#like guys i spend a lot of time standing outside in miserable weather for my job | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

callumsmitchells · 3 years

Text

i’d love you to love me (ao3)

it starts out with a pact. neither of them will date, until they can both find people to date. except, they don't expect to be honouring that years later, and when jay starts to fall in love with lola, he realises that it's time for ben to date someone too. in the most chaotic way possible.

or, a vague 10 things i hate about you au.

It’s a miserable day. The sky is an unrelentingly dark grey shade, cascading for miles and miles with no end in sight. The rain has been pouring down all day, and the wind mixes with it, causing the rain to hit against windows, creating a rattling sound all over. It’s that horrible misty spray that means Ben can’t even see that far in front of him, though he knows his way around Walford that well now that he really doesn’t have to look to see where he’s going. Jay’s walking out in front of him, a breaking leather ball at his feet, scraping along the wet pavement with an awful sounding scratch.

“It’s freezing!” Ben shouts over the rain, and he watches in awe somewhat, as raindrops fall onto his eyelashes, tiny little droplets clinging on for dear life. It’s true, it is freezing. The torrential rain bounces up off of the pavement and clings to his socks, climbing up onto his grey school trousers and staining them darker and darker as time goes by. There’s not a single part of him that isn’t shivering and wet, but he and Jay have a routine now, one that happens regardless of the weather.

The school’s over bell will ring out just after three, a shrieking tinny noise, one that’s surely going to be imprinted on everyone’s brain for years to come. Ben will stand next to the doors at the side of school, and then Jay will follow moments later, catching up with him. It goes unspoken, because this routine has been going on for so long without ever changing, that they’ll walk home together, strolling into a corner shop and getting as many sweets as possible, before going to their local park and staying there until they have to go home for whatever reason.

“Oh come on!” Jay turns his entire body and starts to walk backwards, the wind blowing his hood down within seconds and he scrambles to put it back up, though it’s in vain. “Are you telling me you want to go back home already? Because I know for certain you have science homework to do, and so does your mum.”

Ben looks to the ground, watching the raindrops splashing into the puddles and breaking into even tinier pieces before falling back down again. It’s almost relaxing to watch it, or it would be, if his hands weren’t currently frozen completely numb. “My mum’s got science work to do, has she?” He asks cheekily, but he knows Jay’s right. Jay’s always right. He knows that the second he walks through his door, he’s going to have to spend the rest of the evening doing his work for tomorrow, and he couldn’t think of anything worse than that, so staying at the park in the pouring rain wins yet again.

He manages to look up in time to see Jay roll his eyes, and he kicks his ball back towards Ben as they walk in the direction of the park. “You need a new ball, mate.” Ben comments, picking it up and throwing it back at Jay. He regrets picking it up, because the ball’s been collecting that much water as Jay kicked at it all the way home that it’s sopping wet and heavy.

“I know.” Jay replies, and they turn into the park. Ben’s got nowhere to sit, his usual place on the swing is collecting a puddle of muddy water underneath so the idea of sitting there doesn’t even cross his mind. Instead, he sits on the small brick wall, resting on the very edges of his coat to try and minimise how sopping wet his trousers are going to be when he eventually stands up. He realises that it probably won’t do anything sufficiently, and he’s going to be cold and wet regardless. There’s a silence that grows between them for a moment or two, but that’s normal. Jay kicks the ball against the wall that Ben’s sitting on and they both watch as chips of the bricks start to crumble away and swirl away in a stream of a puddle that runs downhill. “What happened in science today?” Jay asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ben huffs out a laugh, more sarcastic than anything else, because he’s been waiting all day for Jay to ask him, or at least, since the class directly before lunch. “Nothing.” He says, and then he looks down the road and sees cars driving slowly, headlights on full beam.

Jay nods slowly. “Right. So you’ve spent all day in a mood, for nothing? Makes a whole lot of sense that does, Ben.” He pauses. “I’m your brother. You’re supposed to tell me everything.”

Brother. It’s such a simple word. Of course, biologically, they aren’t brothers, but in every other sense of the word they are. They’ve been inseparable from the day they first met.

“I overheard Connor and Sarah talking.” Ben says, and he already he knows he sounds stupid for even being remotely bothered about this. “Saying that nobody would ever want to be with you, because I’m here scaring them off.”

“And you’re bothered about that?” Jay lets out a soft chuckle, resting his foot on the top of the ball. “Mate, I couldn’t care less about getting with anyone right now. Tell you what though, I wouldn’t be interested in anyone unless they wanted to be around you too. We’re a package deal, you and me.”

Ben looks up and rolls his eyes. “That supposed to be making me feel better, is it?” He laughs.

“If you were anyone else I’d be hurt by that.” Jay comments and kicks the ball a final time against the wall, so hard that Ben feels the wall shake slightly underneath him, and even more of the brick crumbles to the ground.

The rain doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, and they’re both starting to get far too cold and hungry and wet. The grey sky does seem to be getting darker though, and that’s probably a sign for it both getting later, and the weather getting worse.

“How about we make a pact?” Jay asks, though it’s clear that he doesn’t think of the implication of his words before he speaks, if the shock on his own face is anything to go by. The wind blows down his hood once again as it whistles and swirls around them, causing ripples in the puddles.

“What pact?” Ben asks, getting to his feet and swinging his bag across his body.

Jay shrugs as he tries to think. “How about, we don’t date anyone, until we’ve both found people to date.”

It’s completely and utterly ridiculous, and they’re both well aware of that fact. But they’re also both just a few weeks away from turning sixteen years old and if they’re being completely honest, neither of them have anything better to do with their time.

There’s a silence between them for a moment as Ben tries to take in Jay’s words and then slowly but surely, he nods. “Yeah.” Ben whispers out, and he can barely hear his own voice above the deluge of rain, with heavy and harsh droplets falling around them. “Go on then.”

So that’s it. Ben agrees to the pact, and from that day on, it becomes Ben and Jay’s rule.

Neither of them would date anyone, until they both found someone to date.

It’s just that, the pact was never supposed to last as long as it has.

It’s over two years later, and Ben and Jay are still in Walford. They’re probably always going to be stuck in Walford really - they know far too many people who have tried to get out into the world, only to come back not long after. They’re both still just as inseparable, and again, that’s something that is probably never going to change. The pact is still there, it’s still something that they talk about occasionally, laughing at how ridiculous it is, and yet, it still stands, though not through a lack of trying.

Nobody has really shown Ben much interest over the last two years, besides the occasional man at a party or a club, but nothing long standing. Perhaps it’s because he still lives in Walford, around so many of the people he’s known his entire life. In such a small place, everyone knows everyone and knows everything about everyone. It’s not exactly the best place in the world to be finding a partner, even less to find a gay man.

Or it could be because of the fact that Ben's got this wall surrounding him, built up so high, guarding him and protecting him from any hurt that could possibly come his way. Probably both, really. But still, nobody has ever met Ben and shown an interest in wanting to break down his wall. Ever. The story was the same for Jay as well. Nobody ever showed an interest in him, but because everyone already knew about the pact. That was, until Lola came into his life.

They’re sitting in the Queen Vic, at a circular table right in the far corner of the room. They can see almost everyone else in the building, all at their own tables or standing against the bar, chatting away and laughing. There’s even people playing darts, walking to and from the board, doing the maths in their head. In their own little space, they’re sitting at a wobbly table of three: Ben, Jay and Lola.

It’s not unusual for the three of them to be sitting together, though it probably looks unconventional from the outside looking in, especially given the fact that Jay’s got one hand outstretched, holding onto the back of Lola’s chair protectively. Ben’s definitely more than aware that he looks like a spare part, a third wheel. He knows it too. But Lola was the one to invite him along for a few drinks, though they all know she’s got an ulterior motive. She knows about the pact now. It didn’t take long for her to find out, really. From the moment her and Jay started to get close, he told her about it, and although she laughed at first because really, it is a ridiculous pact to have, she’s now taking it upon herself to make sure the pact ends, once and for all.

Lola’s got her phone in her hand, scrolling through it with a smile on her face. She keeps looking up at Jay and nodding her head silently, looking at him expectantly and then, when he shakes his head, she continues scrolling.

“Really good conversation guys, thanks for this.” Ben jokingly states, rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to The Albert after this?” Lola asks, sipping on her vodka and orange.

Ben glares at Jay, knowing that Jay’s told Lola about how he’s refusing to go in there after last time. “More than sure.” He says, draining the last of his beer. “Another?” He tries to stand up, but Lola’s too quick for him, dropping her phone onto the table harshly and reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“It was one idiot, Ben.” She says warmly. “Don’t let that ruin your experience.”

He smiles tightly, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He mutters something about going to the toilet, because he doesn’t want to hear about how his first time in a gay bar was ruined by some idiot starting a fight outside, throwing about homophobic slurs and punching anyone he could get his hands onto, including Ben. He takes his time in the bathroom, throwing some water on his face in an attempt to calm himself down, and when he feels better, he rejoins Jay and Lola.

“Sorry.” He says sincerely, sitting back down at the table.

Jay shrugs his shoulders. “It’s fine mate. But Lo’s right, you know? You’re young and you’re single. You should be doing what everyone our age does and go out. Don’t let one prick stop you from wanting to do that. You deserve to be able to go to whatever bar you want to go to.”

“I know.” Ben says, smiling. “Just give me time, yeah? And then we can all go out together.”

Lola perks up at that, because she’s been begging and pleading to go to a gay bar for months now, ever since The Albert first opened it’s doors. “I could easily set you up with someone you know?” Lola says absentmindedly. “You just give me your word, and I’ll find someone.”

Ben huffs out a laugh at that, and his eyes flicker up to Jay, just in time to catch him rolling his eyes at Ben’s reaction. “Know every gay man in the area, do ya?” He chuckles, but at least it’s a genuinely happy laugh. He likes Lola, he really does. Jay really went and found someone that fit perfectly within their dynamic, and he loves him for that, because nothing would be more awkward than Ben not liking Jay’s girlfriend, or her not liking Ben. But Ben can see that Jay really likes Lola - really likes her - and they’re so good for each other. It’s obvious to see.

“That’d be impossible.” She berates, rolling her eyes. “But I definitely know a few!”

She’s looking at Ben with those puppy dog eyes and Jay’s chuckling under his breath because he knows that Ben’s going to break any second now. “Oh my God!” She practically squeals. “We could go on double dates too!”

Ben’s eyes go wide at that, and Jay just about covers up the splutter of his pint behind a cough, but Ben sees right through him.

Lola looks at Jay, practically begging him for his help to get Ben onside. “Look Ben mate, I love you, yeah? We’re not asking you to marry the next person who walks through the door, but at least try. Just go on a few dates, find out what you like. You never know.”

Ben knows he’s being stupid. He knows that now’s the time he should probably try and go on a few dates here and there, and make an attempt at letting his wall come down and try to be happy. He knows that. It’s still scary though. Terrifying, in fact. He looks between Jay and Lola, and gives in, sighing. “Fine.” He exhales, and he barely has a chance to breathe before Lola’s practically leaping over the table to hug him half to death, squealing right in his ear.

When Lola finally peels herself off of Ben, and he rubs his face in hands, Lola speaks giddily. “I’ve got the perfect person, his name is Callum.”

This is happening.

#ballum #ben x callum #myfic #bigbang2021

83 notes · View notes

tigerdrop · 3 years

Text

in lieu of doing more strenuous hand-based activities heres the Dogboy Gordon In Heat Megamix ive been talking about. i wrote this over the course of a couple months in an effort to feel okay about writing horny shit again and i only just realized there are nearly 6 thousand words here. and they only really fuck for like 10% of that

ta-dah

ive thought a lot about gordon being stuck back at gordonhouse after getting kicked out of barneyhouse. i think its ripe for a lot of pining. (and yes, he is pining over the guy hes actively banging. hes being a big mopey idiot over the fact that he doesnt get to have his fuckbuddy around 24/7.) absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever and gordons already at a baseline of "wheres benrey. wheres benrey"......and now i am about to turn it up to 11

so lets say......gordons starting to feel weirdly under the weather. sweaty and irritable and tired. hes holing himself up in his room a lot, wrapping himself up in blankets to fight off a chill and a sniffliness that wont go away. and hes gettin awfully moody, too. real fuckin testy. starting shit with freemind for no reason and snapping at og gordon like hes a teenager. and......hes nesting, almost, or at least, gathering up a whole bunch of blankets and pillows and anything that smells vaguely like benrey. (hes not really aware hes doing this last thing.)

basically, long story short, feetman is fucked up. hes pathetic. hes being a huge bitch. at least og gordon feels vaguely sorry for him, and expresses this by way of observing him and trying to treat it. for science. its better than freemind, who just loudly complains about him being a huge bitch and reeking up the place. theres something weird coming from vr gordons corner of the house.....a musky, heady, hormonal kind of thing that makes freemind act simultaneously territorial and irritable and more lascivious than normal. and that also piques og gordons attention, because having both of them be wound up little freaks at the same time is enough to make even the most resilient person pull their hair out

now gordon primes got his suspicions as to whats going on, but hes not gonna tell vr gordon that he suspects hes going into heat. that would compromise the experiment, and all that. so poor gordons just going thru all this shit not knowing what in the fuck is wrong with him and getting more worked up and irritable about it by the day. hes convinced that hes just got the flu, or something......except, uh, haha, jesus christ he is horny all the FUCKING TIME

he doesnt get it! he feels like shit all the time, so why is he constantly fighting off boners and having weird wet dreams and thinking about-- well. his fucking boyfriend, he guesses. (are they boyfriends?? he doesnt know. he gets a weird, sharp pang when he thinks about them not being boyfriends, at this point, but its not like theyve ever talked about it!) gordons half-convinced that hes just losing his mind from being stuck inside all the time and he really just wants to see benrey again. its, like, all he thinks about. (see? hes losing it. theres the proof.)

the sucks thing for everybody else is that gordon is also Extremely Vocal about how shitty he feels and how much he wishes he didnt feel shitty so he could go see benrey and how much he cant stand benrey for not being able to read his mind and come over when he feels bad. eventually freemind gets so sick of his shit that he decides to cut out the middleman and get benrey involved directly. "come take care of your fucking dog before i call the aspca! animal neglect is a crime, asshole!"

(if pressed, freemind would adamantly reject the idea that hes being nice to gordon. but on some level, hes kinda sympathetic. the guys clearly miserable, and he just keeps asking for the same fucking thing. might as well humor him to shut him up.)

vr gordon is completely unaware of these machinations, however. hes just holed up in his room trying to work out what makes him feel better because, uhh, powerade isnt helping

jacking off doesnt do a whole lot for him anymore. like, it feels good, but its not very satisfying. gordon just ends up feeling more restless than anything afterward. and hes always stupid horny. more blankets. a box fan. less blankets. sleeping with one of benreys shirts pressed up to his face. grinding into his pillow when he wakes up hard from yet another weird dream. theyre all a little helpful, and he feels like hes working towards the right thing, somehow, but its never really enough to take the edge off

and then.....he tries......jerking off more. especially when he realizes that its bizarrely soothing to do so while he can smell benrey up close and personal on that stupid shirt of his. better still when he rolls onto his side.....and then his stomach.......rocking his hips into the mattress until he gets the idea to lift his hips a little. and......oh. cool. something kind of......clicks. in his head. as he raises his hips higher while he keeps his arms wrapped around a pillow and benreys shirt jammed against his nose. hes got that lil moment of realization that this is good, actually. this feels like a good move. and its making some of that discomfort melt away

and gordon thinks about.....how it felt. earlier. when they were with barmey. and benrey had him just like this, ass up, face down, and was spreading him apart and licking him open and making him submit and he groans so fucking hard that embarassment just rips through him like lightning. but his tail starting to wag a little faster.....electricity shooting through his belly......and he cant help but wonder. what if benrey had kept going? pulled back and-- maybe, replaced his tongue with his fingers, one at a time, curling them inside him and telling him how well hes behaving and-- and his dick throbs, hard, and gordon realizes he wants fingers inside of himself right fucking now, thank you, hes not fully certain how to accomplish it be he is going to fucking try

(sigh) so my guy figures out about the old fingers in the ass trick. and i need you to understand that i am fully convinced that this is one of those guys who has an uproarious reaction to getting fingers in his ass. mr repressed and uptight over here doesnt really get what the big deal is until he gets braver and pushes a little deeper and hes rock hard in an instant, goodbye, just like everybodys favorite creative writing exercise

and this is what he decides to do for a solid day or two without leaving his room, because, honestly, this is awesome. and the longer he spends jerking off the less time he spends stressing about the fact that his imaginations getting really vivid, here. sure, like, hes no stranger to weird dreams even before this, but this is the first time hes really letting his mind run wild and this dude is nonstop thinking about being bred and gordon still has no fucking idea that hes in heat. doesnt even occur to him

unfortunately this also does not solve his problems but at least it feels baller and it keeps him occupied. also, unfortunately, the increased rate of jerking off is causing a serious uptick in Dog Smells, the effect of which is turning freemind into a nightmare. its just not good vibes in this house. enter: benrey

now i need you to understand that when these two meet up again i want gordon to get Emotional. think about how genuinely excited he gets to see some of his pals in canon. the like......excitement and disbelief when benrey shows up outside his window throwing rocks at it before noclipping in. he forgets to even act pissed off at first. i think it would be super fucking cute for him to drop the game for a moment just out of shock, basically. his tails waggin, his ears are perked up, and hed probably tackle benrey to the ground if he wasnt also a sweaty, trembling mess whos been holed up in his room for days.

and benrey has No Fucking Idea what he has walked in on here. as far as benrey knows, freemind just demanded he get over there and take care of his dog.

(INTERLUDE: here is the part where i gin up a freemind POV of this exact scene. b/c i am out of my fucking mind

so. i had the thought of a freemind POV chapter where hes spying on gordon and benrey.....because. gordons in heat. ive talked about that scenario before too (literally so many FUCKING times okay i just need this dude to have the uncontrollable urge to be bred like a little bitch! and for benrey to take pity on him and make him feel better by nutting in him literally as many times as is physically possible!!!)

but i wanna manifest it in this specific way: from an outside perspective. voyeurism is great and also i have a one track mind and basically the only time i traffic in Other Guys in this fandom anymore is as a participant in gordon and benreys horse shit. Im not apologizing for this

lets say.....vr gordons behavior has been getting worse and worse for "unknown reasons" and freeman prime just sees it as a key observational opportunity for his research. while freeminds getting really irritated at how much its cutting into his normal way of life. for one thing, vr gordons room reeks, and he cant even escape it in his own room! and its turning him into a feisty, aggressive, and loud son of a bitch. but he cant even resolve it in his usual fashion at this point (baiting vr gordon into another competition/fuckfest) b/c gordons being a little sadsack holed up in his room and doesnt wanna play

but also.....he kinda just feels bad for the guy at a certain point. hes clearly really miserable and looks downright ill and all hes asking for is to see his boytoy again. (gordons convinced that hes dying, and feels the need to dramatically speak to benrey one last time before he croaks.) so freemind decides, in all his benevolence, to go over gordon primes head and drag the guy over there anyway. (with machinations, not his literal bare hands. what is he, a caveman?) he reasons that itll be a good opportunity to twist gordons arm into groveling at his feet later

and he spies on the two of them in gordons room.....why? idk. possibly something to do with investigating this relationship between a gordon and a barney that he had yet to fully analyze. tl;dr he gets trapped in their closet for a remix of that one barmey voyeurism chapter b/c why the fuck not

i just.....i dont know.....i think theres something really charming about a 3rd party not being able to fully make out what theyre saying or doing but piecing things together anyway.....like benreys weirdly soft tone of voice when hes talking to a super agitated gordon. as far as any of them know, hes not really like that. he either sounds bored or smug, but either way, its usually straight-up antagonistic

it would make freemind bristle to hear it b/c its almost a mocking tone, but.....it makes gordons shoulders drop and gets him to let go of some of that tension and thats probably fascinating to watch. literally soothing him like a stressed out dog, huh. smoothing back his hair and murmuring things in a low, even tone that freeminds enhanced hearing still isnt good enough to make out. (the guy mumbles, okay? he needs a fucking toastmasters meetup.)

it would equal parts horrify and fascinate freemind, in my onion. watching a version of himself fall that hard into the loyal pet role.....its pathetic! for all that gordon goes on about not being a slave to his instinct or whatever, he sure is doing a bad job of acting like it! its like watching himself, but worse.

and benreys having to soothe him like a startled animal b/c he doesnt even know whats wrong with himself, but theres something thick enough on the air that even benrey can smell it, and hes taking some stabs at the dark. especially with how charged some of the shit gordons saying is......"i cant fucking take it anymore", "you smell so good", "i dont know whats wrong with me, man, my dick hasnt gone down for days and im pretty sure i need a doctor-- no, a real one, not the other gor-- NOT a vet, JESUS"

and the whole time.....freeminds peeking from behind a closet door. watching them devolve from outright hostility into "gordon climbing into benreys lap and shoving one of benreys hands up his shirt and demanding that he fucking touch him already"

normally i dont think freemind would be averse to a little bit of voyeurism, here. if it was anybody else, hed probably at least engage in a little heavy petting. but this is getting weird, man. he cant shake the uncanny feeling that this is something too intimate for him to be watching. for one thing, gordons whimpering like a goddamn dog just from a little necking, and for two, hes never really been the kind of guy to watch people make out for 15 minutes before they get to the good stuff

its just kind of unsettling how much these two clearly really, really like each other at this point. its not like watching gordon prime give vr gordon a handjob as part of a "test". freemind expected more of a hatefuck kind of deal out of these two, what with how often gordons normally going on about how much he hates the guy, what a pain in the ass benrey is, how he just wishes benrey would stop jerking him around.....etc. freemind could shit himself right now. that lying bitch!

i imagine its also kind of painful, on a personal level, for him to watch this borderline-sappy shit. he cant even fathom being on the receiving end of that behavior, let alone from......well. theyve all got their barneys, right? and gordon primes basically doomed himself to incel status b/c he wont nut up and do anything about it. freemind just assumed they were all in the same boat: cursed to casual sex with their roommates/clones, forever, and unable to achieve any kind of intimacy b/c all 3 gordons are fucked up in the exact same way. since theyre all just diff flavors of the same fucking guy, right?

well, theres the evidence that hes wrong. and that vr gordons better than him, somehow. thats gotta suck, bro

anyway then he watches vr gordon get railed in the ass a bunch and jerks off anyway b/c its still hot. see ya)

“take care of your dog”. huh. hes got no clue what that means but, yknow, he does kinda miss his dog. hasnt seen gordon in awhile. and he immediately comments "wow. you look fucked up" in as blunt and unsympathetic a way as possible. but gordons so far gone that he cant even work up a good anger about it. he is pretty fucked up, man. and benrey sits on the bed and slaps his forehead with a palm to take his temperature (and that gets gordon to bitch at him, finally, that thats not how you do it, asshole) and judges that, uh, he is hot. in his expert opinion

and thats when gordon kinda grabs his sleeve and tugs it and starts tryin to say something. hes really bad at it, because he is having to perform the mortifying task of Owning Up To It, but eventually he manages to grind out that he needs benrey to touch him, please. just pet him. something. he feels really bad and he just needs benrey to scratch his fucking ears. this is the most gordon can cop to in one go, and it is such a sad struggle to watch, but benreys caught off guard by it and he feels weirdly bad for gordon upon hearing it so hes just like "whoa, okay" when gordon tugs his hand to his head

gordon groans the moment his fingernails start scratching behind the ears and digging into his scalp. even just that much feels really fucking good. its comforting, for one thing, and its benrey, for another, and the physical touch feels so fucking good right now that goosebumps are crawling down his neck. gordon cant help but lean against benrey and bury his head in the crook of his shoulder. he wants to hide his face from scrutiny and he wants to get closer but he doesnt know how to say what his fucking problem is

and benreys weirdly quiet. just kinda mumbling and shushing him intermittently, awkward and not sure what to do b/c this is a level of intimacy he was not expecting but gordons sure is responding nicely to a second hand in his hair

so having both of benreys hands scratching at his scalp is really getting to gordon. hes scritchin behind the ears and gordons tails wagging at a mile a minute. the feelings making goosebumps race down his neck and arms. he starts kind of mumbling something into benreys shoulder, how hes been feeling so fucked up lately, and he squirms a little closer. hes not really aiming for anywhere in particular but every neuron thats firing in him right now is telling him to get closer. make contact. he missed the fucking guy, what can he say.

and one of benreys hands......slips down to gordons face. his jaw. a thumb pushing into that soft little divot between his jaw and neck, like hes trying to push up into gordons fucking teeth. its weird and bizarrely intrusive, but benreys hand is broad and warm and gordon leans into it anyway, groaning with relief. its not like its not doing anything for him. kind of the opposite, actually. then he palms at gordons neck, and gordon starts breathing harder. he can feel his heartbeat rabbit-fast, pushing against benreys skin (and theres no way benrey isnt feeling that, too).

benrey eyes are lidded and his breaths starting to get heavier, too. naturally, yknow, since gordons practically draped over him right now, melting all the more the longer benrey keeps petting him. oxytocin is crazy, man, especially when a guys in the full throes of some kind of chemical meltdown of the glands. gordons eyes are screwed shut, tail thumping furiously against the bed, and hes panting at benreys neck like hes a fucking dog. he just doesnt know how to articulate what the fuck his problem is

benrey smells insanely good to him right now, and gordon just blurts that out. benrey gives him some shit for it, but when gordon only makes a weird noise in response and fists his hands in benreys hoodie, it makes him shut up real quick. hes squeezing out words about feeling like he needs something, but its clearly a fucking effort. its almost pitiful

so. gordons crawled right into benreys lap, too impatient after days and days of feeling like this (you know, being in heat, in so many words). hes been pounding off like crazy, that brand new collar of his strapped to his neck nearly every time b/c hes that desperate to feel… well. *benrey*. he cant fucking jerk off to thoughts of anything else - porn doesnt do it for him, and his fantasies slip right back to the same thing every single time. its frustrating! hes bisexual, for gods sake! its not like hes normally immune to the wiles of the Phat Ass White Girl, but lately he just keeps ending up on his hands and knees and whining benreys name into his pillow and he couldnt focus on a girls rack if he tried

point being. hes being awfully fucking demanding. (and also, hes wearing the collar *right fucking now)*. he shoves benreys hand up his shirt and shivers the moment he makes contact with gordons burning-hot flesh. and hes demanding that benrey touch him already, jesus, hes losing his mind! and benreys just crooning at him, “bossy, huh,” but hes scritching gordons ears and palming at his side and nosing at gordons neck and gordon starts to feel like hes melting into it. his protests at being talked down to are perfunctory at best

benrey licks a stripe up gordons neck and starts muttering his stupid horseshit right in gordons ear and it makes gordon clutch his shoulders so tight, claws digging into the meat of him. benreys kind of into it, though, and it just makes him laugh, low and harsh and right in gordons ear. that just makes gordons problem worse. he lets out quiet, nasal whines on every exhale, like a literal fucking dog.

he starts teasing, like, “haha, you’re *gagging* for it, bro,” but gordon doesnt respond with the defensiveness he expects. instead, its like opening a floodgate - he is, hes fucking *desperate*, okay, his dick hasnt gone down in days and he wants benrey so bad he cant see straight and he cant stop thinking about him and all of this comes tumbling out of him at once. gordons trying to press himself as close to benrey as he can physically get, legs straddling benreys lap and arms clutched tight around his back. and when benrey prods a little more, tells gordon to say what hes been thinkin about, gordon starts to pant, squeezing his eyes shut. but he cant bring himself to do anything more than choke and stutter on the words

hes half-hard in his underwear already (and, lets be be clear, he was only in boxer briefs and a tank top to begin with. hes sweating buckets and its the least amount of clothing he could get away with wearing around the house) and his tails thumping a mile a minute and hes so far gone, just from benrey talking down to him and kissing his neck and scratching his ears. but hes not budging yet, so benrey slides that hand on his ears over to his ponytail and *yanks*. tells him, “speak.” gordons dick twitches rapidly, and he lets out a sharp sound, and he finally says it: he needs benrey to *fuck* him, jesus

benrey lets out a harsh breath at that. “yeah? thats what puppy wants?” and the nickname should blister him, make him feel to embarrassed to continue, but gordons too desperate to care. he just starts spewing a litany of “god yes”s and “please”s. hes getting harder and harder, pressed up against benreys belly, and benrey can *feel* it. “good boy,” he mutters, and those claws dig harder, that panting gets louder and harsher

he slips a hand around to gordons back, rubbing slowly for a moment as if to soothe him, and then slides it under the back of gordons boxers. and lower still. starts rubbing at gordons hole. that gets a quiet “oh god” out of gordon.

gordon cant help himself - he rocks forward against benrey, just a little, rubbing his bulge against what he realizes is benreys *extremely* hard dick in his sweatpants. hes not the only one whos got it bad. but he *is* the only one whispering, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” as benrey pushes a little further, makes as if hes about to breach gordon dry. the poor guys so needy that he probably wouldnt even argue!

but benrey just stares at him, wide eyed and flushed, mouth hanging open a little. gordons so hot for this that it surprises the both of them.

anyway after some boring position finagling benrey coaxes gordon onto his hands and knees, running a broad hand down gordons shaking back. and he pulls back gordons tail, exposing him. its so fucking humiliating - gordons got his face buried in a pillow, and his ass in the air, and hes never felt so *vulnerable* before. he wants to argue, he wants to lift his head and look back to make sure that everythings, like, okay back there - benreys staring at his entire asshole, okay, and he wasnt exactly anticipating benrey making a house call to fuck him in the ass - but every time he lifts his head, or starts to say something neurotic about it, benrey chides him about it. clicks his tongue. tells him, “hey. dogs dont talk” or “i said *bow*, bro”.

for all his insisting that hes a real guy, that hes not just a dog, gordons feeling less and less like a human and more like something in thrall to his instincts. the condescension rankles like it always does, but doing what benrey tells him to feels good. feels natural. presenting himself like this feels like what hes *supposed* to do. it doesnt stop him from running his mouth entirely, but it helps to mitigate some of the embarrassment.

and then… benrey *licks*. gordon tenses and gasps. he doesnt know how benrey can stand it, its gotta be, like, unhygienic! but that didnt scare him off the last time they tried this, and its not like gordon hasnt thought about it since. hes thought about it a lot, actually. but hes been too neurotic to ask for it. benreys not stupid, though. hes a good dog owner (at least, so he thinks) and hes gonna take care of his dog. so he licks again, and again, pressing a little harder against gordons hole on each pass with the broad side of his tongue until he dares to breach it with the tip.

gordons rock hard again in an instant. his dick hangs between his legs and drips onto the sheets. he digs his fingers into the pillow now, tearing holes in its surface with those sharp nails of his, and he makes embarrassingly high noises that he muffles into into the pillow, too. hes tense, hes so fucking tense, he should be clamping down and making benreys task really fucking hard, but theres bright pink sweet voice dripping from his hole and benreys rubbing the side of his thigh in an effort to soothe him and both of these things work in tandem to get him to relax. and benrey works his tongue in further, further than a human ought to.

the tip was one thing, but it gets wider as benrey pushes it in, and its just as good as it was before - better, even, because now its just the two of them, just a master and his dog, and benreys the only one he wants to see him like this. bent over and whimpering. he cant— he cant stomach the thought of anybody else doing this to him. hell, there was a point once where the idea of stomaching *benrey* doing this to him would have made him laugh. but here he is. benreys fucking him open with his tongue and pressing against something thats making him see stars and gordon just wants *more*. he says it so sweet, too, voice growing hoarse and raw as he begs benrey to just fucking do it already, he doesnt wanna come like this!

gordon gets so worked up and emotional about it that benrey takes the time to scratch behind his ears again, shushing him and telling him to chill. benreys got him. hes been a good dog, and good dogs get treats. hearing the words “good dog” makes gordons entire body flush. thats all he wants, really. he wants to be a good dog. he wants to be *told*. he blurts out, “oh my god— say it again,” and benreys like, “huh? say what? youre gonna have to be more specific,” clicking the last syllable. it makes all the hairs on gordons head rise and prickle with shame. the best he can do is mumble it into his pillow.

benrey hears it, though, and tugs at gordons collar from behind, just enough to raise his head. “whassat? you want me to call you a good boy?” gordon cant bring himself to answer that directly, but his stupid body betrays him by making him whine. jesus christ, yes, thats all he WANTS! he needs benrey to be good and nice to him for once in his fucking life and give him what he wants instead of taking, taking, taking! but benrey just tells him that hes gonna have to earn it. gonna have to be *real* good for him. gordon could fucking snarl at that, but benreys pulling back to rub his dick between gordons cheeks and against his hole and that shuts him up pretty fast because hes *so close* to getting what he wants and hes not about to fuck it up now by running his big dumb mouth

and then… he starts to push in. that sweet voice has loosened gordon up enough to take even benrey, who, uh, is definitely the bigger of the two, in that regard. he goes slow, uncharacteristically so, and gordons chest heaves with the force of how hard hes breathing. a quiet string of “oh god”s spills out of him as he tries to crane his neck back to watch. the head breaches him with a strange popping sensation, and benrey groans, loud, as the rest of him slides in with little resistance in comparison. “good,” he pants in turn, “youre takin it so good,” and—

and gordon comes, in weak, aborted spurts. it snuck up on him. he clenches so fucking tightly that it winds benrey a little. he breathes out, “whoa. did you—” but gordon just begs him to shut up, keep going, hes not— hes not done yet, its always like this, its not *enough*. his dick barely even flags afterward, it just hangs there, achingly hard and dripping with cum. benrey cant even find it in himself to make fun of him. he wants it so fucking bad, doesnt he? and he feels so good, so fucking tight and slick around benrey that the only thought running through his head is “gotta take care of my dog gotta fuck my best friend gotta nut in him and make him howl”. so he pushes himself alllll the way in until theyre pressed together, skin to skin.

then he starts to move. slow, careful thrusts, more for benreys benefit than gordons. if hes not careful, hes gonna blow his load, right then and there, and hes trying to make it good for gordon, too, okay? unlike *some* of them, hes not gonna bust in two minutes and then spend the next half hour crying and trauma-dumping to the guy hes still got his dick inside of.

once he thinks hes got a grip, though, benrey starts fucking him in earnest, and that changes gordons vocalizations from weak little whimpers into something louder. less restrained. hes given up any pretense of being quiet so that his other selves dont hear that hes snuck his boytoy into his room. just loud, wordless moans on each thrust, initially muffled into the pillow but soon spilling into the wider room when he turns his head to catch his breath. the only words hes managing are “oh god” and “please” and “benrey, benrey, *benrey*”, and benrey just responds to him like, “yeah? thats good? fuuuck, bro, so good for me,” all short of breath and barely able to speak himself

he wants to see gordons face. he *needs* to see gordons face. needs to see what hes doing to him, needs to see that cute fuckin blush of his. so he tugs on gordons collar again, bringing him to his hands and knees properly instead of that bowing position. and then further still - pulls him back so that benreys on his knees, and gordons on his knees in turn, on his lap, cock still buried inside of him and fucking him in short, hurried thrusts. “paws up,” benrey tells him, and gordon does it. instantly. no resistance. just folds them at his chest like a real dog would.

“whos a good boy?” benrey croons, right in his ear again. gordon gasps, “i-i am!”

“yeah? youre a good boy?” nod, wail. “whose— whose good boy are you?”

and gordon chokes on his response. he cant say it, he *cant*, he doesnt want to be benreys but he does, he *does*. he doesnt want to be benreys because its not fucking fair! he cares so fucking much! so much more than benrey does, it feels like, obsessing over the guy like hes wrapped thorny vines all around gordons heart and he cant so much as shift in his seat without feeling the tug and the ache and thinking of benrey again. and benrey doesnt care, he never fucking cares, except—

except he showed up at gordons house, in his room. without even being asked. like he knew something was wrong. and he— hes always talking to gordon, shooting him stupid texts just to make him laugh. scheduling *date nights* for them. date nights where, yeah, maybe they couldnt see each other in person, and maybe they always end in some kind of depraved sexual act, but its not like gordons not into it. hes frighteningly into it, actually. and hes *so* into hearing benreys voice, low and crooning, right in his ear, and seeing him lean on an elbow and smile at him afterward. its— its practically genuine. and benreys always making excuses to talk with him, do things with him, watch stupid fucking movies that only gordon cares about and stream with him on twitch to help boost his subscriber count and—

and—

oh god. maybe he *does* care. that might be more terrifying than the alternative.

then benrey yanks the collar again. presses the whole of gordons back against his front in one hot, unbroken line. and asks, “i said, whose good boy are you, bro? *speak.*”

“benrey,” he blurts out, a ragged moan, “d-dont make me sa-AY it, oh god—”

“no?” benrey stills suddenly. his hands keep gordon stuck in place, unable to move or bounce or feel benrey shift inside of him. “thats, uh… thats too bad, friend. this trains for good boys only. good dogs go to heaven 2. no bad dogs allowed. gonna have to, uhh, escort you off—”

“im not a bad dog!”

“i dunno, gordo. bein’ kind of, uh… disobedient.”

(sorry. thats all i got . byeeee)

#this is so far from finished b/c A) im a coward now and B) typing qith my left hand sucks so i dont wanna do it right now. Sorry #writin stuff

41 notes · View notes

peppermintquartz · 2 years

Text

minific, Playroom!verse

Joestafa

Joe wakes up one day, and says, "I think I'm sick." He sways when he stands, and sits down again. "Hmm."

Mustafa then realizes that he has never once seen his boyfriend under the weather. Part of him thinks Joe is going to be an impossible patient who won't take his meds, but Joe just takes his own temperature, makes a large batch of vegetable soup with Mustafa's help, and goes to the bedroom armed with four bottles of water and a box of pills from the medicine cabinet.

He doesn't allow Mustafa to stay in the same room, however. He doesn't even allow Mustafa to go into the bedroom, instead passing the younger man a week's worth of clothes and his toothbrush through the partially open door with one hand.

"One person down is bad enough," he says, his voice rough and nasal. "I've got my flu jabs but I'm gonna be a miserable bastard, and I'm not about to make life difficult for you, baby."

"You're gonna need me to make sure you get food and drink though."

"Vegetable soup. Very healthy. Cereal." Joe winces after he coughs into his fist. "Not my first time sick, baby. I'll be fine."

It's weird not being able to curl up against Joe's bulk at night. Mustafa spends most of his first night tossing and turning, and ends up texting to the guys in the group chat. Joe cuts in at 3.17am, grumpy as fuck, telling Mustafa to go the hell to sleep, since he has to open the gym in the morning.

But in the morning, when Mustafa places a tray with a bowl of plain cornflakes and a thermos of hot tea outside the bedroom, he hears the sounds of retching and then flushing. "Joe, you alright? Shouldn't you see a doctor?"

"I'm fine," Joe replies. Mustafa feels a niggle of worry hearing that his boyfriend's voice isn't as steady as usual. "I'll have my phone on me, Stafa. Anything I need I'll send a text."

"Anything you want too, Daddy." Mustafa puts a hand on the door and sighs. "Love you. Get better."

"Will do. Love you, baby."

He cuts out of the gym as soon as he can, leaving Mansoor to finish the day and to lock up. It's silent in the apartment. Disobeying Joe, he opens the bedroom door slightly, to see and hear Joe snoring quietly in bed. Wads of tissue overflow the wastebasket.

The breakfast tray is at the foot of the bed. Mustafa creeps in and takes it out, but pauses to put a soft hand on Joe's forehead. Joe is burning, but not so much that it warrants waking him up, so Mustafa tiptoes out and closes the door.

Mustafa is deep into balancing his books when he hears a loud crash in the bedroom. Abandoning his laptop, he rushes in and sees Joe sprawled on the floor, unconscious.

"Daddy?" Mustafa shakes Joe's shoulder, and then puts a hand on his boyfriend's brow. It's a lot warmer than before. Joe was panting slightly as he opens his eyes, looking quite dazed. "Baby?"

"Daddy, hey. Do you think you can stand?"

"Of course." But he sways dangerously as he struggles to a sitting position. "When did we. Move. To a boat?"

Mustafa doesn't answer, focused on maneuvering Joe to his feet. Joe frowns. "Want to piss."

"Yeah, hang on. Arm around my shoulder." Mustafa is glad of his weight training. Joe staggers to the bathroom and manages to piss without splashing too much outside the bowl or dirtying himself, though Mustafa has to help him with his pants, and they struggle back to the bed.

Once tucked in, Joe falls instantly back to sleep, but sweat beads over his brow and he keeps twitching. Mustafa wipes his boyfriend's brow and then goes to the living room to text the group.

Joe doesn't get better. Mustafa watches like a hawk as Sheamus checks Joe's pulse and temperature, practically snatching away the prescription to fill it. He buys sandwiches from a kiosk on his way home.

Tyler comes by with Roman to visit. Tyler hugs Mustafa tightly after peeking into the bedroom. "Daddy will be fine."

"Of course."

Roman packs the fridge with Gatorade.

Mustafa sleeps on a chair next to the bed. It's not the most comfortable perch.

The third day, Joe throws up again, this time over the side of the bed. His skin is clammy and cool, but his forehead and neck are warm; Mustafa cleans up and does the laundry. He thinks he's slept perhaps two hours. Every little sound makes him jump.

The bar is closed while Joe is down. The last thing Mustafa wants is to have to check on what's happening downstairs while Joe is practically unconscious. Seth and Finn come by with meals (made by Seth) and help to change the sheets. Finn waves aside Mustafa's profuse thanks and takes the bedsheets to the laundry service he uses for the Playroom.

Mustafa jerks awake. He didn't mean to fall asleep. Joe tosses and turns, and occasionally his hand goes to the back of the nightstand. Mustafa is very glad he removed that particular firearm on the previous day.

He watches and listens as Joe grunts his displeasure, even while delirious with fever. Then he rolls over and falls asleep. Mustafa recites verses for healing under his breath.

On the fourth morning, Finn visits again. He is in the room to check Joe's temperature when Joe suddenly grabs his wrist and growls a threat, and Mustafa almost cries with relief.

Joe's voice is a weak imitation of his usual menacing rumble. "What are you doing?"

"Checking that Baby didn't murder you," says Finn easily, who then bends down to kiss Joe on his forehead, before passing him a bottle of Gatorade.

"Baby wouldn't do that," Joe rasps. "At least not in our own home."

Mustafa laughs.

#joestafa #minific #Finn's playroom

6 notes · View notes

omgrachwrites · 3 years

Text

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter Twenty One

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly woman.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex, mentions of death, mentions of blood

Words: 2334

A/N: I think either the next part or the part after that will be the last one! Hope you guys enjoy this part and let me know what you think! I know I’m messing with the timeline so I hope that’s okay! I love you all! xxx

Chapter Twenty One

Sirius chuckled as the harsh winter winds chilled him to his bones, he couldn’t understand how it was winter again already. Summer had seemed to pass by in a fleeting haze of beautiful dreams and fantasies. When autumn dawned, turning the world burnt orange and amber, reality seemed to set in but it was no less amazing, having Y/N by his side made him the happiest that he had ever been.

He didn’t care that the wind was howling in his ears or the fact that his lips and skin were starting to feel chapped. He didn’t care because the only thing that he was focused on was the soft warm hand that was intertwined with his own.

“Are we there yet?” Sirius grinned for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Y/N had been living with him for the last couple of months and she had woken him up at the crack of dawn. She told him that she had a surprise for him and she instructed him to close his eyes as she led him down the snowy slushy street. Sirius didn’t even know where they had apparated to and he was starting to grow a little suspicious but he trusted Y/N with his life.

Y/N sighed and Sirius just knew that she was rolling her eyes, “I really wish you’d stop asking that baby, just a little bit further.”

Sirius grumbled and he just succumbed to her leading him into the unknown. Suddenly, Y/N came to an abrupt stop and Sirius almost tripped over, “Merlin, Y/N.”

Y/N only giggled, “I’m sorry,” she hesitated as she left a lingering kiss on his lips, “okay; beautiful you can open your eyes.”

And he did, he opened his eyes, squinting through the swirling snow as he allowed his eyes to adjust and he realised what was in front of him. It was breath taking. Right in front of him was a white cottage with a thatched roof and ivy grew down one wall, glistening with new frost. There was even a decent sized front garden – he’d never had a garden of his own before – and baby blue shutters, it looked like an amazing place to create a future. It was beautiful but he just didn’t understand.

“I don’t understand babe, it’s beautiful but what are we doing here?”

Y/N grinned sheepishly, she looked so beautiful and ethereal with the snow slowly drifting around her and her cheeks were beautifully flushed, “you’ve lived in dark houses and dingy flats for most of your life, the only time you got a break was at Hogwarts. I want you – us – to live somewhere where we could see the sky and where the air isn’t invaded by smog. Plus, I know that you were miserable when we found out that Lily and James were moving away so here we are, in Godric’s Hollow. Lily and James only live around the corner. Mum and dad helped me with the buying of this place. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you but I wanted it to be a surprise. Do you like it?” she flushed.

Sirius blinked a couple of times; he couldn’t quite believe his ears. He had always wanted to live in a quaint village, far away from the city and his troubles. People always assumed that he liked the hustle and bustle of the city life but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sirius was so touched, Y/N was so thoughtful and he was so grateful for her, he was also grateful that he’d be living close to his best friends. Their children could grow up together.

He swooped her up in his arms and he spun her in a circle, relishing in the way she giggled as he peppered kisses all over her face, “thank you! This is amazing! I love it, I love you.”

Y/N giggled as she nudged her cold nose against his before she cupped his cheeks and pressed a long warm kiss to his lips, “I love you too, so much.”

Sirius grinned and chuckled at her words as he put her down and laced his fingers through hers as he opened the wooden gate, “should we have a look at our new place my love?”

Y/N’s hand tightened in his ever so slightly, “lead the way.”

The cottage was just as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. It was a good size, perfect for a couple who wanted to start a family. Y/N and Sirius had been trying for a baby but they had had no luck so far. A few weeks later they were in the process of moving all their belongings over. Sirius had let Regulus move into the flat in London so it wasn’t standing empty until someone made an offer on it. Though, Sirius was going to have Regulus round at the cottage as much as possible, Regulus had been acting rather strangely lately and Sirius was worried about him. He didn’t want to lose his baby brother.

As the young couple moved more and more of their stuff into their new home it was starting to feel like it was truly theirs. Sirius was in complete awe of the garden, it was his favourite place by far and you could see the entirety of it from the windows in the kitchen. The lawn was so expansive and Sirius just knew that they would have loads of barbecues when the weather was nice. He also imagined teaching his future son or daughter how to ride a broomstick in the garden. That garden would definitely see a lot of happy memories that was for sure.

As Sirius was gazing out of the windows, Y/N walked up behind him and kissed his cheek, wrapping her arms around his waist, “I’ve been looking for you, what are you doing in here baby?”

“I’m sorry,” he grinned apologetically; he’d completely forgotten about unpacking their things, in favour of looking out into the garden, “I just can’t believe that this is our life now, I never thought that we’d get here. It sounds stupid but I’ve never had a garden before, there was one in James’ house but it wasn’t mine, knowing that it’s mine makes me so happy. We can teach our future children how to ride brooms out there.”

“It’s not stupid at all baby, it’s all ours. I can’t wait to spend time with our future children out there,” she paused with a sigh, “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to get pregnant, I know how much you want to start a family.”

Sirius shook his head and turned to face her, tilting her chin up so she looked at him, “you have nothing to apologise for, it’ll just take a little bit of time that’s all, but I know that we’re going to get there in the end. And hey, we already are a family; we always will be, even if it is just the two of us.”

By Christmas Eve, Sirius and Y/N had completely settled in and they were incredibly happy, they’d had all their friends round for dinner multiple times. Regulus had also come round but he seemed distant and distracted, Sirius wanted to know what was going on but he trusted his brother to confide in him.

It was a little past ten on Christmas Eve, Sirius and Y/N had arrived back home after spending the day with Lily and James. They were situated in front of the crackling log fire, only wrapped in thin sheets after just making love. Y/N sighed happily as she leaned her head against Sirius’ chest as she took a sip of her hot chocolate.

“Happy there my love?” Sirius grinned down at her, feeling very amused as he ran his hand over Y/N’s stomach.

Y/N cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek as she nodded her head, “I’m in my own house with the love of my life and it’s Christmas Eve, and I’ve just found out that we’re going to have a baby, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” she smiled and there was silence for a couple of moments before she spoke up again, “I applied for a new job the other day.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, “I really do like working for the Ministry but it just seems like my heart isn’t in it anymore. So, I applied for a teaching post at Hogwarts, Ancient Runes. I haven’t heard anything back yet but I just thought I’d let you know. If I get it, I’ll be starting it after the Easter half term.”

Sirius smiled, he had always known that Y/N would probably try and get a teaching post at Hogwarts but he wasn’t prepared for how much his heart would miss her, “I’m so proud of you angel,” Sirius kissed the top of her head and held her close, “I love you.

“I love you too. Merry Christmas Sirius.”

----------------------------------------------------

You felt your heart pounding in your chest and you could hear the blood pumping in your ears, your legs felt like lead as you walked up the front path and passed the flowers that you had planted. It was barely February and so many things had happened, many bad things, it made the beautiful day feel dark and grey. Why did bad things happen to good people? You were just so thankful that your boss had been so understanding but really, the universe needed to give you and your family a break.

As you walked into the hallway you were immediately hit with the gorgeous homely smell of cinnamon tea. You spotted Remus sitting in the living room reading a book, when you walked in, your toes sinking into the fluffy carpet, Remus glanced up at you in slight surprise.

“Hi Y/N, you’re home early.”

You forced a smile at him, “as soon as I heard my boss let me come home,” you choked as tears filled your eyes, “how is he?”

Remus sighed and he rubbed his eyes, looking very weary as he closed his book, “he’s in really bad shape, he went to sleep a few hours ago and I didn’t want to just leave him.”

A wave of gratitude washed over you, Remus was such an amazing friend, “thank you so much for staying with him Rem, I really appreciate it.”

Remus nodded as he got up from the couch and he strolled over to you, resting a hand on your shoulder, “it’s really no problem Y/N. How are you, are you doing alright with everything?” his hazel eyes flitted to your stomach before he looked back up at your face.

You felt the tears escape your eyes, it still hurt so much as you rested a hand on your stomach that had once contained a baby, “it just seems like one bad thing after another,” you took in a great deep breath and tightly smiled at Remus, “I’m going to go and see if Sirius is awake.” Remus sighed and nodded as he watched you walk up the stairs.

Sirius was awake and he was standing with his back to you as he gazed out of the window, it was open slightly and you could hear the happy laughs of children and their parents in the streets. He sniffled as he rested his forehead against the cool glass and your heart constricted in your chest.

“Sirius?” you called out and he turned round, his face was blotchy and red raw from where he’d been crying. His eyes were bloodshot and they were red around the edges, his hair was sticking up in all directions like he’d been constantly pulling at it, “oh Sirius.”

You ran to him and he let out a dry sob as he all put fell into your arms, his knees buckling and you led him over to the bed, letting him cry into your lap. You soothingly ran your fingers through his thick hair as he cried; you didn’t want to make him speak if he didn’t want to. He gulped after a few minutes, breathing in shaky breaths as he sat up and looked at the photograph on the cabinet on his side of the bed.

You followed his line of sight and saw that it was a picture of him and Regulus when Regulus first started Hogwarts. They were beneath the huge willow right by The Black Lake and the little boys in the photograph were grinning as they threw leaves at each other and ran in and out of frame.

“We used to be best friends, I remember that day so clearly, and I never wanted that day to end. I don’t know how soon it was when our mother came between us. I regret so much, I regret the fact that we were basically strangers for years. Why didn’t he tell us Y/N? Why didn’t he tell us that he worked for Voldemort? We could have helped him.”

You couldn’t imagine how Sirius must have felt when he heard the news that his little brother had been a Death Eater – a follower of Voldemort – and he had been killed by his master. You should have been here, “sweetheart, there was probably nothing that we could have done, if we had tried to intervene then we’d be dead too. Regulus was trying to protect us.”

Sirius sniffled as he rubbed his eyes as he rested his head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “I can’t believe the worst days of my life have happened in the same month.”

At his words you almost flash backed to the day you had lost the baby, you had been bleeding so much and you knew, you just knew in that moment that your baby was dead. But you had to be strong for Sirius, and for yourself.

“We’ll get through this together Sirius, just like we always do.”

----------------------------------------------------

@approved-by-dentists @thefuturelawyer @a-miserable-hufflepunk @firelordmillie @seriouslysiriuss @sleep-i-ness @play-morezeppelin @pregnant-piggy @sleepingalaska @smiithys @blisfvll @rexorangecouny @findzelda @wangmangagavroche @the-moon-and-the-book @hxrgreeves @ghostofstudentspast @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @my-unique-mind @im-an-angel-of-the-lord-you-ass @acciovisio @obsessedwithrandomthings @kashishwrites @fific7 @blackbirddaredevil23 @siriusblackspam @mads-bri @lilulo-12fanfiction @mrspadfoot4 @tinymalscoffee @ur-riddikulus @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @ourloveisforthelovely

92 notes · View notes

op-peccatori · 4 years

Text

coup de foudre | MLQC Shaw/Ling Xiao (M)

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Shaw

Rating: 18+/Explicit/NSFW

Words: 5k

Summary: He hadn’t planned on getting sucked in, unable and unwilling to free himself. But they’ve all had their chances and now, it’s his turn.

coup de foudre (‘stroke of lightning’): a sudden unforeseen event, in particular, an instance of love at first sight

A/N: i have nothing to say. except that this was supposed to be a filthy hookup thing but I should have known better. please...don't look at me lmao

(tags under the cut)

Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content, mild language, vaginal sex, ... minor electric play, please don’t try this at home, chapter 19/20 spoilers...ish

Rain-soaked bangs cling to a crinkling forehead, hanging over amber eyes squinting through the unforgiving downpour.

His heart pounds, tremulous and worried, within the confines of his chest–because of all the running, he tells himself repeatedly–as the heavy soles of his combat boots splash through puddles, drawing peeved looks from the people passing by.

Annoyance and concern twist and twine around his lungs as there’s no sign of that familiar face, the sparks on the tips of his fingers deadly in his urgency, and if he doesn’t find what he’s looking for right now–

The fates conspire as the thought crosses his mind, as if unwilling to draw his ire, and his path leads him to a park near Loveland University. There aren’t a lot of people nearby or in the park itself; he wanders in through the wrought iron gate, already thinking of turning back and going back to the cafe in the hope that you’ll be there–and then he catches a glimpse of the now-familiar silhouette, curled up on a bench, seemingly unbothered by the rain.

Drenched to the bone with your hair glued to your face and your clothes clinging to your skin in a way he tries really hard not to notice, you almost remind him of a lost kitten he’d come across as a child. Even the way you shiver is similar, although the way his body responds to you is very different.

You haven’t noticed him yet. Your palms are spread open in front of you, exposed to your unfocused gaze. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest as the thought of why you’re here comes to mind, so close to a man you should be staying far away from.

Shaw swallows the lump in his throat, mouth curving in that cocky way he knows will annoy you. With any hope, enough to wipe that miserable look off your face.

“There you are,” he calls, grinning at the way you jump and twist in place. Your eyes flash with immediate recognition and he’s near sickened by the elation that courses through him. You know him now, and that shouldn’t delight him half as much as it does.

It’s just because it would piss, well, quite a lot of people off.

“Oh, it’s you.” Your eyes, previously dull, spark with curiosity. “Shaw.”

“Mm.” There’s an umbrella clutched in his hand, one he’d brought along with you in mind, but it feels awkward in his grip now. He wants to open it and tug you closer, draw you into his arms and warm you up; he tosses the umbrella at you instead, trying to keep from shuffling in place as you stare at it in quiet surprise. “Y’know, I like parks as much as the next guy, but this isn’t really the kind of weather you should be out in.”

“More friendly advice?” you ask, eyes twinkling, and his mouth dries up. You sigh and open the device he so thoughtfully handed you. You don’t think you can get any wetter, but you might as well use it. “I know. I just...”

Visited Loveland Uni. Ran into Lu-Ares. You had felt so drained, so defeated, that you had, in all your wisdom, decided to stop by the park you had frequented so often with the professor by your side. It hadn’t been your intention to be caught in this rain.

“What are you doing here?” you ask instead.

He clears his throat, not wanting to answer or continue standing around here. But with your eyes fixed on him so intently, he isn’t sure if he’s even capable of moving a muscle, let alone leave.

“I was just passing by. Saw you here, lookin’ like a drowned rat, and I’m just too nice to walk away.”

“Sure you are.” You get up with some effort, hating the way your clothes stick to you, missing the way he stiffens. You raise the umbrella until it covers most of him and you, stepping closer and steering your thoughts away from the heat you feel coming off him. “Well, thank you.”

“No problem. We’re friends now, yeah?” He watches you, your small smile, and the way it twitches before it crumbles, his heart lurching as you drop your forehead onto his chest. “You okay?”

He resists the urge to curl himself around you.

“Yeah.” His hand comes up to rest on your head. He had meant for it to feel like he’s petting a cute animal, but instead, he wants to take his glove off so he can feel your hair in all his tangled glory. He ruffles it gently, and your hand comes up to fist in his shirt. “...No, not really.”

“Thought so. Think you could go mope somewhere drier?”

“I’m not moping,” you grumble, pulling away, much to his disappointment. “But yeah. Mind walking me home?”

“Sure. I don’t have anything better to do, thanks for asking,” he drawls, taking the umbrella from you and drawing closer as you begin to walk out of the park. He’s overcome, just for a moment, by the urge to grab your hand.

It’s funny, he thinks. He’d thought the rest of them pathetic for the lengths they’d go to for you, the way they seemed to orbit around you as if you were the centre of their worlds. Even now, despite having no recollection of you, they aren’t impervious to your pull.

And neither is Shaw.

All he had planned on doing was to wait and watch, derive amusement from you stumbling around like a lost little lamb, help out whenever the mood struck him. But ever since that one time he’d sat next to you on the bus, watching you study him suspiciously, the way you had fidgeted when his jean-clad thigh pressed into yours–ever since then, a certain, dark hunger had taken root in him.

It was when he ran into you here, separated from your guard dogs, that he realized it was just you and him. For now, but it was still a golden opportunity to play with you. To touch you.

He hadn’t expected to be drawn in like the rest. To want you so bad it filled him with warmth on the best of days and burned him inside out on the worst of them.

“If you had anything better to do, you wouldn’t have come looking for me in this kind of weather.”

Shaw scoffs, refusing to turn his head and expose himself to your knowing gaze.

You know better though. Not with how often he seems to find you no matter where you are in the city. It’s something he has in common with a certain someone, and the thought has you aching with something bitter.

Your current companion may be a strange one but you can’t deny the relief you feel when he’s around; he’s the only person in this strange new world who remembers you, who knows things aren’t quite right. He doesn’t seem to care much, but you’re grateful for his presence nonetheless.

It’s with that thought in mind that you come to a stop. “I...don’t want to go home.” The silence had been particularly stifling today, prompting your escape, even if it was to grey skies and raging clouds.

Shaw studies you carefully, the stubborn set of your jaw and the quick flicker of panic in your eyes. You look like you expect him to mock and dismiss you, and while the former would be all too easy, he can’t dismiss your subtle request.

And living up to expectations has never been his style.

Saying no to spending more time with you? He’s not an idiot. He’ll take his entertainment where he can get it, and things around you are never dull.

“Alright. Wanna come over to my place?”

The words are out before he could rethink them, and he prays you don’t take it in the wrong way.

“I mean, we can find something to make you feel better.” Ugh, shut up, Shaw.

Would it be so bad, though–

Yes, it would. You’re not his to take. No matter how badly his mouth waters at the very thought of getting a taste, of sinking his teeth into your skin; no matter how often dreams of you shake him awake with sparks crackling along his limbs, his pants embarrassingly tight.

You agree without much thought, and he wants to scold you for it. You trust too easily, even after everything with that Professor.

“Come on, then.” Because his body and mind slip from his control whenever you’re around, his thoughts turn to the dream he’d woken up from last night, hard and throbbing with raging lust, fingers trembling as they were forced to his cock. He had still been half-asleep as he spilt himself onto his sheets, shame eventually creeping up his spine as his mind drifted toward awareness.

You’re oblivious to the turn his mind has taken, wrapped up in your own thoughts. You have so many questions, most of which you know by now won’t get an answer. But as he leads you up the stairs in a small building, you’re caught off guard by the thrill of anticipation building in you. Your eyes linger on the broad expanse of his back, the studded leather jacket stretching over his shoulders, the way his jeans cling to the round curve of his ass.

“I’m in the mood for pizza. There’s a great place nearby, if you’re cool with it. Oh, we could watch–“ He pauses just outside the door to 3B, fingers hovering over the keypad. “Oh, uh, give me a few minutes.”

With that he taps in the password and slips into the apartment, leaving you outside, perplexed. You wait in silence, realizing quickly that he hadn’t exactly expected to bring a guest along, and hadn’t had a chance to clean up, if that’s what he’s doing.

‘Maybe he’s hiding stuff. Clues to the current situation,’ you think suspiciously, before dismissing the idea. You’ve come here to spend time with a new friend, not snoop around. For the first time in what feels like ever, you’re not going to snoop. You’re going to eat pizza and watch whatever Shaw had been about to mention. You need a goddamn break and you’re going to take it.

The door opens then, with Shaw’s head still turned away as he appears to sweep his eyes over the room once more, as if checking to make sure everything’s in place.

“Right, come on in,” he steps back to let you through, glancing around the hallway before closing the door. You slip your shoes off at the entrance, looking around curiously as you step into the room, smiling gratefully when he hands you a towel.

His jacket is hanging on a rack at the entrance, leaving him in his shirt. His bangs are slicked back and there’s a towel around his neck, the beads wrapped around his wrist clattering as he dabs one end of the towel over his skin. It all makes an enticing, domestic picture, one that has you swallowing nervously.

“Nice place,” you comment, hiding a smile as you spot what looks like a pair of boxers next to the couch, pretending not to notice when he kicks the garment behind it.

“Thanks. Um, do you maybe wanna change?” Neither of you had considered your soaked clothes, and you feel like a complete idiot.

Shaw, on the other hand, has to tear his eyes away from the sheer fabric of your shirt, the way it hints at the tempting swell of your breasts. It’d be better for you both if you spend the rest of your time together in a sweatshirt.

“...That would be really great, thank you.”

“Wait here, I’ll go, uh, find you something to wear.”

You feel awful about putting him out like this, but he’s vanished through a door before you can say anything, and you focus on drying your hair. He comes back with a bundle of clothes and an endearingly nervous expression.

“I thought it might be better if you just shower, if you want to, I mean. I mean, do whatever, I’ll just order us some food,” Shaw mumbles, handing you the clothes.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting, you can go first,” you offer awkwardly, laughing weakly when he rolls his eyes and pushes you towards the bathroom.

“And that’s very gracious of you, but you’ll catch a cold if you don’t get warm soon, so go.” It’s more of a demand than anything and you can’t help the ‘yes sir’ as you shuffle towards the door. “Mushroom and cheese okay with you?”

“That’s my favourite!” you call back, closing the door behind you as you step into the bathroom. Placing the clothes on the counter, you take in the products scattered over the surface. Namely, the various types of hair products and perfumes.

Cute.

You feel oddly shy as you undress, mind swimming with scenarios involving Shaw stumbling into the bathroom somehow while you’re naked. You can almost picture the flushed cheeks he tries so hard to hide, the slight bobbing of his throat you’ve caught so often, and the way he tries to avert his eyes but fails. The thought of him pressing you into the tiled walls has you clenching, your cheeks blazing as you turn on the water.

You wonder if he’s thinking about you naked in his shower right now.

What you don’t know is how right you are, and how miserable it’s making him. Shaw has never felt the kind of shameful thrill that races through him now, as a part of him wonders what you would do if he joins you, if he sinks to his knees and licks into you like a starved, depraved creature.

You're out in ten minutes, smelling of his favourite body wash, and it takes everything in him not to bury his nose in your neck. That scent has never smelled half as good on him as it does on you. Your cheeks are still rosy from the shower, and he watches mutely as you wrap a towel around your head.

Then, with a smothered groan, he realizes you’re in his old sweatshirt and shorts, both too baggy and more adorable than he’d expected.

Fuck.

“I’m done! Thank you, Shaw,” you murmur softly, and he nods, dazed and dismayed at the thought of having to tighten his leash.

“You can put your clothes in the dryer.” He shows you to the machine, starting it for you before handing you his laptop, surprisingly you with the show of trust. “Don’t snoop around too much. You can’t blame me if you find something you don’t want to see.” With the taunt thrown, he turns on his heel and saunters off.

You browse YouTube for a bit before setting the laptop aside and curling up on the couch. It’s been a few days since you woke up in this reality, but it feels like forever. You had almost forgotten what safety felt like. And you can’t quite believe you feel that way with Shaw.

A mesh of stress and worry wound tight in your chest for so long, finally loosens a little as your limbs relax, and you nearly melt onto the cushion as you drift off, knowing you’re not alone, for once not uneasy at the thought.

He finds you dozing lightly, tiptoeing into the room, crouching down once he reaches you. The frown that had come to find a near-permanent place on your face seems to have almost faded, and his thumb comes to rub away the last traces of it from your brow.

Shaw’s eyes, lidded and intent, come to rest on your parted mouth, and yearning throbs hot in his belly. His fingers, helpless against the softness of your skin, trace the sharp bridge of your nose, your full cheeks, the plump curve of your lips. He’s so transfixed by the sight, fighting back the urge to dip his head for just a quick taste, that it takes him a moment to realize he’s being watched.

Caught, he locks eyes with you and freezes, his pulse quickening when he sees no sign of fear or distrust in them. Instead, you tilt your head the slightest bit and–his breath catches in his throat when he feels your tongue flick at the rough pad of his thumb.

Stunned, he can only watch as your mouth parts further to suck the tip in, tongue stroking it in an erotic imitation of an act he’s only ever dreamed of.

It’s when your lips curl up, amused by his stupefied expression, that he frees the digit from your mouth with a low pop and daubs the wetness from it down your chin. You don’t say a word but the look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know; he’s shaken by the way desire seizes him then, roaring and commanding him to take, to please, to wreck.

“You’ve had a bad day,” he tells you, hoarsely and weak in the face of his burning thirst, pulling his hand back.

“I’ve had a bad month. But I thought you brought me here to make me feel better?” you ask, blinking innocently as you rise up, leaning your weight on one elbow.

His low chuckle sets your nerves alight, as does the way his eyes can’t seem to decide between staying fixed on your eyes and mouth. “With pizza and Netflix.”

“Mm. You can just say no,” you say, even though you’re already leaning in. Your lips brush the corner of his and he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes sliding shut as he feels your breath on his face, warm and beckoning.

You must know that he–

“I can’t,” he breathes and captures your mouth with his. He can’t fathom a situation where he would deny you, when you’re ready and willing to let him in. When he’s been longing for this for so long.

It’s slow, a sweet claiming, relief and destruction bound together intimately. Any thoughts of resistance are abandoned, left in the dust for the exquisite flavour of your mouth. He groans at the slow drag of your teeth over his lip, shifting onto the couch to lean over you without breaking contact, tilting his head to go deeper, take more.

Satisfaction courses through him, visceral and grasping, as you turn onto your back, hands clenching in his shirt to pull him down from his careful hovering.

You’re lost, sinking into each other with every moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders as his finally tangle in your hair. His tongue slides along yours, and you’re overwhelmed by the desire to feel every inch of him, on you, in you, firm and warm.

“Good,” you gasp out, planting swift kisses along his jaw before he groans and crushes his mouth against yours again, intent on having his fill, knowing he never will; he will never get enough. His hand, splayed across your abdomen, slides down. He can nearly feel the coiled tension in you, desperate for him to unravel it, begging for his attention.

The doorbell rings, startling and shrill.

Shaw pulls away, breathing hard, the tips of your noses brushing. You pant lightly, a moan stuck low in your throat as you feel his hard bulge pressing into your belly. His desire is an unmistakable as yours; you ache to take his cock in you, your lust for him dripping from your cunt.

His amber eyes, glossed over as he fights to control himself, clear slightly at the second ring.

“I’ll be right there,” he yells in the direction of the door, before diving in to kiss you, hard and quick, all teeth and tongue, and then he rips himself away and staggers over to the door; your soft whine rings in his ears and chipping away at his composure.

He greets the delivery man with a strained grin, his mind occupied with the temptress he left on his couch. The man eyes him weirdly as he takes the cash, taking in the state of his hair and lips, eyes flitting over his head; he averts his eyes when Shaw sheds his pleasant demeanour, his expression edged with threat. He grabs the pizza, shooting a quick thanks at the man and barely restrains himself from slamming the door shut.

The haze of desire lifts. You’re probably hungry, and he needs to think.

You have other plans.

He’s barely left the boxes on the counter and turned around before he finds himself with an armful of determined girl pressing up against him, arms wrapping around his neck as you press your mouth to his.

“Ah, baby,” it slips out and he blushes at the low, needy sound that escapes you. “D-don’t you wanna eat-?”

“I want you,” you say, demanding and fierce and he doesn’t stand a chance. “Please, Shaw.”

His hands are clutching at the backs of your thighs before his mind can catch up, hauling you up until your legs wrap around his hips. A lazy grin splits his lips at the squeal that escapes you, that then melts into a moan as he sucks your tongue into his mouth.

He presses you into the wall and drags his tongue down the length of your neck, pleased by the way you shiver. “You need to be specific.”

His teeth sink into pliant flesh and the back of your head hits the wall, hips bucking up involuntarily. “Ah, I-I–“

“You want something, baby?” His hands knead the plump flesh of your ass as he sucks a blooming mark into your skin. “You gotta ask for it.”

He lets you slip down, just a little until you can feel him against you, just as desperate but better at controlling it, and using it against you.

“I-I want you to touch me, Shaw.” The heel of his palm slips between your bodies to press between your thighs, putting enough pressure that you grind your hips into it, desperate for the friction.

“Like this?” he asks, smirking impishly when you glare at him in frustration, pulling at his hair.

“More,” you whine. He laughs and adjusts his grip so he can carry you further down the hall.

“Tch. Greedy.” You nip at his earlobe in retaliation and his hands squeeze your ass in warning, this time as a warning–one you dismiss right away.

“I want your cock too,” you whisper, so softly he would’ve missed it if your lips weren’t ghosting the shell of his ear, your cunning tongue tracing the delicate skin. “I want you to fuck me, use me–“

The rest of your words are lost in a yelp as he throws you onto the bed, slipping his T-shirt off with one hand as he reaches for your ankle with the other. His abdomen, all taut muscle, his shorts resting low on his hips–you could run your fingers all over him for hours. The skies flash through the window, angry and eager, the rain still falling mercilessly, and you think it matches the look in his face perfectly.

“Careful what you wish for, baby,” he says in a half purr, his eyes dark with ruthless promise as he drags you closer. “I won’t be so nice if you tease me.”

His thumbs hook into the waistband of your (his) shorts and tug them down, only to pause, swallowing the sudden flood of moisture in his mouth as your glistening cunt is exposed to his ravenous gaze.

“My underwear got wet earlier,” you hurry to explain, nervous and embarrassed at the way he’s staring at you, his tongue darting out to wet his mouth.

“Your underwear isn’t the only thing-” He’s cut off by his own laughter as you kick him lightly in the stomach, attempting to close your legs–that he puts a stop to at once. “Now, now. I’m not complaining.” The foxy curve of his lips meets the arch of your foot, sliding across the skin over your ankle. He crawls onto the bed as he kisses his way up your leg, the tip of his tongue dipping into the crease at the back of your knee.

You can only watch in breathless silence as he nips his way up the tender flesh of your thigh, never breaking the meeting of your eyes. He parts your legs, fingers slipping through your slick curls to spread your folds before a long digit pushes in.

“So wet. Is it all for me?”

Shaw’s gaze doesn’t waver once and you throw your head back, cunt clenching around his finger and heart racing from the hunger in his face.

A second finger slides in, rubbing at your slick walls as you moan and rock your hips up. You glance at him, teeth digging into your lip at the sight of his pupils blowing wide as he looks at his fingers coated with your arousal.

“Look at you,” he growls, pumping his fingers faster as his tongue flicks at your swelling clit and you whimper and try to jerk your hips away. “Who would’ve thought you’d be such a dirty slut, begging for my fingers.”

With his other hand, he pushes the hem of your sweatshirt up until your breasts spill free from beneath it, the cloth folded under your chin. His hot mouth tugs at a nipple, nipping and sucking as his fingers stroke you to a slow ruin.

“Shaw.” You’re half cursing, half pleading and then you’re yelling in outrage as he slips his hand away. “You ass–“ But your voice dies in your throat when you spy him tugging at the cords of his shorts, yanking them down his hips. You can’t even call him out on his own lack of underwear, distracted as you are by his cock, by the way his lips close around his fingers as he licks them clean.

He lashes flutter at the taste, the little sample of your flavour rich on his tongue, and he vows to spend more time with his face buried between your legs, to grab a proper meal. His mouth waters at the thought of you coming on his tongue.

“You sure about this?” He asks, reaching into a drawer in his bedside table and pulling out a square foil.

You lock eyes with him and it hits you. You’ve got a lot, and nothing at all on your plate, you have mysteries to chase and thing to set right, because you’re in a reality where nobody remembers you. Nobody, except for this gorgeous, infuriatingly cavalier man standing in front of you, stroking his cock slowly and waiting for your permission.

You deserve this, damn it.

“Absolutely,” you respond with a touch of finality, rising up to your knees to reach for him, sliding the sweatshirt off as you go. His knee rests on the bed as your fingers wrap around his length, covered by his own as you prime him together, drawing the first drop of arousal from his tip.

He kisses you, once, twice, and then again. Your lips slide down his throat, placing sweet, wet kisses along the flexing muscle of his shoulders. Down and down you go, dipping your tongue into his bellybutton, smiling at the way his hips jerk.

You glance up at him and open your mouth, lips forming a wide O, tongue out; he shoots a prayer up before guiding the head of his cock in.

His fingers dig into the back of your head as you swallow as much of his thick length as you can, tongue pressing flat as you move back and forth along it. His thrusts are shallow, his scent musky as your nose brushes his unruly curls.

“Pretty, pretty baby,” Shaw growls, the sweet words warped and filthy as they fall from his lips, hands tugging at your hair. “You look perfect like this, with my cock in your mouth.”

Your moan vibrates around him and he stiffens, easing you off, plucking the condom off the bed and ripping it open.

“As much as I’d love to,” he mutters, pushing you onto your back, climbing over you fluidly. “You asked to be fucked, and I intend to deliver.”

He fits himself between your legs, kneeling between them as he slides the latex on. You can’t help but clench in anticipation, watching him position himself at your entrance.

“Last chance,” he whispers, teasingly. He isn’t completely sure if he can stop, if you do choose to tell him to. You look beautiful, your hair spilt across his messy bedspread and your eyes, vulnerable and filled with desire, waiting for him.

He slides the head of his cock along your folds and a shudder runs through you.

“Fuck me,” you rasp, eyes sliding shut as he slides in. Your thoughts, your problems, your loneliness–everything numbs and fades away. All you smell is him, sharp and heady. All you feel is him, his cock sheathed in you and his lips on your cheek.

“As my lady commands,” he mutters sarcastically, with a touch of sincerity as he grinds against you, drawing a sweet moan from you. Your walls squeeze him, hot and slick and possessive, pleasure sinking into his bones, scraping him raw; he will never let you go, now that he has you. It doesn’t matter which world or which reality you find yourselves in.

‘You’re mine now,’ he thinks darkly, greedily. He, who refuses to tie himself to any side, will bind himself to you so deeply you will never escape him. He will sink his claws so deep they would never be able to rip you from his grasp.

You gasp his name and the sound travels through him with a jolt; he thrusts hard, eager to see what other sounds he can draw from your lovely mouth.

Shaw tries to be gentle. He tries really hard. He’d wanted his first time with you to be sweet and slow, gentle and lasting as long as he could physically make it. But you shred any remnants of his control with the way you twist and writhe beneath him, meeting his thrusts with urgent rolls of your hips and moaning for him, so sweetly it threatens to unravel him.

Your whispers of how good he feels, how you never want him to stop, of please please please push him until he’s pounding into you with reckless abandon, riveted by the sight of you falling apart, your head thrown back and your breasts bouncing with every snap of his hips.

He can’t help it; his hand reaches for your cunt, fingers pressing to your swollen clit. The barest whispers of static spark to life on his fingertips, just for a second–your body reacts before your mind can process it, convulsing and twisting as he rubs tight circles, a scream tearing from your throat as he pins you in place.

Your walls clench him so tightly he nearly chokes, plunging into his own ruin as his pace falters, turning wilder and unmeasured, as he comes with your wrecked visage burned into his mind. Your eyes are wet, your limbs trembling weakly.

You kiss his face sloppily as he tries to catch his breath, drawing him in until his face presses into the side of your neck. He takes a long moment to breathe you in, the scent of sex and sweat intoxicating, his mind still consumed by you as he turns you both over to hold you close to him.

Your fingers creep up his side, and a mortifying, high-pitched noise of protest escapes him when you pinch him hard. "You better not have fried my vagina," you mumble tiredly.

"Chill. You're fine." It's not the first time he's tried it, but he wisely keeps that to himself. You snort, nuzzling his chest as a satisfied sigh leaves you.

Triumph courses through him, as does fear; he’s not one to lie to himself. This will not be a one-time thing. He will have you, again and again. He will stay by your side, regardless of what others will think or do.

His heart squeezes at the thought of Gavin. What would he think of the fact that Shaw has stolen you away while he remains oblivious, with no plans of letting go?

That is, if you’re on board.

In all honesty, he can't bring himself to regret any of it. They've all had their chances and now, it’s his turn.

You press your ear to the rapid thumping of his heart, not attempting to untangle your legs from his. You hum when he kisses your hair, turning to catch his mouth in a soft kiss. A low grumble breaks the tranquil silence, and you purse your lips when he turns to you with that familiar mocking stare.

“So,” you begin nervously, trying not to squirm. “Pizza?”

#mlqc #mlqc shaw #mlqc smut #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #mlqc fanfic

519 notes · View notes

kuzuhinasecretexchange · 3 years

Text

Work Title: cryptic shells, orange juice, and candid talks

Author: @fieldofsunflowers8

For: @serpenteaus

Pairings/Characters: Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Hinata Hajime, No Additional Characters

Rating/Warnings: Teen Rated, No Content Warnings Apply

Prompt used: “postgame mundane shenanigans”

Author’s notes: hi! i apologize for this leaning towards the shorter side, but this was a lot of fun to write! i really hope you like it :D

Hinata swings around his cabin at the same time he always does, knocking and waiting patiently as Kuzuryuu heaves his ass out of bed.

It’s a really minor routine, in truth. There’s nothing super interesting about that repetitiveness– coming around at 8 AM, walking with him to the dining hall, bantering with him over some toast while they talk to their other friends, and spending the rest of their day working on the island or just relaxing. It’s the same shit every day, the same shit they do unless it’s like, someone’s birthday or something, and it should probably bore Kuzuryuu at some point.

It kind of doesn’t, though. In a sense that Kuzuryuu isn’t going to complain about seeing his boyfriend in the morning, or getting to vibe around the island with him, even if it’s similar to what they’ve always done. All of them find ways to keep things interesting– accidentally, like Komaeda, or on purpose, like Imposter– and the island always feels dynamic.

They’ve been through a lot. Having a kind of stability, yet one that shifts according to what they want Jabberwock to be, is sort of relieving. Kuzuryuu rarely got that relief in the past, and he sure as hell isn’t going to pass it up now.

Kuzuryuu makes his way over to the door, unlocking it. Hinata looks a bit more disheveled than usual, dark brown hair messy and growing a bit long, shirt half buttoned and his hands in his pockets, but he still gives Kuzuryuu a smile. “Hey,” Hinata says tiredly, “woke up late. How are you?”

Well, that explains it. Hinata likes routine, too, on most days (and sometimes he hates the tedium of it, but hey, Kuzuryuu can accommodate that too). “I’m fine. Just got up ‘nd shit. Let me brush my teeth and, like, get dressed. Is it hot outside?”

“Well, we’re on a tropical island,” Hinata deadpans, “so I would assume so. Bit cooler, since it’s November, but that’s how it always goes.”

Kuzuryuu nods, throwing open a dresser and changing into some shirt Hinata gave him a while back. Everyone on Jabberwock has a bad tendency to not remember who owns what clothes, so sometimes Komaeda shows up to lunch in Mioda’s skirt, or Koizumi ends up with Owari’s jacket, or Sonia nestles into Tanaka’s scarf. Nobody really minds, though– they’re all sort of a family, after all.

And, y’know. Kuzuryuu likes wearing Hinata’s clothes. Not that he would, like, outright admit that to him, but. Hinata has a nice scent of sandalwood and citrus, and Kuzuryuu thinks, as his boyfriend, he has the right to indulge in it.

‘Course, Hinata still has to point it out smugly. “That’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

Kuzuryuu gestures to the pattern on it– sunflowers, or something. Bit flashy, but Kuzuryuu can cut him some slack for it. It looks really nice on Hinata, either way, so. “Who else would have this shit?”

“Maybe Komaeda,” Hinata suggests while Kuzuryuu opens the bathroom door, pulling out the green toothbrush (there’s a spare blue one, for Hinata, in case he stays over) and putting on some mint toothpaste. “He’s picked up gardening, hasn’t he?”

“Him and Owari, yeah.” There’s a lull in the conversation, as he can’t exactly talk with toothpaste in his mouth, but he picks it up where he left off after he finishes. “Not sure how Owari got into it, actually, ‘cuz gardening never seemed to be her gig.”

Hinata leans against the wall. “The food, probably. Even though Komaeda’s luck keeps fucking up the strawberries, according to Hanamura. I wouldn’t really know, I don’t swing by there much, y’know, but. Probably for that.” Kuzuryuu nods, sliding on some pants and picking up his phone. Hinata straightens, already moving to nudge the door open. “Ready to head out?”

“Don’t know what else I’d be doing.” Hinata just snorts in lieu of a response, gesturing for Kuzuryuu to walk out first before closing the door behind them.

Hinata’s right, it is a bit cooler. It’s a subtle kind of difference, one that comes from knowing the island like the back of his hand, being able to tell when a storm’s about to hit and give them a shit ton of rain, or when it’s about to be super fucking arid, enough to give at least one dumbass heatstroke (fucking Souda and his stupid ass machine work, in the middle of the sun, with metal, and no water, for hours, in the fucking sun). It comes with time, basically.

And it’s sort of a neat thing. It should be boring, once again, but, eh. He likes it.

He thinks about that, sometimes.

Then Hinata makes an awkward gesture in an attempt to subtly ask to hold Kuzuryuu’s hand, and he stops focusing on the weather and all that bullshit, and more on his stupidly endearing boyfriend.

Kuzuryuu intertwines their fingers and mumbles, “You can just ask to hold my hand, dipshit.”

“You looked like you were thinking about something,” Hinata defends mildly. “So I didn’t want to, uh, just. Jar you straight out of that?”

It’s pretty considerate of him, Kuzuryuu considers, even though it’s kind of just inefficient, like the weird waffling they did when they first got together. Which is always really funny to think about in retrospect, because, like, the two of them have always been close. Back in the simulation, they got along decently well, and in the miserable months after waking up, the two of them would stay the night with each other all the time, doing scattered things across the island to distract themself, hugging each other when the days got shitty.

It only really made sense, then, that they had some kind of charisma between them back then. It only took everyone waking up and shit calming down, managing to get some kind of therapy across the shitty telephone lines that the Future Foundation got them, for them to even think about that shit. But, hey, they got there in the fucking end, with the help of the others, like, trying to get them past the yearning into an actual confession.

(Kuzuryuu still remembers the humiliation of Souda and Komaeda– fucking Souda and Komaeda– being the ones that helped him talk to Hinata about it. Souda, who is the definition of running himself in circles, romantically speaking, and Komaeda, who wouldn’t know how to confess to someone normally if a walk-through manual slapped him in the fucking face.

… Not that Hinata’s help was much better. Sonia and Tanaka were pushing for him to confess to Kuzuryuu with a fucking shell. Like, just a cool looking shell, that they thought would appeal to Kuzuryuu’s fiery energies, or something.

Hinata still ended up giving Kuzuryuu the shell, for the record. But Kuzuryuu was a lot more invested in kissing his new boyfriend, at the time. It’s still… somewhere in his room. Just, as a little memory. Or something like that.)

Hinata squeezes his hand again, and Kuzuryuu jolts back to reality. He laughs at himself a bit. “Sorry, I was just, like, thinking about the shitshow that was us trying to get together, all that time back.”

He tilts his head, olive green eyes softening. “How come?”

“Because you trying to hold my hand was awkward as hell.”

The soft eyes are immediately hidden with an eye roll. “Fuck off.”

Kuzuryuu snorts, nudging him with his shoulder before they continue walking to the dining hall. “Seriously, though. That was such a fuckin’ week, wasn’t it? Hell, I still think about Komaeda looking me straight in the eyes and calling me an idiot.”

“I’m still not entirely sure that one happened,” Hinata jokes. “Like. I know Komaeda is kind of… a lot, but the fact that he just called your ass out, then and there, is so much. Then again, Sonia called me a dense motherfucker, so.”

“You are a dense motherfucker.”

“I am not a dense motherfucker.” Kuzuryuu shoots him a look, and Hinata sighs. “Okay. Sometimes, I am a dense motherfucker. But I did know you liked me! I just can’t, uh, interpret half my emotions at any hour of the day.”

The Kamukura effect, Kuzuryuu calls it in his head, but he doesn’t, like, verbally say that. Not that it would be an issue– Kuzuryuu is kind of adjusted to Kamukura suddenly fronting, and the two of them get along decently well, but. Y’know. It’s just kind of a weird thing to say, he thinks. “Yeah, I mean, that’s fair. We were still pretty fresh out of everything, I can imagine you had more going on.”

“Yeah.”

Kuzuryuu shoots Hinata a look, taking in the slightly pensive expression, before impulsively standing on his toes to kiss his cheek. His face erupts in a blush, because Hinata isn’t the most accustomed to physical touch, still, and Kuzuryuu takes the chance to say, “You aren’t stupid, though. You’re, like, really fuckin’ smart. And I get it. We all do.”

Hinata glances away in some failed attempt to hide his expression. “Thanks,” he mumbles, but he squeezes Kuzuryuu’s hand, so. He knows that the other gets what he’s getting at. He’s just flustered, sort of adorably, but Kuzuryuu would never admit that. He is not a sap.

(Well. Hinata’s eyes sometimes remind him of the times long ago, back at home, where it was sunny and he felt sort of okay, actually. And he has nice hair, y’know, falling into his eyes but nice to touch. And he’s nice, like, a real sweet guy with a closed off heart that you can still sort of trust. And he reminds Kuzuryuu of the sunshine, just, entirely.

… So maybe a little bit, but, hey. One of them has to maintain the romantic coherency around here, and if they have to pass the baton of sentiment, so be it.)

“You’re contemplative today,” Hinata remarks.

“You spend half your time brooding and getting lost in thought, and you’re getting on my ass?”

Hinata laughs, which makes Kuzuryuu’s scowl soften. “Fair enough. Sorry.”

“You’re fine.” Kuzuryuu sighs. “Just. Thinking about us, again.”

“That’s, uh, pretty sweet of you. Or just really, really sappy, I guess.”

“Shut the literal fuck up.”

“It wasn’t an insult.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” They’re at the dining hall, now. As Hinata opens the door for them, the sound of the others becomes pretty apparent. Hanamura in the kitchen as usual, Tanaka and Souda’s voices distinct amidst the sound of everyone eating. There’s probably a few people missing– Komaeda and Owari come to mind, since Owari eats food unreasonably early sometimes, and Komaeda tends to show up when fewer people are there– but, since Hinata and Kuzuryuu got up sort of late, the rest are probably there.

It’s… nice. Another one of those expected things, mundane as all hell and probably boring to literally anybody else, but Kuzuryuu likes it. Likes the way things flow, likes the routine, likes it all. Even when it’s, yeah, sometimes decently repetitive.

Hinata gets the door for them again– chivalrous dumbass– and Sonia immediately issues them a, “Good morning, Hinata-san, Kuzuryuu-san.”

“What’s up.” Kuzuryuu lets go of Hinata’s hand to go and grab some food, his boyfriend engaging in an actual conversation with Sonia and Nidai. Kuzuryuu would like to later, no shit, but he’s hungry and Hanamura’s food calls to him. He gets himself some orange juice (that Hinata will probably steal from him, prompting an aghast orange juice and coffee, at once, are you fuckin’ serious? but, eh. Better than grabbing, like, milk or something). He also grabs some food, toast with some kind of spread Hanamura would give them the details of, before taking a seat.

Souda slides across him, leaving whatever conversation he had been having with Tanaka to the wind. “Hey there, soul bro! How we vibing?”

“Fine.” Kuzuryuu says with a shrug, instinctually scooting over as Hinata sits next to him.

Souda gets out another, “Soul bro number two! How are you?”

“Doing fine, Souda,” Hinata steals Kuzuryuu’s juice from the get go, so he kicks him under the table. Hinata stifles a laugh. “Tanaka’s giving you a death stare, though.”

“Ugh, dammit. Prick’s been getting on me over crystals, or some shit.” Souda gets out of the chair, already walking back over to probably start another argument with no other pretense. It’s early enough in the morning that Kuzuryuu doesn’t second guess the weird interaction, though Souda has a tendency to start and end conversations in the worst, most abrupt way.

He’s off, watching Souda and Tanaka go at each other while Koizumi sits tiredly near them, looking as if she’s debating whether to interfere or leave before Tanaka throws out an archaic insult, when Hinata moves to grab his hand and squeeze it. Kuzuryuu turns to look back at him, eyebrow raised. “What’s up?”

“Uh, nothing, really,” Hinata replies, and Kuzuryuu almost looks away again before he blurts out, “I love you.”

Kuzuryuu flushes, trying to roll his eyes to counteract it, but the awkwardly fond expression on Hinata’s face gives the impression that his plan didn’t work. Still, he keeps his voice casual (if not a bit softer, dammit Hinata, fucking contagious sentimental hours) as he replies, “Love you too, dipshit. Give me back my fuckin’ juice.”

“Of course.” Hinata takes one more swig before giving it back, and it’s almost a quarter empty, so maybe Kuzuryuu should have let the bastard keep it, but, eh. He’s too busy focusing on the I love you thing, which they’ve said fairly often throughout their relationship, but, still. He used to think– and Hinata must have, too– that it needed to be saved for big occasions, like birthdays or anniversaries or the days that come particularly rough. But, Kuzuryuu thinks that they’re worth hearing any day, even the particular slow ones, like these.

Later, they’ll probably go off to work around the island, separate for a bit to apply their talents wherever needed. Kuzuryuu will talk to his friends, hang out with Pekoyama a bit as she trains, and probably spend too much time contemplating to be productive.

But, it’s still a nice day. Slow, and a bit chilly comparatively, but a nice day.

And, hey. He can roll with that, he thinks. That they’ve earned their share of peaceful days after everything.

He shoots a glance over at Hinata while he’s eating. His face is neutral as he fiddles with his sleeve and thinks about something, either entirely random (like the light fixtures, or something), or a topic a bit more serious that he might bring up to Kuzuryuu later. He’s come a long way, in being open with that, but also with just… everything. Both of them have. Hell, the reason they could get together was that growth, getting through it all, that bullshit. All of that shit, to get here.

And, to be honest? Despite all the shit they went through, the shit that Kuzuryuu wished they didn’t have to go through, wouldn’t have gone through again no matter what…

… he’s pretty fucking happy that the two of them are here.

Together.

#kuzuhina #kuzuhina secret santa 2020 #serpenteaus #fieldofsunflowers8 #submission

26 notes · View notes

smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Sky Full Of Stars - CH07

Sequel to Something Just Like This

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, ex mobster boss, still a little cocky, less ruthless and not at all short tempered anymore. Instead, he thinks he’s hilarious (she doesn’t agree, though). They both try to live a quiet life. And Dean hopes, very hard, that his former life won’t come knocking at their door.

Warnings: Really, really fluffy but also there’s angst and a little NSFW

WC: 2957

A/N: The only joy I had today was editing this. So here you go, have two chapters in one day. Happy Friday!

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s mid-September. The leaves are starting to change their colors, some of them already falling down. Little brown and yellow dots, a stark contrast to the green grass. Dean loves it. Loves when the season changes, loves how he can even smell the air change around him, loves how the leaves crunches underneath his boots.

He’s in his study. It overlooks the backyard, because it’s the room below their bedroom. Y/N’s right above him, she most likely sees the same thing when she looks out of the window into their backyard. They’re lucky with the weather, too, today.

She probably does look out right now. If she does, she’ll see the people mingling, sees the flower arch, sees the little white chairs in front of it. She’ll see Bobby who’s dressed to the nines, nervously reciting his speech. The old man looks different without his cap and plaid shirt.

What she doesn’t see, though, is some people hiding behind the big trees on the outskirts of their property. What she doesn’t see is that there are always cars outside their gate. Cars and people who always have an eye on them.

Gabe set up his company and employed the best of people like Dean asked him to. It seems like everyone knows about it, because almost everyone’s involved, but Dean’s still been too much of a coward to tell her. He knows that he has to one day but not today. To be fair, he also never found the right time to tell her before because she was so preoccupied with organizing a wedding and Dean really didn’t see the point in interfering with her organizing. Didn’t see the point to scare her with it so she would maybe blow the whole thing off. He’ll tell her when the right time comes. He knows he has to.

“Hey,” Cas knocks and opens the door, pulling Dean back from his thoughts.

“Hey Cas,” Dean greets his long time friend.

Cas walks in, closing the door behind him, and walks over to where Dean’s standing by the window, “How are you?”

Dean snorts, “I’m sweating,” It’s true, he’s sweating bullets and hates the feeling, “You know, I thought the birth of Ella was the only time that I’ll feel like this but no, today is right at the top.” Dean takes a breath, braces his hands on the window sill and looks down, “It’s crazy isn’t it? I wanted this. I wanted everything, I got everything and now I’m about to fucking chicken out.”

“Hey,” Cas hushes, places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “You’ve got this. I mean, I went through it, you can either. You fucking wimp!”

Dean chuckles at that and then there’s a knock before they both look back to see Sam slipping in.

Sam looks at both of them, an amused look on his face, “Hey, you’re still here, I thought you’d run for the hills.”

“Well, he’s about to,” Cas grins, “Got here on time to keep him from doing it.”

“I might have something for ya,” Sam wriggles with his eyebrows and produces a flask from his suit jacket.

“Yes, please,” Dean sighs, takes it and unscrews the flask to take a long swig from it. He squints at the burn and shakes his head as he lets the liquor warm his throat.

Dean’s standing in front of the flower arch, Cas and Sam were standing there with him. He looks into the faces of the guest, sees them all smiling back at him, some nodding. There aren’t many, two handfuls at best.

Y/N told him that she wouldn’t want something big and he agreed. He didn’t want to marry her and make a lavish party out of it. He would have married her in Vegas with the attendance of Elvis, if that’s what she would have wanted. He didn’t actually really care as long as it was him and her. Didn’t care as long as she still wants to.

He never thought that he’d be so nervous though, never thought that he’d be the one who almost chickens out of something he wanted in the first place.

Linda’s sitting in the first row, balancing Ella on her lap. And she still frowns at Dean, that woman probably will never get used to him.

They were doing everything themselves today and every guest takes part in the wedding as they have brought food or baked a cake, Sam offered to be the DJ and Dean’s still not really okay with that.

It’s crazy how Dean has money to rent out the best location with the best of catering but all Y/N wants is something small in their backyard. Looking at it, Dean’s very happy with her choice. All the people that truly matter to him are here and that’s really the most important thing.

“You okay, son?” Bobby asks as they are standing next to each other.

Bobby has gotten ordained so he can perform the little ceremony. He offered it and at first Ash wanted to do it but honestly, if Dean has to choose between Ash or Bobby, the choice is clear. Who knows where Ash would have taken this.

“Okay, here we go,” Ash announces and all the eyes shoot to the back.

Everything and everyone went silent, even the babies who were crying. Or maybe they still did but Dean’s heart is pounding so hard, all he hears is his own heartbeat. He feels hot all of a sudden, and there’s the cold sweat again beading on his forehead.

He sees her, one hand hooks into Gabe’s arm, the other one holding a small bouquet of flowers. There’s a flower crown on her head. She’s wearing a dress in cream, frilly and lacy. She went out dress shopping last week, and wanted to wait until the last moment because she was sure she would lose some weight and Dean doesn’t even know if she lost the weight she wanted because all he knows is that she looks goddamn beautiful.

And Dean doesn’t want to be that guy, he really didn’t. He doesn’t want to cry as soon as he sees the bride but yet, here he is, grinning like an idiot and swallowing down the tears that built up as soon as he saw her.

Y/N looks like a waking dream. Something he has anticipated for so long without even knowing it because the good dreams normally got chased away to make room for his nightmares.

Sam squeezes Dean’s shoulder and leans to whisper, “She looks beautiful.”

Dean agrees.

She really does. The prettiest little thing he did ever see.

He watches her walk down the non-existent aisle, because two rows can’t be counted as an aisle in his opinion, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is how she looks at him when she sees him, how there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and she bites down on her bottom lip. She’s nervous, he can see that. Well, he knows exactly how she feels.

Gabe lets go of her and she stands next to Dean now, looking up.

“You look lovely,” He mumbles, had trouble finding the right words.

“Well, you look hot,” She grins, and Dean almost has to laugh out loud.

“I’m not allowed to kiss you yet, am I?” Dean whispers again, is already halfway to do it but then he stops himself.

Before she could answer him, Bobby takes the lead.

They didn’t exchange vows, neither did they exchange rings. They both have one and that’s more than enough. They’ve talked about the vows thoroughly, and they both agree that they didn’t need anyone to know their feelings or promises for each other. It’s something between the both of them.

“You may now kiss the bride, son.” Bobby announces with a big smile on his face.

“Jesus,” Dean rolls his eyes with a sigh, “Fucking finally,”

Everyone laughs, including Y/N and he weaves his arm around her waist, pulls her closer. She locks her arms around his neck, and Dean looks down, sees her smiling back at him. “Hi Mrs. Winchester,”

“Hello Mr. Winchester,” She winks and laughs, “Now please kiss me, I’m dying here.”

“Always so bossy,” Dean chuckles, and he finally bends down, kisses her. The tense in his body’s gone.

The people around them were cheering but Dean tunes that out, doesn’t hear it. All he hears is his heart that still thumbs ridiculously fast. Dean breaks the kiss after a while, even though he didn’t want to but he guesses that they need to carry on with the day. He pecks her lips once more, though, for good measure and whispers to her, “You’ve had whiskey,”

She grins mischievously, “You too.”

Dean snorts, “Not gonna lie, almost chickened out.”

“Me too,” She says and nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck as they both laugh.

“Why didn’t you tell me, we could have eloped, have taken Ella and drove.”

“I didn’t spend so much time planning it to be running away from it.” She looks up at him.

He shrugs, “Fair point,” Before he takes her hand, and together they walk to their terrace where all of the people were already waiting, having made room for them and left them some privacy after the ceremony.

Y/N draws a bath while Dean’s feeding Ella. The little girl’s on formula now and it actually makes things so much easier. Dean can now get up and take care of Ella and let Y/N sleep. They’re more relaxed since the change, and Y/N’s more content either. She’s had trouble with nursing for the first two months where she didn’t produce enough milk and there was a lot of crying. When they introduced Ella to weaning, they also introduced her to formula. It was the best decision, really and Dean thought that they should have made the choice sooner. They could have spared Y/N from a lot of heartache.

Dean felt helpless during that time, and Y/N felt like a failure, they were both miserable for a long time until she came to him and gestures with her hand before she started to babble, “Screw all the perfect moms, I’m not perfect and that’s okay. My body can’t give her what she needs but that doesn’t mean that I’m not a good mom.”

And he couldn’t agree more with that. Had to talk her into it either because she told him that he should back her up on her decision and honestly, Dean agrees with whatever she wants because she knows her own body better than he does when it comes to breastfeeding. He can’t imagine going through all the hardships of it in the first place. The whole process was draining from the start with raw bloody nipples and leaking and painful breasts. Apparently breastfeeding is not for everyone, and if someone can’t do it, doesn’t really mean that they are a failure or a bad mom because of it.

After the feeding, Y/N takes Ella from Dean and he kisses his girl good night. Dean takes off his clothes, and gets into the tub, leans his head back and closes his eyes.

He’s almost drifting off when Y/N pokes her head in, “Hey,”

She’s smiling at him, still wearing one of his plaid shirts, even if she doesn’t have to nurse Ella anymore. Dean doesn’t complain, he loves the look on her.

“Is there room for me?” She unbuttons her shirt and takes it off, lets it pool around her ankle before she hooks her fingers through the waistband of her panties, slides them down too.

“There’s always room for you,” Dean says in a low voice and she comes over stands naked next to the tub and the sight makes his heart beat just a little faster.

He’s hard too, can not get hard when he sees her, a thing he both loves and hates at the same time.

She gets in, sits on his lap and rests her head on his shoulder. Dean hugs her in the water, trails his fingertips along her body and she wiggles in his laps, feels his hard cock too.

Her face is a little flush and the way she grinds down on him, Dean knows that she’s aroused. Apparently, he does the same thing to her like she does to him, she told him once.

Dean kisses along her shoulder, noses behind her ear.

“Are we supposed to consummate our marriage now?” She asks.

He chuckles before kissing the sensitive place at the back of her ear. “We don’t have to do anything, and honestly, I’m beat, even if my body doesn’t show it.”

“Oh, thank god,” She sighs, “I’m exhausted either.”

They both have to laugh, and she turns her head back, kissing him. It’s all gentle and soft before it starts to grow heavier.

“Baby, you shouldn’t start anything you can’t finish.” Dean warns her, because even if he’s beat, the way she kisses him pushes at all his right buttons.

“‘M sorry,” She says and turns back, but she can’t stop grinding down on him.

“Baby,”

“I know,” She lets out a frustrated sigh, “Like, I’m really tired but what if you just put it in, I just want to feel you inside.”

Dean’s eyebrow climbs up his forehead, “You sure?”

She turns her head back to him, her bottom lip between her teeth and there’s a smile. “Please?”

“You know that I can never say no to you, right? I think you’re misusing your power over me.”

Snorting out a laugh, she kisses the tip of his nose before she lifts her ass up a little to position his dick at her entrance. Slowly she sits down and Dean has to hold in his breath at how fucking good it felt.

But she was true to her words, because she doesn’t move, leans her head back to rest against his shoulder. Dean should mind though, he hates to be teased like this. It’s perfect as it is, though, and strangely, he doesn’t even want more.

He trails his knuckles along her arms, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, just really tired.”

“Me too. Who would have thought that getting married would be so exhausting, huh?”

“Yeah,” She agrees and Dean places a kiss on her temple.

Dean leaves his lips on her temple, mumbles into the kiss, “Okay, I think I’m ready to say my vows, you wanna hear it?”

Y/N looks back and up to him, smiling at him warmly, “Of course,”

“Okay,” Dean clears his throat, and he feels his heart picking up speed again, “You looked so beautiful to me today, but you should know that you always look beautiful to me, and you will always look beautiful. Even when you just wake up and according to you, you look like a truck ran you over. But that’s not true. That’s not what I see when I see you. You’ll look beautiful no matter what, and not only today. Tomorrow too, and the next day, and the day after the next,”

“You’re making me blush,” She says, and turns in his lap enough to be able to bury her face into the crook of his neck.

“Good,” Dean chuckles, before he goes on, “You know that I’ll always be here, right? Always going to be here along the way. I’ll stay beside you, and I’m always here if you need someone to talk, if you need someone to cuddle, even if you need someone to let your frustrations out on. And I vow to stay. Not only because I don’t have anywhere else to go but also because this is it for me. You are it. You’re my home. This is what I always wanted and I didn’t even realize it. If someone would ask to close my eyes and picture happiness, all I see is you and there’s Ella, Truffles too, if he behaves, and Bubbles can go get lost.”

“Hey!” She swats one hand against his chest, splashing water into his face.

“That cat hates me.”

“No it doesn’t.” She’s laughing now and it’s good, Dean thinks. The laughter doesn’t make him tear up as much as he wants to.

“Can I tell you something?” She says then and Dean nods, not without kissing the top of her head.

“Anything,”

“I know that I’m not always easy, I might not always be what you want me to be,”

Dean opens his mouth to protest because she’s basically everything he wants her to be but she hushes him with a glare.

“Okay, I might not always be the best of what I want myself to be. I have doubts, I have insecurities,” Dean nods at that, because she always set such high standards for herself, it sometimes drives him nuts.

“And I might not always agree with you all the time because I’m stubborn,”

Dean snorts out a “Yeah,” And she rolls her eyes at that.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I might not be perfect, but I vow that I’ll always love you. I love you not only for what you are but also for what you make me, and that is the best possible I can be, and as much as you’re keeping me, Dean? I’m keeping you. You won’t get rid of me that easily Mr. Winchester,” She chuckles and looks up, kissing his scruff.

“Not that I want to, Mrs. Winchester,” Dean mumbles, and leans down to nose at her cheek, kisses her and she kisses him back, smiles against his lips.

CH08

#sky full of stars #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #nathalie writes

143 notes · View notes

thecassadilla · 3 years

Text

Change of Pace - Chapter 2

Pairing: Kristanna

Chapter 2 on AO3

Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,332

Summary: With her sister’s blessing, Anna takes a step back from her royal duties and finds herself working for a ski resort nestled in the mountains. A chance encounter with the resort’s maintenance technician leads them down an unexpected path, as they must work together to plan the resort’s annual ball - and maybe fall in love in the process.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Sorry to leave you all with a cliffhanger last week! This chapter picks up on the same day but from a different perspective ;). I’m thinking I’m gonna update on Tuesdays every week if that’s cool? Or should I try to update more often? Also, if you celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you enjoy the holiday safely! Sorry for all the asterisked words - tumblr likes to censor and remove posts from tags if they have “bad” words in them, but the uncensored version is on AO3. Enjoy!!!

There were very fews words that Kristoff Bjorgman would use to describe his life; miserable, mundane, ordinary. From the minute he woke up in the morning until the minute he went to bed at night, he wished he were someone or somewhere else.

Nobody stayed in Valley of the Living Rock - often shortened to Valley - if they could help it. The main draw to the area was Valley Ski Resort, which was nestled in the mountains. For decades, the town flourished during the winter months, but suffered as warm weather drew near due to the resort’s influence. Most of the people who stayed in town year round lived above their means, as it was difficult to find and keep work when the money practically dried up in the summertime. That all changed when the resort began to expand - adding amenities such as a pool, archery, horseback riding, and a multitude of events that attracted people during the hottest months of the year.

After the resort expanded, the local government decided to put money into the town itself, enticing visitors to venture away from the resort during their visits and see what the town had to offer. Tourists began to appreciate Valley itself as a picturesque, quaint town they could visit during their stay at the resort, and money began to pour into the local economy. Deciding to take full advantage, the decision was made for the main street to be transformed to a “Winter Wonderland,” with the storefronts adorning themselves with string lights, wreaths, and pine garland in the colder months. Business boomed and as the years went on, more and more people came to visit.

For Kristoff, life in Valley was bleak. Abandoned at birth, it was difficult to navigate the foster system as a small, generally “unwanted” child. He was bounced around a lot in his early years before becoming one of the lucky few who managed to find a family willing and able to foster him until adulthood. But people talked, and in small towns like his, that gossip traveled fast. By the time he made it to high school, he had hardly any friends. The only good thing that had ever happened to him - aside from his family - was his ex-girlfriend, Joslyn. She moved to Valley in their senior year of high school, and was as much of an outcast as he was. They became fast friends and eventually started a relationship. She stuck around for a few years and attended the local community college while they dated, but like everyone else who had the opportunity, she eventually moved on. The breakup was amicable and he admittedly missed her from time to time, but also understood that where she was going was bigger and better than what Valley - and he - had to offer.

As a junior in high school, he’d managed to snag a job at Valley Ski Resort as a janitor, and then after he graduated, he took courses in plumbing, electricity, and heating, ventilation, and air conditioning in order to be promoted to a maintenance technician. It was a year round job with sh*tty pay, but it put food on the table and he had to take whatever he could get. On the bright side, it was a step up from cleaning bathrooms and mopping floors. There was no escaping Valley, for a person like him.

He didn’t mind the work at all, but there were few words to describe how much he loathed the hotel. The people who visited were willing to spend a fortune on the amenities, but were generally unkempt behind closed doors. He could think of several occasions where he’d nearly slipped on a used c*ndom after being called to a guest room for maintenance, or how frequently the pipes would clog because people were determined to flush non-flushable items.

But still, he went to work everyday, and waited to go home. He did what he had to do and he hated every second of it. The only advantage of working at the resort was the employee ski pass that came along with it. He frequently spent his weekends navigating the slopes and had worked his way up to expert-level. Coasting down the side of a mountain was freeing. For those few hours, he could put aside the monotonous life that he lived and could focus on what was right in front of him.

On this particular day, he had a sinking feeling about heading into work. He just knew that something bad was going to happen - he could feel it in his chest. He debated calling out, but because he couldn’t afford to miss a day without pay, he had to go in, bad feeling or not. The feeling only got worse as he climbed out of his car and stared at the main building in front of him.

The interior of the resort was in desperate need of an upgrade; faded, worn-out gray carpet covered the floors of the lobby area, and old-school style wood paneling laced the walls. The guest rooms in the central building remained the least expensive as a result of this, and as part of the resort’s expansion process, dozens of stand-alone cabins were built on the property. Difficult to maintain, but guests were willing to pour money into spending a week in a luxury cabin with the same amenities as a hotel but with the added benefit of a home-y feel.

He walked in through the employee entrance, which happened to be situated right next to the lobby area but was only accessible from the outside. Down a long stretch of hall and then to the left sat the maintenance office. One of the perks of the job was that he didn’t have to wear coveralls like he did when he was a janitor; just dark-colored jeans, a company-provided shirt with the hotel’s name stitched onto the front, and work boots. He dropped his jacket in his locker, grabbed one of the work cell phones so that the front desk could reach if he was needed for a repair or other issue, and walked into the main office, where his boss, Andrew, was scrolling through his email.

“Hey, man,” he said.

The other man glanced back for a second before returning to his work. “Hey, Kristoff.”

“What’s on the agenda today?”

“Nothing crazy,” Andrew responded. “A couple of rooms complained of low water pressure, so we’ll have to check that out. It’s probably calcium buildup that’s clogging the showerheads, or a clog, or something. But aside from that, it seems like it’s going to be a pretty normal day.”

He heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

He didn’t mind working with Andrew; he was quiet and kept to himself, which Kristoff appreciated. It was easier to work with someone who didn’t waste half the day with gossip or other nonsense. Having a job was about getting work done, after all.

Andrew had a list of the rooms that had been experiencing the low water pressure from the front desk complaints, so when he finished answering his emails, they set off to figure out what exactly was happening and why it was happening. “I bet another pipe froze again.”

“This hotel is so old, do they even realize that the pipes probably have to be replaced?”

“They know, they just won’t listen,” Andrew said, shaking his head. “This is going to be a losing battle for the rest of eternity.”

Just as they made it to the first floor of guest rooms, a call came over on Andrew’s work phone. They stopped in the middle of the hallway so he could pick it up.

“Hello, this is Andrew from maintenance,” he answered, scrunching his face up in concentration. “They said the water smelled bad? Did they say if it was a weird color or anything?...okay, we’ll look into it. Thanks.”

“Another water complaint?” Kristoff asked, once Andrew had hung up the phone.

“Yeah, something weird is going on today.”

“Probably a frozen pipe, like you said.”

They knocked on the door of the first guest on their list, and a woman answered. “Are you the maintenance guys?”

“We are ma’am. The front desk told us that your water pressure is low, do you mind if we come in and take a look?”

The woman shook her head. “I didn’t say low water pressure. I said no water pressure - as in, there’s no water, at all.”

The two men exchanged a worried glance before Andrew spoke up again. “Do you mind if we have a look?”

The woman didn’t answer, but stepped out of the way so they could walk into the room. They went into the bathroom, and attempted to turn the faucets to no avail.

The woman was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Well?”

“We’re trying to figure out what’s going on, ma’am. We’re going to check in with a few more guests and the front desk will get back to you.”

“I’m taking my family skiing, and all I have to say is that the water better be working when I get back or someone will be getting an earful from me. I did not spend all of this money to wind up in a room with no water!”

They nodded in an attempt to placate her and as soon as they made it back into the hallway, she slammed the door in their faces.

“God, I hate this place,” Kristoff muttered.

“I don’t understand how people on vacation can be so f*cking miserable. Management will make sure they get a more expensive room on the house if there’s nothing we can do about it, so I don’t really see the point of throwing a fit.”

“I know. It’s kind of disgusting how entitled some of these people are. I understand the frustration, but don’t yell at the people who are trying to figure out what the problem is.” Kristoff shook his head. “Let’s go to the next one.”

The routine seemed to repeat itself; the rooms were occupied by extremely angry guests who were experiencing a myriad of plumbing issues - either little or no water pressure, foul smelling water, or rust-colored water.

“Something big is going on here. Bigger than just a frozen pipe,” Andrew deduced, after visiting several guests’ rooms and being called a few more times by the front desk. “I can’t figure out what it is though.”

“Do you think a pipe burst somewhere?” he suggested.

Andrew shrugged. “I can’t imagine where. There are guests in basically every area of this hotel and no one has called about a leaking ceiling. Unless it was something in the basement.”

“We should go check.”

The two men scrambled to the basement, but as cold and neglected as it was, there were no signs of water damage anywhere. Just a lot of dust and noise from the systems that were housed down there.

“I’m stumped,” Andrew admitted, throwing his hands in the air.

“It has to be somewhere in the building. None of the other buildings or lodges have complained about issues with their water, right?”

The other man skimmed the list in his hands. “Nope, just this one.”

“Are there any places that guests and employees normally wouldn’t go during the day? The lobby’s fine, the children’s center is fine...wait, what about the ballroom?” Kristoff snapped his fingers.

“Oh sh*t, we should check the ballroom,” Andrew agreed. “No one goes in there unless they’re having some kind of an event.”

“I bet that’s where we’re going to find our problem.”

They raced back up to the first floor and passed the front desk to the corner of the hotel that housed the ballroom. Andrew searched through his massive ring of keys before locating the one that unlocked the doors.

“Holy f*ck,” Kristoff gasped, his eyes widening at the site in front of him.

The entire room was destroyed. The ceilings had caved as a result of the massive amount of water that had pooled from the burst pipe. Nearly everything in the room had been destroyed from either the water damage or from the impact of the broken pieces of ceiling landing on it. The walls were moist, and there was a considerable amount of water remaining on the floor.

“How the hell did no one hear this?!” Andrew bellowed.

“This...is bad,” Kristoff said, shaking his head. “This is thousands of dollars worth of damage.”

“I need to get Bonnie on the phone,” Andrew said suddenly, walking away from the scene.

Kristoff continued to stare in the meantime; the room was significantly damaged. First and foremost, the pipes would have to be replaced - immediately. They were already going to be spending a large amount of money for the repairs, and they definitely couldn’t afford to lose the income that guests would bring in by occupying the rooms in that building. They’d have to drain the water that pooled on the floor, rip out the carpet and gut the walls, throw away all of the destroyed tables and chairs.

When Andrew came back a few minutes later, he was not happy. “Bonnie is on her way and she’s having a cow.”

“Can you blame her? This is a nightmare.”

“I need to see if I can get any of the other guys in today. They’re going to be p*ssed.”

“I’m here and I’m p*ssed,” Kristoff scoffed. “I knew I should’ve called out today.”

“Good thing you didn’t because I would’ve had to haul your a*s in anyway.”

“Yeah, right. Zach calls out once a week and no one ever does anything about it. The rest of us are forced to pick up his slack all the time - if I called out once, it wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Trust me, Zach isn’t going to be employed here for much longer.”

Bonnie finally arrived a moment later with a panicked look on her face and interrupted their conversation. “What the h*ll happened?”

“See for yourself, boss,” Andrew answered, motioning to the entrance to the ballroom.

Bonnie peered inside before staggering back and raising her hands to her face. “Oh my god.”

“The damage is severe, Bonnie. The repairs are going to be time-consuming, and you’ll have to postpone any events that they were planning on holding here,” Andrew spoke up. “Most importantly, the guests in this building have to be relocated until we can replace the pipes.”

Bonnie nodded, and for the first time that Kristoff had ever observed, she was totally speechless. In all his years of working around her, he’d never seen her so quiet.

“I’m working on getting my other guys in here,” Andrew continued. “This is not going to be an easy fix.”

“Alright,” she said, before pointing at Kristoff. “You go tell the front desk to start working on getting the guests out of this building and then come back here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes once his back was turned; this was not his job. He wasn’t an errand boy. But because he wasn’t trying to lose his job, he begrudgingly followed her instructions. Once he arrived in the lobby, approached the first person he saw at the front desk, a brunette woman with thick black eyeliner who he recognized from high school.

“Hey, you need to -”

She raised a finger, but didn’t look in his direction. “Hold on, I’m helping my guest.”

“This is important.”

“Sir, you should get in line.”

He glanced over at the line - which was long, because it was checkout time, of course - before interrupting again. “I have orders from Bonnie -”

That seemed to catch her attention. “Let me get my manager out here.”

“Thanks.”

A few moments later, the manager appeared from a door behind the front desk. “How can I help you?”

“I work in maintenance,” Kristoff explained. “Bonnie needed me to tell you that guests can’t stay in this building for a couple of days. A pipe burst and there won’t be any water in most, if not all, of the rooms.”

The manager's eyes widened. “O-okay. What about the restrooms on this floor? Or the restaurants and the bakery?”

“We’re not sure what the situation is with those areas of the hotel.”

She nodded. “Okay, well keep me posted. There are a lot of places on this floor that require the use of water.”

“Has anyone called to complain from any of those places?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, we’ll keep our fingers crossed that they’re unaffected, but I’m sure Bonnie will be in touch soon.”

“Thank you.”

He gave her a slight nod before turning around and walking back towards the ballroom; for the first time that day, someone had actually been appreciative and not downright condescending about the situation. He was just glad that she didn’t rip him a new one like all of the guests had earlier.

“Good, you’re back,” Bonnie said once he finally made it back to the ballroom.

“Any updates?”

“I just made contact with the people in the event planning office,” Bonnie explained. “They’re coming down now. I need you to wait out here for them, so you could tell them about the damage. The annual ball is in three months and this was their venue.”

“I should probably start clearing stuff out of there,” he insisted, hoping to remind her that he was not her personal secretary or a professional bearer of bad news. “We can’t start gutting it out until the water is drained and all of the damaged furniture is removed.”

“You need to stay right here,” Bonnie said snidely, placing a hand on his shoulder before walking away.

“Is she serious?” he wondered aloud, his mouth agape. He really was her errand boy, wasn’t he?

“Hey man, Scott and Dan are both on their way in now,” Andrew said, approaching from inside the ballroom. “Liam and Eli are outside doing snow removal. I’m trying to get in touch with a couple of the other guys, but some of them have to be in for the overnight shift. Management has to take pictures of the damage for insurance reasons before we can touch anything, but we should be able to start getting rid of the furniture later today.”

“I have to wait here and break the bad news to the event planners,” he responded bitterly. “Because I’m not the maintenance guy today, I’m her errand boy.”

Andrew shook his head. “She’s really pushing her luck. She should be the one to tell them since we warned her that the pipes would need to be replaced a long time ago and she brushed it off.”

“You know, I had a gut feeling that today would suck. Wish that I could’ve been wrong.”

“Should’ve checked the calendar, man. It’s Friday the thirteenth.”

He scoffed. “I’m not superstitious.”

Andrew shrugged before taking a few steps backwards. “I’m just saying.”

As soon as Andrew’s back was turned, he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. It was quite the coincidence that this had all gone down on a day historically known for the bad luck it brought. He reminded himself that he didn’t believe in that stuff; this was a real life situation that had only happened because of sheer negligence from Bonnie and the other people who ran the hotel. If they had just listened from the start and had replaced the pipes when Andrew recommended they should, they wouldn’t even be in this mess. He didn’t necessarily believe in curses either, but at this point, he was convinced he’d done something wrong in life that warranted this misery.

Until he spotted a gorgeous redhead he didn’t recognize being dragged in his direction by the half-a-head shorter lady he knew from around the hotel, and he was suddenly aware of a new sensation different from the misery and dread he was used to - a hopeful fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

#kristanna #kristanna fanfic #anna #kristoff bjorgman #frozen #frozen fic #my writing

16 notes · View notes

lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

Text

Do you have any tan lines? Nope. Have you ever wished you could stop time? Yes. I’ve also wished I could speed it up. Is there any pictures on the wall you're in? Yeah, there’s several. Who was the last person who called you? My mom. Did you make any money today? No.

Have you ever fallen and twisted your ankle? No. What was the highest place you've ever jumped from? I haven’t jumped from anywhere. Have you ever gone swimming in a river? No. Ever been so unfortunate to slip on wet rocks? Nope. When was the last time you got completely soaked by rain? It’s been a long time. One of the times that comes to mind is when my mom, aunt, a former friend, and I were at an outdoor festival and we got caught in an unexpected rain storm. It just started pouring down hard and we were not prepared at all. We had to run back to our car, which was parked a good distance away and yeah we were absolutely soaked.

Is there something you really want to buy at the moment? I’d love to be able to book a beach vacation getaway. Would you ever consider culinary school? No. I’m not a cook and have no interest in trying to become one. Do you ever watch the clouds, to see if they look like objects/animals etc? I did when I was a kid sometimes. When was the last time you didn't want to get out of bed? That’s me everyday. It’s a real struggle. Are you excited for anything coming up in the near future? No. My foreseeable future consists of more doctors and appointments and struggles and spending most of my time in bed. Speaking of dancing, do you know any real dance moves? I know them, but I can’t do them. Do you save cards from your birthday/x-mas, etc? Yes. What was the last souvenir someone got you? A shirt. Do you have a favorite remix of a song? One of my favorite covers is Adele’s cover of George Michael’s “Fast Love” that she preformed at an award show in honor of him after he died. I can only describe it as hauntingly beautiful. I really wish she would have released a studio version of it. When was the last time you printed something off? I don’t recall; it’s been awhile. Are you one of those people who can learn music/songs by ear? No, I wish. There was a guy in my piano class I took my senior year in high school that could do that. It was really cool. Has the power gone out recently? No, but I have a feeling it will happen soon. It always does when we have a lot of triple digit degree weather, which is what this week has consisted of. Do you like driving at night? I don’t drive, but I like nighttime drives. Like, whenever I travel I love leaving really early when it’s still dark out. It’s a different experience. Does seeing roadkill make you sad, or just grossed out? Both. Does wearing heels make you feel sexier? I don’t wear heels. What do you think is the most saddest sounding instrument? The piano can sound that way. What day do you go back to school (if you're in school)? I’m forever done with school. When was the last time you've gone shopping with a friend? It’s been a few years. Do you ever go out to dinner with your Mom? We haven’t physically gone out to eat for dinner in quite a long time. What is your favorite kind of salad dressing? Ranch. Have you ever bought fireworks? Not me personlly, but my dad and brother do every 4th of July. Do you really pay attention to the ratings on movies? Sometimes, but I ultimately decide if I want to see it or not. Have you ever snuck in to a theater/dance/bar etc? No. If given the chance, would you go to Ireland? Sure. Who was the last person/website to send you an email? I don’t feel like checking. Has your phone ever rang and scared you? Yeah. I’m such a jumpy person anyway. If you have a cat, does it ever "converse" with you? I don’t have a cat. If given the chance, would you ever fly in a fighter plane like the F-16? No. Are you afraid of standing on the edge of hills/skyscrapers/cliffs etc? Uh, YES. Do you have a favorite species of wild cat (tiger/lion/cougar etc)? No. Do you support the funds designed to protect endangered animals? (Like WWF). I haven’t done much myself to support them, but I’m glad they exist. What type of a drunk are you? (Obnoxious, calm, emotional, violent, etc) I was a chatty drunk. I feel like I was annoying, ha. I was also the sad drunk. Do you have an absolute favorite name (boy or girl)? I love the name Alexander. Are you good at pronouncing foreign words? Uhh, depends. If you're not already, when do you plan on getting married? I don’t want to get married. Can you tolerate the smell of cigarette smoke? Nooo. It honestly makes me sick, like I get lightheaded and dizzy, I get nauseous, and I get a really bad headache. When listening to music, do you usually tap your foot etc to the beat? I sometimes tap my fingers and hands. Have you ever literally cried on a friend's shoulder? No. Was there something that "made your day" today? It literally just turned midnight, so today is just now starting. Do you have a favorite kind of chocolate bar? White chocolate. Are you happy that it's summer? Ugh, no. It’s hot and miserable. Is there anything that you should be doing right now? I’m about to make my nightly bowl of ramen. Has anyone had expectations that you just couldn't live up to? (finishing this a couple hours later...) That’s how I’ve been feeling. Are you currently in a relationship? If so, how long have you been dating? Nope. Would you ever consider being a DJ at a party if you were paid? Nah. Have you ever tried those electric toothbrushes? Wow, this question makes it seem like they’re so futuristic and rare lol. Yes, I use electric toothbrushes. Are you or anyone you know devoted to "being green"? Not overly so, no. When it comes election time, do you vote (if you're old enough)? Yes. What was the last movie you watched that was on TV? I watched Fear 1994 on Netflix recently if that counts. How long have you had an account on bzoink? I don’t have an account on bzoink. Do strapless bras work for you? I don’t like them. I only wear them if I have to, like with a dress. Do you have a favorite hair elastic that you use almost always? No. Has anyone told you that they wanted to marry you/ were planning on it/etc? No. When you were younger, did you have a yoyo? I did. I couldn’t do any tricks, though. What was the last video game you played, if any? Animal Crossing: New Horizons. Has anyone ever called you nerdy? Yeah. Have you ever had to call 911? Yes. Has there ever been a tornado near where you live? No, fortunately. Are you a rollercoaster addict? Noo. I’m a big scardy cat. Do you feel comfortable enough to wear short shorts? No. I’m very self-conscious about my legs. About my body in general, really. If you have iTunes, do you find the Genius recommendations helpful? I don’t even recall what that is; I haven’t used iTunes in almost 10 years. Are you quick at looking up numbers in phonebooks/ words in dictionaries? Phonebooks, wow. I haven’t used a phonebook or actual dictionary in yearsssss thanks to the Internet/Google. Have a favorite actor/actress from Old Hollywood? (Marilyn Munroe, etc) Lucille Ball. Out of Biology, Chemistry and Physics, which are you the best at? None of those. Is there a friend you can always talk to about anything? I don’t have any friends. Can you stand spicy foods? Not anymore. :( It’s gotta have like barely anything like McDonald’s or Taco Bell mild hot sauce type of stuff. It’s wild because I used to be obSESSED with spicy food. I put hot sauce on everything and had a high spicy tolerance. Then a few years ago I developed a sensitivity and I can’t even have red pepper flakes now. It sucks. What's your opinion on people who stretch their ears? Hey, do what you want. I’ll admit the really stretched out lobes freak me out, though. Do you think tattoos are expressive art or unattractive? To me they can be either one, it just depends. What is your school mascot? -- Do you find black and white photos to be pretty? Yeah. Food you make doesn't taste as good as food made by others, true? Sometimes. Especially foods like sandwiches for some reason. I think they’re way better when my mom or a deli makes them. Is there a certain color that doesn't look good on you? I don’t think I look good in anything, so. Have you ever heard anything interesting about Nova Scotia, Canada? Not that I can recall. Have you ever seen a bear in the wild? No, thankfully. Do you know when you will get to see your significant other next? I’m single. What's the book you're currently reading? ”Such a Good Girl” by Willow Rose. Is your room currently a disaster? No. If going to a concert, do you prefer it to be outside or in a stadium? Definitely in a stadium.

Do you have a case for your camera? I use the camera on my phone, which I do have a case for. Can your cellphone take a beating? I’ve dropped it a few times and so far so good. Is there a month you prefer over others? October and December. Do you ever buy lottery tickets? Just a couple of times. Can you recall the most disturbing movie you've ever seen? A Clockwork Orange is one. Are you more of a tape or a glue person? Tape. Of course, it does depend on what I’m doing. In some cases, glue is the better option. Has anyone you know gotten mono? Not that I know of. What is/or was your graduating year? I graduated UC in 2015. Have you had a weird dream lately? All my dreams are weird. Have you ever gotten an autograph from someone famous? Yes. Do you own a pair of slippers? No. Do you ever watch VHS movies anymore? No. I don’t even recall the last time. Has your computer ever decided to completely erase itself? No, but I’ve lost stuff because of viruses back in the day. :(

Only when the power goes out do we realize how much we rely on it, true? It definitely becomes quite apparent quite quickly. Have you ever picked an apple off the tree and eaten it? No. Can you say yes / no in different languages? ”Si” and “No”, ha. Are you good at styling your own hair? No. Especially not anymore since I just don’t have the motivation or energy to do anything with my hair, which is why it was always up in a bun. I finally just cut it really short and have been wearing a cute wig if I go somewhere cause that’s all I can to do right now. I am sad, though. It was so long. Out of the traditional superheroes, which one is your favorite? The Scarlett Witch and Iron Man. What color is the shirt you're wearing right now? Black. Have you ever been lost? Physically and figuratively, yes.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

2 notes · View notes

brawltogethernow · 4 years

Text

So the problem starts, the problem starts when Kaine agrees to go to a bake sale.

This little old lady put her hand on his face, see? What are little old ladies doing putting their hands on his face? Doesn’t she know he could snap her neck with a finger twitch?

“You are a good Catholic boy,” she says. “I know one when I see one,” she interrupts when he opens his mouth to protest, though he wasn’t yet decided which descriptor to zero in on first. “You are always at confession.”

Kaine may, possibly, have been using confession as a kind of no-papers-required stand-in for therapy. Or maybe a no-blood-shed-Aracely-isn’t-glaring-at-me stand-in for hurting himself.

He has enough brain cells not to say this. Barely.

“Thank you,” he says instead, and tries to pull away.

She leans with him. Her hands remain on his face.

“But I never see you anywhere else!” she says. “You must come to the bake sale. It’s on Friday.”

“Okay,” says Kaine’s mouth entirely without his input. He was born with an inbuilt structural weakness against little old battle axes. He attributes this to the ghost echoes of Peter Parker’s idyllic childhood.

“So what are we making?” demands Aracely as soon as he returns to the presidential suite. “Lemon bars? People on TV make lemon bars. What is a lemon bar?”

Sometimes, Kaine is more glad than anything that she's always eavesdropping on the inside of his head. Often, he’d cut off a limb, hell, all his limbs, to keep her out. He'd grow a bunch of spider legs again and then cut those off. He’s not sure exactly where this falls between the two extremes. But definitely closer to the negative side.

“Oh,” she says as if he answered, tipping her head. She’s turned around on the couch and sat up on her knees and braced her arms on the back of it to see him better. “You don’t know either. That’s okay, we can Google it.”

So they burn the kitchenette a little bit.

"We can rebuild it," says Arcacely. "We have the technology."

He definitely leaves her in front of the TV too much. But what's the alternative, bringing her with him more?

"Yes, it is," says Aracely like he spoke out loud. "And that is but one more reason why you should do that."

"Hell no," says Kaine, and books it out of the suite fast enough that he can pretend he didn't hear her shout, "Swear jar!"

He finds the maid who most often handles their rooms. He hands her a stack of hundreds for her trouble, then gives her a couple more because he can tell the exchange has scared her. He tells her the hotel can bill him the damages. And then he asks her how to get to the hotel kitchen.

Aracely appears, out of breath, as he finishes bribing his way into use of a stove. Her ability to do this is one reason among many why he doesn't own a cellphone.

"You could have just asked them," she chirps, methodically going through the room and opening, examining, and then closing every drawer. It's empty right now, so there's no one to stop her. "I think they would have just let us use the kitchen. The people here like you."

"No, they don't," corrects Kaine. "And who cares? It's not like we need to save money." He can just go hit more human traffickers if he runs low. And since he spends a lot of his time doing this even when he's not running low, he is in absolutely no danger of running low. He's pretty sure he could buy a yacht, or a politician.

"Success!" proclaims Aracely, and when Kaine turns around she's holding a clear plastic tub of brown powder over her head. There's a piece of paper laminated to the side with text printed on it that might be a recipe. "Brownie mix!"

"That is not food," declares Aracely of their creation. "No one is going to buy that."

Kaine leans over to examine it. It's kind of...grainy.

"Brownie sand," says Aracely. "Could we start a new trend?"

Kaine sighs. They should have known trying to quarter the banquet-sized serving on the tub was a bad idea. They have clearly miscalculated on some ephemeral measurement level. They've angered the baking gods.

"Are there baking gods?" inquires Aracely.

"Why don't you ask the Catholics," says Kaine, and tugs her away to tip the cleaning staff again.

“This is good too,” says Aracely, presiding over the storebought tubs of those weird shitty grocery store cookies that are mostly icing that they brought instead.

“I don’t even know how I got here,” says Kaine. “What are we doing here?”

His nose twitches. He’s not sure if one of them still smells like burnt lemons or if he’s just imagining it. He does know that he’s avoiding anything lemony for a long time.

The woman who got him into this sidles up to them shortly after they set up, looking very pleased to see him there.

"Always good to see fresh faces," she says, and winks at him.

She continues to talk in a way that stays steadily one step to the left of him feeling like he has a firm grasp on the conversation. Possibly that's because he's overthinking things and doubting whether he's correctly interpreting a single word she's saying. What even is "the congregation", in this context?

He looks at Aracely.

She shrugs.

Is it a list. Do you have to complete a set of tasks to qualify. Are there membership cards?

Aracely shrugs a little more beffudledly. Her reeducation via television and following a vigilante around active crime scenes must not have taught her about this.

The bake sale is to raise money to fix the air conditioner. This means that the building is the same temperature inside as it is outside. The best description he can come up with for the response the people in the room are having to the sweltering temperature is "cheerfully miserable".

Other than that it's...weird. Festival-ish? It kind of plucks the strings of memories that don't belong to him of May Parker presiding over neighborhood events with an endlessly gentle iron fist, but it also doesn't. He also kind of feels like he is impersonating someone who is actually supposed to be here. But that's nothing new.

There is a big confused snarl in Kaine's chest made mostly of other people's experiences that he can't even begin to interpret if he pings himself about the concept of "God". He thought that might be a problem if he just walked in here and...socialized.

It is not. No one is asking him about God.

"What do you think about the setup this time?" a woman with a thin mouth and long, spindly fingers demands. Her lipstick is the same shade as Annabelle's hair and her turtleneck suggests a total lack of concern for the wet Houston heat that Kaine finds honestly terrifying.

"The--?" he starts to answer.

"It's definitely for the best they didn't decide to hold it in the basement again," she continues, saving him from answering her not-really-a-question. "I mean, why? The lobby has all these lovely windows."

She gestures. Kaine nods along, his adrenaline spiking more than it ever has for any interaction with a werewolf or a most dangerous game type with a knife.

Thus follows a brief interaction where Kaine hums or nods when appropriate, and in return learns that she's very invested in the greater accessibility of the lobby, she plays piano on a volunteer basis for the church, and she knows he's "one of Marie's injections of fresh blood" but doesn't seem interested on calling him out for not belonging here.

"Do come to the community breakfast tomorrow," she finishes, buys two cookies, and leaves.

The emotional aftermath is akin to having weathered a near-death experience.

Aracely has found an older couple to speak Spanish with and is chirping away at the same blistering clip typical of her English, but with a more fluid cadence that betrays it's at least one of her native languages. The in-his-head thing doesn't really go both ways, so he has no idea what they're talking about. Probably something he'd regret knowing. What if she is asking them about baking gods.

A guy in a priest...collar...thing...who Kaine hopes desperately is not the one he sometimes monopolizes, or, failing that, does not recognize him, has sprouted up to make polite conversation.

"Not a bad turnout today, eh?" he says.

"Good thing they moved it back into the lobby," tries Kaine.

The priest beams at him like he's repeated the secret code.

"So true," he says.

Kaine is totally mastering churches. This is great. He bets if it were Peter in his place he would have started a fight by now.

"I think that went well," says Aracely after they've retreated to the suite and she's curled back up on the couch with a bowl of...something. She stabs the contents of the bowl with a spoon. "We should definitely do that again. Socializing with your community is almost as important as scaring away all its drug lords!"

"They're not my community," says Kaine. Not just the Catholic church a few blocks away from the hotel, which he still thinks he prefers from inside an anonymous guilt box. Houston is not Kaine's community. He does not have, does not get to have, a community. (Aracely rolls her eyes in an incredibly teenagery way, projecting exasperation either at his answer or his train of thought.) "What are you eating?"

She salutes him with her spoon. "Brownie sand! It's very edible!"

"Ichh," says Kaine.

"It's good for you!" Aracely declares. She looks dubiously down at her bowl, and corrects, "It's not actively bad for you!"

"No more chocolate," says Kaine. "No more lemons. No."

"But maybe some more bake sales?"

"...Maybe."

"Yes!"

On AO3 (where the title and summary can be considered a bonus gag). Last year the GG Discord was talking about how the Marvel wiki categorizes characters by religious affiliation, which led to questioning why Kaine Parker was listed as Catholic. I reported back several months later after I read Scarlet Spider that it was because he started going to confession after being thrown through a church wall, which prompted gelpenss to pitch the mental image of Kaine showing up to one of the less cinematic things people do in churches.

#kaine parker #aracely penalba #scarlet spider #spiderman #spidey #marvel #w #fic #this corner of the fandom is dime-sized lol #i'll be real that i stopped editing this when i saw i'd accidentally authored a story with a church of exactly 1666 words like #that's too funny i'm sorry

56 notes · View notes

magma-cjay · 3 years

Photo

https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D14241314/

————–

“How long has it been since Diavolo’s henchmen attacked?” Abbacchio pondered, as he gazed out at the rising full moon.

“Hm, there was a quarter moon on the day of the attack, so I assume it’s been a week since,” Fugo explained. The two harpies had been vigilantly keeping watch for the past few days, with the rest of Risotto’s pod, especially Prosciutto, patrolling the waters around the island to watch for any danger. So far, there was no sign of their return, but they were better safe than sorry.

But the passage of a week meant something more special for Bruno: it was the time to have the bandages of his wing removed and his injury examined by Giorno. He walked down the path leading to Giorno’s hut, which had been smoothened and covered in soft wet sand, to make it more accessible for Risotto and the other mermen.

Risotto followed Bruno down the path, wearing his scarf as usual as well as the hat Bruno had made for him. All the time he had spent on land had served him nicely as he was now quite adept outside the water, as long as he kept himself moist.

He wriggled along the sandy path beside Bruno, who slowed his pace to let his legless lover keep up. On land, Risotto moved much like a seal: he rhythmically undulated his body and tail forwards in a rippling motion, while using his elbows for leverage. It was faster, and less abrasive on his tail than dragging himself, but he looked incredibly silly moving in such a fashion and Bruno couldn’t help but hold back a giggle.

Risotto felt a slight hint of embarassment at his awkward means of locomotion. “Gee, Bruno, I’m sorry you have to see me like this. In the water I’m a lot more dignified, I’m not exactly built for land.”

Bruno smiled down at the flopping merman. “Don’t bother yourself too much with it, Riz,” he reassured. “I appreciate that you’re making do with what you have and trying your best to spend time with me. Besides…I do think your wriggling is rather adorable,” he added with warm, friendly chuckle.

Risotto blushed and paused mid-wiggle. “A-adorable? Y-you think the way I move is adorable?” He’d always despised that one flaw of himself, how he had to pathetically struggle about outside his natural environment, as clumsy as a fish out of water, which he was, in a way. He never expected that someone, let alone a harpy, would find that endearing about him.

Bruno laughed. “There’s a lot adorable about you, Riz, but especially that wiggle. Now come on, keep going, Giorno’s waiting for the two of us!” Bruno continued on his way as Risotto resumed his wriggling, but this time, with much more confidence. It was an ‘adorable’ wriggle, after all.

Soon the two reached Gio’s hut, where he had prepared a large tub to accommodate Risotto. “I’ll be checking on your wounds in a minute,” Gio reassured the merman, “But first I have to check on Bruno’s wing.”

Risotto sat himself into the tub and sighed in relief as the warm water immersed his exhausted tail. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

“Alright, Bruno, come this way,” Giorno guided. “If you can, please sit over here.”

“BUT NOT ON ME!” a tiny voice cried out. “WATCH IT, BIRD BOY!”

Bruno wheeled around in surprise to see the source of the voice, which seemed to have come from a little wooden drinking-cup that sat on one end of Giorno’s examining table. Bruno looked closely, and to his amazement, it was a tiny merman– scarcely a few inches in length.

“Is this tiny fellow also one of Risotto’s podmates?” Bruno said in a fascinated tone. “I didn’t know they came to be this small…”

“That’s Formaggio,” Risotto explained. “He’s mastered the art of size-shifting and claims he’s skilled in magics.” Bruno’s eyes widened in wonder. “You’re a spellmaker like Giorno too? What else can you do?” he eagerly asked the miniscule mer.

Formaggio scratched his head in confusion. “Well, so far…just this.”

“And it shows what a GREAT magic user you are,” said Ghiaccio sarcastically, as he reclined in a nearby tub of water that had been filled with chunks of ice.

“Ghiaccio’s healing well but he’s not very cooperative,” Giorno explained, as he unbandaged Bruno’s wing. “That’s why I brought Formaggio along, he seems to be the only one in the pod able to cheer him up. And it’s a good thing Formaggio’s shrinking comes in handy cause I’m all out of tubs!”

“I’m usually a lot bigger, trust me,” Formaggio insisted.

“Bruno’s wing has healed up perfectly well,” diagnosed Giorno, as he examined Bruno on his table. “He should be good to try out flying by tomorrow morning, he’ll need a day or two to get used to flying again. I’ll come with him, in case he needs any help.”

“And I’ll come too,” Trish added, who had been perched on a rafter on the roof of the hut, polishing her bow. “Bruno is still a target, if he comes out into the open we might need to defend him.” Risotto nodded in agreement. “Count me in.”

The wooden door opened with a creak as Fugo walked into the hut. “We’re all clear for today,” he announced, much to the relief of everyone present. “The weather’s getting colder too, the wind is quite chilly out there."

"Wait, it’s the third full moon of fall, isn’t it?” Formaggio said excitedly. He climbed out of his cup, flopped his way across the table and jumped onto Ghiaccio with a flick of his tail, landing softly onto his fluffy blue head. “You hear that, ice boy? It’s gonna be winter in a few weeks time!”

“And I can’t wait any longer, dammit!” Ghiaccio replied gleefully with a laugh. It came as a surprise to everyone, harpy and merman alike: they’d never seen Ghiaccio this jolly unless his little companion was around.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go check on our…inmate,” Fugo replied, as he turned to leave and soared off.

He alighted next to a thick tree in the woods, where Narancia and Mista were standing next to a bamboo cage suspended from a tree, inside which Zucchero grumbled angrily, munching on an apple.

“So, my trusty wardens, any progress?” he asked the two.

“Nope, nada, it’s been days, and nothing,” Mista whined. “We tried being mean to him, we tried threatening him, we tried being nice to him and giving him food…”

“Too nice, actually,” Narancia complained. “He said he’d talk if we kept feeding him apples but now I think it was just a trick for free food.”

“You’re all hospitable fellows,” sneered Zucchero from within the cage.

“Well, surely you couldn’t have gotten some info from him at least? Anything, something useless, even?” Fugo complained, frustrated.

“Well, he did talk, a little,” Mista admitted, rustling his wings. “He said that the Luca guy always cries salty tears, that the Crimson King’s underboss once ate a frog, that he thinks our singing voices are dreadful and our dancing skills are shit…” Mista angrily knocked the cage, causing Zucchero to squeal in surprise. “Ok, so he talked a lot. But never what we wanted to know. As you said, all useless.”

“You said he hates your singing and dancing, huh….?” A sinister smirk crept across Fugo’s face. “I think that’s useful enough information…”

The sun began to rise the following morning, heralding the dawn of a new day. But instead of the silent tranquility of the early dawn, a different noise filled the air. Terrible singing and cries of despair.

“Stop it! STOP IT, I SAID!” Zucchero pleaded desperately, rattling the bars of his cage while trying to block out the noise with his wings pressed against his head.

“….OooooOoooh, we’re golden wind~” warbled Narancia in terrible off-key, while Fugo and Mista pranced about on a lower branch, flaring their wings and striking absurd poses like some bizarre avian courtship ritual. “You still not gonna talk, sugar boy? We can keep this up all day!”

“For the last time,” Fugo snapped, “Where are the Crimson King and his minions now, and why were you here?”

At this point, after a full night of torment, Zucchero’s will was beyond broken. “ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! THEY’RE NESTING IN THE STONE PILLARS BY THE NORTHERN COAST AND HE SENT US TO CAPTURE GIOVANNA AND BUCCIARATI SO HE CAN KILL THEM! NOW PLEASE, PLEASE JUST STOP!!” He cried desperately, peeping miserably like a frightened baby bird.

“Well, what do you know?” Mista cackled. “Music does soothe the most savage beasts…”

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

"So he's planning to kidnap and kill Bucciarati and Giorno? That's not good..." Fugo hums and frowns. "And kill them! Dont forget that Fugo!" Narancia squawks.

"I know Nara, we'll have to tell the others. Atleast we'll know the targets" Fugo goes to fly back but Mista stops him, "heyyy! What the hell do we do with sugar boy over here!?"

"do what ever you want with him. I don't care" he flies off. Mista starts chuckling and turns back to the bird, "you hear that?" "We can do whatever we want with you!" Nara laughs and the two approach the harpy. Zucchero gulps and flinches, "b-but I gave you what you wanted! Please! D-don't hurt me!" The laughs and chuckles grow as they close in on the sugar bird. Uh-oh, better wish him some luck because he's gonna need it.

#rip zucc #but awwww Bruno you are too sweet #merharpyau #submission

4 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

955

Survey by dumpweed2maniac

How did it feel outside today? I don’t know. I haven’t stepped outside and don’t have plans to until later in the afternoon when I’ll have to take the dogs out. I’m not sweating at the moment so I’m guessing it’s just a little cold, but I won’t be surprised if it’ll turn humid later on in the day.

Who did you last text? Angela.

Are there any animals in the room with you? Kimi. He’s in his favorite spot, under my bed.

Do you like the color of your eyes? I’m not complaining; brown’s not too bad but it’s also not like I had the choice to pick what color it would be.

When you watch T.V. what are you usually watching? I only ever watch the evening news on actual TVs anymore. On my laptop, I tune in to Netflix only occasionally so I don’t have any usual programs on there.

Can you open up to others easily? No, unless they ask the right questions or unless I’m with someone I’m close to. But generally, I’m not comfortable with the idea of being in the spotlight and people listening to me open up.

Are you one of those girls who already have baby names picked out? Hahaha, yeah. It could always change by the time I actually have a kid though. I just have the current ones picked out because I think they sound beautiful.

Elaborate about the drunkest you've ever been? No thanks. The only crazy detail I’m giving out from it is that I nearly fell asleep in a pool, but otherwise I regret the person I was that night looooool.

Is there anything that you think is just simply beautiful? I always feel my calmest with the sea.

Is there a friend of the opposite sex you can confide in? No. Not that I feel comfortable confiding in guys anyway. I don’t have close friends that are male.

How did you spend yesterday afternoon? Took a nap, had GMM keep me company, tried not to cry, ate Oreos.

Are any of your siblings taller than you? They both are, haha. I’m the smallest member of the family and I’m the eldest child :(

Do you think anyone hates you? It’s always possible. I wouldn’t know for what, though.

Is anyone angry with you at the moment? I don’t know why anyone would have a reason to be. I’ve done nothing but be emotional in the last few weeks lol.

Who's in the room with you right now? I’m alone now. I let Kimi out a few minutes ago.

Ever did something you regret while under the influence? Spend most of my money, which I tend to do. I always jokingly hand my wallet to my friends when we start drinking because I often end up buying expensive food loooooool. It’s never even drunk online shopping or whatever – I always flock to food, whether it’s food from the bar itself or at a nearby food stall or a Korean barbecue joint.

What car would you like to have, but know it's way out of your reach? A Mini Countryman or Clubman. That would be a nice big purchase once I’ve earned enough to get my own car.

What religion were you raised on? Do you agree with those beliefs? I was raised Catholic. I agree with most of its big tenets like the golden rule and not stealing or cheating, because I feel like those things are part of common sense too and me believing in those is more a matter of me wanting to be a nice person than me agreeing with Catholicism. I don’t believe in everything else such as their scriptures and the stories inside, and I don’t agree with their stances.

Would you say that you’re flexible? Not anymore. I can’t reach for my toes while standing or sitting without pain and discomfort shooting up my legs.

Keep the peace or finish out the fight to prove your side? I like getting all my arguments out but I have no problem agreeing to disagree in the end. Generally I just like being given the space to talk during a fight.

Do you believe in giving second chances? No, for the most part.

Can people really change? Yes. I know some can be stubborn or resistant to change (like me), but it’s wrong to rule out change for every single person.

Has anyone ever told you they loved you, but you didn't believe them? Yes.

What's one of the worst experiences you've had so far? I really don’t like what I’m going through right now. I’d say this entire month is in the running for worst experiences in my life ever, which is saying so much.

Can anyone be described in one word? Sure, but I don’t think doing so would ever give 100% accuracy. There are many different sides to a person.

When did you last have a nightmare? This morning.

Do you sleep good? Not these days. My sleep is shallow at best and when it isn’t, I tend to have nightmares.

What are you thinking about right now? How today is exactly a year since Nacho died. I wish I can visit him but I have work. Nevertheless, I’m thinking of him today. Life really hasn’t been the same since.

Last person you spoke to, what did you say? My sister; I asked if I can borrow her earbuds for a meeting I had this morning.

Is there anyone in this world you would do absolutely anything for? Yeah.

Is there any certain thing you’re always thinking about? Yep, welcome to my head. Always running. And not on happy things either.

Do you have any other tabs open right now? What for? Multiple ones, because I’m in the middle of a workday. There’s a couple of Google Slides, several Google Sheets, Gmail, and a lot of news articles open for the research they’re making me do.

Are you hot or cold? Or neither? I’m neither, which is all right with me.

Rich and miserable, or poor and happy? Rich and miserable, duh. Idk, I like being able to afford things. I can’t see myself being miserable living that life.

What's one of the weirdest things you believed in as a kid? That any girl who gets married automatically gets pregnant. Like you didn’t have to do anything; weddings would simply produce a baby haha.

What's your favorite type of weather? Chilly, windy thunderstorms.

Do little kids and toddlers get on your nerves? If they are rude, watch stuff on their iPad on the highest volume setting, or run around and knock down furniture, yes.

What's the goriest thing you've ever seen? There are certain bloody wrestling matches that come to mind.

Have you or do you attend pep rallies regularly? Not really.

What’s the name of the city you live in? I don’t feel like disclosing it.

Is anyone getting on your nerves right now? A little bit, yep.

Are you good at coping with stressful situations? It’s a hit or miss. Sometimes I’m great, but sometimes the stress can get to me too.

Time? 1:13 PM.

Do you really think Lil Wayne is the greatest rapper alive? I never thought that.

Have you ever seen a building on fire in real life? I don’t think so. I’ve heard of buildings being on fire and then see the big clouds of smoke from my house, but I’ve never seen an actual building burning down yet.

How many weddings have you been to? Probably less than 10. It’s only my parents who tend to get invited.

Have you kissed anyone and their first name started with an F, D, or L? No.

#survey #surveys

3 notes · View notes

lilithsgayadoptednephew · 4 years

Text

Holy Hands

Fandoms: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Not Rated Graphic Depictions Of Violence F/M, Other Complete Work

Chapter List

Chapter 17

This is for your own good, Lucifer.

Lucifer sat up so fast he got whiplash from the force. Groaning he rubbed his neck, immediately feeling like shit. He felt the ground under him, cold and unyielding. He had fallen asleep on the ground? His skin felt dryer than normal. There was dirt in his hair, his eyes, under his nails, he felt disgusting. The sun filtered through the clouds and burned red behind his closed eyelids. This did nothing to quell his pounding headache.

Wait...the sun?

0Mammon had been a huge help these past couple of days. MC had been distraught when Simon had dropped them on the other side of the country from their house. There was no way to get there on foot and they had 7 tired, lost, depressed demon brothers to care for.

Well...they couldn't be called demons anymore.

Luckily the weather was warm from the approaching summer, so Mammon helped scavenge for things to make camp since they were effectively homeless. Unsurprisingly he was good at it given all the experience he had in petty theft. He spoke to local humans and learned the lay of the area, he kept tabs on his brothers, he even kept their spirits up through jokes and his generally light hearted nature.

Truly Mammon had taken on a lot since Lucifer had been asleep, and he'd done it well.

The others weren't as thrilled about the homeless rat lifestyle. Some did better than others, Beel was happy after they'd raided the stale baguettes from the dumpster behind the bakery. Belphie was content to take 2 blankets and just nap on Beel. They were the easiest ones.

Satan hadn't said out loud how miserable he was but it was pretty obvious. He spent a lot of time trying to help Mammon or Acacia, just trying to feel useful. Overall he was just bored and a little irritated that Lucifer got to sleep through it and he didn't.

"I'm alright," he dismissed any questions. "At least no one will look for us here."

Asmo took to the earth surprisingly well. He would spend many hours walking around town and hitting on the locals, having them pay for stuff. He marveled at how abundant mud was on this quaint planet, and used it often for relaxation and his still healing burn. He was upset he couldn't bring all his clothes and accessories but that just gave him an excuse to walk around camp nude, much to the distress of the others.

Levi took it the hardest.

"It's too bright and I've never been outside this looong!" He wailed. "All my collectables are still back home and I can't find anywhere that's air-conditioned!"

"Ah shut it Levi, at least we're not in the Celestial realm alright!" Mammon scolded him. "You just gotta be thankful for what we've got."

"You sound like Lucifer…" Levi countered under his breath.

"Hey you take that back!"

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty." Acacias snark cut them both off. "I know it's hot and dirty and we're all irritated but we just gotta stick with it until we can find a place to stay." With that she stomped away to talk to MC.

"How long do you think we'll have to live outside?" She asked quietly.

"Well we'll have to rent a car to get home, and even then I don't think our house can accommodate everyone…" they trailed off.

"Maybe this was a bad idea."

"This was the only idea. And Earth is our home so it's our responsibility to make sure the boys are safe here." They said firmly.

Acacia nodded. She and MC had only ever looked out for each other, but now they had a family to protect. They were not about to fail them.

"I think you can rent cars online, wanna borrow my phone?"

"Yeah." They smiled a little. "That'd be a big help, thanks Acacia." She handed MC her phone and trotted off to tell Mammon the plans going forward.

MC unlocked the screen and started with Google maps, maybe somewhere nearby would…

Their attention was drawn by sudden movement out of the corner of their eye.

Lucifer had woken up.

0"Boys!" He yelled immediately. Last thing he remembered they had been in terrible danger. Instead of a response he saw MC approaching where he laid. "Where are they?" He practically yelled.

"They're all present and accounted for Lucifer, we're hiding out on Earth until the search for you guys dies down." Their calming tone made him relax a little.

"We're on Earth?" He questioned.

"Yeah...you were really tired." They chuckled. Suddenly he was stressed again.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"2 days."

"2 days?!! As in 48 hours?! What about--"

"Relax," MC pushed him back onto the ground with a firm hand on his solar plexus. "Mammon's been helping us get our bearings while we plan our next step. You just need to rest." Lucifer was indignant for a moment.

"And I am to sleep on the ground? " He narrowed his eyes.

"Hey you've got a blanket, that's better than I've got." They shrugged before walking off and leaving him to stew.

Lucifer looked to the ground and saw he was, in fact, lying on a flannel blanket. This did nothing to quell his rising embarrassment that he'd fallen asleep in the first place.

Getting to his feet he found his vision was blurry and slightly turning. Nothing more than the sleepless-hallucinations he told himself. That is until he felt his body tilting as well. Pure distress flashed through him as he realized he wasn't going to catch himself in time, he hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Hah!" He heard a familiar voice call mockingly. "That by itself was worth coming here."

Opening his eyes he saw a sideways Satan sitting a few yards away snickering at him. He paid his brother no mind as he tried to stand again, this time finding he couldn't even manage to sit up.

"Stay down old man! Before you break a hip." Satan laughed at himself as if he'd told the funniest joke in the world. Lucifer instinctively rolled his eyes and immediately regretted his decision as the whole world rolled as well.

The ground was cold, and he felt despair creeping in as he realized he couldn't move back to his blanket on his own. He laid in silent humiliation for a few minutes before he was rolled over onto the blanket by Satan.

"You know I knew this would happen one day." He chided. "But you just kept pushing and pushing… is it cause you didn't trust us?"

Lucifer didn't have the energy to answer.

"Or maybe you're just a control freak who panics if anything goes wrong." He shook his head. "Whatever, you're human now so you need to rest...sleep tight for once jerk." He said playfully before walking away. Lucifer's head swam as he laid on the ground.

Did Satan say...human?

#obey me!#obey me fanfic #Holy Hands

2 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (3/?)

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

But then he came back and won the World Series.

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

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Shoutout to my spectacular beta @resident-of-storybrooke 🧡 I’m the worst writer and send her multiple chapters at a time instead of just the one, and she gets things back to me in record time!

We get some background information on Emma in this chapter to further set up the story, and I thank you for reading! I’m really, really excited about a lot of the things I have planned for this story!

I promise they interact in all chapters after this

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 |

Tag list: @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @emmas-storybook @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

“What are you getting David for his birthday?”

Emma looks to her right where Ruby is stretched out on her yoga mat, doing a stretch that definitely isn’t anything that’s taught in a certified class. She can’t tell if she’s gotten stuck that way or if she’s simply given up on getting some early morning exercise. They really have to start going back to spin class sometime soon. Maybe tomorrow.

“I bought him some new dress shirts.”

“That’s boring.”

“Have you not gotten him anything, Rubes?” She swipes her blush against her cheek waiting for Ruby to answer. She doesn’t. “The party is tonight. You know that, right? And we’re about to be at work all day editing.”

“Why do you think I’m asking so that I have time to get Graham to go get something on his lunch break?”

“You have no shame.”

Ruby falls onto her mat, star fishing out on the floor before propping herself up on her elbows, her bun coming undone so that it hangs messily on her shoulders. “I know. So, what should I buy him? He’s turning forty. Is he having a midlife crisis? Should I get him some hair dye?”

“Only if you want to be murdered.”

Ruby grunts before rising from her mat and stretching out. “Eh, it might be worth it. I think I’ll just get him a Shake Shack gift card. I’m not his sister. I can get away with a semi-shitty gift.”

She chuckles as she grabs her brush for her bronzer and runs it across her cheekbone, blending it in. “It’s not semi-shitty if he takes us to lunch with it.”

“True. Alright,” Ruby claps, picking her mat up, “I’m going to go shower, and then we can go to work. Ten minutes tops.”

It’s twenty minutes, which is actually less time than Emma was expecting, before she and Ruby walk out of their apartment, walking the three blocks to their train station and swiping their metro cards to get through the gate so they can take the ten-minute ride to the studios. They rarely have to go into the actual offices before ten. The only time they have to be at work earlier than that is when there’s an early game and they have to make their way across Manhattan to get to the fields. That’s a bit of a bigger commute. But this morning the weather is relatively nice, the trains aren’t crowded or full of people in T-rex costumes, and she and Ruby get to the office and through security before they have to be there.

She leaves Ruby on the seventh floor before going up to the tenth to the editing room, her eyes having to adjust from the brightness outside to the dim lights inside the room that’s really only lit by screens.

“Anton, how the hell do you live in the sunlight after staying in here all day?”

Anton twists in his chair to look at her before turning back to the screen that he’s working on, clicking on a few keys as he speaks. “It’s only dark right now because I’m trying to get the lighting right on this edit. Something is wrong with the shadows. Get Ash to set you up. You’ve got over eight hours of footage to go through, so this probably isn’t going to get finished today.”

“He’s only talking in about an hour and a half of that.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to get the filler and then your notes. It’s a whole thing when you have a big segment like this. You’ll get used to it.”

She nods even though Anton isn’t paying any attention to her, before stepping into the room and around some of the editors she’s never worked with until she’s sitting down at Ashley’s workstation, picking up the pair of headphones that she uses and rolling up to the screen as she watches Ashely piece together several clips to promote whatever tennis tournament is going on right now. She thinks it’s the one in Palm Springs, but she hasn’t really been able to keep up with things lately.

“Sorry about that,” Ashley apologizes, flashing her a smile. “Alexandria had a late night last night, and I didn’t get into work in time to finish this up until you got here. But now my attention is all yours.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. She’s teething is all. It’s miserable for all of us.”

“I bet. I remember when Leo was teething. David aged about fifteen years.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughs, patting Ashley’s arm. “I won’t tell you any other stories about miserable babies. Let’s talk the interview.”

Ashley nods and clicks around on her computer until she’s pulling up Emma’s file, all of the hours of footage broken down. Emma has a basic understanding of how all of this works, but it’s mostly above her knowledge and paygrade. That’s why she’s glad to have people like Ashley and Anton, especially when they can easily throw out shaky or unusable footage to narrow things down even more. She tells Ashley that she wants to work on the main interview first, to make sure she can show all of the pieces she wants, and then they’ll work on finding the filler footage and the music to be played in the background. This is the first time Emma has ever worked on an edited segment that’s more than one minute, so it’s all a whole new world to her.

“This is good,” Ashley murmurs, her voice a small whisper outside of the headphones. “Like, really good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be this open before.”

“Jones? Jones is an open book.”

Her brows raise before settling back down at a regular height. “You are literally the most knowledgeable person on this subject in this building, and you think that Jones is an open book?”

“I mean, yeah. He’s baseball player, first and foremost. He’s young, hot, likes to spend his money and go out with every woman with big boobs and a pulse.”

Ashley actually laughs at that, rolling back in her chair before rewinding the video to a part where Killian is talking about his nieces and how they collect bobble heads, particularly his, and scatter them throughout their house for their parents to have to pick up. Emma remembers laughing at that, remembers thinking it’s sweet, but she’s not entirely sure why Ashley is showing it to her again.

“I know you probably hate him for asking you out like that, which was kind of a dick move, but anyone with eyes can tell he’s a sweet guy. I mean, he spent his injury break learning how to bake and sitting with his nieces so that they didn’t have to go to daycare. Yeah, he kind of had a period where he was pictured with a lot of girls, but that was when he was twenty-four and on top of the world. I mean, when you were twenty-four, you’re telling me you wouldn’t have been all over a pretty baseball player if you met him in a bar?”

“I hated all men at twenty-four.”

Ashely shakes her head from side to side, chuckling at her again. Emma hates to admit it, but Ashley is right. She knows that he’s not a bad guy, that’s not some sleazy player. No, he did not make the best decisions in asking her out last year, but in a move that surprised her, he very kindly apologized. And she really should not judge him over that time when he was pictured with girls all the time. For one, he probably dates as much as every other guy, but his dates happen to be publicized. She hates when women are shamed for dating, and here she is judging someone else.

His incessant flirting in all of his interviews and him asking her out have likely framed her view on him when she should know better than to judge by what appears on the surface.

She should also know better than to let a few pretty words make her trust someone.

“I met Sean at twenty-four.”

Emma sighs, curving her lips into a smile before patting Ashely’s arm. “And you two are wonderful. Let’s keep editing before we get distracted by you showing me a million baby pictures.”

“Dammit, Emma,” Anton groans from his seat, “the first rule of the editing room is that you don’t talk about baby pictures.”

After letting Ashley show her new pictures of Alexandra and those adorable chubby cheeks, they finally get around to some more editing, cutting questions that have repeated answers and editing out Emma’s laugh or weird coughing sounds so that she doesn’t look like a total maniac. There’s this part in the film where Killian is standing with his back to the camera and in front of a large set of windows that show off the field, and it looks like it could be a part of the Hall of Fame. It’s a gorgeous shot, and it’s where he’s talking about his hopes and dreams for baseball as well as wanting to get to live a normal life full of everything that his brother has.

Frankly, it’s beautiful enough to make her tear up.

They may just be her, though. As much as sports are about the statistics, about the executions, it’s also about the emotions. In the grand scheme of life, a baseball game doesn’t matter. These men getting paid millions of dollars to play a game don’t change the world. Except that they do. People live and die by the game, by the unpredictability, by the fact that it’s human beings out there pushing their bodies to limits that most people can’t reach. It takes everyone away from the world for a bit, lets them cheer for a happy ending, and even though the losses can be crushing, for just that little while, people feel hope.

Killian Jones coming back from injury, no matter how minor, to win the World Series, gave people hope.

It’s that thought process that guides her in helping Ashley and Anton edit the segment, and even though they only get about halfway through editing, they stop for the day so that Ashley can go home to her family and Anton to his while she walks down three flights of stairs to get to her office shoved into the corner of the corporate floor. There’s literally not even room in there for her to have an extra chair for someone to sit with her, but considering how little time she spends there now, that doesn’t matter. And it’s a step up from the cubicles.

Damn, her segment is going to be good.

This is…she knows she complained about it, and for the right reasons, but this is huge for her career. Right now, she’s more than happy doing post-game interviews and the occasional mid-game updates, but one day she might want to commentate or have her own show. One day she might want to move onto things other than sports. She’s getting ahead of herself, she knows. She simply can’t help it.

She’s excited, and she actually can’t wait to come into work tomorrow to get it all finished.

After sending a text to Ruby asking her if she’s almost ready to go, she logs into her computer and waits for her email to load, figuring she might as well get some more work done while she waits. Ruby’s timing at work is always so unpredictable when they’re not working together, so she has absolutely no idea when they’ll be able to leave to get on the train to Astoria. If only David was in the office today.

She doesn’t have much to sort through, just a few emails asking about the segment, another few talking about food that’s available in the office (she really hates that she missed those), and then another two from Walsh that she immediately deletes. They could be work related, but they’re most likely not.

Dating someone she works with was an absolutely horrible idea that she’ll probably never do again. Walsh is definitely an asshole, one that’s worse than all of the others, but he kind of ruined that workplace peace that she had for awhile. They’d both been stat checkers together, spent their days going blind reading spreadsheets and becoming friends, and when they both got promotions to journalists (ones who actually got to write articles) at the same time, she was pretty sure that it was fate or something crazy like that. They got to have the same job, the same schedule, and she was in that phase of infatuation in a new relationship that it made her stomach constantly feel like it was in those pleasantly painful knots.

Then she interviewed and auditioned for the on-air job to work with the Yankees.

It’s a moment that’s changed her life in an immeasurable amount of ways, but the first and most obvious – before Killian Jones 2k18 – was that her boyfriend of over a year resented her. He resented her, belittled her for what she did for a living, and it all felt so painstakingly familiar that she had to break up with him before he damaged her beyond repair too.

The fact that he was cheating definitely helped that decision.

So for him to still work under one hundred feet away from her in the office and still send her emails on a regular basis is a pretty big sting.

There is no one who got more enjoyment out of her being asked out on live television than Walsh Osborne.

Ruby: I am in the bathroom curling my hair. Meet you by the seventh floor receptionist desk in ten.

Emma: Where did you get a curling iron?

Ruby: The makeup room in the studio.

Of course she did.

Closing out her computer and slipping her booties back on, she leaves her office and locks it up before making her way through the cubicles, specifically going out of her way to avoid Walsh’s desk since she knows he’s still in the office, and waits by the receptionist area with David’s present in her hand. There’s no one sitting there, all of the calls being forwarded through the machine, and she idly wonders where in the world Jacob is.

“We have got to get whatever curling iron it is they use in hair and makeup,” Ruby sighs as she walks into the room, heels that she was not wearing this morning now on her feet and her hair curled into perfectly styled waves. “Seriously, it’s fantastic.”

“It’s, like, over three hundred dollars.”

“We can split it. You ready to go? Graham is going to meet us there.”

“Does he have David’s present?”

“Yep.” Ruby loops her arm through Emma’s elbow, pulling her closer, before walking toward the elevators. “He wins the award for the best boyfriend today.”

“Who is he in competition with?”

“Your non-existent boyfriend.”

She pinches Ruby’s arm, but she doesn’t say anything as the elevator opens and they walk inside. It’s always such a pain to go to David and Mary Margaret’s townhome from the office, if only because of the amount of times they have to switch trains, but it gives she and Ruby time to talk about their days and scroll through their phone, checking up on everything that they’ve missed while working.

(She usually finds time to look while at work. Knowing what’s happening in baseball players’ lives is important to her job, right? It doesn’t make her creepy if they put it online.)

Plus, it’s a Friday afternoon, and that’s always the best time to see people dressed in odd costumes and eating full on turkeys on the subway.

Seriously. That happened once. It wasn’t even Thanksgiving.

By the time they get to the townhouse, it’s past six, and she can see cars parked up and down the street, Mary Margaret’s SUV sitting right in front of their home. She insists on driving everywhere, even when she comes into Manhattan, and Emma will never understand that. But she guesses that they live a bit outside of the most crowded parts of the city and the Mary Margaret is always toting Leo around to school and soccer practice or moving all of her crafts that she takes to her classroom. Emma loves her sister-in-law (it’s easier to say than foster mom’s son’s wife), but she is one of those people whose entire life could be found on a Pinterest board where Emma is more thrift store mashup even with her life being more established lately.

Not that there’s anything wrong with living life like that. It’s simply not Emma’s cup of tea.

“So, how many fortieth birthday themed things do you think Mary Margaret has in their house?”

“I mean, obviously forty.”

“Obviously.”

Graham is sitting on the front steps when they walk up, a small envelope in his hand as he stares down at his phone, and Ruby whistles, making him actually jump from his seat.

“What the hell?” he grumbles, clutching his hand and the envelope over his heart. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“It depends. Am I the beneficiary of your life insurance plan?”

“Oh my God,” Emma chuckles, shaking her head from side to side as she adjusts the box underneath her arm. “You two are disturbed.”

“Only my girlfriend is.” He stands from the steps and moves closer to quickly press his lips against Ruby’s. “You two ready to go inside?”

“Were you too scared to go inside without us, babe?”

“If I’m honest, yes. I’m not entirely sure what kind of party awaits us.”

“You and me both.”

Emma steps up the stairs and opens the door, knowing that it’s unlocked and that she can just let herself in. She immediately hears the sound of people talking, most noticeably Leo in his high-pitched voice, but everything looks as normal as it always does. The living room is still neatly arranged, a mixture of white and gray furniture, most of it antique, all scattered throughout. The dining room has place settings arranged, but no one sitting there, so she walks to the back of the home where the kitchen is to find everyone all standing around the island eating off of the veggie place that’s set out.

Huh. So maybe David turning forty means that everything is low-key. That’s a refreshing change of pace.

“Emma,” Leo screeches when he sees her, hopping down from the countertop and running toward her, pushing her back with the force of his hug.

“Hey, kid,” she laughs as she moves David’s present so that she can hug Leo back. He’s getting so big, is nearly as tall as she is now, and he’s only ten. She can’t imagine what he’s going to be like when he gets older. She doesn’t really want to. She’s that aunt who gushes about remembering the day that her nephew was born and grossing him out by talking about it. “Why are you letting all of these people eat my food?”

“Because you don’t like vegetables.”

“I definitely do.”

“You never eat collards, and I always have to.”

“Well, that’s because I don’t like collards.”

Leo scrunches up his nose, his face twisted in disgust like he’s eating those collards, before he grabs her hand and starts trying to tug her back to the entryway. “Come on, Emma, I want to show you my new Captain America shield.”

“I’ve got to go say hi to your parents, but why don’t you go get it and bring it down to show me?”

“Okay.”

He nods his head and then runs upstairs, his footsteps loud, and she turns back toward the kitchen to start talking to people who most likely don’t have Captain America shields in their bedroom. Well, they could. He’s kind of a big deal.

America’s ass and all that.

David is swiping a carrot through a bit of dip, and she takes the opportunity to put her present on the table before wrapping her arms around David’s stomach. He’s so incredibly warm, as always, and she appreciates the solid nature of him as his hand comes up to cup the back of her head, his lips pressing into her hairline.

“Happy birthday, old man.”

“Excuse me. I am in the prime of my life.”

She rolls her eyes, unable to help herself before pulling back and patting his chest. “Sure, if you think so.”

“I do. I’m glad you made it today.”

“And miss your birthday so that I have to hear it every day at work? Never.”

“That wouldn’t happen.”

“It would,” Ruby adds in. “It would be one of those things that you’d bring up every opportunity you get. You’d feed it into her earpiece while she was on air so that she’d do that thing with her nose where it scrunches up all weird to make her look like a mouse.”

“I do not do that.”

“You do, sweetie,” Mary Margaret adds in, opening up the refrigerator and grabbing a bowl of what Emma sincerely hopes is Mary Margaret’s pasta salad. “It’s so, but it does make you look like a mouse. Or like you smelled something bad.”

“Well, I am next to a bunch of sweaty men. I could smell something bad.”

“True.”

“And Ruby, you can’t say anything. You talk in my earpiece all of the time.”

“That’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to talk about assess in pinstripes.”

“Eh,” she protests, clicking her tongue and tilting her head to the side. “I think it might be.”

“I’m sorry,” a woman Emma doesn’t know says, breaking Emma out of their little bubble to remember that there are other people in this house. “What is it that you do?”

“Oh,” she sighs, her mouth suddenly dry. She’s not conceited, she doesn’t think, but it’s been awhile since she met someone who wasn’t in her circle and didn’t know about her job. “I’m a reporter for the Yankees. Emma Swan. It’s nice to meet you – ”

“Jasmine Anwar. I teach with Mary Margaret.”

“She’s my teacher,” Leo adds in, running back in the room with a shield that’s nearly bigger than his body. “But I get to call her Miss Jasmine when she’s here, which is super cool because my friends don’t get to do that.”

“That’s our secret, though, Leo.”

“I know, I know. Emma, look at my shield.”

“Leo, it’s time to eat,” Mary Margaret says. “You can show off your shield afterwards, okay?”

“I thought we were eating cake afterwards.”

“We are.”

“So, when can I show off my shield?”

“After the cake, Leo,” David sighs before clapping his hands together. “Let’s eat.”

Inside the bowl was, indeed, Mary Margaret’s pasta salad, and in the oven was a tray of baked chicken, rolls, and macaroni and cheese. It’s the kind of meal that Ruth would make on the weekend or whenever David came home for a holiday, and for someone who eats cereal and Chinese takeout when Graham doesn’t feel like cooking, this is absolutely the best case scenario for her.

Thank goodness for David turning forty and Mary Margaret deciding to keep it low key with just a few friends instead of everyone from both of their offices.

(His thirtieth birthday was insane, especially when she thinks about the fact that Mary Margaret planned it while seven months pregnant.)

Most of the conversation halts with everyone eating, just a few murmurs here and there, but then Ruby gets a glass of wine in here – possibly two – and while Ruby can deal with liquor no problem, red wine gets to her. It’s the strangest thing, but Ruby’s already loose filter becomes, well, looser.

“No, do you guys remember the time,” Ruby hiccups, sipping on her drink while Emma very gracefully shovels more macaroni and cheese into her mouth, “that we were out in LA for work, and David nearly got arrested for walking out of a Walmart with a boxed fan because he threw away the receipt at self-checkout and they checked him at the door?”

“This is not that great of a story, Ruby,” David huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and tipping his beer bottle up to his lips.

“But it is,” Graham protests. “It was a twenty-dollar fan, man. All you had to do was pay for it again, but instead you were one more protest away from getting taken off to jail.”

“I paid for the damn fan. It was on the security video.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs as she slides her plate onto the coffee table, “but we only know that because you literally demanded to speak to the manager, had to sweet talk your way into the security office, and we spent three hours inside that building all because you can’t sleep without a fan in the room.”

“To be fair, you and I did have a great time while we were waiting. We bought that purple hair dye and streaked your hair.”

“Which was really dumb because I had to be on camera the next day.”

“It washed out.”

“Really? Because I swear I still have purple in my hair if it’s in the right light.”

She tugs at strands of her hair to prove a point while laughter bubbles in her stomach. God, she loves her friends. They’re the actual best. She doesn’t know how she got lucky enough to have them in her life.

“Your purple streaks are probably what made Jones ask you out. He saw that you had a wild side and couldn’t pass that opportunity up.”

She takes that thing about loving her friends back.

She groans, sinking down further into the couch and wishing that she had Leo’s Captain America shield to hide her face so that no one can see the blush that’s rising from her cheeks. Today is apparently a day to bring this up once every hour. It might as well go on her grave stone at this point.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic.

It can at least go in her obituary.

That doesn’t make it any better.

“Emma, can you get me Killian Jones’s autograph?” Leo questions, looking up at her from where he’s very enthusiastically scarfing down another plate of macaroni. He’s not going to have any room for cake at this rate.

“I’m not sure if I can, kid.”

“But you know him! He asked you on a date!”

She’s going to dye all of her hair purple, change her name, and move countries. That’s even more dramatic, but she seems to be on a role with being dramatic tonight.

Italy would be nice. There’s lots of pasta there.

“I’ll ask, kid.”

“I want it on a hat.”

“Leo,” Mary Margaret scolds, “use your manners.”

“I want it on a hat please,” he corrects before shoveling more food in his mouth. “Can we have cake now?”

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

76 notes · View notes

btsfiles · 5 years

Text

Whipped

Summary: Kim family AU – Namjoon is a divorced, single father to Taehyung. Namjoon attends parent-teacher conference, and he soon realizes why his son is so whipped for his teacher in the first place. Genre: Fluff Words: 3351 A/N: Another story that was written back in 2016, and revamped to the knowledge I’ve gained two years later 😅

Namjoon thought nothing of it the first time.

Watching Taehyung draw on a blank, white piece of paper with his favorite pencil crayons for his kindergarten teacher one evening was completely normal, and most definitely, tooth-achingly sweet. Surely, even though it was a drawing of his Mother (an ex-wife who shared joint custody) standing with his teacher at school, both smiling and waving hand-in-hand while Namjoon, himself, is sad, miserable and lonely inside the tall building of his work and away from his family, he still thought it was cute to offer an insight of their personal lives to his teacher. Sure, make Namjoon look like the bad guy.

The second time piqued his curiosity.

Rewind to a month ago when several failed attempts to take money from the family piggy bank in Namjoon’s bedroom – following a typical five-year old’s excuse of using it to buy a present for ‘someone special’ – was established with a trip to the dollar store. A trip where Namjoon spent exactly one dollar on a birthday card that read: ‘Happy Birthday Teacher,’ and another eleven on a pink vase containing a bouquet of fresh, white daises at a flower shop down the strip. The only explanation Namjoon got was ‘it’s her favorite color,’ and ‘she said daisies are pretty.’

It was the third time Namjoon started putting the pieces together.

Last week when his ex-wife dropped off Taehyung to his house for the weekend, he was all smiles and giggles after his final Friday class for the week, his mouth running nonstop about his teacher for hours on end and into the whole entirety of the weekend because apparently ‘she said I’m her favorite student!’

It took Namjoon a month and a half to realize his son was crushing on his very own kindergarten teacher this whole time, and he was apparently too naïve to notice.

“Just go to the damn conference,” the familiar nagging voice of his ex-wife pierces through his ear drums, nothing but an irritated buzz as she follows him around the house as he gets ready for work – it’s the same voice that made him realize why their marriage failed in the first place. “I went last time, so I think it’s only fair that you go.”

An irritated sigh escapes Namjoon’s lips, and he swears his expression is a permanent scowl when he gets into yet another argument with his ex over something so irrational. If there was anything he hated more than arguing, it was arguing in his own house with Taehyung present to hear, and apparently she was asking for it when she decided to show up at his door five before nine on a Friday – thirty minutes before an important job meeting – forcing him to take their child for an extra week because she was unexpectedly going out of town for an unexplained reasoning.

Not only did her excuse make Namjoon’s teeth grit, but it sent his blood well past beyond its boiling point. Having to control himself, he lowers his voice to an angry sneer. “For Christ’s sake, I have a meeting. I told you this last week.”

Thoroughly ignoring the ignorant protests coming from his ex’s mouth, Namjoon continues to ogle himself in the mirror, fixing the tie around his neck comfortably and neatly setting it into place before flattening it out against his torso. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices her hands balled into fists with red cheeks that emphasized the angry tone laced in her voice. Times like now made him ever wonder how he survived dating her for two years, and marriage for three.

“The conference is at seven.”

“It’s not the conference I have a problem with,” Namjoon interjects, but he still refuses to raise his voice when Taehyung is just down the hall. “It’s you, dropping him off without warning because you can’t be a decent Mother for our son! Now I have to take him to work with me because your time management is complete shit.”

“I don’t have a choice–“

Namjoon interrupts her by storming out of his bedroom and into the kitchen where his business belongings lay. Impatiently shrugging on his coat, buckling up his briefcase and grabbing his keys, he calls out for Taehyung – who immediately comes running from the living room, still dressed in his matching winter attire and his favorite Iron Man backpack hanging heavy on his back.

“Come on, little man,” Namjoon grins, trying his best to shade the anger in his voice, and he continues to lead him towards the back door towards the garage. He watches as the mini version of himself trots in his ski pants across the kitchen silently just as the cause of his anger lingers behind him, her own keys dangling in her hand that reminds Namjoon of her presence. “Go say goodbye to your Mom, and then we get to go to work.”

“But are we going to see Miss L/N later?”

“Of course we will.”

It was safe to say that: A) that was enough to cheer him up after hearing his parents arguing in the other room, and B) Namjoon wouldn’t be hearing from his ex any time soon.

Taehyung is an excited mess in the backseat throughout the whole car ride – seat kicking, car shaking excitement – on the way to school in the middle of the evening after spending nearly nine hours at the workplace of his father where he was forced to sit in his office with coloring books all day, rambling in a jumble over how happy he is to see his teacher at night because he’s never seen her after hours outside of class.

He even dared to claim it as a date where Namjoon was only there to ‘supervise,’ and the latter had to second-guess if he had heard him correctly the first time because what five-year-old could possibly be talking about dates, let alone with his kindergarten teacher?

“Don’t be silly,” Namjoon tells him just as he pulls into the parking lot of the elementary school, and he spends a good amount of time circling the lot for a vacant stall. Apparently, tonight was much busier than he expected. “You’re too young for any dates, okay?”

“But Dad,” Taehyung whines, and Namjoon gasps in surprise when he sees someone beginning to pull out of their parked spot near the building’s entrance – perfect timing for a perfect spot – and he nearly zooms towards it, turning on his blinker to signal that it was his territory now. “She’s my favorite teacher in the whole wide world!”

“I know that,” he acknowledges his words, but merely pays any attention when he’s busy pulling into the spot and aligning his car perfectly in between two others. “When you’re my age, I’ll let you go on a date with her.”

“But you’re old!”

Namjoon ignores the last comment (rather, insult) to look at the clock one last time – 6:56 P.M – and he turns off the car in an instant, unbuckling his seat-belt and exiting the vehicle. He retrieves Taehyung from the backseat and sets the car alarm in place before walking hand-in-hand towards the building in a rush, definitely not wanting to be late for the sake of his son.

The atmosphere is peaceful, and Namjoon can only look around the hall curiously while the door to the classroom is still visibly closed – most likely occupied. He’s ashamed that he’s never seen his own child’s school before, and even a bit embarrassed to be showing his face to his teacher for the very first time. When he’s juggling the lifestyle of working a full time job during the day, and making sure his ex-wife isn’t screwing up her own life at night, there’s simply no way for him to stop by his school.

A collection of hand-made artwork is displayed on the walls, right above the children’s coat rack that are assigned to each designated student’s name, and silently, Namjoon looks for the name ‘Taehyung.’ A small grin appears on his face when he finally does, mentally proud that his son was enrolled in one of the most favored schools in town.

“Look, Dad, my drawing!”

Namjoon looks up to where Taehyung’s finger is pointing, and his smile only grows wider when he sees a messy drawing of flowers in a field, colored in scribbled pencil crayon, and ‘TaeHyUNg’ signed at the bottom. “Are you sure that’s yours?”

“Yes!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping up and down to emphasize his answer, and Namjoon is chuckling at him. “I did that!”

The excitement comes to a halt, however, when the door of the classroom is being opened with a loud click. The two boys fall quiet, shy at the sudden interference, and look over. Namjoon is surprised to see you – you must be a teacher’s assistant because there’s no way… – standing at the doorway with the sweetest smile he’s seen in a while. Considering parent-teacher conference was a formality in the teachers’ world, you’re dressed in a sheer, button-up, white blouse with the sleeves down to your wrists; considering the weather, the blue jeans and knee-high boots spoke for themselves. If Namjoon knew anything about hair and makeup, he would’ve realized the curls and natural look were intentional for tonight.

Suddenly, you speak up, “welcome!”

“Miss L/N!” Taehyung shouts, and he’s already sprinting towards you before Namjoon can stop him with a failed lunge to grab his arm. He understands he’s excited, but taking off like that still makes Namjoon’s stomach drop to this day – we don’t talk about that day at the supermarket. Taehyung is all sunshine and rainbows as you lower yourself to his height, hugging him tightly. “Miss L/N, Miss L/N!”

Namjoon is shocked that you were, in fact, Taehyung’s kindergarten teacher. You must’ve just gotten out of college judging by the youthful glow you beamed, but then again, what was he expecting? His own five-year-old son had developed a crush on you, so you couldn’t have been under thirty.

Whether it was from the cold air outside or simply feeling like an idiot – he isn’t sure – Namjoon walks towards you with rosy cheeks, and you stand up from his son. He holds out a meek hand for you to shake, finally introducing himself for the first time. “Good evening,” he says. “I’m Taehyung’s father, Kim Namjoon. It’s nice to meet you.”

You take a firm grip of his hand before giving a solid, but mutual, shake. “Hi, Namjoon. I’m Y/N, Taehyung’s teacher. It’s nice to finally put a face to all those drawings he’s been making.”

Namjoon laughs timidly. How could he possibly forget? “I remember he drew a family portrait to give to you. I mean–kind of. I was at work in that one, right?”

“That’s the one.” Your voice falters once you notice the corners of Namjoon’s lips lower into a frown. The drawing Taehyung gave you a couple months back was the sad reality of Namjoon. “Please, come inside, so we can talk more of Taehyung!”

“Of course.”

The two boys follow you inside, and the classroom is just as inviting as you. It looks like your typical kindergarten class: toys perfectly organized in one corner, bookshelves along the back filled with nursery rhymes, letters, numbers, and calendars all along the walls for practice; it was all so cute, just the way you liked it.

“Taehyung, do you want to build me your favorite Lego statue?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen and soon looks giddy. He gets his dad to help him with his coat and ski-pants before he’s running to the corner with all the toys, boxes neatly stacked on top of the other. “I’ll build for you and dad!”

“We would love that!”

Namjoon holds onto his sons’ stuff silently, and joins you at a round-table near the class white-board as you motion for him to take the vacant seat next to you. Not too far and not too close, he carefully eyes the manila folder that’s placed on the surface. It’s filled with Taehyung’s teacher evaluations, drawings, and more.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” your voice breaks Namjoon’s thoughts as his gaze goes from the folder to you. “You must have gone out of your way to come here, I know you’re very busy.”

“It’s really not a problem. My wife–erm, ex-wife had something come up, so I had to step in.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were divorced.”

“No need to apologize. Taehyung wouldn’t understand the concept.”

You nod in agreement. “That is true. Speaking of… Taehyung is really a bright boy,” you continue. “He’s definitely in my top three for fastest learners.”

Namjoon’s ears perk up, and is suddenly curious. “Really?”

“Absolutely! He’s a wonderful speller and understands basic math. He’s progressing a lot more than the other students.” You explain, sliding the folder over to Namjoon with well-manicured fingers. “Here, take a look at his work.”

Namjoon takes it willingly, and opens it to reveal a small stack of kindergarten-level worksheets of the alphabet, and math equations. To his surprise, Taehyung is doing much better than he thought. He chuckles faintly, and the guilt in his stomach begins to stir. He looks over to his son, who’s putting large Lego’s together to build an inanimate object. He’s never really seen him in his element like this. “Damn, if only I knew.”

You stare at him sympathetically – as much as you wanted to, there was no way for you to understand Taehyung’s personal life. “I understand life can be hectic,” you tread with careful words. “But, Taehyung speaks very highly of you.”

Namjoon studies you for a bit, and the sincerity in your voice is warm. He pinpoints there’s no ring on your finger, and also recalls Taehyung addressing you with the ‘Miss’ prefix. His gut is telling him you have a significant other, but sometimes Namjoon doesn’t like to listen. His heart does a soft flutter when his eyes travel back to yours, and you stare back with the smallest grin. He has to clear his throat before commenting. “Thank you, Miss L/N–“

“Please! Call me Y/N,” you quickly interject. You always found it awkward for parents to call you by your last name. “I’d prefer it if you did.”

Namjoon bites the bottom of his lip to suppress the smile that was beginning to creep, and his cheeks redden. Why was he suddenly becoming so shy? He can’t help but chuckle at himself. “Ah–Sorry.”

“I bet Taehyung talks nonstop about me.” You look over to the boy who’s nearly finished his craft, and chortle when he pauses to wave at you. You wave back. “I’m sure you’re used to it.”

“I am.” Namjoon surveys the scene in front of him. You seem to make Taehyung happy, and it was mind-blowing because you only see him four hours a day, and teach him how to spell. “Actually, I’m convinced he has a crush on you.”

A sigh escapes your lips, and you turn back to Namjoon. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I know.”

“Those flowers…” Namjoon mutters, and he takes a deep breath as your face lights up at the topic.

“You bought those?” You ask, and Namjoon nods for you to continue. “They were beautiful. I loved them, same with the card. Thank you.”

Technically, they were from Namjoon – he bought the items for Taehyung – not that he was trying to prove a point, but still. He can still take credit for the action. Especially when you’re more attractive than he thought – Hell, if he knew you were so cute in the first place, he would’ve bought you more flowers on more occasions.

He clasps his hands together in his lap, and smiles. He continuously needs to remind himself that he’s the man in the room, and needs to toughen up. “You’re very welcome. I hope a boyfriend – or husband – wasn’t concerned that you brought them home.”

You’re shocked at his comment. “Oh, no! I have no one else in the picture,” you explain, and now it’s you with the pink ears. You try to play it off with a forced laugh. “I’m flattered you think I have someone waiting for me at home, but it’s just myself.”

Namjoon smiles a toothy grin – he’s in. Smoothly, he inches his chair closer to yours so the toe of his leather, designer shoe barely touches yours. “You’re lying,’ Namjoon claims, and you shyly shake your head in disapproval. “I don’t believe you. You’re too pretty to be–“

“Dad, are we leaving soon?” Taehyung’s childish voice interrupts Namjoon suddenly, and both he and you can only look at him in surprise. It’s almost as if the two of you had forgotten he was in the room with you, much to your dismay “I’m tired now.”

Suddenly, there’s a tension in the air as Taehyung darts his eyes from Namjoon to you, growing suspicious.

“Um–“ Namjoon is about to get out of his chair.

“Taehyung, honey,” you stop Namjoon in his tracks, making it clear that you and him aren’t done. “If you give me and your dad five more minutes, I promise to make it up to you on Monday.”

You’re holding up your palm, all five fingers in the air to emphasize the time you and Namjoon needed to finish up.

The little boy sighs, a mopey look on his face. He’s getting tired, and you couldn’t blame him. He begins to walk back to his Lego statue with an obvious sulk. “Okay…”

“I don’t want to keep you any longer.” You tell Namjoon. “I’ll have to go over my evaluation of Taehyung with you another time, if your schedule allows it.”

Namjoon ponders about his future schedule for a moment. His next day off wouldn’t be until Sunday, and he’s already promised to take Taehyung out sledding that day… He’s unsure about anything else after that, so he sighs. “I don’t have a definitive date…”

Reaching for the pen that’s rolled off near the edge of the table, you obtain the folder back from Namjoon. “If I write down my phone number, will you promise not to give it to Taehyung?”

Namjoon beams. “I promise not to share it with anyone.”

You write your number on one of Taehyung’s completed worksheets and pass it back to Namjoon, who busies himself by staring at the digits. “I hope we can figure out a date.”

A date.

Namjoon is delighted as the two of you stand up at the same time. He fetches Taehyung, and begins to dress him in his winter wear. It’s only a couple minutes later the two boys are walking towards the door, concluding the conference – kind of – that was scheduled for the night. The young boy is swaying in his spot, tired and entirely ready for bed.

“It was so nice meeting you tonight, Namjoon.”

“Likewise.” He smiles sheepishly. “Sorry we couldn’t stay longer, it’s just… Taehyung… He’s had a long day.”

“I completely understand.”

“So I’ll text you,” Namjoon mutters. He doesn’t want Taehyung to hear because if he finds out you gave him your phone number and plans on texting you, Namjoon wouldn’t hear the end of it. “Or call.”

“Or both,” you tease with a wink. “I look forward to whichever you decide to do first.”

It isn’t soon before long you’re waving farewell to Taehyung, excitedly telling him that you’ll see him on Monday. Somehow, he finds the strength to hug you before they’re taking off. You then saunter back into your classroom, patiently waiting for your next scheduled parent to arrive. Namjoon, on the other hand, can’t contain his smile when he opens the folder to look at your phone number again. It’s only now does he realize there’s something else written under it, but in smaller cursive.

I don’t normally give my number to parents, but you are so sweet + a wonderful father to taehyung

text me soon so you can teach me a thing or two xo

☺

#namjoon #dad!namjoon #fluff #au #scenario

226 notes · View notes