prepared if love suddenly comes along your way when you least expect it.

“WHAT THE HELL! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, MARK??????”

“Cool. I like girls who cuss a lot.”

#got7 #mark #mark tuan #got7 fluff #got7 fanfic #got7 imagines #got7mark #ahgase #got7 jackson #jackson #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #boyfriend #Christmas

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autistic-girl-academic · 3 years

Text

Hypmic OC Crew: Freestyle Angels

so I’ve seen a lot of people posting their Hypmic OCs lately, and that made me want to buckle down and finalize the details for mine!

An all-female team based out of Tokyo’s Minato Ward, the Freestyle Angels are technically an independent crew - they got together to drive out crews who were abusing their claims to the territory, but aren’t interested in winning more territory themselves. (Not that they’d qualify for the DRBs anyway, of course.) Rather, they serve as a foil/rival team to the Chuohku trio.

Sumire Kuino, AKA Queen of Street

“Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much” - Helen Keller

Occupation: Humanitarian aid organizer

Birthday: October 7th

Age: 30

Zodiac: Libra

Height: 6′0″

Weight: 165 lbs

Blood type: AB

Likes: Bargains, fixing things, dogs, birdwatching

Dislikes: Wastefulness, unpaid debts, technology, selfish people

Favorite food: Chazuke

Least favorite food: Fugu

The daughter of a corrupt businessman and his mistress. Her father was an associate of Sairo Tohoten, who helped him flee the country when he got in trouble with the authorities, leaving a young Sumire and her mother behind. Sumire’s mother, only viewing her as another mouth to feed, likewise abandoned her daughter once she’d found a new lover. Frightened at the possibility of ending up in an orphanage, Sumire struggled to fend for herself on the streets until she was taken under the wing of an older homeless man named Takayoshi. He would go on to raise Sumire as his own, with her quickly coming to call him ‘Grandpa’ and taking on his family name. Over the years, Sumire became increasingly protective of him in turn, and he and his circle of friends would jokingly call her ‘queen’ for her assertive, take-charge nature; Sumire was always exasperated by the nickname, but grudgingly grew to accept it.

Takayoshi was the sort of person who was always willing to lend a hand and always kept an eye out for those who needed it, and Sumire followed his example. After he passed away, she became a guardian for anyone with nowhere to go, spending her days building shelters, distributing food, and standing up to whoever threatened the people that depended on her. She had fleeting hopes that the Party of Words would remedy some of the ills plaguing society, but found that little changed once the H Age began. Before the formation of the Dirty Dawg, Minato Ward went through a tumultuous period where it rapidly changed hands between many crews who abused their power. Sumire stole a set of Hypnosis Mics off of one such group and began using it to defend the defenseless, forming a duo with Ageha Hinokuchi called the Rough Diamonds, then a trio once they met Kaori Sakuragi.

Her microphone takes the shape of a street sign, while her speakers are a graffiti-covered castle made from debris. Her ability, Bulwark, decreases the damage done to her allies, albeit at the cost of taking it herself. Her personal rapping style is based off of Hime.

Personality-wise, Sumire’s an incredibly caring person under an intimidating exterior; her default stone-faced expression rarely changes and she speaks very bluntly. She won’t really judge or try to control the choices of those she helps, but if she needs to put her foot down for someone’s own good, her naturally commanding presence makes it hard to not do what she says. She’s a quick learner who can fix up just about anything she puts her hands on (with the exception of hi-tech gadgets) and a highly efficient penny-pincher; show her something with a high price tag and get ready to hear a thorough breakdown of just how many groceries it could buy. Her biggest flaw is that she doesn’t always take care of herself as well as she does others, requiring her teammates to step in and force her to take the occasional break.

She deeply respects Jakurai’s work, but finds Hifumi too flashy for her tastes. She’s also helped Dice a few times in the past, but he finds her kind of terrifying and tries to avoid her. The one person who can immediately make her lose her composure is Rei; plenty of his victims have ended up on the streets, and one of them even committed suicide despite Sumire’s attempts to save them. Unless her teammates stop her, she’ll attack him on sight.

Ageha Hinokuchi, AKA HI-FLYA

“Once freedom lights its beacon in man’s heart, the gods are powerless against him” - Jean-Paul Sartre

Occupation: Fitness & self-defense instructor

Birthday: May 6th

Age: 28

Zodiac: Taurus

Height: 5′6″

Weight: 138 lbs

Blood type: B

Likes: Pro wrestling, action movies, dancing, the beach

Dislikes: Muscle cramps, energy drinks, smoking, conformity

Favorite food: Barbecue

Least favorite food: Sea cucumber

A former member of the Party of Words. As a child, she lost her parents to an armed robbery, leading her to support Otome’s goals of eliminating conventional weapons from Japan. However, she increasingly found herself unable to turn a blind eye to the ways in which the Party manipulated innocent people. Once she learned about the True Hypnosis Microphone, she attempted to sabotage the facility where they were produced, but was discovered. In the fight that followed, a fire broke out; she fell from a great height into the flames and was presumed dead by the Party members who had been trying to apprehend her. However, a friend of hers in the group discovered that she’d survived and smuggled her to safety. After recovering from her wounds, she took on a new name and face, leaving her old identity behind to become Ageha Hinokuchi.

Her goal of stopping the Party of Words remained unchanged, and for a while she was constantly on the move, collecting evidence of their crimes and trying to come up with a way to stand against them. In Minato Ward, she happened to cross paths with Sumire Kuino, who had stolen a set of Hypnosis Microphones and was using them to defend people in need. Though initially reluctant to use one herself, she was forced to when Sumire was outnumbered and lured into a trap. Sumire, who was a firm believer in always repaying what she owed, asked what she could do in exchange for Ageha saving her life. This sparked a deep bond that eventually led to Ageha divulging her past to Sumire, and they formed a duo known as the Rough Diamonds. They later met Kaori Sakuragi and rechristened themselves the Freestyle Angels (incidentally, Ageha came up with both names, the latter because she was a fan of Charlie’s Angels).

Her microphone takes the shape of a portable music player held on an armband and a pair of headphones with butterfly wings on them, while her speaker is a four-sided boxing scoreboard. Her ability, Reverb, allows her to hit her opponent twice in one go, although the second hit isn’t as strong. Her personal style is inspired by Akkogorilla.

In contrast to Sumire, Ageha is fun-loving, always wears a smile, and is overflowing with energy; this is largely due to regretting how she previously lived, as someone blindly obedient who didn’t fully appreciate the joys of life. She can quickly befriend just about anyone and is a bit of a flirt, but only to tease. All of this belies a keen observational eye, though, and she’ll play up being an airhead to make others underestimate her. She knows a wide variety of martial arts, with kickboxing and aikido being her specialties. Because she currently lives and works in Roppongi, she’s also good with foreign languages.

Ageha is a big fan of Sasara’s comedy routines. She's suspicious of Ramuda because she knows he was involved with Chuokhu, but isn’t fully aware of his nature as a clone. Likewise, she detests Rei for having worked on the True Hypnosis Mic, but is much better at hiding it than Sumire.

Kaori Sakuragi, AKA wallflower

“Be not another, if you can be yourself” - Paracelsus

Occupation: Self-employed craftsperson

Birthday: December 5th

Age: 20

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Height: 5′3″

Weight: 116 lbs

Blood type: A

Likes: Homemade things, aromatherapy, reading, gardening

Dislikes: Cameras, busy places, the dentist, controlling people

Favorite food: Croquettes

Least favorite food: Beef tongue

Child-star-turned-idol, lead singer of the wildly popular group ‘Cutie Blooms’, Kaori seemingly vanished off the face of the earth one day. In truth, years of constant media presence, overwork, and pressure to please her demanding stage mother had driven Kaori to have a mental breakdown. Unable to be in the presence of other people without suffering severe panic attacks, she shut herself up in her apartment just before the start of the H Age for two years. When a paparazzi tracked her down and began harassing her for interviews, she fled and became lost on the streets of Minato-ku, but was rescued by Sumire Kuino and Ageha Hinokuchi. Seeing them wield their Hypnosis Mics in her defense reminded her of her original love for singing, and she begged them to make her the third member of their crew.

While her teammates have been helping her work through her trauma, Kaori is still afraid of having her face or voice recognized. She keeps her features obscured by glasses and masks as much as possible, prefers to stay out of sight, and primarily communicates through a tablet that reads out what she writes; she’s very quiet and stammers a lot when she does speak. During her years as a shut-in, she learned to provide for herself in a number of ways, such as growing her own vegetables and making clothes and other handicrafts, the latter of which she sells online.

Her microphone takes the shape of her tablet and stylus, while her speaker is a greenhouse that overflows with more and more flowers as she gains confidence during battle. Her ability, Tongue-Tied, scrambles her opponent’s speech. Her personal style is based off of Haru Nemuri.

Kaori is sensitive, timid, and somewhat pessimistic, but still possesses a very strong determination deep down at her core. She despises the fake persona that was forced upon her by the idol industry and wants to “win back her true self”. The more comfortable she gets around someone, the more she shows her passionate and cheerful side. She’s also very creative and good at memorizing small details, but at the cost of sometimes getting lost in her own thoughts and not noticing what’s going on around her.

She’s an avid reader of Gentaro’s novels, having sent him lots of anonymous fanmail in the past. She’s also recently started listening to Jyushi’s music.

#hypmic #hypmic ocs #oh god i wrote so much HELP

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thebladeblaster · 3 years

Text

Pokémon: the Dark Circuit (aka Vanguard Descends season 2)

Chapter 5 Battle At Sea

Aichi’s current team

Level 79 Wingal (Lycanroc (dusk)) rock

Moves:

Stealth rock

Crunch

Stone edge

Play rough

Level 77 Llew (Golisopod) water/bug

Moves:

Sucker punch

Blizzard

Liquidation

First impression

Level 78 Gancelot (Lucario) fighting/steel

Moves:

Focus blast

Stone edge

Meteor mash

Dragon pulse

Level 85 Soul Saver (Haxorus) dragon

Moves:

Outrage

Iron tail

Dragon dance

Scale shot

Level 100 Alfred (Aegislash) ghost/steel

Moves:

Sacred sword

King’s shield

Iron head

Shadow Claw

After getting out of the bath, they went to the dining room. Like most other rooms in the castle it was unnecessarily large. Aichi didn’t linger on that too long after the food was set on the table. He felt his mouth water as his stomach growled again. He tried to remember his table manners despite his intense hunger. Though, just shoveling food into his mouth was extremely tempting. He resisted the urge and ate at a reasonable pace. Llew however instantly dug in. Wingal sniffed the food cautiously before deciding it was safe and started eating. Gancelot ate more cleanly than the other two, but in their defense they can’t hold silverware anyway. Soul Saver mimicked his table manners similarly to how she did in Alfred’s castle. Speaking of Alfred…

Aichi looked over to where Alfred was; he seemed to have wandered off. He felt a bit worried especially with Ahmes already missing.

“Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario.(Don’t worry about Alfred, he told me he’s just checking up on something.)”, Gancelot told him.

“What would that be?”, Aichi thought.

With Alfred…

“Oh is that you Aichi boy?”, Pegasus asked as the door opened.

“No, it’s Alfred Pendragon. The once and future king of Galar.”, Alfred replied, revealing himself.

“Ah, it talks?!”, Pegasus replied with mock surprise.

“Why are you doing this?”, Alfred asked.

“Is it hard to believe I’m just helping out Aichi boy from the goodness of my heart?”, Pegasus replied.

“I know you already know about him. You knew who were before we ever entered the castle.”, Alfred replied.

“What makes you say that?”, Pegasus asked.

“You didn’t react when Aichi talked to us. I noticed your men giving him weird looks, but you didn’t look weirded out or surprised at all. Also, it’s your tone. I can tell you know more than your letting on.”, Alfred explained.

“Ah, I see you are rather clever Alfred. Yes, I know very well who Aichi boy is. It’s hard not to know when he was able to defeat one of Team Asteroid’s Psyqualia users. I don’t want anything bad if you’re thinking about that. I simply don’t like Team Asteroid. They have spoiled the fun of the whole world. Back in the olden days people used to do fun things like make cartoons that aren’t war propaganda. Cartoons just for the sake of entertainment they were the best. Now, it’s all about the war blah blah and convincing young chaps to risk their lives for their region. Anyway, I want things to go back to a more whimsical and fun time. Giving Aichi boy medical attention, a bath, and food is a small price to pay for that.”, Pegasus explained.

“I see...you don’t seem to be lying. Sorry about being so paranoid, but with the nature of what Aichi is. A lot of people with not so good intentions try to take advantage of him.”, Alfred replied.

“Even his own father only thinks about him as a tool for world domination.”, Alfred thought.

“I don’t blame you, Alfred. It’s just smart for you to be cautious. You all are so protective of him, he definitely seems like he needs it.”, Pegasus replied.

Alfred nodded, that’s why he had originally joined Aichi in the place. He’s young, naive, and has lots of power. A very bad combination. And all the malicious programming placed in his brain certainly didn’t help. Iit messed up his ability to think clearly and made him act very unlike himself when it took hold of him. He seemed to be grappling with it again. He needs positive guidance in his life. So, he wouldn’t end up going down a dark path not unlike his father and even himself at one point. He saw him personally almost like a son. He had gotten rather attached to Aichi.

“Right, goodbye Pegasus. I believe Aichi still intends to leave after dinner to find our lost party member.”, Alfred said, with a light bow before seeing himself out.

With Aichi…

Every few minutes Aichi paused his eating to look over for Alfred. The poor boy was so worried about him. He was very relieved when he saw Alfred float back in. It made him able to relax a bit and focus on filling his stomach. He’s going to need all the energy he can get to find Ahmes. Eventually, they finished and Aichi was given a new bag along with potions, revives, and food.

“Thank you very much, Pegasus. For everything, I don’t really have anything to give to repay you. I hope we meet again one day.”, Aichi thanked, with a polite bow.

“It’s nothing Aichi boy. I was glad to help you.”, Pegasus replied.

Then, they all left Pegasus’s castle and were back into the wilderness of Alola. Aichi put his finger to his head trying to sense around for Ahmes. He didn’t feel him at all. Sure, he felt other Gallades but not Ahmes. Aichi frowned hoping he hadn’t gotten too far or...the worst had happened to him. Aichi shook his head, not wanting to even consider the possibility. He was probably just somewhere else in Alola out of his range.

In Sanctuary town…

Naoki looked around Sanctuary town after school, eventually ending up in front of the Sendou household. Word had already gotten around fast that Aichi didn’t go to school today. He felt a bit worried for him and decided to go to his house.

“Maybe he’s just sick and I’m making a big deal out of this.”, Naoki thought.

He hesitatingly walked up to the door and knocked on it. The door slowly creaked open a little eerily which made Naoki raise an eyebrow. He flinched when a scaly finger pointed at him with a watery bullet starting to form. Naoki couldn’t help, but let out a startled gasp.

“Mom, that's Aichi’s friend.”, Naoki froze, recognizing the voice of Aichi’s sister.

The door opened more and he now saw Shizuka with Elaine by her side who was the one pointing at him.

“Man, your guys’ mom totally gives off gang boss vibes.”, Naoki blurted out.

Shizuka’s eyebrow twitched a bit at the ‘gang boss’ comment and Naoki flinched.

“I’m sorry, but Aichi is not here right now.”, Shizuka informed him.

She still felt very ticked off that the evacuation people wouldn’t let her look for her son. Now, he was lost who knows where and possibly in her ex-husband’s hands. She honestly considered just tying her son to her hip at this point. He always finds a way to get himself in danger. She was finding it extremely difficult to contain her motherly worry for him. She wanted to go out and find him, but she had to take care of her daughter too. She was completely stuck and it was frustrating. She remembered back when things were so much simpler. However, she never regretted having kids just the person she had them with.

“Oh...do you know when he’ll get back?”, Naoki asked.

“No.”, Shizuka replied, feeling her heart sink.

“Okay...uh...see ya later Mrs.Sendou and uh...Aichi’s sister.”, Naoki replied, waving goodbye.

“My name is Emi.”, Emi told him.

Emi looked down very worried about her brother as well. Especially after she kept having those weird dreams of what seemed like Shuka’s world. She never wanted to see Aichi be like how he was in those dreams. She just wanted her dorky older brother that she knew back. She didn’t mind having to deal with waking him up as long as he was safe at home. The dreams still felt like some kind of a bizzaro world to her. Though, Aichi was able to do some of the stuff she saw in them. First of all he could obviously always understand Pokémon. Second, he was crazy strong. She wasn’t quite sure if he was as strong as the dream Aichi. Third, he was able to do that weird absolute lock thing against Shuka just like in the dreams. She had this really bad feeling that wherever he was something was wrong with him. She just hoped when he came back he would still be himself.

In Alola…

Aichi brandished Alfred as a blade. He held up Alfred’s shield in defense when a Turtonator breathed fire at him.

“Wingal use stone edge! Llew use Liquidation! Gancelot use focus blast! Soul Saver use scale shot!”, Aichi ordered.

The Turtonator growled in pain as it was bombarded by sharp rocks. However, he wasn’t the only Pokémon attacking them. Those Pokémon are hit by the others attacks. A Bisharp charged at him and he guarded. With a simple foot movement he got behind him and delivered a hard knock on the back of its head with Alfred’s hilt. They continued on like this for a few days walking through Alola and ending up with fights from the not so friendly locals. Aichi grew increasingly worried as he still had no luck finding Ahmes. They ended up setting up camp a few times with rotating who’s on lookout.

Near Alola…

Our heroes and the Quatre Knights soon approached Alola. Little did our heroes know they were slowly being pursued by someone hiding their power. Yami couldn’t put down this bad feeling he had. He continued looking over the boat, but didn’t see anything. He stopped when he picked up Aichi’s aura and was getting closer and his exact position became a lot clearer. The Quatre Knights arrived before our heroes and quickly flew over the islands looking for Aichi. Though with the massive overgrowth it was rather hard. The trees had grown up super high in some parts and plants covered most of the region. They all flinched when in the distance the Akala island volcano suddenly went off. Lava seeped from the volcano quickly overflowing at an unnaturally rapid rate. The Kantonians looked especially panicked at this especially when they saw the shadow of a titanic Pokémon.

“It’s him!”, Yugi said, sweating nervously.

“That jerk must have followed us!”, Jonouchi said.

The others rushed up as they got a better view of the colossal Pokémon. It had red scales and a grey underbelly. It had lots of spikes on it and strange black markings. It had massive claws, a row of sharp teeth and golden eyes.

“You have got to be shitting me. Is that Groudon?!”, Misaki gasped in disbelief.

“He’s huge! He’s not even dynamaxed, yet he’s that big?!”, Kamui commented, his jaw dropped.

They all paled as a massive fiery blast was sent in their direction. They quickly threw out their Pokémon to try and get out of the boat. Kai threw out Overlord and flew on his back. Misaki threw out Guardian and flew on its back. Kamui threw out Kaiser who for some odd reason could surf. (How it could, was beyond me. Even I don’t know. It just works. I’m not joking, you can actually teach Tyranitar surf.) Miwa flew in Dauntless. Kourin flew on Bridgette. Yugi surfed on his Blastoise with Anzu. Joey threw out his own Charizard which was shiny and flew on it with Honda. The others on the boat hastily jumped onto their own Pokémon who could fly or swim.

Kai, Misaki, and Kamui mega evolved their Pokémon. To their surprise Yugi and Joey were able to as well. Joey’s mega Charizard was mega Charizard Y though. They didn’t have much time to dwell on it though and quickly rushed to stop Groudon. Though, they were at a massive disadvantage right now because they couldn’t use all their Pokémon while over open sea.

“Overlord use hurricane!”, Kai ordered.

“Guardian use psychic!”, Misaki ordered.

“Kaiser use surf!”, Kamui ordered.

“Dauntless use giga drain!”, Miwa ordered.

“Bridgette use giga drain!”, Kourin ordered.

“Catapult use hydro cannon!”, Yugi ordered.

“Red eyes use solar beam!”, Joey ordered.

“Punisher use eruption!”, the boy from before ordered on top of Groudon.

The attacks all collided with each other causing the ground to shake.

Meanwhile on Melemele island (Alola)...

Aichi and his Pokémon minus Alfred stumbled as they felt tremors ripple through the ground. They were in a thick forest and the mountain covered their view.

“What’s going on?!”, Aichi questioned.

“I don’t know, maybe one of the volcanoes erupted?”, Alfred replied.

“Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. Lucario. (I sense one did, it’s on one of the other islands though.), Gancelot said.

“Ahh!!! One of them erupted! Where is it?”, Aichi asked.

“Lucario. Lucario. (The one right of us.)”, Gancelot told him.

Aichi turned to the direction of the island.

“Lycanroc! Lycanroc! Lycanroc . Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc . Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc . Lycanroc. Lycanroc. Lycanroc . Lycanroc. Lycanroc. (Oh no! No you don’t! There’s no way you can save all the Pokémon on that island unless you stopped the lava somehow.)”, Wingal yelled, knowing exactly what Aichi’s thinking.

“Then that’s what I’ll do.”, Aichi replied, they jumped as Aichi seemed gone in an instant and Alfred lunged forward nearly catching Aichi before he seemed to disappear.

“Lycanroc! (That stupid idiot!)”, Wingal yelled.

“Haxorus! Haxorus! Haxorus. (We gotta catch up to momma!)”, Soul Saver yelled, running as fast as possible after Aichi.

They all ran and Alfred floated to catch up with their reckless trainer. Aichi was flying high in the air looking over to the island. He had a light blue aura around him and his eyes had rainbow spirals. However now that he was in the air the Quatre Knights spotted him as he flew over to Akala island.

With the other…

Misaki got in closer with guardian who punched Groudon with icy punches. The others continued to launch their attacks at Groudon in different spots. The boy sat on top of Groudon not very impressed as he could hear Groudon cringe in pain. It shot more fire balls and swiped at them with its claws. Large spikes erupted from the ground which nailed Kaiser and Catapult. Thankfully, it didn’t impale them but it did damage them, cutting them multiple times. Their strong shells protected them from being impaled.

“Kaiser!”, Kamui called out.

“Catapult!”, Yugi called out.

They started sinking as the Pokémon that they were riding on was heavily injured. Their hearts beat loudly against their chest.

“Y-yugi!”, Anzu called out, holding out her hand to Yugi.

Yugi reached out for Anzu as his necklace suddenly glowed with a bright golden light. Kamui threw out Tough Boy and recalled Kaiser.

“Yugi!”, Kamui called out concerned, riding over to him on Tough Boy.

“Yu-gi-oh!”, Kamui had no idea where that noise was coming from, but the light got brighter.

Kamui stumbled a bit surprised when Tough Boy shook a bit. He looked up to see Yugi? No Yami, but he wasn’t transparent and others could see him. He was holding Anzu in his arms sitting on the back of Tough Boy with Kamui. Yugi became Yami? Kamui blinked in shock, completely stunned.

“How the heck did you do that thing where you grew taller?”, Kamui asked.

“We’re at a disadvantage in the sea. We need to get to land and attack there.”, Yami told him, as he pointed to land.

“A-alright man.”, Kamui replied, still trying to process what just happened.

They rode Tough Boy over to the shores of Melemele island because there was no lava. As they reached the shores Aichi who was in the air saw Groudon. He gasped in shock seeing Groudon. He quickly flew over to Akala island too focused on saving the Pokémon to notice the other people flying in the sky especially since they were tiny dots compared to Groudon. He had to stop the volcano somehow. He hoped Groudon didn’t cause it. Aichi flew so fast the others didn’t see him they only felt a sharp wind blow past them.

“Woah, that the heck was that?!”, Joey questioned, desperately holding onto Red Eyes with Honda.

The Quatre Knights pursued Aichi who hovered over the Akala volcano.

“Now...how do I stop it?”, Aichi questioned.

He remembered that blast attack he shot from his finger. Maybe he could just destroy the volcano? Wait...that was probably a horrible idea and would be too destructive.

“Stop...stop...how do I make it stop...wait a minute.”, Aichi pondered, before looking at his pointer finger wondering if what he was thinking of would work on inanimate objects like lava.

“Well...I might as well try. Absolute lock!”, Aichi called out.

He shot at the lava hoping for the best. He squealed when Groudon shot fire at him in annoyance.

“Well if Groudon is the cause then...Absolute lock!”, Aichi said, pointing his finger at Groudon.

The others gasped in shock when Groudon suddenly became stuck in place. Two intersecting white rings with a golden lining and a light blue aura surrounded Groudon. Misaki and Kourin’s eyes widened, realizing who shot the attack at Groudon instantly. Aichi looked relieved when the eruption actually did stop and the lava came to a halt. Kamui was too preoccupied trying to get to land. The boy on top of Groudon’s eyes twitched with annoyance.

“Who dares?!”, the boy questioned angrily, looking around.

The aura the rings gave off was unfamiliar to him. No one he knows did this. The boy growled angrily.

“Kill them. Whoever they are.”, the boy said.

Groudon roared as the red orb was activated. Suddenly Groudon was encased in a red gem. A golden omega symbol flashed on the gem. When it broke out it’s markings had changed and now looked like lava. It’s underbelly was now black and it’s spikes became black. Not to mention it was even bigger than before. The boy touched its head and it was surrounded by his murky gold aura and broke through the absolute lock. Aichi’s jaw dropped, looking stunned that Groudon actually broke out.

“That dumb giant! He broke through my absolute lock!”, Aichi sweated nervously as he felt a anger that wasn’t his boil up inside him.

Aichi twitched trying to keep control of himself.

“Calm down!”, he told himself, hoping that would work.

“You! You don’t understand! My pride is being threatened! I am supposed to be the supreme being! First you let yourself get punched by that stupid armored scientist! Second you let us get thrown around by Celebi! Freaking Celebi! Third, that lower Psyqualia user knocked us out! Then some dumb giant is going to breaks through one of my signature moves!”, 003v replied, his voice full of venom in his mind, which made Aichi jump.

Aichi sweated nervously in complete disbelief not understanding 003v’s complete insanity. He didn’t even realize 003v was keeping score. He thought maybe he was insane too for talking to himself.

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saturvted · 4 years

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˙✫*ﾟ JUNG HOSEOK , CIS MALE , HE/HIM :･ did you hear ezra rhee here is joining the cast of exposed after months of x-rated texts between him and his dads male business partner was revealed ? the twenty six year old professional dancer/choreographer with 3.7m followers is trying to clear their name . they’ve become known as the resident dynamo here in the mansion , and it’s clear that’s spot on because they’re quite - impatient & - rambunctious , but also + sanguine & + venturesome . you know they’re heading to the confession booth if you hear what’s up danger by blackway blasting , most likely talking about how they’re late nights at the dance studio avoiding the paparazzi, loud music overflowing from headphones and bottle service at 1 oak to take his mind off his job .

hi hello my babies !! my name is lis (she/her | est | blah blah blah) and this is my new babie ezra. he’s kind of a handful so i apologize in advance akjhdkjh. i’m incredibly excited to be here and start writing with you all !! i’d love to get some plots going for my boy so pls feel free to hit me up on here or discord ( * 𝙡𝙞𝙨 .#2158 ) or just give this a like and i’ll come to you !! ♡

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basics.

name: ezra rhee gender: cis male. age: twenty-six ( 26 ) sexuality: bisexual. birthday: april 15th 1994. zodiac: aries hometown: new york, ny.

physical.

faceclaim: jung hoseok (j-hope) hair: has dyed his hair all sorts of colors but currently dark brown with a bit of a wave/texture to it. as seen here. eyes: brown. build: slim but athletic build with strong legs from dancing his whole life. tattoos: [he has a few artsy ones mostly on his back and ribs that can be easily hidden but i’m too lazy to list them rn, i’ll get to it eventually jfkjsbjk]

height: 5′10″

languages: english, korean

+ traits: sanguine , venturesome - traits: impatient , rambunctious

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bio.

i’m still trying to figure him out so there may be some holes here??? so i’m sorry!

- ezra was born into money and the entertainment industry, being the only child of two entertainment lawyers in the heart of new york city.

- despite his parents professions and the fact that he was raised mostly by a revolving door of nannies the first 12 years of his life, he had a relatively normal upbringing ( something that his parents wanted the most for him ).

- at the age of 5 was when he was enrolled in his first dance class ( after months of begging to the nannies and his parents ) and he immediately fell in love with it. quickly becoming the most skilled dancer in his year.

- the rest of his childhood was spent mostly the same way - dance class every day, new nanny every year or so, his parents trying to convince him to try another sport on a weekly basis and him downright refusing. eventually they gave up trying to sway him and a wall began forming between them. one that even now, is still up and sturdy.

- because of his inconstant upbringing, never really having an authority figure in his life for longer than a year or so and his parents essentially forgetting about his existence until they needed him for some sort of photo op his teenage years found ezra really testing his limits. seeing just how far he could go before someone stepped in and tried to ‘parent’ him. this is really where his disdain for authority and his general recklessness came from.

- it wasn’t until after ezra had graduated high school and came to the conclusion that college probably wasn’t for him that he realized he wanted to own his own dance studio and become a choreographer full time, not doing it as just a hobby anymore.

- so with that ezra spent the next few years working his ass off, making a name for himself around the dance world before his big break finally came. an up and coming artist had seen one of his dances he uploaded on youtube and wanted to hire him to choreograph her new music video which was set to drop later that year. from that point on ezra had become the most sought after young choreographer in the industry with a hefty resume to back him up. his dream of owning his own dance studio becoming a reality only a year later.

- despite how much he had going on in his life and how busy he was practically everyday any downtime ezra found himself with was never spent like true ‘downtime’. never being the type to hang out in his apartment alone watching tv. no, ezra was always out. getting into some sort of mischief with his friends who only enabled his behavior. any indiscretions being nicely swept under the rug by his father.

- that fall at a charity gala for his dads company was where he met greg, his dads business partner of the last few years. in the beginning ezra didn’t really think much of their ‘friendship’ if you could even call it that, the occasional conversation here and there left much to be desired and the boy found himself quickly becoming bored. it wasn’t until after a late night face-time with the man himself that he realized that he could have some fun.

- the next few months found ezra and greg exchanging hundreds of texts, photos and even the occasional video, not one of them being something he could show his mother (if you know what i mean...). there was no romantic feelings (on his end at least) the boy honestly just loved all the attention he was getting. but just as quickly as it started it fizzled out, ezra quickly becoming bored once again and moving on. the whole situation being pushed to the back of his mind despite how often greg would still text him at 3am asking if he was up.

- about a year went by before he was approached to be on a reality show, something that he wanted to turn down despite signing the contract only a couple weeks prior ( he was just too busy, had too much going on in his life to just drop it and be on a reality show for the next couple months). but when his secret was made public to the world he knew that he was stuck and honestly has no idea what he has gotten himself into.

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personality.

- ezra can be kind of... a lot to people who don’t know him that well. he always needs to be constantly moving, busy doing something to keep his mind and body occupied because when the boredom hits that’s where the reckless side of his personality comes out. ( something he has been slowly realizing over the past year and been trying to get better about. ) while he does his best to try and curb it that doesn’t always work out in his favor.

- despite all of that ezra is genuinely a good person, maybe a sassy little shit when he wants to be but he is typically always in a good mood. the type of person who can light up a room just by walking into it.

- because of his loud nature he tends to rub some people the wrong way sometimes (he likes to call those people wet blankets.)

#exposed.intro #this kinda feels like a hot mess #so like #pls excuse me

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bishie-haven · 5 years

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CecilCelebration, October 6: A Super Rare Snap!

Hi, Princesses and Princes!

This post...isn’t about what I was expecting to cover today. I was working on Day 6′s original topic to play catchup, however due to the wonderful technology we rely on, the file of the post’s content was corrupted, losing EVERYTHING. I’m legitimately crying right now, but I know that I need to keep moving. So, to make up for it, I’m moving two shorter posts up in my schedule so that we can actually make it to Day 7 ON Day 7!

So, what’s the new topic? We’re moving from 2011 to 2017, right into the era of Shining Live!

What’s the thing that people think of most when they hear about this tappy tap game? The songs? Nah. The beatmaps? Not really. The events? In some cases, yes, but not much other than that.

The big draw of the game? The cards you use to play!

And when there are multiple photos of lovable characters, you know what that means~

Ranking lists!

Yep, I’ve taken all the available photos of our prince, and I’m going to be revealing my Top 7 of his SRs and URs! Why Top 7? Because when Cecil became a full-fledged member of STARISH, he changed the number of rainbow colored boys from six lovable characters to seven!

This post will cover the Top 7 SRs, while the next will cover the URs. So, let’s get started!

#7: Shining Sports Day

While the outfit is pretty basic (white shirt, black sport shorts, jacket of team color), what really got it for me was the poses. In the Normal shot, Cecil’s parading around with megaphones, looking like he’s ready to cheer his own team on (cheerleader set KLab PLZ). And in the Special shot? Poor boy can’t handle the spice in the bread, it’s so CUTE! Get this guy some milk!

#6: Holy Night Santa Claus (Christmas V2)

I’m very soft for this Christmas set from last year, and Cecil’s card is no exception. Considering that (fun fact!) he never celebrated the holiday in his country and only started understanding it once he became an idol, seeing how caring he is about spreading the joy of it to children just warms my heart. The sweet expression he has while filling the stocking gets to me every time. ^^

#5: Marine Festival

I’m a sucker for sailor suits. Marine sets are one of my weaknesses. I just recently got the UR Otoya from this set, one of my dream cards.

But back to Cecil. It seems weird that he would be a part of this, as the boy hates water along with the fishies, but this look fits him really well! And him with the bright green water gun? COME TO ME, BABY!

(But his side story...honey, I need to teach you the meaning of “double entendre”...)

#4: Odorokiman

MAN THIS SET WAS FOR HIM. I know this look is based off a planet people like to make puns out of, but this look is perfect for what we hear about in terms of his heritage and his magic abilities. The gloves and the cat head staff are two of my favorite touches~ (Also, have you seen him on your home screen?

The ribbons are HUGE!!!)

#3: Magical Halloween Live Show (Halloween V1)

I said that marine sets were a big weakness of mine? Well Halloween sets are an even bigger one. And aside from one or two cards in this set, this is my favorite out of the OG designs. Cecil being a witch wizard is just spot on, and the fact that he openly gets to use his magic in the Special shot is just beautiful! And the expressions...in the Special shot, I know that’s he’s showing off the petals he’s conjured up, but I bust out laughing because the way the card is framed with his eyes just screams to me,

“Look at this big stick I have!”

#2: New Year’s Feast: Happiness and Prosperity (New Years V2)

THIS is peak adorable levels for the prince, FIGHT ME. Cecil is known to love aspects of Japanese culture and explore new things relating to it. So to see him decked out in a kimono playing a good ol’ game of karuta (played it myself, really fun game, really helps while learning the language) is just great.

And BOTH expressions on his face. They. Are. PRECIOUS.

I want to squeeze him in a hug so BAD!!

#1: Happy Hearts♡My Dear Doctor

Now some of you may be wondering: “If I love the last one so much, why is THIS event card your #1 SR?” Well, mainly because...this card means a lot to me. For a few reasons:

This card was part of the first event that I ever attempted to tier on. I had gotten enough to get URs via points, but never enough to get past ranks that would just get you an extra SR. During the entire week of March this event was on, I was in uncharted territory trying my HARDEST to stay high. In the end, I had gotten #288 on the charts, enough to stay in Tier 2 and get a near max copy of the UR and a FULL copy of this SR. And to this day it remains my ONLY event card that I have maxed and crowned.

As much as I love music and the arts, I’m currently in my second year of college studying to get into dental school. And for me, when media that I love combines with something that I’m striving for in real life, it hits me right in the kokoro. As such, I love medical/dental themes. TO DEATH. I kid you not, at 5 in the morning, when I was getting ready for a 7:30 lab, I seen the first announcement of this event and I felt like my heart was going to lift out of my chest. And I know that they push the fact that Cecil is a nurse in this, I get it. But with the products they try to sell, the scrubs, and the background of that Special shot, I see him as a dental hygienist to the end. I DARE YOU, FIGHT ME.

The overall card is FLAT OUT CUTE. The boy’s arms are overflowing in the Normal shot, just wanting to share the love he’s promoting to his friends. And the Special shot? MY WORD. That gorgeous smile on his face while he’s clinging onto a huge tube of toothpaste? I love it. I just love it.

So, those were my Top 7 Cecil SRs! Stay tuned for my Top 7 URs in just a little bit!

See you later, Princesses and Princes!

#utapri #uta no prince sama #cecil aijima #cecilcelebration #day6

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

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Klaine one-shot “On Your Mind” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Blaine is sitting at a bar, ill-advisedly looking for Mr. Right ... and failing. But as he plans to leave, he sees an incredibly gorgeous man who captivates him. He sits back down and watches him, fantasizing about who he is, what he's doing, and why he's there. But before too long, Blaine discovers that this man is far from ordinary. (3448 words)

Notes: This is a re-write.

Read on AO3.

Being a New Yorker isn’t for the weak-hearted. Living here is rough.

And as the days go by, it doesn’t get any easier.

The city can be cruel. But it’s exciting, too. Blaine loves living here. He may be a small town boy, but he can’t imagine living anywhere else. But he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t overwhelming.

Back home in Ohio, people wore their hearts on their sleeves. That made it easier for him to survive as the token gay kid at his high school. From bigots to allies, he pretty much knew where everyone stood from the start. But in New York, everyone has their own unique brand of armor, forged through the give and take necessary to thrive in a diverse metropolis. It’s harder to tell from the outset who’s truly on his side and who’s faking it.

When Blaine first moved to New York, he stumbled into a few hornet’s nests. He learned a valuable lesson, but now he has a habit of being super-cautious about everyone, over-analyzing behavior, picking actions and conversations apart in search of clues.

It keeps him safe, but it also leaves him lonely.

He feels the weight of that as his butt falls asleep on the hard-as-a-rock barstool he’s monopolizing, stirring the watered-down rum and coke he’s been nursing for over an hour. He doesn’t actually like rum and coke too much. He’ll drink it, but it’s not his preferred choice overall. If he wasn’t so concerned about looks, he’d order a strawberry daiquiri. But a tall curvy glass filled with pastel pink drink and topped with a colorful umbrella isn’t the impression he’s trying to give off. He’s afraid it might scream flaming gay. A rum and coke always struck him as a man’s drink, probably because that’s what his dad used to order. And if there was a man’s man anywhere out there in the world, it was definitely his dad.

But Blaine, sighing in the solitude that is his corner of the bar, really wants a daiquiri.

He runs a hand over his tired face and up into his hair, mussing what was once a helmet of meticulously plastered curls, though he figures that the way he looks far from matters now. If not a single man looked him up and down when he was fresh faced and crisp as a brand new hundred dollar bill, then no one’s going to look at him now.

Not anyone who’d want to spend more than one night with him anyway. And even then, he’s giving them too much credit. More like fifteen minutes in the bathroom. And as much as Blaine has had fun in his fair share of bathrooms, he’s really looking for something deeper. Something more.

Of course, this bar that he’s scored most of the ass he’s tapped since he’s lived in New York probably isn’t the smartest place to go looking for it.

But his choices are limited. He’s a creature of habit, and this bar happens to be a block away from his apartment. Aside from that, he’s a certifiable workaholic, and he doesn’t like to shop at work. He’s a producer and a songwriter, currently slumming the orchestra pit down at the Lyceum Theater as a favor for a friend, and even though Broadway is rife with gay men, the ones he’s hooked up with have mostly been social climbers, warming his bed, hoping for the opportunity to snag something better than chorus line.

Blaine Anderson is no one’s stepping stone.

He takes a sip of his drink, checking to see if it’s any more salvageable than it was five minutes ago, and since the answer is no, he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, preparing to settle his tab and head out. Who knows? Maybe if he hits Whole Foods on the way home, he might stumble across a nice, eligible bachelor in the organic produce department.

And this is where his imagination runs wild.

They’ll both reach for the same Asian pear. They’ll brush fingers, giggle bashfully. Blaine will offer it to him, but the man will insist Blaine take it instead. Small talk will ensue. They’ll find out they have tons of stuff in common. They’ll go for coffee and end up talking till five in the morning because time will fly by. And as the sun peeks over the horizon, they’ll share Blaine’s pear, along with a few sweet kisses …

It’s the rom-com variety meet-cute New York City is known for.

The romantic in him says it’s worth a shot.

The realist in him says don’t hold your breath.

He puts a tenner on the bar and tells the bartender to keep the change.

High-pitched laughter cuts through the murmur of drunken conversation, stopping Blaine cold, half-standing with his hand thrust awkwardly down the back pocket of his pants. He doesn’t understand why he has such an extreme reaction to it, but it calls to him, goes through him – in his ears and around his brain like a silk sheet, sliding down his throat like a rich mouthful of hot chocolate and settling in his belly. He’s never had that reaction to a laugh before. It’s almost ludicrous. He waits for it to continue, but it doesn’t, and the heat in his belly begins to cool.

But I didn’t just imagine it! he thinks as the sensation drifts away. It was clear as day!

He turns his head, eyes sweeping the dingy bar for whoever made that sound, pausing at the front door as traffic flows in and out. A thin stream of average, uninteresting faces make an appearance but nothing that fits that voice. A few faces later, Blaine decides to go with his first instinct and leave, but he stops for a second time when a gorgeous, almost otherworldly man with pale skin and impossibly blue eyes walks into view. He turns to the bartender as he passes Blaine, not even sparing a glance for the man staring numbly like a dumbstruck teenager. When the stranger speaks, his voice sounds even more magical than before.

“Shirley Temple, extra cherries if you please, Ronnie.”

Ronnie, a surly manticore of a man with a handle-bar moustache and bright red suspenders, raises a hand to acknowledge his order.

“Sure thing,” he says, his gruff, smoker’s voice sounding happier now that he – whoever he is – has arrived. Other patrons at the bar turn to welcome him with a wave or a smile. Blaine notices that the overall atmosphere of the bar has become lighter, less depressing, as if whoever this man is swept in and cleansed the aura of the room.

Or maybe the rum, weak though it is, is finally hitting him.

Either way, this man, taking a seat at a table not too far from him – this ethereally handsome, fashion-forward man with the sea blue eyes, and (Blaine can’t help noticing) incredible ass stuffed into ridiculously tight jeans - convinces Blaine to sit back down and hang out a little while longer.

Whoa, those jeans are tight! he thinks. I mean, I guess I can’t talk. My pants are pretty tight, too. But those look dangerously tight. Like … health endangering tight.

The man sits up straight and runs his hands down his thighs, stopping briefly at his knees, then continuing back up to his hips again. Blaine leans forward at the sight of this man touching himself, stroking the dark denim pulled tight over trim legs, and nearly falls straight off his stool.

Blaine pinches his lips together tight before he can accidentally moan out loud and make a fool out of himself.

N-not that I’m complaining. If you’ve got it, flaunt it. And you definitely got it. I mean, have it. And that voice … are you a singer? I think I would have heard of you if you were a singer. You’d have Broadway wrapped around your finger if you were …

The man bites his bottom lip, holding back a smile, eyes searching the bar, looking for someone. His hand trails up the buttons of his shirt, fidgeting with his open collar, touching his neck lightly with his fingertips.

He must be waiting for someone special. Probably a lover with a reaction like that.

Looks like I don’t stand a chance, huh?

Blaine watches his fingertips move, envisioning opening the man’s shirt, button by button, following with a kiss to every newly revealed patch of skin, ending at his long neck, tracing a path up to his ear with the tip of his tongue. Blaine blinks his eyes, snapping back to reality.

Okay … I don’t know where that came from …

The man looks distracted as he peers off into the crowd and swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bouncing when he does. A waitress comes up to his table with a tray carrying a single drink – a bubbly beverage overflowing with crayon red maraschino cherries. The man’s eyes flick up to the waitress and he smiles, the distracted look dissolving with his enigmatic grin. The waitress sets a napkin down in front of him, and then the drink on top of that. The man nods and watches the waitress walk away before he regards his drink.

Blaine has become positively fascinated with this man, every minute detail of him, even though apart from being inconceivably sexy he has yet to do anything more extraordinary than smile and sip his drink.

But that smile.

It has more character, more personality than the half dozen men he’s tried talking up this week.

The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He opens it up on the table in front of him and looks at it intently, reaching for his drink again and forgoing the straw this time to take a healthy sip.

That’s an awful lot of cherries for one poor drink, Blaine muses. And here I was, stressing over a daiquiri …

The man looks up from his paper (list? letter? Blaine can’t tell from where he’s sitting …) and chuckles. He pauses for a moment, as if he’s expecting something to happen, gaze shifting left and right, and then returns to the words on the page. The smile on the man’s face drops an inch, than an inch more, until none of it remains.

Sucky news, huh? Blaine commiserates. I understand how that is. I hope that’s not a Dear John letter. Blaine’s mind drifts to thoughts of an envelope resting against his lamp on his bedside table, the letter inside months old but read so many times that creases from the folds in the paper are tearing.

But the edges are still sharp enough to sting.

Someone with gorgeous eyes like yours shouldn’t have to read something like that, he thinks with a sigh.

The man sighs as well, eyes skimming the last few lines. His smile returns. He folds the letter back up and puts it in his pocket.

Guess not, huh? Well, good for you. A man like you deserves love letters … and poetry …

The man shakes his head, but this time he’s staring straight ahead at someone approaching his table. Another unspectacular man from the bar - this one wearing a long, tan coat - walks right up to the only vacant chair at the table and sits down without being invited.

Rude, Blaine thinks. The man he’s been watching for the last half-hour raises both eyebrows and nods his head once, as if he agrees. Blaine watches the second man closely, observing the way he sits, how his eyes bounce from face to face around him, how he keeps his hands folded in his lap, suspiciously close to his hip. The waitress comes up to take his order but the man waves her away, and Blaine gets it.

This second man is a cop.

Suddenly, this show he’s been watching has just become way more interesting. His thin rum and coke forgotten along with all pretense of ever leaving this bar, Blaine focuses on the couple, no longer concerned whether they know he’s watching them or not. He debates finding a chair closer to their table so he can hear what they’re saying, anything to give him a clue as to what his mystery man is up to.

The cop monopolizes most of the conversation from what Blaine can see. He starts talking, low and calm at first, but then more and more animatedly, gesturing with one hand since he keeps the other pinned to his side, probably where his holster is. Blaine prides himself on the fact that he has watched enough episodes of Law and Order that he’s well-versed in many aspects of police behavior by now. In fact, he’s considered becoming a police officer. He thinks he’d be really good at it. He’s athletic and smart (if he does say so himself). And he can be assertive. Only problem is he’s not too keen on guns … or chasing after people … or getting shot at …

In the middle of the officer’s speech, the man with the iridescent blue eyes starts to laugh, apparently at an inappropriate moment because the officer stares at the man with mouth agape and eyes wide, offense written in every line of his strained face. The blue-eyed man peeks up at his companion and waves a dismissive hand. It looks to Blaine like he’s assuring the angered officer that he wasn’t laughing at him or anything he said. He quiets down, gesturing for the officer to continue.

Blaine watches in silence as the two talk back and forth, concentrating on their lips to see if he can catch any snippets of conversation. He narrows his eyes until he gets a migraine, but the only words he thinks he can catch are ‘lost’ and ‘help’, and maybe ‘dead’, though it could have been ‘den’ or ‘desk’. Blaine’s eyes begin to cross, and more and more he’s starting to wish that the police officer guy would just leave so he can go back to unraveling the mystery of this man with the prismatic blue eyes.

The man (Blaine has decided to call him ‘Noel’ since he bears a striking resemblance to a young Noel Coward) closes his eyes and puts his fingers to his temples, pressing and massaging tiny circles into his skin.

Is Captain Overbearing bothering you? Blaine thinks. Is he giving you a headache? I know people like that. They walk into the room and pow! My head throbs. I used to let them walk all over me, mostly because we’d been friends forever. It happens with my brother, too. I could tell them to eff off, but I guess I have a phobia of not having any friends. But now, being a New Yorker for the past decade, I opt for revenge. Not the big kind of revenge. I mean, I don’t think I could hurt anyone, or ruin their lives, or anything. I have been known to slip a few drops of Visine into their soda. Gives them the poops for hours. That’s fairly satisfying …

In the midst of massaging his temples, the man smiles. He opens his eyes, throws his head back and laughs, and again the officer looks entirely put off. The man shakes his head, leaning toward the man across the table, putting a hand up to either amplify his voice or shield his lips from view. Blaine pouts, feeling intentionally left out of the conversation. Even though his lip reading skills have so far gotten him nowhere, now he has no hope of finding out what’s going on between Noel and his police officer friend.

The officer nods, his eyes performing a cursory glance of the bar one last time before he gets up and heads for the exit. The man at the table stands as well, reaching into his back pocket, squeezing his hand into the tight fit and pulling out his wallet. Blaine deflates when he sees the man pull out a bill along with some other thin piece of paper, something that looks suspiciously like a business card, from his wallet. He places the bill beside his half-drunk Shirley Temple on the table, and then turns on his heel. Blaine expects the man to head out the door after the police officer, but instead he looks straight at Blaine.

Blaine pivots his head left and right, then turns his head completely around and glances behind himself to be sure, and yes, he’s the only one in Noel’s sight line at present. He heads right for Blaine, eyes locked unnervingly on Blaine’s face, and for a moment Blaine becomes confused and frightened all at once. The man is striking, but he also has an undeniable air of confidence and power that makes Blaine want to drop to beg for forgiveness and do whatever this man tells him to do. But why does Blaine feel so guilty? He hasn’t said word one to the man! He’ll admit, he has been staring, but that’s all.

Maybe he should have just gone home when he’d planned. Now he’s about to get into a fist fight in a bar.

Not really. Blaine has no intention of throwing a single punch.

The man stops before Blaine, hands resting on his hips, doing nothing but look at him, eyes going over his body from head to toe. A range of emotions pass over his face from amusement to sympathy to curious. He lands back on amusement and stays there. He holds the thin card out to him. When Blaine just stares at him, speechless, he leans forward and slips it neatly into the outer pocket of Blaine’s button-down shirt.

“The name’s Kurt,” the man says, “not Noel, but I appreciate the compliment. Also, I appreciate your concern about the effects of my pants on my health, but I promise you, they’re no tighter than I can handle.”

Blaine leans against the bar, knocked out of his stupor by the man’s opening line.

“Believe it or don’t, I understand what it’s like to feel alone in a city of 8 million people. We have that in common. And by the way,” the man Blaine now knows is Kurt, not Noel, says, “I’m not a big fan of rum and coke, either. So when you take me out on Friday night, just order the damn daiquiri? Life’s too short for shitty friends and crappy drinks.”

Kurt pats Blaine’s pocket where the card is safely tucked and winks, turning and heading toward the entrance where the police officer has ducked back in to wait for his companion to follow.

Blaine still hasn’t said a word, stunned into silence as he watches Kurt leave. Kurt says something to the officer at the door, motioning vaguely in Blaine’s direction. The officer’s eyes find Blaine and the weary man smirks. He holds the door open for Kurt, who turns one last time to see Blaine stuck in the same position that he left him. He raises an arm and waves, blowing Blaine a kiss. He steps out the door with a satisfied grin, and like that, he’s gone.

Blaine waits a moment longer after Kurt has gone, trying to wrap his mind around everything that happened. But try as he might, it’s too surreal for him to comprehend. Noel – not Noel, as it turns out, but Kurt – had called him out on everything he’d thought while watching him. But how? How in the hell is that possible? Well, he works with a police officer. Is there a chance that maybe he … what?

What, Blaine? he asks himself. What on God’s green earth could possibly explain all of that?

Remembering the card waiting for him in his pocket, he pulls it out carefully, not willing to lose it and the opportunity to contact that fascinating man. Blaine reads the words embossed on it, then he reads them again. He reads them over and over, close to a hundred times, and after their meaning sinks in fully, he’s not sure if he should laugh or find the nearest rock and hide under it.

Blaine mentally goes over everything he saw tonight – every inflection Kurt made, every movement, every shift of his inquisitive eyes. Blaine has spent the past ten years of his life being a skeptic, constantly questioning everyone’s intentions and emotions, feeling like no one he’s met has truly understood him, nor has ever really wanted to. But after tonight, none of that matters.

This might be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Kurt E. Hummel

Medium

Psychic Investigator

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

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whoisleft-rp · 4 years

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HAPPY FOUR YEAR ANNIVERSARY, WHO IS LEFT !

That’s right, folks –– today is November 6th, which means that WIL has officially been open and active for FOUR FULL FREAKIN’ CALENDAR YEARS.

It’s never going to get any less exciting for us. Reaching this milestone date every year and getting to look back on all the amazing writers we’ve had in our group, all the incredible plots we’ve gotten to see develop on our dashboard, the wonderful characters who have graced us throughout the years… it’s kind of amazing. We’re a little verklempt, not gonna lie.

When we first decided to open up a group together we knew we wanted to create a space with all the things we love about the RPC. We’re forever grateful that we could build a group like Who Is Left and find people who thrive in the same environment we do. We love the slowburn plots, heavy character development, angst, the worldbuilding, the angst. Everyone who has ever come to write with us, whether they’re still here or not, holds a special place in our little admin hearts: you guys make this possible, and we couldn’t ask for a better group of folks to share our collaborative writing passion.

We have our usual set of anniversary celebrations below, and mostly we’re just so happy to have been around long enough to have traditions like these. In four more years, on our eighth anniversary, we’ll still be as cheesy and overflowing with affection and appreciation, but today we’re celebrating with lovey-dovey syndrome and a new event later this evening and all sorts of goodies to look forward to on the horizon.

Who Is Left members, past and especially present, with so many of you having been with us since the very beginning: you all make us better writers every single day, and we couldn’t be more grateful to be running this group for and writing with all of you. You’re the best, and we love you!

LET’S CELEBRATE !

SEND SOME LOVE // For the rest of the week, the Who Is Left team is all encouraged to send some anonymous (or not so anonymous) love to their fellow writers. The admins are going to make sure that nobody goes without a message, but ideally we’d love to see everyone’s inboxes flooded with affection. Take a minute out of your day to tell your fellow writers what you like best about their writing style, plotting skills or OOC attitude! It’s been four years. Remind everyone why you love that they’re here!

SPARK SOME MUSE // Feel free to reblog lots of inbox memes, honest hours, ‘ask me anything’ games, headcanon prompts and more! We love seeing the dash filled up with reminders of how connected you are to your characters and how in-depth your knowledge of them goes...plus, they’re plain fun, and a great way to distract yourself and refresh your muses.

COLLABORATION STATION // Have an idea for an event? A new way of doing things? Changes to the app? Even new character bio ideas? We want to hear from you, so here’s just a gentle reminder that our door is always open and that we’re always all ears for any changes that will make this group more fun or better run for each and every one of you!

SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO …

Later tonight we’ll be posting a huge new event, the one everyone opted into participating in! It’s going to be a doozy, and everyone has their character paired up with another for maximum in-depth plotting with plenty of aftershocks to build into follow up threads and ongoing plots. Keep an eye out for that!

Also, as any lurkers and members may have noticed, we’ve been steadily updating bios to a newer, more streamlined style - with amazing new graphics and a vibe that we think is simply delicious.

Not only that, we will also be releasing new character bios two at a time over the next few weeks. These characters will be more heavily focused on outside Hogwarts, as graduation for the Marauders’ year approaches and the RP will start zoning in more sharply on the First War! And, gosh, we are so ridiculously excited about that.

HEY, YOU ! JOIN THE FAMILY !

If a long-term group to get all the writing, worldbuilding, and character work in is what you’re after - look no further! We always hold acceptances 2-3 days after the first application hits our inbox, so you’re never too far away from joining our group once you decide to fill out an app! We’ve been going strong for four years with no plans to slow down or close, and we’re always ecstatic to get new members who are looking for our style of group to call their home.

Open characters that we’d love to see filled include:

James Potter

Edgar Bones

Peter Pettigrew

Emmeline Vance

Amycus Carrow

Alecto Carrow

Aiden Avery

Marlene McKinnon

Lucius Malfoy

Igor Karkaroff

Adelaide DuBois

Tyler Warrington

Fabian Prewett

Caradoc Dearborn

...and many, many more! Current members, feel free to send in asks to the main letting lurkers and your fellow writers know who you’d like to see applied for!

HOME ; characters ; QUESTIONS ; navigation ; APPLICATION ; rules ; EVENTS

#whoisleftadmin #hp rp #lsrp #marauders rp #marauders era rpg #FOUR YEARS

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mcuspidey-archive · 5 years

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bulletproof | t.h. — part one

Pairing: Agent!Tom x Agent!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: You have one job. Get the evidence and get out. Should be easy enough but with your incredibly irresistible partner in your ear the whole time, it’s a little hard to stay focused.

Warning: A LOT OF DIALOGUE, crime, cursing, angst, major flirting like, did I mention dialogue !!!!

A/N: COLLAB WITH @thelazypangolin ! This started as a blurb request but I was so inspired and excited about it that I knew it had to be BIG and I couldn’t do it alone. I’m honored to be writing with her and we honestly are having so much fun with it that I’d be shocked if it didn’t turn into an entire series. (That will depend on the feedback we get so please let us know what you think ok?) We are just so proud of this and we really hope you enjoy it ❤️

Your hands reach for the computer that sat in front of you as drops of perspiration trickle down your forehead. You were well aware that the mission would be risky, but your lazy ass hated time-bound tasks enough for you to start stressing out.

Your hand finds the mini USB drive you had stashed in your back pocket earlier and despite it being a minute device, it would be the deciding factor on whether your assignment failed or succeeded.

“Y/N, you sure you can handle this one?” Tom’s voice flows softly through the tiny earpiece.

He was always teasing you and you loved it, but of course would never admit it. Rolling your eyes at the hidden cameras surrounding you, you hear him laugh.

“I can handle anything,” you assure him, a sly smirk spreads across your face. It was true and he knew it. You had only been working together for a few months and he already knew you better than anyone else ever had. You’re strong, the strongest person he knows, and so fearless. It was the reason you were offered the position in the first place because no matter what, you never backed down.

“I know. But are you sure you can stay focused, love? You look so sexy right now.” He tests you and you know he’s busy eyeing the black, skin-tight pants and red leather jacket that were hugging you in all the right places.

“Something tells me that you are the one who's having a hard time focusing, eh Holland?” you chuckle, hiding the underlying anxiety.

“I might be more focused if you dressed more professionally, ya know,” his voice saturates your being, officially distracting you. Though it wouldn't be exactly wrong to say that you did love all the distraction he brought to the job.

“Maybe I’m just trying to show you what you’ve been missing out on,” you say, a little too confidently. You knew you needed to be completely invested in the screen in front of you, but couldn’t help yourself. You dished it right back, only you were better at it and you wished you could see his reactions.

You hear his voice hitch and he lets out a soft groan. “You sure, this is the right time and the right place to show that?”

“Better now than never.” Your fingers tap nervously on all the possible combinations of numbers to unlock the information, yet you manage to let the words glide effortlessly.

“How 'bout after we’re done here?” He says, sending a shiver up your spine as you imagine the gorgeous, uneven grin he most likely had on his face. You gasp dramatically. “Tom Holland, are you asking me out?”

“I might be,” he says and a nervous laugh escapes his lips. It had been months of continuous flirting and ensuing tension between the two of you, and he chose now to do this?

Getting too caught up in him, you enter just enough wrong combinations.

The analogue display immediately sets to 10:00.

“Y/N?”

“I’m fine, it’s just- I may have set off the intruder alert, no big deal,” you try to brush it off. The fact that you made a mistake in the first place was bad enough.

“Y/N, they’re going to be there any minute, most likely armed, do you hear me? Get out!” Panic ringing clearly through his words.

09:00

“I uh-” you glance at the illuminated numbers. “-still have nine minutes. I can do this.” You fake confidence to pacify your partner's concerns but on the inside, you knew that you were fucked, big time.

“No damn it, the moment that clock hits zero, this entire building blows up and all the evidence with be destroyed. You are not going down with it,” Tom was almost yelling through the earpiece, his shrill voice making your already pounding heart beat out of your chest.

“Tom, I have nine-” you correct yourself as your eyes find the blinking red warning once again. “-eight and a half minutes and I can and will make it.”

It would go against the image you had worked so hard to maintain so no, you were not leaving this unfinished. You were given the nearly impossible task of catching these guys. Known to be one of the most dangerous group of criminals and their specialty? Importing stolen money which you were chosen to get proof of on the tiny USB drive now plugged to the computer. It was safe to say that you were scared, a feeling you weren’t familiar with because when it came to what you did for a living, you almost never felt fear. Now with the time still ticking down, 08:00, your nerves threaten to get the best of you.

“Come on, come on,” You urge the data percentage to move faster as it feels like it stays at 43% for hours instead of mere seconds.

Tom was still frantic, his melodic tone that usually calms you down, now builds you up and not in the good way.

“Listen to me, Y/N. Get out right now or I swear I will come in after you,” he scolded seriously and there was no doubt in your mind that he would. But you couldn’t let them get away with this and he was just going to have to trust you.

07:00

“I can’t,” you shake your head, about to say exactly what he didn’t want to hear. “I-I have to see this through, otherwise it’s all for nothing.”

“If they see you, you’re dead. If you hide and that timer stops, you're dead. You might be willing to risk your life but I’m not!” Tom yells again, needing you to just listen to him for once. You could tell he was pacing back and forth and with each step that echoed through the speaker, you felt more anxious and equally annoyed.

“I’m staying, Tom. I’ll be fine. You know I always am,” your wavering tone barely convincing you as you try to ease his frantic heart.

“This is different! Your life's on the line and I refuse to just sit in this damn van and let it happen.” He was trying everything because maybe something he said would change your mind. Or at the very least, his voice. Always calm and smooth as silk somehow, even when he was pissed off. One of his many features that typically made you weak, but right now? It just wasn’t enough.

As much as the situation was testing you, Tom's words weren't making it any better and engulfed with rage, you snap. “My life is always on the line. None of our missions are without risks!”

The deafening sound of Tom's fists slamming on the tabletop fills your ears, making you flinch. “There is no mission if you're dead,” he screamed and you take a deep breath and keep watching the data that was close to 78% now. Any second now.

“Can you hear me, Y/N?” Tom heaves a sigh and you swear you could feel his warm breath calm your nerves. You shut your eyes close and muster the courage to utter at least a single word that wouldn't shatter your hopes anymore.

“Please… Listen to me, I can’t lose you,” Tom's voice is a mere whisper and your heart sinks at the possibility of the inevitable.

Nevertheless, you shake your head and put your fingers to your ear. “Tom, I'll make it. Trust me,” you assure him and swallow harshly as your eyes well up. You never were the emotional one, you had aced the impossible before, but today just happened to be the day when your heart ached and you wished to melt in someone's arms. Tom's arms.

“I love you.”

You blink your eyes and furrow your brows. “What?”

“I said I love you, Y/N.” You feel the pain in his voice despite the barriers and your brimming eyes overflow just enough to let a tear stain your cheek.

03:00

“Y-you?” Your lip quivers and breath gets caught up in your throat. You sniffle and shut your eyes, it wasn't real. “Do you-”

“I have been in love with you ever since that first fucking day,” he said, sure and steady.

Silence.

You swallow harshly as your eyes watch the data percentage reach close to 98%. Your fingers tap on the table in front of you, ready to pull out the device and run for your life. To run to him.

“Y/N?” You feel heart-wrenching pain as your name rolls off his tongue. How little a gesture, yet still left you in misery.

01:00

“Dammit, talk to me!” The voice in your ears was loud, loud and desperate. You could even hear the tapping of his foot, like the world silenced every other sound so you could savour the last moment, let his words engulf you for the last time.

100%

“Done,” you manage to slip the word out.

“Run, Y/N!” he screams over the comms and you inhale deeply. Show time.

Your fingers wrap around the device and you pull it with a jerk and take to your heels. Your vision grows hazy and you hastily wipe your eyes with the back of your hand but it doesn't help. Your pools were clouded, but your thoughts weren't. Tom was quiet yet his voice was still playing at the back of your mind like a broken record and you loved it. Maybe it was the last time that you got to hear it and if so, at least it was filled with the love that you desperately needed.

You stumble and then regain your balance.

You had done this before.

You harshly clear your throat and part your lips to let the words out. You couldn't wait to be in his arms, to tell him that you felt exactly the same but your current situation wasn't assuring your chances of escape. You take a gust of air in through your parted lips and manage to push the words out.

00:00

“I lo-”

Boom.

My masterlist | Amy’s masterlist

Taglists: @hollandroos @badhollandfluff @eveanne-03 @brookestreewolf @bonfirelohve @spideymood @sensitivesapphic @hollandofthefree @uglypastels @spideybitey18 @rainbow-marvel @moonkissedtom @andwhatdostarsdobest @marcymakemagic @spideychronicles @starlightfound @summertime-acoustic @notsolivelyadele @hollandfieldblurbs @itslizabitch8021

Tags: @hazsterfield @tomhollandeu @kick-namestake-ass @starksparker @curlytoms @screamholland @tomnhaz @pbnjparker @starkschurro @spiderboytotherescue @theprincesofasgard @spdys @anthonyed @hollandsbaby @petalparker @madmadmilk

#tom holland #tom holland au #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #bulletproof series #??????#BUT FINALLY GUYS IM SO EXCITED I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AGABSJZNDJ #❤️❤️❤️#writing #amykins

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mmazzeroo · 5 years

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Chapter 15 - NED IV - That’s A Big Campfire

@helloimnotawesome - Chapter 15 updated. I’m SO sorry for the long wait. Thought I forgot about you, didn’t you ;) Well....finally there’s a new update for you as well as a new mood board :) Enjoy, my friend! <3

EDIT: Posted this earlier with the mood board but it got flagged!!! Stupid Dumblr, so while waiting the staff to realise their mistake here’s a repost and you’ll have to go AO3 to see the mood board. Sorry about that sweetie <3

NED IV - That’s A Big Campfire

"In a heartbeat, Dr. Stark!"

"Thank you so much, Sam," the boy is still so formal, "and Sam?"

"Yes, Dr. Stark?"

"Call me Ned, please." He smiled to himself.

"Ah right, yes, of course Dr. Stark...Sorry! Ned..." He could practically hear Sam blushing over the phone.

"Good! Now, once again thank you for helping with this, Sam."

"My pleasure, Dr. S..Ned."

Again, he chuckled at Sam's overly politeness. "Won't take more of your time. See you in a couple of weeks," not waiting for Sam's answer he hung up the phone. Crossing the big field of grass behind Dragonstone castle, he walked over to his wife and Rhaella currently busy cooing over his grandchildren who were rolling around on a blanket placed on the grass in the shadow of a beautiful old tree.

"Just spoke to Sam - it's all set."

"Wonderful, honey! He's going to be so surprised!" His wife was beaming up at him.

"Hopefully only in a positive way. I don't exactly have a good track-record when it comes to surprising my eldest son." He sighed as he looked around searching for the man in question.

"Oh stop it!" Rhaella grabbed his arm and pulled him down to sit between her and Catelyn. "He'll be so excited I bet he'll go speechless. You didn't see his sad puppy face when he was on the phone with Robb that day and had to tell him no. He looked like he thought he'd be ruining his brother's big day because of it. We didn't see him again until nightfall."

"He was always an emotional boy, Ned. Considering what he's lived through it's remarkable he's still able to be this empathetic." Catelyn gently stroked him down his cheek and kissed him. "Jon has a good heart. Been put back together with countless stitches yes, but at it's core still true and pure. He'll be over the moon when he sees what you and Robb has arranged."

He couldn't help smile at his wife's wise words. My sweet gentle sons. Trying to catch up on the time they lost together. "You're of course right - both of you." He quickly smiled at both women sitting on either side of him. "Instead of worrying I'll look forward to seeing some joy on my son's face." Joy! Wouldn't that be a sight!

"That's the spirit!" Rhaella gave him a big smile and light-heartedly nudged his shoulder with her own. "Now, not that I didn't know already, but I must say Robb has made a fabulous choice for his future wife." She nodded her head slightly to the riders further down the field.

Margaery and Sansa where on each their horse accompanying little Rhaenys on her pony between them. Rhaenys was in awe of both. Earlier in the day they had been sitting in the grass braiding each other's hair, adding flowers to the braids and even making garlands that they'd been wearing like crowns. He had to admit he found it adorable how the two took the time for Rhaenys and indulged her. Arya, on the other hand had rolled her eyes, pretending to gag and walked away. Oh how he loved his two girls. So different yet so similar. Just don't tell them that! They had the same fierce spirit, though when it came to expressing said spirit they'd chosen different ends of the spectre. Arya was, for the most part, hit first ask later. Sansa, on the other hand, would take the hits yet refuse to give in. My wild wolf and quiet wolf. Interestingly, he'd noticed a change in both over the past 5-6 months that Jon had been here at Dragonstone and everyone had made sure to make frequent visits whenever schedules allowed. The only one flying in a few times a week was Viserys for his therapy sessions with Jon. Arya was gradually beginning to show signs of something he could've sworn was a foreign concept to her - patience. Who would've ever thought! And Sansa, oh Sansa! She was slowly coming out of her shell, walking and talking with a little more confidence every day, and she was biting back. When Catelyn had told him that Sansa had suggested wearing a sleeveless dress as a bridesmaid, if Margaery agreed, his eyes had overflowed with tears. His shy, broken girl wanting to proudly put her scars on display like that to the world made his heart melt with pride and fatherly love. If I ever get my hands on Joffrey or Ramsey I'll smother them with my own bare hands!! Margaery, of course, had happily and eagerly agreed, knowing what a huge step this was for Sansa.

He couldn't help wonder what it was that caused all these changes. Has Jon returning helped fill a void we each had in our hearts? Is our individual healing contributing to us heal as a family? Have we all found our 'missing piece' in our lives and souls? Or are my girls just growing and maturing at their own natural pace? No, it was all connected to Jon one way or another. By his attempts to reconnect with his siblings and family for his own healing he was helping them with theirs as well. He knew Jon didn't necessarily do this knowingly. After all, the young man was simply trying to regain what he thought he'd lost. However, when he saw anyone in need of help - in anything - he immediately jumped in to provide any assistance he could. He'd always done that even as a little boy. Jon didn't want to see anyone in pain or suffering for any reason. Once again he was taken aback by his son's willingness to help others even if it meant at the expense of his own health. He had done so for years as a member of the Night's Watch, and it became even more ironic when taking into account Jon's blood type. O negative, also known as the universal giver because all other blood types could receive it without trouble - Jon however if given any blood type other than his own would die. It was as if the Gods had forged him to endure heartbreak, pain and suffering for the sake of others, to shield others, to help and save others. What was it Jon had said a few months ago? 'The same hammer that breaks glass forges steel'. That's it! Jon is teaching Sansa that she's steel while all this time she thought of herself as glass! Except he's hitting her with buckets of love. Ha! Jon you brilliant man! He made a mental note to go properly thank the gods when he returned to Winterfell before the wedding. Gods, the wedding! For a minute there he'd completely forgotten everything about it.

He was happy for Robb and Margaery, but at the same time he couldn't understand his little boy had grown up so fast. Oh Ned, you sentimental old fool. Every parent thinks that. He shook his head slightly. In just a few weeks his son and heir to the title of Lord of Winterfell would be marrying the granddaughter of President Olenna Tyrell. It was quite a match and the media and the public loved it! The media! Damnit! Another thing we need to try to prepare Jon for.

Just after New Year's the Starks and Targaryens had sent out a joint press release informing the public of the miraculous return of Jonathan Dayne, heir to Starfall and the son of Eddard Stark and late Ashara Dayne. The families asked to kindly give Jon and his family time and space to recover from the shock, and any press inquiries could be directed to Mr. Tyrion Lannister. Shortly after the President had made a public statement that the Starks were collaborating closely with the authorities, and that further investigations into the events of the years since Captain Dayne's kidnapping and the people involved were already under way, and how she was hoping to hear about more families being united despite all the time passed. The public had responded overwhelmingly positive and sympathy messages online and offline had poured in. Especially messages from Dorne and the city of Starfall was filled with excitement of how they'd welcome him back home with open arms. Luckily, Jon and the cinnabons, thank you for that nickname Arya, had managed to remain sheltered on Dragonstone for the past almost 6 months. Now though it was time for him to step out into the limelight and take his 'rightful' place in the media as the Lord of Starfall. Viserys had assured him that Jon was ready for the circus and that he'd be alright surrounded by family. At least he'll have Dany by his side as well.

"Speaking of future spouses," his wife interrupted his busy mind, "your daughter has made a wise choice herself, if I may say so."

"Indeed! She's had a few trial and errors, but I have a good feeling about this new man in her life." In a mirthful tone Rhaella continued, "I have on good authority that he's from a reputable family, and he's even a war hero!"

"Oh my! What a catch!" Catelyn played along with Rhaella's joking tone and comically pretended to be fanning herself. "But is he handsome? No fun in bagging a man if he's looking like an oaf!"

"Believe me my friend when I tell you he's the prettiest in all the lands!"

He couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. Giggling like school girls!! Gods!

Catelyn wrapped her arm around his waist. "Oh c'mon, Ned, have a laugh!"

"Not as long as you call any son of mine 'pretty'!" He said feigning offence.

"But it's the truth, dear Neddy!" Really don't like it when she calls me that. "Next month at Margaery and Robb's wedding there'll be swooning left and right over all of your sons, but in particularly your eldest. Oh Cat, can you imagine how dashing he'll look in his uniform?! I might even swoon!"

All three of them laughed out loud at that image. Rhaella herself so much she had her head leaned back and holding on to him to keep from toppling over.

They all sat quiet for a bit trying to catch their breath again.

"On a serious note though, I do have a good feeling about those two. They are clearly good for each other, and in due time I expect it to naturally end in vows as well." Rhaella stretched her arms and tickled little Adei and Amador on their little chubby baby stomachs and the air was instantly filled with delighted baby giggles. "They are both mature enough to understand that this is something that needs to be done slowly. It warms my old heart to see them take their time to get to know each other and enjoy each other and not rush in like headless chickens." She turned her head a gave him and Catelyn a warm smile.

"They grow up so fast don't they?" His wife was looking at the babies with a wistful look in her eyes. "Oh by the way before I forget, Margaery and I have managed to colour coordinate Dany's maid-of-honour dress to the colours on Jon's uniform. Wasn't easy as the blue and red doesn't exactly go with the colour scheme of the wedding, but we made it work." She flashed a satisfied smile before adding, "with a little help from Sansa as well."

"And what did my daughter say to the changes?" Rhaella had an amused look on her face as if fighting to hold back a laugh.

"She doesn't know. We didn't want her to keep secrets from Jon. Not telling how the bride and her maids will be dressed is one thing, but in this case the reason why would be a big secret."

"Thank you!" He leaned in and give his wife a tender kiss on her temple. She clearly understands how sensitive Jon is about secrets. Gods I love her!

"When she questioned it, Sansa told her that all the Starks were colour matched with the bride as a way of symbolically welcoming her to the pack. Dany of course still looked a bit sceptical." She chuckled at the memory. "So Margaery simply told her it was a bride's prerogative to change her mind."

"Of course!" Rhaelle chimed in clearly amused at the story.

"So that means she'll be as surprised when she sees him as he will seeing her?" He was a little puzzled.

She chuckled. "Yes. She's just expecting him to show up in the traditional morning suit."

"Oh, we better be ready to catch two pairs of young lovers when they see each other that day then!" Once again Rhaella and his wife were giggling like school girls. Once again he caught himself rolling his eyes at them.

Catelyn cheerfully slapped him on his arm. "Don't tell me you weren't thinking the same thing, Ned." Actually I wasn't. "Jon won't even notice the bride walking right behind Dany, nor will Robb notice anyone in front of Margaery!" Again he was surrounded by contagious laughing and he willingly joined in. Gods, she's right!

"I take it Arya enjoyed joining the boys for her first tailor-made suit?"

"Immensely! Although she did find the whole 'having to stand still'-part very tedious." Both women joined in his laughter.

"Well my dear, she is our wild wolf after all." There was so much love in Catelyn's eyes and voice when she said it that he had to kiss her.

Pulling back he looked in his wife's beautiful blue eyes and said, "that she is."

Rhaella cleared her throat as she with an innocent voice said, "want me to leave?"

"Oh stop it, Ella! You're just jealous." Catelyn teased back

"I am actually but that wasn't my point." Laughingly Rhaella wrapped little sleeping Adei in a blanket and stood up.

Catelyn wrapped up Amador, still looking curiously around. As she stood up she placed the little boy in his arms and she packed up the big blanket they'd been sitting on.

"Should I be concerned though," he caught the two women's curious look now, "that our little wild wolf will throw a fit because she won't fit with her new favourite brother now?"

Catelyn and Rhaella shared a look he couldn't quite decipher though there was a hit of worry there.

"Well...," his wife looped her arm with his, "what colour tie and waistcoat will she be wearing?"

"All groomsmen have grey waistcoats and colour of tie is set to match the bridesmaid. Being Arya she of course chose a gold coloured tie, and though her and Bran have switched places I don't think you'll get her to change the colour of her tie. Sorry ladies."

"Oh no, gold should fit well with the golden pieces on Jon's uniform so we should be in the clear. Thank the gods!" His wife huffed out a sigh of relief and Rhaella was just chuckling next to them.

As they were crossing over to where the boys had made camp Catelyn suddenly stopped by his side, pointed and laughed. "How much wood did you tell them to use, Ned? That's big a campfire!"

#helloimnotawesome #heartstrings #jonerys modern au #jonerys fanfic

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frejahertziswritingthistime · 6 years

Text

Play pretend chapter 7

A/N: I can’t even explain how happy I am, that you guys enjoy this story. I’ve fallen totally in love with it, and I’m so glad I’m not the only one! Stuff is going to pick up in this chapter, I promise (evil laugh from me).

Remember, I always say yes to requests and feedback feeds the writer (honestly, it’s what I LIVE for)

MASTERLIST

Play pretend Masterlist

Buy me a coffee (I’ll give you virtual hugs) – find my list for commissions here

Lawyer!AU

Pairings: Sam x reader, Dean x Jo, Mary x John

Warnings: Language, fluff, smut, detailed smut, oral (female recieving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it at home, guys), mentions of alcohol SERIOUSLY, IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER. I will mark the actual smut with a bold first word, and the last word of the sequence is bolded as well, so you can skip it! The story will still be coherent without the actual smut, don’t you worry!

Like this? Let me know!

Y/N

I was buzzed. I may or may not had been sipping wine, and suddenly the bottle was gone – Sam had been laughing loudly and red splotches had appeared on his cheeks over the last hour, and we were both a little more casual with touching. Currently, his arm was slung over the back of my chair, his fingers sliding gently up and down my arm, the feeling of his fingertips making my entire body feel as though it was on fire.

I knew we were fucked, to put it mildly. The lie about moving in together would definitely bite us in the ass in about a week, and Jo had been sending me concerned looks throughout the dinner. I finally just texted her.

Jo, it’s fine. Honestly. I’m not the one dealing with the backlash, so…

Yeah, but Y/N… I think you guys are getting to wrapped up in this play pretend. I get it, you both want Jess out of the way and stop fucking with Sam, but it seems like you’re both… Yeah.

I know. It sucks. I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry, the wedding will be fine – we’ll just keep Jessica at bay, and that’s it. We can even stage a huge fight after the wedding, if that helps.

Be careful, Y/N.

At the last text, I looked up at her and saw her worried expression. She mouthed something to me, but I couldn’t tell what; Dean pulled her towards him, kissing her deeply, and that ended our conversation effectively. Sam had somehow moved closer to me, and I could feel my body tingle – warmth was spreading from my thigh, where he was currently resting his hand, and my head was spinning a little from the close proximity of my boss/best friend/secret love interest and the wine, which in turn made me think some very, very naughty things. Damn it, I should never drink red wine. Sam nudged me gently.

“Are you okay?” His breath fanned out over my face, and I had to restrain myself from not just jumping him right then and there. He was so damn close it felt like a sin, not to take advantage of it. I nodded with a stiff smile. “Too much wine, I guess. I’m never good at red, you know this.” He smirked a little and moved his hand a millimeter higher up. My breath hitched and on its own accord, my legs started to spread a little – my body was betraying me, and I was not happy about it. I blushed slightly and nodded. He leaned in closer and his lips were so close to my ear, that I could feel his bottom lip barely graze my earlobe, as he talked fast.

“So, it’s got nothing to do with this…?” He asked in a whisper, moving his thumb a little, so it was resting on my inner thigh. I bit my bottom lip. “Nope. Nothing at all.” I said. I wasn’t as convincing as I thought I might have been, because he chuckled and leaned back in his chair, his eyebrow cocked a little. His hand was still on my damn thigh.

“If you say so.” A loud throat-clearing pulled me from my dirty thoughts, and I caught John’s eye. “Listen, we know what it’s like to be young and in love, so you’re both excused. Sam, maybe Y/N would love to see the shed?” I frowned. What was cool about a shed? Sam grinned and nodded, grabbing my hand and pulling me up to a standing position – I wobbled a bit, but he put his arm around me, gripping me tightly. “You’ll love it, wait and see.” He looked at his mother. “thank you for dinner. It’s been so much fun.” He said with a smile. Dean chuckled. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Sam looked at his brother with a smirk. “Like what, get an STD and not know from who, so I would have to go back through every single one-night stand to tell them to get tested?” He deadpanned. Dean laughed, and Jo reached over the table to high-five Sam. “Damn, alright. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t or would do. Very little gray-area you’ve got to work with, kiddos.” Jo shook her head at Dean and came over to hug me. “be careful, Y/N. Don’t break his heart, please.” I shook my head and whispered back. “I would never. Besides, nothing is going to happen anyway.” She pulled away with a very unconvinced expression, and clapped Sam on his shoulder. “If she’s hungover tomorrow, I’ll kick your ass. Rehearsal-dinner, remember? I need you both alive.” Sam saluted her. “Yes, Ma’am.” They all laughed as we left the table, and walked outside, the cool, night air hitting my heated face like a damn blessing.

“So, what’s so special about the shed?” I asked, linking my arm with Sam’s, as he tried to get a cab. He chuckled a little, flagging a cab down. “You’ll see.” I smiled. Sam told the driver the address, and we both got in – he didn’t touch me, and the damn tension was building so much. I knew that I was building something up, which would never be, but the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. The small gap between our hands and legs felt electric, as if it was drawing me nearer to him; I wanted to feel the man next to me, every damn part of him. I was completely overtaken, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I tried to listen to the conversation between the driver and Sam, but all I could think about was how his voice would sound, while he fucked me, and his fingers were so fucking close, I could reach out and wrap my own around them. My panties had to be soaked, the set under me wet. I had never in my life experienced this sort of attraction, this electric tension, that might be released – but probably wasn’t going to be – and I could barely handle being in my own skin. It was a completely new, different feeling, I didn’t expect I would ever feel. This is the attraction, movies depicted, not something that happened in a normal life.

It was an excruciating cab-ride, and it felt like it stretched out forever. It was my own, personal purgatory. It was literal hell in a cab. Sam’s huge body emitting so much heat, his cologne was filling up every sense, a musky, perfect blend of old books and freshly cut grass and I had effectively soaked through my panties now; I was almost sure Sam could smell my damn arousal – he was smirking slightly, the corner of his mouth was turned up in a little, secretive smile, and it made me even wetter. Right now, I hated that I didn’t think as far as to bring my vibrator with me, because I was in desperate need of release.

The cab finally pulled over, and I quickly thanked the driver, before jumping out of the cab, inhaling a huge gulp of fresh air, trying to rid myself of Sam’s scent, so my head could clear up a little. I squealed as a hand came to rest on the small of my back – Sam chuckled. “Sorry. We’re going back here.” He pushed slightly at the small of my back, making my feet move slowly and unsteadily towards the back-entrance of the garden. I hadn’t really noticed it, but a shed was hiding under a huge tree in the back of the garden. Sam stepped in front of me, his hand leaving my back, and it made me feel oddly cold. He looked over his shoulder with his hand on the handle and smiled. “Welcome to the den.” He said in a low voice and pushed the door to the shed open.

It was beautiful. I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the entire place; it was a bathed in a soft, yellow light from the rows and rows of string-lights hanging from the ceiling and rafters. The floor was covered in blankets, pillows and mattresses, creating an illusion of a fluffy, multicolored and patterned cloud. Flowers and plants had been placed along the back-wall, and there was an entire wall dedicated to bookshelves, stacked and overflowing with books; they were spilling out of the shelves, piled gently across the floor and the sides of the bookshelves. It was truly beautiful and perfect. I turned to Sam, who had closed the door behind him, and was leaning against the closed door with a soft smile on his face.

“This is beautiful.” I whispered. He pushed off from the door and walked slowly towards me with his hands in his pockets, stretching his pants tightly. The heat, that had subsided somewhat in my stomach, returned with full force, almost knocking me backwards, when the scent of him was overwhelming me. He was suddenly so close to me, all I could see was his hazel eyes. His hand was cupping my face, the heat from his palm dispersing throughout my entire body.

“I think we’ve danced around this for a while, don’t you?” I smirked. “I don’t know what you mean.” I said with a slight grin. He rolled his eyes, but then looked deeply in mine, his gaze burning me. “I think you do.” I raised my eyebrows, my heart pounding harshly in my chest, so loudly, I was sure he could hear it. My breathing was suddenly so loud in my ears, it was taking over. “Sam…” He looked somewhat worried, his lips so tantalizing close to mine. “If you don’t want this, we’ll stop right now. Just forget it all, go back to pretending, no more teasing. We go to sleep here, wake up and be right back to being best friends and this never happened.” He drew a deep breath and continued. “But I just want you to know, that I want it. I want this, I want you. If you don’t want the same, I’ll deal with the bruised ego and we’ll go right back. Promise.” He looked so damn vulnerable, and I did the only thing I could think of; I kissed him.

This was the first kiss, we had shared, where people weren’t watching. This was an intentional kiss, and it made me want to disappear into the world, and just live in this single kiss forever. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, pulling me flush against his body and his very, very noticeable erection. I sighed into the kiss, allowing him to deepen the kiss, and our lips molded around each other – it was truly a dance, something we had never done before, but it felt so well-known; this was an entirely different kiss from what we had ever shared – it was new, tantalizing and so very new for both of us. Sam lifted me up, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, never breaking the kiss; his tongue danced over mine, his scent invading my senses and all I felt, all I was, was with this kiss. It was with Sam.

He knelt down, gently laying me back on the multicolored cloud, and his hands wandered from my waist to my hips, slowly pushing my dress upwards, exposing more and more skin to the chill of the night; my hands went to his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. He smiled against my lips and broke the kiss for the first time to smirk down at me. “Eager?” He whispered. I didn’t have the capacity to answer, I needed him to take his damn clothes off, and I needed it now. He understood my silence, and groaned, bending down to kiss me harshly again, his hand fiddling with the stupid buttons on his shirt. I groaned against his lips, my hips bucking up to create friction. He finally gave up, straightening up and simply ripping his shirt off – the buttons flew in every single direction, scattering with mild clatters against the walls. I immediately went to his pants, unbuttoning the button and zipping down, desperate for him to get naked. His hand pushed my dress up, exposing my soaked panties to him; he literally growled, as his thumb grazed the wet fabric and I moaned, the small, light touch setting my skin ablaze.

He moaned against my lips as my fingers danced over the bulge in his pants, and I grinned. “Eager, are we?” I asked, and he chuckled lowly, before kissing my neck. “Does this damn dress unzip?” He whispered, and I giggled turning to the side and lifting my arm. His fingers touched my skin as he unzipped the dress, the dress pooling a little around my chest. He pushed it down, and I lifted my hips, so he could pull the entire dress off me. He hummed appreciatively at my half naked form, and attacked my mouth again, his fingers gliding over my hot skin. I managed to push his pants down, and to my joy, he wasn’t wearing underwear; I was burning up, his touch setting me ablaze in a fiery pit of completely bliss, and I could feel his cock resting against my inner thigh. “Sam…” He hummed, understanding my plea. His fingers slid down to my panties, slowly moving them down my legs, until he got them all the way off, his face at my knees. He looked up at me with a glint in his eyes, I hadn’t seen before. He slowly kissed; first my knee, then my thigh, my inner thigh and then he skipped over my heated center, to kiss my belly. I writhed under his, his fingers holding me down, trying to get him to touch me. “Sam, please…” He smiled and kissed around my hips, down to my thighs again, and then up to my inner thighs. His nose grazed my slick folds, and I moaned loudly at the simply touch; I could almost feel him smile against me, and then his tongue was dipping into my slick folds.

I writhed and moaned, as he was lapping at my juices, his hot tongue doing things so masterfully, I barely could comprehend it; his tongue was stroking my clit in slow, tantalizing strokes, each one bringing me closer to the edge. “Fuck, Y/N…” He whispered, his breath sending delicious shivers down my spine, as it hit my folds. “More, please…” He chuckled, the sound vibrating on my wet pussy and I moaned loudly again – his tongue went back to my clit, licking it carefully and meticulously, as he slid a long finger inside me. My back arched off from the patterned blankets, as I neared my orgasm; my walls were fluttering around him, my clit pulsating against his tongue as I came closer and closer to each stroke of his tongue, each pump of his finger.

“Are you ready, baby?” He whispered, kissing my inner thigh. I moaned in response, and he grinned against the sensitive skin on my thigh; he sped up his finger and added one at the same time as he started to lick my clit harder and faster than before. The coil in my stomach tightened, and my skin exploded in warmth – he sped up yet again, and the coil in my stomach snapped; I was floating, floating on a cloud made of bliss and pleasure, as I had never known before. My body was pulled taught, my legs stretched to a point, where I was almost uncomfortable in my orgasm; my walls tightened around his fingers, pulling him in as I rode out my orgasm, his tongue lapping up everything he could. As I finally relaxed against the blanket under me, he lifted his head from my dripping pussy, kissing every piece of naked skin, he could reach, and pulled his fingers out of me. As he reached my own lips, kissing me, the taste of him and my juices on his lips and tongue, I felt his cock twitch on my thigh, beads of precum leaking out onto my thigh. I reached down for him, but he stopped my hand, shaking his head slightly. “Not tonight. I need you.” He whispered, kissing my cheek, my neck, my ear, everything he could possibly kiss. I nodded with a moan as I felt him move his hips a little, settling in between my thighs. “It probably won’t be long. I’ve waited for this since I met you.” I smiled and caught his eye. “I don’t care. I need you just as much as you need me.” I spread my legs a little, lifting my feet to rest on his lower back, my heels digging into the soft skin of his ass. He groaned and pushed a little forward, the tip of his cock resting against my slick folds. “Sam, please…” He kissed me. “I’m big, baby… I don’t want to hurt you.” I groaned and bucked my hips upwards, the tip of him sliding inside me, stretching me. I moaned in pleasure. “Ruin me, Sam.”

He threw caution to the wind, and slid all the way inside me, bottoming out. He rested, his body shaking as he restrained himself, as I adjusted to his size. He wasn’t lying, he was huge. I knew, I’d never want another man in my life, because Sam was perfect. He was stretching me to the brink, almost uncomfortably, but the pleasure of him twitching and filling me out, overtook the discomfort. “Move, Sam.” I moaned, my nails scraping his back. He groaned in response, and pulled out slightly, before hammering in again. I moaned at each thrust, a new orgasm building; the tip of his cock hit my g-spot over and over again, bringing me closer to the edge. He was groaned, moaning and whispering my name, and I had never heard anything as sexy as that in my entire life. I was moaning his name, mumbling incoherent words, as he sped up, pounding me faster and faster, his long, thick cock sliding perfectly in and out of me, dragging my orgasm closer and closer. “Y/N, I’m almost there…” He whispered against my neck, and I wrapped my legs tighter around him, lifting my hips a little more; the new angle made my body explode in starts and blinding white light erupted behind my closed eyes, as my orgasm overtook me completely. He groaned, as my walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper inside me; my body was almost pulsating with my orgasm, and I couldn’t talk, couldn’t think – everything was just Sam. He moaned my name, and I felt him spill inside me, coating my walls with his own release. We stayed like that, him on top of me, both of us sweating and panting, for several minutes, as we came to terms with what had just happened.

It hadn’t been desperate, wild, sex. It had been as I would have expected from Sam; gentle, sweet, romantic and perfect, despite our collective unsexy grunts and the sounds of sweaty bodies slamming together. It had been everything I had wanted and dreamed about.

Sam rolled off me, pulling a blanket from my side over us both, and tugged me closer to him; his release was still dripping out of me slowly, reminding me of what we had done. My head rested on his heaving chest, and his chin was resting at the top of my head. We laid in silence, the string lights over us reminding me of a starry night, and I sighed deeply. He kissed the top of my head and wrapped his arms tightly around me.

“We’ll figure this out tomorrow. For now, let’s just enjoy this moment.” I smiled against his broad chest. “Okay. The moment.” I whispered back, before my eyes closed heavily, and I drifted off to sleep, the string lights above us, books next to my head, and a multicolored, multipatterned blanket covering the both of us.

TAGLIST: @painunnoticed, @curly-haired-disaster, @tvshowobssesedhuman, @getthismoose, @andkatiethings, @weirdest-nerd-you-could-find, @1life-4hope

FOREVERLIST: @supernaturalmagicfolk, @redeyedvixen, @al1y, @roonyxx, @sherlockstolemyname, @heyitscam99, @tayyfvck, @linki-locks11, @starletzombie, @jensenyourdeanisshowing, @pisces-cutie, @

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