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thiswasneverthat · 2 years

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Drunken Mistake

A sequel to Favorite Crime

Pairing: Hyunjin x Female Reader

Word count: 2.5K

Genre: Romance, smut

Warning: Unprotected sex, creampie, blowjob

✩ Masterlist

Time flew by exceptionally fast when you were happy, that was what they said. Wasn’t it? Or was it just you? Either way, you totally agree with the statement. It has been five months since the guy you loved the most got married to another girl. And it has also been five months since you became his paramour.

Nothing seemed to change much for the past few months because he still spent five out of seven nights a week with you. Watching movies, cuddling and even making love to you. His wife was left alone at their shared apartment. He didn’t care, neither did you.

His wife be damned, you used to say.

However, you could say that to yourself now. You’d be damned.

The two of you were so blissfully in love, all you could see was him. You failed to see the thunderstorm coming your way. So silly of you, you didn't even think a thunderstorm could defile your sunny days.

And when it blasted right over your head, you were utterly struck. Your heart was shattered into million pieces, a gazillion even.

“She is pregnant. She is carrying my child.”

What was all of this? Karma? Fate? You had no idea. You felt numb, your head was spinning.

You didn't bother to ask him why. You didn't say anything at all. You just cried while he held you in his arms. You were a sobbing mess. He kept an enormous secret from you. You never once thought he could do that. You trusted him. He was fucking another girl, and it hurt you more than you'd like to admit.

You wanted to punch the shit out of him, yet she was his wife. It was bound to happen sooner or later, right? That being said, you knew the things between you and him had to end.

"I was so drunk after my friend’s birthday party. And when I came home, I just thought it was you."

So, he was drunk. You scoffed at his reasoning. Didn't they say that you became the honest version of yourself when you were drunk? Didn't they say that alcohol can give you the courage to do or say things you ordinarily wouldn't entertain?

In his case, perhaps, it was the sense of sudden liberation that pushed him to do something crazy, flooding of goodwill through the veins that made him want to fuck a girl he claimed he hated. That was just amusing, wasn't it?

Right at that moment, despite the mortifying pain, you decided that you both needed to stop seeing each other. The plan you both made to spend Christmas together has been thrown out of the window. He would be a father, and it was just the right thing to do to spend Christmas with his family.

With all your might, you tried anything that could help you forget him. You went clubbing for three nights in a row. Every single night, you came home feeling the warmth slithered throughout your whole body, even when it was snowing outside. On the third night — it was Christmas eve, you came home with a companion.

He was a friend. A mutual friend of you and Chan. You met him at the nightclub, and he offered to buy you a drink. Needless to say, things just went from there.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

That unexpected question startled you, and you blinked a few times. You then let out a content hum when you felt a pair of strong arms drawing you close. You truly appreciated the sense of warmth radiating from his body. It was just perfect for the frosty Christmas morning when the two of you were hiding from the world, stark naked under the cover.

"I tried not to, you know." You replied honestly as you tilted your head to the side, a smile crept up to your face as your eyes met with his.

He returned the smile before nuzzling the bridge of his nose against the crook of your neck. "Every problem has a solution, you know."

Knowing him for nearly three years, you were amazed at how he always had a positive approach about this and that. "And what exactly is my solution?"

"For now, I was thinking this might be an infallible solution." He emphasised 'this' as his big hand found a way to squeeze your breast under the cover.

You let out a strangled groan at his stealthy move and instantly earned a chuckle out of him. You mentally cursed yourself, it was unsettling how instinctive your body reacted to his touch.

"That's the best solution you could think of, Hwang Hyunjin?" You breathed out, your tone was laced with mischief, almost like you were confronting him.

"That depends," Hyunjin whispered, you could feel his smirk against the soft flesh of your neck.

“Depends on what?”

He hummed in response as his hand ventured from your breasts down to your stomach and halted just above your itching core. “Depends on what will I get in return.”

“What do you want?” You demanded, almost impatiently, as your teeth dug into your lower lip in an attempt to hold yourself from making unnecessary noises.

And with Hyunjin, you really didn’t need to repeat yourself, for he was pretty straightforward with his advances. He knew what he wanted.

“If only it’s not too much to ask.” Hyunjin muttered he reached for your hand and led it down to his erection. He was already hard as rock.

You let out an exaggerated gasp as you stared at him with a raised brow, you held his shaft in your palm and rubbed the tip with the pad of your thumb. “Morning wood? Cause I barely do anything, not yet.”

He groaned softly under your touch as he bore his gaze through you, his hand found its way up, kneading your breasts while occasionally twisting your nipple with his fingers. “Yeah, probably morning wood.”

Having his hand stimulating your breasts, you couldn't help but whimper softly before you grabbed hold of his wrist to stop him from continuing what he was doing. "Hyunjin, wait."

“What is it?”

“Let me.” You said with a grin as you got up and pulled the cover that was shielding his naked body from your sight before settling yourself between his legs. Your movement slightly caught him off guard, and you used it to your advantage by leaning down to take the tip of his cock into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck.” Hyunjin hissed through his gritted teeth as he propped his weight on both of his forearms only to have a better look at you sucking his cock. His legs weakly spread wide, caving into the pleasure that your warm mouth provided. One of his hands reached out to entangle his slender fingers in your hair to hold you in place.

You moaned lewdly so close his length, and the effect was immediate. His cock twitched, the veins were visible for your eyes. You gulped at the sight as if it was your first time to see his cock. The previous night when you rode him on the couch, you had your fun jerking him off in your hands. And seemed like you haven’t had enough.

“Keep going, please.”

You didn’t need to be told twice because you were more than willing to satisfy his need. You eagerly took him to the base of his throbbing cock, and you gagged at the moment the tip of his cock poked your throat, making him groan and moan your name.

Strangely enough, the lewd sound that rolled out of his lips sent a vibration throughout your whole body, specifically on your core. By now, your pussy was dripping wet and longing to be filled with his cock. And with the need threatening to control your entire being, you doubled your effort of sucking his cock. You could feel his length pulsating in between your mouth, and it made your heart swells.

“Oh, that mouth of yours, princess.” Hyunjin choked out as he threw his head back. His mouth wide opened as he rocked his hips against your mouth impatiently. Chasing over his high. It was truly a beautiful sight.

“Mm.” You hummed in delight as you stuck your tongue out before you kitten-lick his length. You swirled your tongue on the tip of his cock as you tasted his leaking juices, causing him to squirm slightly.

As you continued to bring him pleasure, you took him inside your mouth again, pumping your head up and down his shaft at a rapid pace. Your palms rested on both of his thighs and your ample breasts bounced following your rhythm. Only when you felt he was close to his high, you abruptly pulled his cock out of your mouth.

“Shit, wh-” He instantly groaned at the loss of touch but then got cut off when you shifted to straddle him and aim his throbbing cock to your entrance. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Ah,” You whimpered in pleasure as you deliberately rubbed the tip of his cock against your glistening folds before slowly sliding his cock inside.

“So.. Fuck- fucking close.” Hyunjin stammered as his hips jerked a little. His eyes was squinting at you, a slight frown appeared on his forehead. “Do you want me to cum in..”

“Yes, please. Give it all to me.” You said in between heavy breaths as you sank down to him, taking his cock from the tip all the way down to the base.

And after a few harsh thrust, you felt he exploded inside of you, his hot loads overflowing, filling you up. You mewled softly at the sensation as your walls tightening around his cock.

"Come here, you," Hyunjin said after coming down from his high. His hand reached out for you before he pulled you to lay down flat above him. You then whined softly when your hardened nipples accidentally brushed over his. He chuckled as he noticed your reaction. "Where were we? The solution to your love life problem?"

"Mhm, pretty much." You mumbled against his chest.

"I am here to help, doll." He whispered teasingly to your ear as he squeezed your ass in his hands.

On that Christmas morning, Hyunjin gave you two mind-blowing orgasms that he claimed as Christmas gift. The way his skilful tongue spoiled your pussy made you see stars. And also, his cock filled you up just right to your sweet spot, driving you crazy with every thrust.

It was just insane how Hyunjin made you forget about Chan — even only for a brief moment, with his tongue and cock.

With his arms securely wrapped around your middle and legs tangled together, you snuggled close to Hyunjin, burying your face on his chest. You were thoroughly wrecked, to be honest. Your pussy was sore from the stimulation and the climaxes.

“Are you going to stay the entire day?” You asked as you glanced up to look at him.

“Why? Are you shooing me away?” He joked and slightly pursed his lips.

You snorted at his answer before you poked a finger to his chest. “Don’t you have a family to go back to?”

"Don't worry, I don't have a wife who is waiting for me at home," Hyunjin replied with a sly grin, clearly having fun taunting you.

At his scathing remark, you playfully punched his chest with your fist and rolled your eyes. He only laughed at that.

"My parents won't be needing me until dinner. So, you still have plenty of time to relish my presence." He added with a wink.

"You're an ass, you know that?"

"So lovely of you calling me names when I made you cum twice this morning." Hyunjin teased as he leaned in and captured your lips in between his.

As if it was automatic, you sighed in bliss against his plump lips. When the kiss was about to take a passionate turn once you parted your lips to invite his tongue in, you heard a knock on your front door.

You both sighed in annoyance at the unwelcome disruption.

"Are you expecting a guest?" Hyunjin asked as you pulled away from the kiss.

"No, I don't think so."

"Fine then, I'll get the door and slap some sense to the unwelcomed guest." He stated jokingly as he lazily got up from the bed and seized his ripped jeans from the floor. After putting his jeans on, he walked outside the bedroom to the front door.

Just when you were about to pull the cover over your chest, your stomach growled. You grunted under your breath as you recalled that you skipped dinner the previous night.

Half-heartedly, you jumped out of bed to grab an oversized shirt from your wardrobe and put it on. As you stepped out of the bedroom, you saw Hyunjin standing motionless in front of your apartment door. You tried to take a glimpse of the guest, but Hyunjin's tall figure covered the guest from your sight.

"Hey, who is it?" You questioned as you slowly approached him.

Only when you were so close behind Hyunjin, your eyes immediately widen when the guest came to view. Your mouth was slightly agape as your hand reached out to grab hold of Hyunjin's arm for support, dreading if your legs failed you.

At the time his gaze met with yours, you noticed there was despair in his brown eyes. His jaw clenched, and his hand clutched into a tight fist.

"What are you doing here?" You breathed out after you managed to compose yourself. And much to your dismay, your voice came out shaky as if you were just got caught cheating with your ex-boyfriend's friend.

Not to mention, also the current shape you both were in; Hyunjin was shirtless, and you only wore a thin shirt that barely covered your backside. It was so obvious, everyone could tell what you and Hyunjin were up to.

"Sorry," Chan said curtly as he darted his eyes somewhere, evidently avoiding more eye contact than necessary. "I better go."

And before you or Hyunjin could say anything more, Chan had turned his back on you and hastily strode away.

While still holding onto Hyunjin, you heaved a long sigh as you watched Chan slowly disappear from view. It might be the last time for you to see him. You quietly sniffled as you looked up, preventing the stream of tears that were threatening to roll down.

Even with Hyunjin's presence, you knew it was temporary. He could make you forget about Chan when the two of you were in bed, but that was it. You and Hyunjin would never be anything more than friends with benefits.

Meanwhile, Chan... He would always be the one you loved until God knows when.

#stray kids fanfiction #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz smut

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss Reviews: Pilot

Happy halloween all you happy people! My halloween reviews continue with a bit of a change of plans. Originally for halloween I was going to review EVERY episode of Helluva Boss so far. But you know what they say about plans.

To make a very long story your likely not intrested in short: I had enough slots to do two episodes at a time when I first PLANNED to do this, but eventually scaled back from doing 6 reviews a week, which was both stressing me out and making me fall further and further behind, to five and evetually 4, leaving me with not nearly enough space to do them unless I did them all in one big review. I decided the series was just TOO good to try and cram into one and it’d be more fun spreading it out.

The second was I put in a last minute goal in my failed pledge drive that allowed anyone who contributed to pick a goal for the drive depending on how much they spent. My longtime contributer WeirdKev27 was, not suprisingly the ONLY one to actually pitch in, so he picked Hazbin Hotel and This Duckburg Life, the latter comes out next month.

So I decided to simply double up, putting the pilot of Helluva with the PIlot of Hazbin and having a Vinziepop double feature. I REALLY enjoyed the Hazbin Hotel pilot, and Helluva Boss is easily one of my faviorite shows of the 2020′s so far. So it was no big ask to the do the former nor staple on the latter. So join me inside as I examine one demon’s quest to redeem other demons, and another demon’s quest to make a shitload of money by shooting people in the face. It’s a helluva time under the cut.

Hazbin Hotel:

I couldn’t find hardly any behind the scenes stuff for either. I know a BIT about why Helluva Boss was made i’ll get into later, but I have nothing on what the inspiration behind these series was, just that she’d already come up with this hell for a webcomic that’s now been scrubbed for the internet, and it eventually evolved into this show, which later lead to Helluva Boss. The reason this show is only at pilot is because it got picked up by A24, and so far we haven’t heard anything since because animation is all secretive and shit. But needless to say we’ll probably hear about it eventually so for now let’s enjoy what we got.

So our pilot begins with an utterly gorgeous rendition of “I”m Always Chasing Rainbows” an old vaudville song, backed by some cool shadow art. I do love me some shadow puppet art. We then cut to Hell which has been horribly ravaged, looking even worse than normal, after the extermination. To save time the extermination is an annual culling of hell where a bunch of tv headed robot angels come down and kill as many people as possible to keep the population down. Needless to say Hell’s Princess and Lucifer, king of hell’s heir aparent, Charlie is horrified by this... and has a plan to fix it.

Meanwhile we meet Angel Dust, a smart mouthed spider-like prostitute who just got done fucking a client and gets some drugs out of a vending machine because it’s hell, and ends up smack dab in the middle of an attack by Ser Pentous, a snake themed villian whose essentially what would happen if Doctor Robotnik went to hell and became a snake, complete with egg themed minons, one of which wishes his boss would shoot him. Eh we all have our own things. Mine is keith david riding a centaur. To each their own little egg, to each their own.

Pentious is a lord of hell, something only explained from context here and was fleshed out more in what word of god I have heard, i.e. how hell’s heiarchy works. The Overlords are the lowest of the highest, essentially hell’s crime bosses. While there ARE higher authorities, the Goetia’s, the other owl beasts, the seven deadly sins who run the rings and Lucifer himself, they geniulley don’t give a shit what goes on unless it effects them directly. This is hell after all, it’s not a huge shock that only ONE of their highest class, Charlie, actually cares if people live or die. So the streets of hell are fair game for whoever wants to carve up territory and since the extermination cleared out some overlords, ther’es now a bunch of free territory to fight over.

His opponent, despite not having an air ship or fried chicken fetuses though easily bests him with a simple bomb and enters, introducing us to Cherry Bomb

I got that GIF SPECIFICALLY for this very moment... it was worth it. She’s also just a fun character, not taking any shit and easily besting a guy with far more resources with simple skill and explosives. I mean even without those bombshell looks, pun VERY intended she’d be a winner.

We’ll get back to why she’s important later, as we cut to the local news with Katie Killjoy, a demonic version of your standard fox news anchor and Tom Trench, a perverted guy in a Gas Mask who gets a coffee vasectomy for perving on cherry. Good. A lady that fine you gotta romance. Maybe take her out for an evening at the theater and then some light car bombing. Think it out tom.

The reason we’re at the studio as we meet two of our other leads, Charlie, the princess of hell we saw breifly earlier who we now meet in full and Vaggie, her supportive latinx girlfriend with the unfortunate name. Charlie has finally got a spot on said news, and is going to pitch her big bold idea... and has to be talked down from using a musical number. Charlie is essentially what happens when you set a disney princess movie in hell and that concept alone could drive a series, but Vivianne smartly made her a layered character: She’s optimstic, naive and as we’ll see in a second fairly judgey... but she also is doing this big swing of a project because she dosen’t want to see hundreds die again and again for the rest of her days if she can help it and geninely believes in people. Vaggie serves as a good counterpoint to that, being cynical and more reaslitic, if still willing to help and still fully beliving in her girl.

One final note before we move on: one of the few proudction things I DO know is that the two were originally just best friends.. but the people workign on the pilot started shipping them, Vivianne caught on, realized it made sense, and the two became a couple. It’ snot overwhelmingly blatant, but enough hints were thrown in despite few script changes to make it obvious enough and the fact their relationship is low key is in itself a valid and noble form or reputation.

ONe of those hints is Katie, who refuses to shake Charlie’s hand despite Charlie being you know, princess of hell... and Charlie pointing out this kind of thing is why she’s in hell. Katie further talks down to her, and Lucifer would smite her for his insolence but he has better things to do.

So Charlie has her interview where she gives her big idea: She wants to save demons from the purge, help them become better and get into heaven, saving their soulds and leaving hell less crowded so hopefully the killings stop. Her method? A hotel where sinners will stay and try to reform. During said appeal she also runs into a rather... familiar face with an unfamiliar look

This is indeed Blitzo. Not only did Vivianne confirm this was his prototype deisgn, with his eyes, suit and horns all very diffrent, but she’d later give a canon explination as to WHY Blitzo looks nothing like himself, an instagram host passing it off as a halloweeen costume. Though really you could tell just by the way he had the balls to check out the head of hell itsef’s ass on live television. But again her dad’s kinda busy.

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So now would be a good time to bring up WHY Blitzo’s in the pilot for a diffrent show entirely. One could easily assume Viv simply really liked his design out of all those featured in the pilot. And suprisingly.. you’d be wrong. Like the main antagonists, Valentino, Vox and Velvet, his cameo here was to set him up for the series, with he and Moxxie already thought up. It also makes perfect sense when you think about it: Blitzo’s entire business model is actively going against Charlie’s goal by increasing hell’s population. It’s just with the main and recurring cast already full to burst and likely MORE characters only hinted at in the pilot or that we haven’t even heard a peep about to come, something had to give. But Blitzo clearly spoke to viv too much to just toss out, so we got one of the best shows in recent memory instead. Blizto woudln’t be the only one in the pilot either as while this cameo was likely less intentional we also see Loona briefly.

her design had some changes itself, but not nearly as much, leading me to belivie she HADN’T had the idea for the character.. but the animation for Loony was so slick and her befuddled reaction to charlie so entertaining, she found a place for her in Helluva Boss. And I for one thank her for it as i’m sure does most of the furry community. So this ended up being one of the best kinds of cut content: the kind that’s just recycled for something even better and gives u something to gnaw on while we wait for A24 to fucking tell us what the plan is already.

The Loona thing also brings me to another point: the deisgn work on this series is fucking amazing. It extends to helluva boss too: As word of god posts i’ve heard about have beared out, Viv put a LOT of thought into how hell works in this universe, as well as each species. But even with a general template every charcter in both shows feels unique. Family members may have some common traits, but each and every person FEELS like their own person from the smallest background character to our main cast, and while we see members of the same species like the imps or some hellhounds, even that’s full of contrast. Blitzo looks COMPLETELY diffrent from M and M, and both of them have notable differences despite looking far more similar. Every characters has subtle little touches to make them stand out and every single human, lost soul, hellspawn and what have you looks vibrant and unique. And about 80% of them look hot but it is hell, that’s kind of the standard. Few animated shows have this level of care, detail and creativity and it’s one of this universe’s most valuable features.

So back to the plot how do the demons take this idea?

Unsuprisingly no one’s intertested. So Charlie tries the ace up her sleeve: a disney style song! Inside Every Demon in a Rainbow is a throughly enjoyable number, with too many amazing sight gags to announce (my faviorites being her scrambling a demon whose a massive puzzle and her foaming at the mouth at meeting a rabid possum lady. ). It’s bouncy, fits her personality.. and shows off both the best of her, her determination to save people and genuine belief theirs good in everyone.. and the things holding her back from actually achieving that. Her naivite has already been on display, thinking the people of hell genuinely care about their own salvation or doing anything but living it up before permadeath hits them some day.

The bigger issue though is one that we first get to see in this song, an issue Vaggie shares with Charlie: Charlie and Vaggie.. are judgmental as all hell. I went to the lyrics, since the part where she insults everyone is fast as hell and I applaud Charlie’s VA Elsie Lovelock for making it seem effortless, to see just WHAT horrible things she calls everyone and how many. Over the course of just one song she calls her subjects and the people she GENUINELY WANTS TO HELP junkies, freaks, weirdos, creepers, fuck-ups, zeroes, cretins, sluts, loosers, sexual deviants, boozers, perscrption drug abusers, monsters, theives, crazies, cannibals, and crying babies. She also insults people for cartoon porn addictions, vegan ranting and psychic predictions.

Now it’s one thing to call people who REVEL in being terrible stuff like this or insult them. It’s another to call people who might GENINELY want to change and might WANT your help names, treat addictions like it’s the person’s own fault entirely instead of a crippling disease that isn’t easy to overcome just because a cheerful princess who, while clearly having some hardships given her cold relationship with her parents, still comes from a privileged and entitled background, and in general act like your better than them. And while she is probably better than MOST people in hell, it is hell after all, it dozen’t change the fact she’s painting EVERY sinner with the same brush. All crimes are equal , she can fix them the same way, your all terrible. This.. just isn’t true. To use examples from this very universe, Mrs. Mayberry went to hell because she murdered one person and tried to murder another. In charlie’s estemation, she deserves hell because she killed, simple as that. She got overly angry, killed someone and worse did it, accidently or not, in front of children. The problem is it’s not that black and white.. because nothing is. She clearly had undiagnosed anger issues she never properly dealt with, and still has to a degree in the afterlife. She also clearly loved those kids and died because the sheer weight of her actions got to her and she took her own life. Even her calling a hit with our beloved I.M.P. was understandable as the person who fucked her husband lived, got lauded as a hero, and turned out to be a cannibal. She’s not a great person, she clearly has stuff to atone for and underlying issues to adress. .but there is a person worth saving there, the kind Charlie can work with. In constrast you have guys like Lyle, who is an unrepenant asshole who frankly deserves hell. By painting them as the same, Charlie is missing that if she wants the hotel to work she has to stop seeing EVERYONE as just the worst scum of the earth, and start seeing them as people, figuring out who WANTS to get better, who wants to deep down but won’t admit it and who she genuinely can’t save. I do feel that’s 100% intentional though and a great conflict for the series to have: our heroine has good intetnions and compassion but needs to learn empathy and actual methods of reformation instaed of just assuming staying clean and not having sex will automatically make someone better.

And i’ts proven by the fact that we find out her only customer, her trial run is Angle Dust, whose there entirely for the free room.. and is currently helping his closest and as far as we know only friend Cherry with her turf war, leading to a succession of clever gags, with of course the “Harder Daddy” gag being the key. Angel is sure things are fine with Charlie’s whole thing... when in fact she’s picked a fight with Katie and despite not transforming is clearly doing just fine. Also tom’s on fire for some reason.

So after a big fakeout about seeing the big final pushes for both battles, we instead cut to the aftermath in the limo, as Vaggie is naturally pissed about this, and Angel instead takes this as an opportunity to piss her off repeatedly. It’s only when Charlie pipes in her gentle disapointment does Angel remotely seem to feel bad for humilating them like this. And it’s easy to see why: Charlie genuinely belivies in people, so even if Angel can’t admit he cares about her and values her as a friend, it’s easy to see why he does: She offered him a home, a safe refuge from his abuser, and a second chance out of the kindess of her heart. He still DOES Sex Work, but for his own enjoyment and profit instead of Valentino’s. She gave him the keys to be free from the hell he’s been trapped in.

Vaggie by contrast isn’t a bad person and unlike the rest of hell is at least TRYING to be better... but to Angel... she’s a hypocrite, insulated from the kind of hardships the rest of hell has to put up with by virtue of screwing the boss’; daughter.

Now granted he clearly pisses her off a bunch because i’ts fun, it’s who he is and one of the MANNNYYYY ways he gets off. But he’s not exactly wrong in it either as Vaggie takes an unearned high ground, going along with Charlie’s high standards and painting everyone with the same brush despite clearly having ended up here herself and being the poster child for “going to hell is way more complicated than Charlie seems to think for some people.”. And honestly character stuff like this.. is WHY this pilot’s so engaging. The characters all have layers and layers to peel apart once we finally get the series, reasons WHY they are this way we aren’t privy to yet.

So they head home, with Angel trying and failing to comfort Charlie. .before our heroes get a guest. Alistor, a dapper dressed smilling chap who earned the moniker the radio demon.. and scares the hell, pun intended, out of Charlie and Vaggie. It helps show off the guy’s scale instantly: Allistor, as we learn, is a dead soul, usually one of the lower rungs of hell’s hiearchy. Yet he scares one of hell’s own royals out of her mind.

Charlie ends up letting him in and we get a sense of the man, sadistic, kind of an asshole, but deeply charming. We also find out from Vaggie, as Angel much like the audeince has no idea why this, as he put sit “Strawberry pimp” is such a big deal, why he’s so terrifying: Allistor is one of the most infamous souls in hell, having come seemingly out of nowhere with power the likes of which few had seen. What’s worse.. he had no clear goal but his own amusment, destroying warlords who’d held their territory for centuries with ease and broadcasting his carnage for all to hear, hence the whole Radio Demon moniker. He’s powerful, cunning, deeply terrifying.. and naturally Angel offers to suck his dick, something that actually give sthe demon pause. As we later learned Allistor is asexual. I mean it’s only ONE beat he misses but given the guy dominates pretty much every conversatoin, it’s very noticable the one time he actually shuts up for a second and let’s his guard down.

As for why he’s here Allistor wants to help with the hotel. He dosen’t remotely belivie in it, beliving that people’s chance at redemption was up there.. but finds the whole idea deeply hilarious and wants to watch the shit show himself. Vaggie is naturally on her guard, and for once rightfully so, but Charlie assures her she can handle this. Her dad didn’t teach her much, but he taught her one thing: don’t take shit from other demons

Charlie frankly tells Allistor that she gets he sees this as a joke, outlines how seriously she takes this job.. but agrees to his help because they could use it. Allistor tries to offer a former demonic deal complete with a sickly horrifying glowing hand... but Charlie wisely refuses, simply ordering him to help her as long as he wants on her power as princess alone. And it’s VERY clear from her tone she knows this is all bravado: she can’t foce him to do any more than you can get a tornado to do gemoetry.. but it’s also very clear she knows Allistor WANTS to do this, and will likely help her anyway just for shits and giggles, and has nothing to loose by TRYING to get him to help without making a deal. And it works. Allistor agrees, and likely woudl’ve helped no matter what given his reasons for doing this. But you can’t blame him for not wanting to get some sort of horrifying contract on the princess of hell. He had to try. Alllistor also brings up a good point when he relaizes Vaggie is the only staff member they have. This simply won’t do and if they want people to visit, their going to need to class it up and jazz up services. So he decides to give Charlie the employees she needs by calling in a few favors, since being who he is, he naturally has demons on standbye. First up is Nifty, who I love. Seriously I just love cyclopian characters. And in addition to being a cyclops she’s a 20 something 1950′s teeny booper and neat freak brought in as the maid, getting right to work, and impressing Charlie.

Next up is everyone’s faviorite and my boy Husk, a weird winged cat thing who I’m convinced is what happened to Tom from tom and jerry when he died 80 years ago. His son has the part now. Husk isn’t too pleased to be called form his gambling to work the front desk and the bar. Allistor then sweetens the pot with easily the best gag of the pilot.

youtube

With the players set Allistor gives his own mocking rendtion of “Inside Every Demon is a Rainbow”. Allistor.. is easily one of the best parts of the pilot, having a sadistic sense of humor, a sense of style while being DEEPLY unsettling: from the ruin that show up, to his slasher grin to the fact somethi’ngs CLEARLY wrong with him we’re not privy to. Just an awesome character.

So with that our heroes get one last visitor: Sir Pentious who shows up to get revenge on Angel.. only to pivot to Allistor who he sees as a bit rival he has a storied history with. Allistor.. dosen’t seem to remmeber him and is either mocking the guy for funzies or simply has made SO Many minor enemies who weren’t even worth killing and he simply keeps alive for sport that he’s lost count. My take?

Naturally.. Allistor takes him out in seconds, then takes everyone to get breakfast. The stage is set, the players have arrived... let the show begin... anytime now A24 any time now.

Hazbin Hotel’s pilot is one of the best i’ve seen. It’s vibrant, shows off the show well and was done on a miniscule budget with whoever the creator could scrounge up, but looks utterly gorgeous. When we finally do get the series it’s easily set to become one of the biggest of this decade, and it’s no wonder the show STILL has an active fanbase despite not having new content in some time, even ignoring the overlap with Helluva Boss. A truly excellent start to something that I can just tell is going to be great.

Helluva Boss Pilot:

I have much less to say here, but I figured if i’m going to cover this show in the future, and I fully intend to, I should at least touch on the pilot. So consider this a ncie bonus to the hazbin hotel review.

Helluva Boss’ pilot is far simplier: our heroes are all in office dealing with recent issues like Loona’s behavior, Blitzo spending all their money on a commerical, Bltizo stalking moxie and millie outside of work. and having shot a child that turned out to apparently not be the target. It’s really more a loose framework for jokes than a solid plot. But it works, intorducing us to everyone excellently. The very FIRST line sets up Blitzo perfecty with him talking about how bad things are going, not wanting to name names.. then instantly blaming Moxxie. Moxxie is shown to be high strung and have conflict with the boss, Millie is shown to be a supportive wife but far more tolerant of her boss’s shenanigans, Loona to be moody and holding everyone including her dad at a distantce and Stolas thirsty as hell> Their set up well and the pilot is littered with iconic jokes that I could make an entire article on i’ts own listing: “Sorry it was spiders”, “Do you have any idea how expensive acting classes are?”, the ENTIRE bit with Blitzo stalking M and M, the phone gag, “You what?”, and my personal favoirite “sorry I fucked your husband. “ It’s just sparkling with creativity and great gags.

The only real issue with it is that it’s missing the depth of both the hazbin pilot and this show itself. The characters aren’t as fleshed out yet and it’s clear Viv took crticisms of teh pilot to heart and thus did some deep work on them between pilot and series. EVERY character is diffrent and that’s not getting into the diffrent voices (For the record I think Stolas softer post-pilot voice fits him MUCH better while Millie is about the same). Blitzo is far less compitent at buisness here, which is more standard boss stuff. The series changing him to a guy who IS genuinely good at what he does and at juggling the books, even if he sometimes spends their profits on gem studed horses, works better, contrasting him actually being good at the job.. with him being a clingy, sad on the inside trainwreck in his personal life.

In the same veign, Loona is far more of a dick, being mean to everyone more violently and less entertainingly if no less hotly. The series wisely made her more sardonic with her douchebaggery and also later gave her depths, showing she dosen’t have any friends or a personal life outside of IMP, as well as giving her some competence, being the only one with a human disguise. Moxxie and Millie are barely changed, with Moxxie just being a bit more openly defiant of blitzo, while he’s more professional about his issues with him in the series proper, but also far more submissive. Shippers take that as you will. Millie.. is almost exactly the same.

Finally we have Stolas whose a bit more.. uncomfortably predatory. While there are undertones of him being creepy with Blitzo in the series, it’s clear it’s more because he dosen’t have any idea how to properly interact with people or that he’s mistreating the guy. Here he comes off domenering and again pretty creepy and Blitzo is far less willing to participate in their deal.

So overall the pilot is good and an intresting peak at what the characters were to start and what they are now in the finished series. Someday we’ll come back to hell, but for now this was a nice peak into two of th ebest shows on the internet, and a sign creators simply can write their own ticket. Sure a studio can pick them up.. but creators now no longer have to beg a network with a pilot. You can show off your talent.. and they’ll come to you. And I love that. Thanks for reading.

#helluva boss #hazbin hotel #charlie magne #vaggie #angel dust #nifty #husk #allistor #vivinziepop #blitzo #moxxie #millie #loona #stolas #halloween #hell #animatoin #youtube

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emiefaunwrites · 3 years

Note

I know this isn’t really related to Ishileon, but I wonder who Byakuya’s crush is... (unless you’ve already said it somewhere before and it just flew over my head haha) 😂

Heyyy!

Haha don't worry! It's in their AU so I'm happy to indulge.

Juuuuust before I do though, I must clarify that it's my opinion. A lot of people may not agree, but after reading some fics in the past I kinda fell in love with this rare pair. It'll make more sense when I get into it, but this is wholely above board.

Sorry for the disclaimer. But a few people MAY have issues with it. Hopefully the content will put people at ease.

So yeah. Here we go. MY opinion on Byakuya Togami's crush. Hope it's okay!

************************

• Byakuya Togami does NOT do crushes.

• What's the point in them anyway? They're distracting, they can get messy and most of the time it ends in heartache.

• And besides, he'll likely be forced into an arranged marriage at some point anyway. No point wasting time if his future is already decided.

• That's what he keeps telling himself anyway.

• Especially when HE keeps making his cold heart beat just a little faster every time he laughs.

• Ugh, why on earth has he fallen for Yasuhiro Hagakure?!

• The man is an idiot. A grade A IDIOT.

• He's the lowest grading in the whole class, believes in aliens and ridiculous conspiricy theories.

• Not to mention he's 4 years their senior and treats them all like brothers and sisters.

• And even if he wasn't so much older than them, he wouldn't think of Byakuya like that. He's quite clearly straight, right?

• And even if he WASN'T straight, he'd probably want someone more like Kuwata or something, wouldn't he?

• Whenever the cretin isn't leeching off his Moral Compass boyfriend, he's in Hiro's company, laughinh and joking about the most absurd things that Byakuya could NEVER understand.

• So he MUSTN'T indulge in the petty fluttering of his heart when he smiles at him. Shove it all down and act just like he does to everyone else.

• Keep your distance, Byakuya. Harden your heart and just get on with it.

• That's how he spends the three years in Hope's Peak - pining bitterly from afar.

• He thinks it'll be over once they leave - but his godforsaken class INSIST on having an annual renunion.

• And he is OBVIOUSLY the only one that will be able to host an acceptable event.

• So no matter how hard he works to forget, everytime he spots him and he flashes a grateful grin his way he just falls right back down again with a thud.

• How irritating.

• He finally ends up confessing to Taka, a few months after they'd started talking again.

• Taka has somehow learned to read body language (a skill he must have picked up from Leon since he was utterly useless at it back in school) so noticed at one of their renunions that something was off.

• And Byakuya, who'd had a little to drink by now, was fed up of holding it in and decided why not tell the man who's changing the country.

• Needless to say, Taka is surprised - Byakuya Togami in love with Yasuhiro Hagakure? An unlikely pairing to say the least.

• Then again, didn't everyone think the same of him and Leon?

• With that, he's determined to help - but naturally, Byakuya says no.

• It's too embarrassing, there's no point. And besides, Hiro's straight so...

• Well Taka knows that's not strictly true.

• Yes, Hiro has dated women. But he's also dated men. And has no interest in gender whatsoever. He likes who he likes with no second thoughts.

• But if he's perfectly honest, Hiro's never once mentioned any attraction to the Affluent Prodigy.

• This might be harder than he thought.

• It takes a few more years of slow progress before anything happens.

• Kei is staying at a friend's house so the boys invite some of their own around for a few drinks.

• And Hiro, who's had a few too many, starts babbling about the reunion that happened the month before.

• 'Togami-chi's looking good these days, huh?'

• 'Sorry?'

• 'I mean, he was a REEEEEAL dick in school. Looked like he was constantly smelling shit wherever he went. But as he's got older, he's not so mean anymore. And he's got a pretty nice smile, dontcha think?'

• THIS IS IT! The opening Taka was waiting for!

• He has to slam his hand over Leon's mouth, who about to burst out laughing, and keep Hiro talking.

• And yup. Turns out Hiro has FINALLY stopped thinking of them all as little brothers and sisters (considering a 32 year old is fine to date a 36 year old) and has started noticing Byakuya in a more romantic light.

• Leon thinks the whole thing is hilarious, cackling to himself when everyone has left.

• 'Hiro and TOGAMI?! Ha! Like that'll ever happen! He may be less of a dick now, but Togami would NEVER...'

• 'He does.'

• Leon spits out his drink at that, utter disbelief as Taka tells him everything.

• 'Well holy shit! We've got some matchmaking to do!'

• It's actually easier than they thought.

• They arrange a dinner between the four of them, getting Mondo to call about twenty minutes in to say Kei was ill and they needed to come home.

• Leaving Hiro and Byakuya alone to finish dinner alone.

• Byakuya is internally freaking out - he has NEVER spent any time alone with Hiro and has no idea how to talk to him...

• But Hiro has NO PROBLEM chatting away - cracking jokes and making silly remarks that Byakuya can't help but laugh at.

• And when they finish, Hiro smoothly asks for his number, saying they should hang out again sometime.

• So the cold hearted Byakuya Togami is slowly but surely mellowed by his beloved idiot, Yasuhiro Hagakure.

• And at the next annual reunion, everyone squeals in delight when Hiro scoops him up bridal style (to his embarrassment) and smooches him RIGHT on the lips.

• He acts all annoyed and scolds the older man that's grinning cheekily at him with hearts in his eyes.

• But Leon catches them making out in the courtyard later on, giving Byakuya (who spots him) the thumbs up before heading back inside.

#byakuya togami #yasuhiro hagakure #kiyotaka ishimaru #leon kuwata #ishileon #ask request #yaysof11037

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strwberrytae · 3 years

Text

So Long, Farewell, and Goodbye For Now -

“I don’t know how you are so familiar to me—or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place, some other existence.” - Lang Leav

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

Hello, You ♡ Yes, You. You ethereal, beautiful being. I am writing to you with bittersweet yet wonderful news - depending on the perspective. I am writing this post to inform all of you that I will no longer be writing for this blog for the foreseeable future. What I mean by that is that I am not giving up writing forever, no. But my life has changed so much over the last two years, I do not see myself writing again for quite some time. But don’t worry! I will be back!

Below the Read More section, I have poured my heart and soul into the real reasons why I’ve made this decision. I warn you, it’s lengthy but it’s everything that has led up to this over the years. So, if you fancy, have a read. If not, I bid you farewell and wish you all the happiness in the world. Thank you for supporting me so far. I truly appreciate it and love you all very dearly. Now, if you wish to read it at a later time, I will have a link available on my page at all times for anyone who is curious. It’s a hell of a story if you ask me ~

Edit: Made by Me - also, a surprise photo at the end Warnings/Triggers: Talks of emotional abuse, depression, and suicide but also happiness and love -

When I first started this blog, it was 2016. I had been on Tumblr for over a decade now but BTS led me to writing passionately for 2 years. I was incredibly active and utterly consumed by this website. Not just for the writing, but I was so obsessed because of my friends and mutuals that I made along the way. Can I just say that I’ve met some incredible people on this platform - including my best friend and soulmate? Truthfully, the absolute best friend I have ever had. But more importantly, Tumblr was my greatest escape. I mean this website truly has been my saving grace through very dark times.

In that part of my life, I was in an extremely toxic relationship; by then, it was 6 years I was with him. He was emotionally abusive, had such a short-fuse temper, hated everyone I knew which led me never really seeing any of my friends after college, knew I was anorexic and did nothing to stop me, knew I had depression since we started dating and always argued it as if it wasn’t real, crushed my dreams and ambitions, mocked potential suicide attempts, expected me to just abandon all hope to ever leave home to explore someplace new or get a job that I actually love. He was...just the worst. Never hit me though, so I’m grateful for that. But sometimes I wish he would so it would have given me the voice I needed to get out of that relationship much sooner than I did. But regardless, because of him plus having a soul-sucking job that wore me down to the core, Tumblr was my escape. BTS was my escape.

I fell hard and I fell deep. I created a fantasy world within this world. All of my dreams, fantasies, desires, and hopes were poured into my writing. My imagination was running wild. My activity was through the roof because I was always on here day in and out, just pretending like the outside world didn’t exist. It consumed me...but I needed it. Looking back, it was pretty excessive. At the time, I seemed perfectly normal because everyone else was just as active and saying the same things and doing the same things. I felt a belonging, like I fit in.

But I hated the person I became. It took me getting yelled at, mocked, ridiculed, and belittled by my ex to snap me out of that illusion I built and back into reality. That was the roughest night that we had filled with lots of screaming on his end and crying on my part. He thought my obsession was sick. He thought it was disgusting. It all started because he found fake texts I had made with Jimin and Tae. Don’t recall the story it was a part of but he thought they were texts with the actual members… In my eyes, I should get credit for making them look so legit but he didn’t see it that way. He thought fangirling over men was essentially cheating. No matter how hard I tried to explain, he didn’t understand. But a part of his view was right. I learned that I was a bit too much into it and I really needed to take a step back from Tumblr for a while. So I did. I deactivated my account and disappeared for months. Also because he made me and threatened our relationship if I didn’t. Should have taken the out but ah well.

Just two months prior to this incident, I attempted suicide. Well, contemplated. Everything was planned out. Bought a hotel room for Thanksgiving night as I was working a super late shift until about 1-2am. My commute home was an hour long and I still had to come back to work at 7am. So I got a room. Brought a large amount of pills with me and I was going to call it. No notes written to friends, family, or loved ones. Nothing. I was done. Didn’t think anyone would miss me. I just figured the world would keep turning without me. I had thought about doing this several times before but this was my first time making plans for it. It was my lowest of the low. But then I met someone that night that changed my life entirely just in a 10 minute interaction of talking - nothing special. We’ll get to that later. But this person just gave me hope and to this day, I still can’t explain it. It was euphoric. I felt clarity. It was in that night that I thought I might hold out just a little bit longer.

And thus @strwberrytae was born - but it was far from the same. At first, I restarted the blog in secret. Why would I do this? Why would a 25 year old open a blog in secret? Well, two months after the awful fight, my ex proposed to me and I said yes. I know. Believe me, I know. I was scared. My depression was getting worse again. I no longer had an escape except for books. All I did was read so I had some sort of reality to be in besides my own. But returning to a brand new blog did not give the same satisfaction as returning to an old blog.

I worked so hard on my first blog and this redo, I tried to consider it as a gift. Perhaps this was a chance to start anew and rebrand myself. This optimism kept up for quite some time. Slowly, I added my favorite past works then added some new chapters. If you’ve been here with me since 2017, you would know that my appearance on Tumblr was still not the same. Then I got married in October.

An empty, loveless marriage that I regret to this day. Needless to say, my writing and activity on Tumblr was still practically non-existent as I was still too scared of getting caught. Even though he finally gave me permission to use it again because he could tell how miserable it was making me. Yes, gave me permission. Thankfully, it all ended after a year. I finally went to a therapist even though I hated them so much and all past therapists I had. She was pretty great. Within five sessions, I summoned the courage to break up with this guy. I was finally set free. Nearly 9 years together and I finally felt like I could breathe.

Unfortunately, although I was free, I had to live with the guy for about 5 months after the breakup. Which was beyond rough, believe me. Imagine someone writhing in pain and bawling their eyes out and venting non-stop about all of their faults and wrongdoings every single day. At the end of the day, as shitty as he was to me, he was my best friend too. We went through a lot of shit together and he did have some good sides to him too. So witnessing this was horrendous. Needless to say, I wasn’t getting much privacy either. Writing was not my top priority. Now it’s 2019 and things changed drastically for the better - and worst.

Remember the person I met in 2016 on Thanksgiving night? Well, that person is someone I crushed on every since that night. For 2 years. People, I’m telling you. He did absolutely nothing special that night. He didn’t flirt with me. He didn’t check me out. He didn’t do anything remotely to make a girl swoon but I was so drawn to him. The only word that could describe it was “cosmic” - beautifully cosmic.

Well in January 2019, 2 months following my break up, he came into my store one day. And my god did he look incredible. He was dressed head to toe in black - a fitted black suit at that. He even wore this long, designer jacket to match. Hair shaved on the sides with beautiful, thick dark hair on top. So tall - 182cm. A smile that could kill; quite literally. The canines are on point. He looked like a five course meal. That day, he definitely flirted with me. By the end of the week, we had our first date. Sadly, I also lost my job in the same week and was unemployed for a year because no one would hire me. I was laid off and one of my seniors took my job. Of course, they needed to keep me around for the holidays and then give me the boot. I was devastated. I hated that job so much as it only aided in fueling my depression but losing it was definitely an amazing thing. And! I survived on my savings and definitely didn’t spend my time writing. I had life to sort out last year - like from the ground up. No worries though. I got a job in February 2020 and I love it, so it’s all good, baby. Now I’m in the health field and feel like I’m actually helping people, which I love.

Now, here we are 2 years later and I’m engaged to the man. Someone who makes me smile everyday, believes in me, encourages me, let’s me be 100% myself, travels with me, taught me how to love myself, taught me to accept my body, gets me on a level that only my best friend could, and someone who goes above and beyond every single day to show me how much he loves me. Bonus, he welcomes my love for BTS with open arms, reads my writing, AND has even been sucked in himself to the fandom. Jungkook and Jimin, look out. You got another fanboy. I thought true love was impossible for me but I was very, very wrong.

He has shown me that I can be happy and I have finally experienced true happiness. When people ask how I’m doing, I don’t cringe and lie through my teeth. I smile and say that I am doing well because by George, I am. Everyone around me has seen me over the last two years and made the comment, “you look so much happier”. They meet him and swoon just as much as I do. Is he perfect? No, he’s not. He has flaws just like everyone else but he actually grows and learns from his mistakes to better himself. That’s what amazes me the most. Even if we argue, which is seldom, he refuses to let it go without resolution so we can always fix whatever the issue is. As we like to call it, we’re in-sync. In everything, we’re always so in-sync. I’m wildly in love, my dudes.

So, why am I not writing anymore? To put it simply, I’m happy and don’t really feel the desire to write anymore - at least not fanfiction. Even when I was super young, like elementary school, I used writing as an outlet for my dark escape. I wrote poetry primarily and by middle school, it turned to fanfiction for Supernatural, Simple Plan, and Panic! At The Disco. Along with a very long list of other bands and shows but anyways. I’ve been severely depressed since I was 15 and fanfiction put me in this hole that I couldn’t get out of. I relied on this method to help me get through all the bad shit I was dealing with. It was my coping mechanism.

Now? While depression never truly goes away as the lovely disease that it is, I am genuinely happy. Because of this, when I opened all of my past works and works in progress, I felt nothing but guilt. Guilt for not keeping up with my chapters or keeping my account active. I felt dread to have to escape in this world that I had created. I felt no joy or excitement. It was the strangest feeling that happened all in a matter of seconds. Thus leading to my final decision to take a step away from writing. Do I still love it? Absolutely. But now I think I’m going to re-route and focus my writing on what I love - reality. I’m going to get back into journaling and write essays about love and beauty as I’ve always loved to do. But for escaping into a fantasy world? I don’t know when I’ll be back.

Now I know what you’re thinking. “But you can write and be happy!” Nah fam. Writing has been my aid through dark times and now I mostly associate it with those dark times. And for once in my life, I feel this desire to enjoy reality and remain in it - with the exception of journaling here and there. Even daydreaming is difficult. It’s strange. I love my reality. This sounds like gloating now but it’s truly a remarkable feeling. When you’ve been battling depression for 15 years, it feels really freaking nice to say that I’m happy.

So that’s why I’m taking a break - in a very long, drawn out way. But my hope was that after this long story, you might understand truly why I am doing this. It would have been easier to just say that writing doesn’t bring me joy anymore but I feel that I owe more than that; especially because I really don’t know if I’ll write for this blog ever again. The last time I took a break, I disappeared without being able to explain myself and I wanted to do so now that I have the chance.

Ultimately, thank you to everyone who has stuck by me over the years. It’s truly been one hell of a rollercoaster. The friends I’ve made on here have seen me at my lowest of the lows. But hey! I’ll still be around. I just won’t be publishing or continuing any of my works anywhere in the near future. Seriously though. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. This website has helped me tremendously and I’ll never forget it. Besides, there’s lots of other exciting things happening in my life now so you’ll certainly see me pop in here and there to talk about it ♡

If you wish, you can message me for questions or anything you want to know. I’m an open book - at least about most things hehe. And don’t worry. I still very much love Taehyung and still wildly obsessing over how marvelous he is. Umf.

(here’s some recent photos of me as i rarely take selfies anymore haha. and a derp photo of me and the man i love >_< why is the cutest photo of him with the worst photo of me? still cute though hehe)

#me #personal #goodbye for now #no longer writing #bts writer

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more-stuff-of-pi · 4 years

Text

Promises and Threats and the Kisses in Between

a/n: how is it that the one fic that I’m really not sure about is also my longest one? i’m a clown, that’s how. dedicated to mom and all the Makki simps out there. lmk how to better characterize our good boi :’(

notes: it might not be v clear but this is a college!au technically. i did not re-read this at all so apologies in advance. i’m also the worst at tenses ugh! requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader | genre: minor angst (w/lots of fluff) | warnings: swearing | word count: 2,618 (edited: 11/12/20)

The odd thing about being sad is that there were different types of sad. There was the kind of sad that had you screaming into a pillow for release. There was the kind of sad that had you feeling like someone had scraped your throat with sandpaper and had forced you to chop onions for hours. And then there was the kind of sad that left you feeling hollow, amiss. At first, you might think that you’re having an off day or that you’re simply in a bit of a ‘funk’. But then, as the day drags on and nothing -- not even mindlessly binging a new season or the same one you’ve seen a million times -- offers you a sense of fulfillment, you come to understand that you’re experiencing a kind of sad.

That kind of sad is one that pulls you in like a siren’s call, subtle and sweet, almost, until you notice that your head is sinking under water and your hand is desperately clutching at nothing but air. It’s the kind of sad that you suffer quietly, settling over you without rhyme or reason. The kind of sad that’s like water in a pot. Once it’s hot enough, it comes boiling over, raging and uncontrollable until someone turns off the heat.

You were feeling that kind of sad -- you had had a rough day to say the least.

And it wasn’t anything in particular that had sent you spiralling. Rather, your insecurities that you’d locked away neatly had sprung free like Pandora’s box, crawling and fighting and clawing their way out, smiling demons emerging victoriously from their solemn slumber. You had tried for hours to ignore them, flinging yourself into meaningless tasks. When that didn’t work, you tried shoving them back inside. Needless to say, that also did not work.

Which is how you found yourself staring at your phone, Hanamaki Takahiro’s contact glaring up at you. You had been like that for a few minutes, apparently hoping that some spirit would possess you and just push the damn call button for you already. But, you sighed, it seemed like you would have to find the courage to do it yourself. And it’s not like you should even need the courage! This asshole was your best friend of nearly ten years, whether he or you liked it or not, and there shouldn’t be a single problem in pushing that fucking button.

And yet, that was another thing about this kind of sad. It made you feel utterly, hopelessly, simply… alone.

But you had more faith in your friendship than what any kind of sad could tell you otherwise.

You pushed the damn call button.

“Yo,” Hanamaki picked up on the third ring. “What’s up, shithead?” In the background you heard guns blazing and dramatic music swelling to its climax.

You chuckled weakly, doing your best to reply as usual. “Nothing much, ugly.”

“Whoa, you okay? That had none of your typical asshat-ery to it.” Leave it to Hanamaki to notice that your insults had less bite than normal.

“Maybe I’m feeling nice,” you tried to cover.

“You? Being nice? To me?,” Makki questioned and you could hear his teasing smile, “Never.”

“Like anyone would ever be nice to a moron like you,” you heard someone in the background say. Matsukawa, maybe.

“Makki! We’re in the middle of a movie, put the phone away!” You could tell immediately from the nickname and the ever present whine that it was Oikawa which meant that it was definitely Matsukawa from before which meant that Iwaizumi was also present.

“Oh, shit, sorry. I forgot you had guys’ night or whatever the hell Oikawa makes you call it,” you apologized, tugging at the hem of your sweatshirt. On second thought, it might have been Hanamaki’s. It was certainly large enough to be.

You heard Hanamaki move, the background noise growing more distant. “Nah, don’t worry about it. He’s making us watch some stupid fucking alien movie that I swear he’s seen, like, fifteen times.”

“This is only my eighth time, jeez!”

Oikawa yelped as Iwaizumi undoubtedly hit him. “Shut it, Trashykawa.”

“Atta boy, Iwaizumi,” Makki cheered, drawing himself further from the noise. You heard a click of a door, assuming he had found a separate room. “So? What’s up?”

“Oh. Nothing,” you half-lied. There was something wrong, you supposed, you just didn’t know what.

“Bullshit,” Hanamaki said firmly, “you’re a terrible liar. Something’s bothering you and you never call unless you either need something or you had a shitty day.”

You scoffed. “I call you just to call you!”

“Last time you called me you asked me to get you a meat bun and you hung up before I could say anything,” Makki reminded you, amusement clear in his voice.

“Okay, well,” you said sheepishly, “it worked. So… there.”

He laughed, the sound light and mischievous. It never failed to make you smile, even if the smile now was small and half-hearted. “You’re such a dork.”

“Why thank you, I try.”

“Yeah, sure seems like it half the time.”

You would have punched him if he were there with you. “Hey!”

“You said it first, not me,” he chuckled. He waited for a few moments, perhaps for you to say something, but you honestly didn’t know what to say. You were sad but you didn’t know why and you felt like the whole world was against you. It was a miracle you were even able to call Hanamaki in the first place. He sighed. “Meat buns or Pocky?”

The question startled you as your brows knitted together. “What?”

“Fuck it, I’ll just bring both. I’ll be at yours as soon as I can.”

Your eyes widened as you tried to stop Hanamaki. “Hana, wait, no--”

A door opened and the background noise of the movie became clearer as Makki moved yet again. “Yo, Shittykawa! Got any Pocky?”

“Get away from my kitchen, you snack monster!” you heard the man squawk.

“Nevermind, I’ll just get it with the meat buns. Oh,” Makki seemed to remember that he hadn’t hung up on you and softly said, “I’ll see you in thirty minutes, Y/n.” And the line went silent.

“What the hell?” you whispered to yourself. You glanced outside your window, surprised that it was already dark outside, meaning that you had wasted away your entire day. You didn’t know what you expected to come out of talking with Hanamaki, but it certainly wasn't for him to ditch his friends to come see you. You sighed, flopping back across your bed and closing your eyes to take a few moments to focus on your breathing. The pilates girls on campus were always preaching about how good it was to take a few centering, meditative breaths throughout the day. Hanamaki and you constantly snickered at their bullshit but right now, you honestly felt as if you were a dam with a weak point, just waiting for that one final push to break you. So if the pilates girls were right and this whole centering bullshit ended up not being complete bullshit and it didn’t hurt to just breathe -- what the hell, might as well try something. All of your previous attempts turned out to be useless, so what harm could deep breaths do? You honestly were just hoping to keep your mind occupied until Hanamaki apparently showed up on your doorstep, ditching his old high school teammates he only gets to see every now and then in favor of coming to see your mopey ass. He just saw through you so easily -- a spy career was out of the cards for you, you mused -- that it was almost infuriating. All because the usual insult that you fling his way sounded a little less bitchy. Damn him and his stupidly keen intuition.

The breathing thing must have worked because, before you know it, your door is opening and Hanamaki is calling out a casual “Yo!” as he lets himself in.

You groan, forcing yourself to get up and actually greet him. He’s in your kitchen, shuffling through the fridge to find the beer you keep for him hidden in the back. You can tell he’s been sweating, beads of it lightly dripping down his temples. “You stink, ugly.”

Makki turns around beer in hand, lifting an eyebrow at you. “Nice to see you, too.”

“You’re sweating, what else am I supposed to say?”

He rolls his eyes, clutching dramatically at his heart. “I ran here from the station and I even brought you food and this is how you repay me? Some friend.” He gestures to the bag sitting on your countertops. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he adds, sipping from his beer.

"Hana, you didn't have--"

Hanamaki huffs, lazily waving your words away. "Yeah, yeah, but food always helps when you're feeling down and you've been nagging me to get you meat buns for the past two weeks." He gave you a pointed look. “So consider this as me caving. I even got you Pocky, too.”

You persist, "Still--"

"Listen," he sighed, glancing at you, his features almost bored, "I know you're sad and there's nothing wrong with a guy wanting to be there for his best friend, now is there?"

(Your heart did a weird thing and you knew it was because he had called you his best friend but you had always been that and would continue to always be that, so what was the problem?)

You shifted your feet, tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Well, no, but guys night--"

"Whatever, I see those guys every month,"

You quirked your brows. "You see me almost every day, Hana, we go to the same college."

"Yeah, but I actually like you instead of those dweebs. Plus, you’re sad. I’d be a dick if I just ignored that." Hanamaki made his way over to your couch, perching onto the arm, facing you and nursing his stolen drink.

You crossed your arms as you leaned against the counter. “You’re really annoying for being able to do that, by the way.”

“For being able to do what?”

“For being able to tell that I’m sad! Sometimes a girl just wants to be sad by herself.”

Makki quirked his brow. “You called me, princess.” You swallowed the heat that wanted to rise at hearing your best friend call you that.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” you choked out defiantly.

Hanamaki grins as you huff, snatching a box of the mint chocolate biscuit sticks and tearing into it, crunching one into your mouth. You glared at him as you swallowed the treat, his stupidly cute smirk doing its best to coax more warmth to flood your system.

“You’re feeling better now, yeah?” he asks, after a minute. You nod reluctantly to which he chuckles, grin never once leaving his face. “So you don’t mind if I tell you something?”

You cock your head to the side, a little confused. Usually the asshole doesn’t hesitate to ask you the most invasive questions so you can only wonder. "Tell me what?"

Makki nods, chugging the rest of his beer – you didn’t notice how little of it was left in the first place – and sets the bottle down onto the coffee table. "It's been on my mind for a really long time, now. Like, months. Years, even."

"That's surprising, I didn't know you could think for that long."

A wide grin split over his mouth. "Oh, shut it."

A matching smile lifts the corners of your mouth. "So, Hana, what has your brain so occupied? You need all the space you can get up there."

He exhales a shaky, laughing breath. You wonder why he seems so nervous. He never gets nervous. There's even a flush to his cheeks that you don't think is just from the beer. “I think," he says slowly, methodically," I’m in love with you. No, I know I’m in love with you.”

Your heart feels like it comes to an utterly abrupt stop. You swear you can feel it seize up. Heat climbs up your body, swirling throughout. Maybe you should have cleaned your ears while you were waiting for him to show up, you don't think you heard him correctly. “What?”

“My stupid fucking heart does this really stupid fucking thing where it feels like it can skip a beat when you call me ugly. My goddamn lungs feel like they are entirely incapable of breathing properly when I’m around you because I just love you so much–”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” you blurt out, wincing at your lack of self control.

Makki stops and just stares at you. Your fingers immediately find the hem of your shirt once again, playing with it to distract you from the total fool that you made of yourself. But, then again, that wasn’t anything new around Makki… who continues to just stare at you. And then he’s bursting into fits of laughter, trying to hold them in and only making the choking sounds worse.

“Did you– did you just… fucking insult me while I was confessing? Ouch,” he wheezed.

“I– This doesn’t happen to me very often, Hanamaki, how the hell else do you expect me to react?”

He quieted and for the first time when he looked at you, he looked almost shy. Almost. He was still the same calm and collected Hanamaki Takahiro that you had grown to adore. “Maybe for you to say that you love me, too?”

Your breathing hitched and you finally allowed yourself to admit that your heart always did weird things around your best friend because you were maybe, sort of, wholeheartedly in love with him too.

“Is this how you cheer girls up when they’re sad? By telling them that you love them?”

His smile is soft and kind. “Only the ugly ones.” You groaned, covering your face at his idiocy. “And the ones I get to call mine.”

Your heart fluttered as you peeked at him from beneath your hands. “There better only be one.”

“Is..." he takes a deep breath, "Is that ‘one’ gonna be you?”

You gulp underneath his serious stare, entirely unused to it. “O-Only if you don’t mind being the uglier half.”

It takes a moment for him to register your words and watching him do so is like watching fireworks explode. His whole body lights up and his face is quick to be reignited with his signature grin, his eyes beaming with joy and pride. In order to do something, anything but look at Hanamaki, you snatch up another Pocky, stuffing it into your mouth.

Emboldened by your return of his affections, Hanamaki slinks over, bracing himself against the counter with his arms on either side of you. A hand comes to gently guide your chin to look at him. Impossibly, his smirk grows wider as he bravely leans in and bites down on the half of the Pocky sticking straight out of your mouth. His eyes are alive with amusement in the face of your embarrassment. Honestly though, you couldn't tell if you were more mildly disgusted or vaguely turned on.

"If you don't fucking kiss me, I'll kiss you myself." It was impossible not to glance at his lips.

His grin widens, licking at his lips hungrily. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Both," you breathe, butterflies battering around your stomach like crazy.

"Nice," he grins and then you’re both diving in for a kiss, both of your hearts swelling with joy and amusement and the pleasurable insanity of being in love with your best friend.

So here’s to promises and threats and the kisses in between.

taglist: @samwrights

#oop man i feel like hana's characterization is way off but aaaaggghhhhh #you only learn with practice #hanamaki takahiro x reader #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki takahiro #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #promises and threats and the kisses in between #what a longass title i am so sorry #another midnight thirty posting whoot whoot

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

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Next up on our list my lovelies is Paul! A special thank you to @trescharmant-mydear for helping me with brainstorming ideas when writers block had me stumped! I hope you fang babes all enjoy the next boy in our child birth saga!

Lost Boys Fem!S/O Gives Birth [2/4]

Paul

The whole pregnancy thing was undoubtedly a massive shock when you had finally told him. At first he wasn’t even sure it was his. Granted you slugged him for even suggesting you had been having an affair but he couldn’t help it! The idea of impregnation was pretty much impossible as far as they knew. He had no heartbeat, the blood in his veins was dead and black, he kind of assumed by that point his gun was shooting blanks. That is until you began rejecting anything that wasn’t blood or meat. Every day he could see more of that reality coming into play. At first he thought maybe he had just imagined it, but when your stomach grew in really sank in.

He was terrified beyond belief knowing he’d soon be responsible for a living, breathing thing- er baby- guh! The word freaked him out. No one even warned him what came with it. Well, Dwayne tried to but those books were nasty. Especially the pictures. Paul tried his best to sit through them but it just stressed him out! There wouldn’t be a doctor! There would be no sterilized hospital bed where a team of nurses would be on standby if there were complications- hell, they wouldn’t be able to know if there even were any complications! That’s what scared him more than anything. You both were utterly in the dark. Were you healthy? Was the baby healthy? Could this kill you if they weren't careful? Ultrasounds were out too, so he couldn't even know if it was a boy or a girl. The uncertainty of it all was torture!

The only way he knew they were still alive was from his own bizarre connection to them. Sure his mental powers were never as clean cut as David’s, but he could still feel their emotions inside you. It was raw. There were no clear thoughts. Even the emotions would pile over each other. Hungry, tired, anxious, hyper, mad, happy. It was almost like there was more than one consciousness in there, but he just figured it was your own heartbeat and emotions clouding the baby's.

Hormones were wild between you both. You wanted sex more than you ever had before, and at first he was all for it. Being the mother of his unborn child brought out a desire that was utterly foreign to him. Yeah he loved you to death before, but now… he couldn't keep his hands off of you. The first few months it was wild, but the bigger you got the more worried he was that something could happen if he lost control. Okay, well, as long as he was careful right? But, things did not go exactly to plan when a firm kick pressed on his erm… Needless to say it certainly freaked him out. Then came the morning sickness.

Fuck whatever liar came up with that name. “Morning”? Try morning, noon, night, and the ass crack of dawn. Twenty-four seven. He hated seeing you hugging a trash bin, panting between excruciating heaves that made your stomach spasm. Paul could only hold your hair back while you gurgled out sobs. It was even harder knowing he was partially responsible for putting you in this position to begin with. Afterwards he’d carry you back to your bed. Yeah, bed. All the guys had felt that you needed something way better than a couch to crash on. There were more pillows and blankets than you could count. Piles on the bed, scattered on the floor, stacked up in the corners. With a bit of searching they’d found a pocket-cave branching just off their own that kept you out of sight and even better, nearby. What Paul really couldn’t account for was how frickin’ clumsy you were!

Oops you just banged your knee! Well looks like you accidentally nicked your hand while peeling a freaking apple! Paul nearly ripped a guys head off for bumping into you on the boardwalk just to cut in line with his stupid friends. Eventually he just refused to leave your side during the second trimester when he found a bruise on your stomach. You didn’t have the heart to tell him those were from the baby kicking. While the guys went hunting he’d just lay beside you in bed gushing over your taut belly. The baby always stirred when he spoke, even more so when he’d serenade them. His voice always made your face heat up, and inside you could feel your child eagerly pressing up. While Paul was certainly uneasy about his encroaching parenthood he was over the moon the first time the baby really kicked. Even if it seemed scary he was so excited he could hardly sleep most nights. Every day he'd wonder when they'd get here, bombarding you with thousands of questions.

"Do you think they'll have your eyes? I bet if it's a boy he'll be a bad ass like his dad, huh," he asked. There was almost a glee to his voice, it was so adorable to watch him shed that panic for just a moment to fantasize about the baby. Anything. Teaching them to play guitar, taking them on their first hunt. He didn't care if it was a boy or girl. Part of you really hoped it'd be a little girl.

“They probably won’t get any eye color until the fifth month I think,” you’d remind him, flipping through the aged pages of a baby book. "I do know if it is a boy he's gonna be so much like you."

"Unless it's a girl," he pondered, tapping your belly like it was an over ripe melon, watching it stirr with life. "Oh god you'll break so many hearts. But no boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Only dad."

"Babe thats not gonna be for years," you assured, petting his head. "You can't keep them from dating when they're old enough."

"Uh, the fuck I can't," he retorted, his hand kicked again. "Yeah I said it. No dating for you"

As they grew you could feel something was.. Off. Granted you couldn’t do much to check but, it almost felt like there was more than one heartbeat...

Your due date was slowly rolling closer as summer shed it's long, hot days for the chilled season of autumn. Tonight was a late, stormy October night. Most of Santa Carla was holed up at home hoping it wouldn’t rain tomorrow on Halloween. Paul grumbled slurping at a blood bag laying on his side as he propped his head on his hand, currently bored out of his mind while you carved at a pumpkin with Marko.

“I think it needs more teeth,” you’d say to yourself out loud.

Marko peeked over, titling his head to the side. “More eyes too.”

All the guys decided to stay back tonight. It wasn’t just the rain, all of them were nervous to leave you alone. None of them were doctors, but even they could tell your stomach was much bigger than expected. Dwayne was flipping through an old book while David had just gotten back from a hunt.

Ever since you hit your third trimester each of them took turns gathering blood. A few blood bags alone would not cover it for four hungry vampires and an honorary vamp who had a ton of cravings. Instead they'd carry four or five empty milk jugs that'd be filled to the brim with sloshing, goopy red fluid.

"Guys, you oughta go get something to eat, you don't need to watch me twenty-four seven," you insist, carefully dragging the knife through the thick gourd's flesh.

"This wasn't up for debate last time, it’s still not now," David retorted, tossing one of the jugs Dwayne's way. Marko caught a second one, eagerly knocking back a swig. The sight made you want to throw up again. It was slow, like a thick molasses dyed crimson with globs of congealed plasma. Okay looking at the pumpkin again before you had to puke.

"Don't worry about us, Y/N," Marko insisted with red stained teeth, tossing the now half empty jug to Paul. "It's only a few more months. Blood is blood."

Paul stood up, swooping behind you with his arms around your shoulders. "Speakin' of blood kitten, you need to eat." You looked at the jug as he set it on the table and immediately scrunched up your nose. Now, it'd been seven and a half months of drinking it, so you'd gotten used to the bizarre taste of salty, vinegary cherries with a metallic aftertaste. It always made your body heat up, the feeling itself was better than any booze you'd tried. But the texture. Oh god the fricking texture! Blobby, goopy, slimy- no!

"Uuuugh," you hesitated, only to have Marko push it towards you. “Can’t I just have a raw steak or something, it’s not nearly as gnarly as straight blood.”

"Don't be picky, you need to eat."

You glanced back at Paul who was just pouting behind you. "Come on babes, drink up."

Once again. Thick, soupy but warm fluids ran down the back of your throat. Everything felt heated, spreading from your stomach to each of your limbs. This time you felt an ache in the base of your abdomen. It was enough to incite a small gasp. And with that suddenly each of them had sat up.

"What's wrong, what's going on," Paul quickly asked, placing a hand over your stomach.

Marko had stood up, looking at you with a furrowed brow. "Is it-?"

"Guys, guys," you interrupt. "I'm okay, I swear. It was just a cramp."

It wasn't even a surprise when Paul lifted you up again bridal-style. "Paul,c’mon, I’m fine, really."

"Nope, nope I am not even risking that shit babes. C'mon kitten I'll lay with ya," he insisted, kicking anything on the floor out of his way. But again it ached. This time it lasted two minutes. You clung to him, trying to take a breath. This wasn’t your average false contraction that would only occur maybe every hour. "Paul- Paul it's not stopping."

"Wait wait wait what," Paul asked in rapid following, gently setting you down. Marko had gotten up to help you stand with Paul on the other side. A sharp pain wrapped around your waist. Now another two minutes. It was enough to make you double over with your hands over your stomach.

"Shit oh shit wait hold on." Paul was in a panic. He wasn't ready! The baby wasn't supposed to be there for another month! It was too soon!

You, on the other hand, were far too busy trying to keep yourself standing. It wasn't just your abdomen. It was your stomach, all the way up your back, your womb felt like it was being torn open from inside. Dwayne jumped over the sofa when the two blondes failed to move, lifting you up. Your jeans were soaked, sharp pains were faster, harder, any time another contraction squeeze you let out an agonized cry.

They all made a mad dash for your room, propping you up against a pile of pillows. "No, no wait, don't look," you insisted to the others as Paul tried to help you get your soggy jeans off.

"I'm about to help you push a baby out, and you're getting embarrassed by us seeing your underwear," Dwayne questioned

"Shut up, turn your fuckin head," Paul snapped. Carefully he draped a blanket over your legs, pulling off your jeans. There was utter fear across his face. He was so afraid of what this could do to you.

"Hey.. its okay," you assured him, cupping his face. Well, okay was a bit of an overstatement. Still, the tender touch seemed to provide some small ease as he placed his hand over yours. Again, you assured him it'd all be okay. Marko came running in with a bucket of warm water, David was grumbling about carrying over a mountain of towels, Dwayne leaned over Paul tapping him hard on the back of his shoulder. "Paul you need to check how dilated she is."

"WHAT?"

It was time for both of you chiming in disbelief. "No no, wait Dwayne man, I can't-!"

"If she pushes before she's ready, the baby will get hurt in the process," he interrupted him, grabbing Paul by his shoulders. "You gotta do it, man, I can't do it for you."

"The fuck, why me?!"

"Paul?!" It was your turn to question his logic and the blonde threw up his hands, clutching at his head trying to think.

"I'm sorry! I'm panicking!"

"Dude Paul," Marko shouted.

"What?!"

"Listen, man, this can't be good for either of them. Nut up, dude," he assured him, patting his back. Paul looked at you, still trembling on your bed. You were just as scared as him, bottom lip trembling, he could even see your shoulders shaking. "...okay…"

The feeling was so uncomfortable. You couldn't even focus between the throbbing pains that shot up your back and the tearing pull between your legs. Tears burned your eyes, you thought you might pass out. Marko was rapidly wiping away sweat from your face, letting you hold his hand. Even if you broke it, unlikely, it'd heal in an hour anyways.

"Okay how many fingers can you manage," Dwayne asked, getting a strange look from Paul. "Just tell me how many, you asshole.:

"It's like, all my fingers man I dunno what that means."

"Go to her man, I got this," he assured, pushing him up to you. Paul climbed up on the bed beside you holding you tightly in his arms with your shoulder nestled against his armpit with one arm over your shoulder and the other you immediately snatched his hand, panting rapidly. "Shh slow down baby, slow down."

"God it fucking hurts," you whine, throwing your head back on the pillow. Blood stained the bed, a thick pink-red spot on the blanket spreading out. Your face was completely flushed as a tight pressure slowly dragged down your back that made your toes curl. If Paul wasn't pinning you in place you would be writhing. There was a horrid fire in your body, there were no words left in you, only screams. Dwayne's urges to push were muffled, the ache in you back slowly pulled lower until you were able to hear them. A thick gurgle followed by high pitched, raspy wailing. While Dwayne had pulled the infant into a thick, fluffy towel something felt wrong. It still hurt. Your stomach felt no relief, in fact you felt it pull and ache again. "Wa...wait i.. no it's-it's not done, I'm not done," you whimper in a panic.

"Wait what the hell do you mean you aren’t done?! I thought there was just one?!”

Paul looked over at Dwayne, who in turn ran to David and passed the swaddled newborn his way much to his dismay. “Just hold them for a minute man, we weren’t exactly expecting more!

“I got it,” Marko volunteered, climbing off to bed to hold the baby carefully in his grasp. Your screams tore through, a second wave of pain reviving old agony. There was little relief as the same horrid tension in your back spread out. Paul coaxed you through it, but somehow it hurt even worse than before.

“No,” you cried, shaking your head. Your face burned, tears streaming down your face leaving your vision completely blurry. “No no no, I can’t, let me go! I can't, I can’t! Paul, I can’t-!”

“Baby, listen you can do this! You got this, yes you fucking do,” he yelled over you holding your head to his shoulder. “Listen to me. C’mon you fucking got this, kitten! Don’t you give up, don’t you dare fucking give up now!”

With everything you had you screamed until your throat felt raw, pushing as hard as you could until finally, finally… it stopped. A huge wave of relief made your muscles go limp. Two. You just had given birth. To twins. The realization had finally hit Paul asw he looked up at Marko still holding his first born. “Are they…”

“Dude, you got a girl,” he beamed, carefully passing the swollen new born half-awake clinging to the towel. Occasionally her grey eyes squinted open, making trembling whimpers until she nestled back into sleep.

You managed to catch your breath, Marko helping you lay down while Dwayne circled around with your son. A boy too. You couldn’t help but laugh through tears, finally able to see his face after so many months of waiting. Paul couldn’t even hold back tears, laughing like an idiot as he pulled you both in his arms. “Fuck man… oh shit I’m a fucking dad,” he choked out, trying to hide his tears.

“Let it out man,” Marko teased, patting his shoulders.

“Shit man I can't stop crying... they’re so perfect.” Paul ran a hand gently over his son’s head still softly crying in your arms, watching him soothed as he clung to his finger. He looked you in the eyes, both of you just in utter awe that you brought not one, but two lives to the world. Nothing but tears and smiles between you. It was October 31st, 2 am, and you had spent the past four and a half hours of Hell to bring your twins (Girl Name) and (Boy name). Paul could not even fathom the amount of love he was feeling, trailing kisses all over your lips and cheeks. “Happy Halloween, kitten.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, laying your head back against his chest just unable to tear your eyes away from your beautiful new family after so many hours of grueling pain, so much waiting, in the end it was worth more than either of you had ever dreamed.

“Happy Halloween, babe…”

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

Text

a calm surrender to the rush of day

Jake’s had a few too many beers when he’s sent back home to Amy and his still relatively new son. It’s all good and cute, promise. Peak domestic Peraltiago. This oneshot is based on a prompt on this list.

#98: "I think we should have another"

Read on AO3 here

Amy was fast asleep in their bedroom when the sudden sound of the front door lock clicking and shifting followed by a half-hearted slam jolted her awake. For a very brief second, with her heart galloping in her chest as a result of the shock, Amy was utterly disoriented and the uneasy feeling was definitely not peculiar when you happened to live in a city that was ranked way too high on the Top 10 Most Dangerous Cities in America – a club she did not particularly enjoy being a part of. Although, as fast as it had encased her body to begin with, the shock quickly wore off the second she heard shifting and rumbling paired with a “shit” coming from what she figured out must’ve been the living room.

Jake, she realized, suddenly remembering why he wasn’t currently beside her in bed but rather out with some friends from the academy – or, at least, was.

In an attempt to put the final puzzle pieces in place she leaned over to grab her phone wondering how long he’d out and about for. The time revealed itself across her lock screen picture of Jake, fast asleep on their couch a few days after their son’s arrival with said son resting beneath his hands and on his chest. 3:11 AM – no wonder why she could barely keep her eyes open. There was a second of wondering if she should just turn over, go back to sleep and let Jake come join her whenever he was ready, but something else on the screen caught her eye before she could ultimately decide on doing so: 3 texts from Rosa with the last being from around 30 minutes prior.

Rosa Diaz – 12:39 PM Dude, Jake is horrible. He won’t shut up about you and the baby and for some reason the other guys from the academy seem to be eating it up. I hate it. What have you done to him?

Rosa Diaz – 1:56 AM Nvm. I take it back. He just paid a second round of beers to celebrate, and I quote, “His miracle baby”. Please get pregnant more. Means more free booze.

Rosa Diaz – 2:47 AM Def spoke too soon. He just threw up at my feet. We’re waiting outside the bar for his cab. I’m sending him home to you. Texts me when he gets there. Also: good luck lol. He’s stupid drunk.

Almost as if Jake had read the text as well, as to emphasize its point, Amy could hear him stumble into the bathroom across the hall to, what she chose to believe, grab his toothbrush but instead knocking over the glass holding it generating a loud commotion which tore throughout the entire apartment.

Amy’s head immediately as per instinct shot in the direction of her 3-month old’s crib, which stood against the wall on her side just a few feet away. Apart from the limited amount of Catholic traditions she’d grown up with living with her parents she wasn’t particularly religious, but right then and there she internally prayed that her son, who she’d spent an hour getting back to sleep just 3 hours ago, wasn’t woken up by her father’s drunken circus. She held her breath as a few, way too long seconds went by: no cry. Amy’s chest dropped in relief.

Moments like these were tiny victories that she as a brand new first-time mom held onto for dear life. In general, though she had nothing to compare to, her little boy wasn’t a particularly difficult baby but the past few days had been a bit rough on the little family: rough to the point where Amy had to push Jake out the door earlier that evening because he didn’t want to leave her behind with a fussy baby. But, more than ever before, Amy was confident, telling him it would be a waste for him to stay home and miss out on some fun; he should go out and she’d be fine. He’d ended up going. Although it was borderline against his will with half-worried eyes that Jake had crossed the threshold to exit their apartment, while repeating over and over again that she could and should call him if things turned out to be too much: he’d grab the first cab he saw back home.

Amy loved this considerate and worried side of Jake but it also turned out to be quiet unnecessary that night. Besides the hour from hell of fussiness at midnight, the evening alone with her son had gone by pretty smoothly – she’d actually made quite an enjoyable experience out of it. First of all, right after he’d had left, Amy ate the dinner Jake had prepared for her in advance on the couch with Flynn lying next to her in his little nest, talking and admiring his small sounds and smiles. God, she loved him so much and there was no TV-show or movie in the world that could beat the incredible sight of her son clumsily waving around his tiny legs and arms in his green pajama-onesie. Then, after bathing and changing him, she’d fed him to make sure he was completely ready for bed and by 8 PM she was silently smiling down at, admiring, her very own tiny sleeping human as he dozed off in his crib. Losing track of time was incredibly easy these days, both from the lack of sleep but also the huge amount of love for said little human, but after making sure (for the 32nd time) that Flynn was well asleep Amy had, trusty baby monitor in hand, retreated to the living room. There, with a tiny glass of white wine in hand, she’d managed to finish today’s The Times’ crossword puzzle - something Flynn had interrupted a couple of times that day – before she’d felt an inevitable wave of tiredness creep up on her. Once ready, having gone through her own routine plus checking up on the, to her pride and joy, still sleeping baby, Amy went to bed where she’d slept peacefully until her son had claimed her attention a few hours later. So even though Jake was her favorite person to hang out with, her evening had been great and, all in all, she wouldn’t mind doing it again

Now here she was once again awake although this time it was not her baby causing the distraction from sleeping but rather her apparently very drunk husband stumbling around the bathroom. The fact that he hadn’t been loud enough to wake up their son had probably (for sure) helped, but also, Amy couldn’t be mad at Jake when she’d been the one to basically force him to go out and have fun. So, after giving up on falling back asleep figuring it’d be hopeless with Jake stumbling around the apartment, she instead took matters into her own hands and made her way to the bathroom. Here, to her amusement, the sight of her rather nicely dressed husband, unruly curls spilling onto his forehead, was barely able to stay awake and standing upright while brushing his teeth.

“Hey there,” she leaned her hip against the door frame before crossing her arms in front of her chest adding to it a teasing smile.

“Oh god!” from the way he almost choked on his tooth brush, Jake was obviously startled by her sudden appearance but quickly avoided choking with a sad attempt at smooth recovery by clumsily spitting the toothpaste into the sink getting it all over his lips in the process. “I’m szo szo szorry,” the words tumbled from his mouth much like she imagined he’d tripped and fallen over various furniture and items on his way into the apartment just a few moments ago. “Dridn’t mean tro wake you.”

“Well…” she shrugged nonchalantly not really minding mostly because drunk Jake was a hilarious mess she’d missed during their pregnancy, but also partly because she knew he’d be paying the painful price in the morning. “You did.”

Immediately, as if he was a puppy whose tail had just accidentally been stepped on, Jake’s previously insouciant demeanor switched into a intoxicated version of his famous worried frown. Though the second she could tell panic was forming in his drunkenly fatigued eyes, she was quick to step in and avoid guilting him.

“But it’s okay,” her tired but nonetheless somehow always warm eyes worked their best to comfort him, hip nudging her off the doorframe and into a short journey to where her husband had shifted into a leaning position with his back against the sink, toothbrush desperately hanging from the left side of his mouth. His eyes, though dazed and barely able to stay open, followed her every move towards him closely but he was still startled when she’d come close enough for him to feel her breath on him and had sassily snagged the dangling toothbrush out of his mouth (careful to not hurt him in the process, of course).

“As long as you don’t wake up your son,” she raised an eyebrow daringly only to be met by a shocked expression that told her he still wasn’t entirely over that bold toothbrush-move of hers, and was just barely managing to listen to what she was saying solely because of the mention of Flynn. He knew that the baby was an angel (duh, he was his and Amy’s creation) yet Jake was also very much in touch with reality which was that said son also hadn’t managed to sleep through the night yet (which according to his go-to parenting book Cry Hard was normal). Therefor even drunk Jake also knew that every second his son was asleep was to be handled as carefully as you would a bomb, and the mention of him possibly waking him up was enough to sober him up – or at the very least have him feel like it for a second.

“Luckily,” Amy proceeded, placing her hands on his chest before sliding them up to rest on his shoulders, “you didn’t.”

Paired with a heavy sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath in suspense, she instantly felt his shoulders drop in relief. Needless to say that Amy loved the way her husband cared greatly about his new father-role. Sometimes to the point where Jake, very unnecessarily, would push himself down an endless rabbit hole of doubt, where he, Amy had come to find out relatively early on, could only be calmed down by her ordering him to go lie down and so she could place tiny Flynn on his (incredible) father’s chest. Only then, with his son looking up at him with curious brown eyes or even just being fast asleep, Jake could feel his heart rate slow down significantly and the anxiety fade. His son was here on his chest, tiny heartbeat against his big one and they were both okay. It was love and that was all that mattered.

So yes, Jake’s father-role was very important to both him and her, but for tonight, Amy quickly decided, Jake was allowed to be just drunk-Jake. She had no problem taking full responsibility for Flynn-duty that night, and, even though neither of them kept scores or cared about the unspoken tally, she also knew Jake would make it up to her another night.

“So Flynni iz ztill azleep?” Jake whispered loudly not actually managing to control his voice as intended. His sluggish, wondering eyes reminded Amy of the look on her milk-drunk 3-month old’s face right after a feeding which made it even more obvious that Flynn Peralta was very much her father’s son and would grow up to be an exact copy.

“Yes, Flynni,” she giggled emphasizing the nickname her husband had come up with, “is still very much asleep. But he won’t be for much longer if you don’t quiet down,” her hands slid up Jake’s neck to cradle his jaw, his tooth brush still in her hand.

“Zorry,” he smiled sheepishly actually managing to whisper this time. “You’re ze bestest mom in ze attire world, Amy Zantriago.”

“Hm,” she squinted her eyes jokingly, “maybe I should just put back that tooth brush because now you’re just talking crazy.”

“Nooo,” the whine that escaped her husband was childish as he simultaneously pulled her in for a clumsy, giggly kiss that’d cover her mouth in his toothpaste remains – unsurprisingly, drunk-Jake was not a very precise tooth brusher and had a toddler’s amount of basic skills. “Ze only crayzay here is me. Crayazay ‘bout my WIFE!” unable to control himself he half-yelled out the last word causing Amy to make a quick decision and shove the toothbrush back into his mouth. This, besides yet another surprised and confused expression greeting her, seemed to work and would hopefully keep him quiet till he made it to bed where he could pass out.

“Hush, Peralta,” and he immediately did. He knew his always very convincing wife only had good intentions (which making sure their son stayed asleep ultimately was) and whilst she picked up where he’d left of to finish brushing his teeth for him he, like the inner toddler the alcohol ignited in him, stayed put against the sink.

A few minutes later, still managing to stay somewhat silent (apart from constantly trying to whisper sweet nothings and stupidities into her ear meanwhile she struggled to brush his teeth and wash his face) Amy lead Jake to their bedroom which, for once, was for unsexy reasonz (with a z, yes). Immediately as soon as it was within what his drunk brain considered a safe distance, Jake’s body caved and dropped to the soft welcoming surface of their bed. Amy quickly figured that it was probably for the best and she should take advantage of Jake finally staying still, meaning she carefully started undressing him, and it had seemed that he was passed out right up until she popped the third button of his flannel and his eyes shot open along with a sneaky smirk.

“Amez, Iz tonight zhe night that we become PILFs?”

Amy frowned as she reached the last button and then pushed the flannel off of his torso. “PILFs?” She wordlessly prompted him to sit up as to allow her to remove the flannel entirely only to be followed by his undershirt being lifted off via his head – something she’d done a million times before but most cases being for other reasons.

“Parentz I’d Like To Frick,” he smiled in appreciation at his own genius invention before stealing a kiss when Amy happened to be close enough to reach by simply leaning in a bit. It did earn him a small giggle like he wished but then also a light shove back.

“Stop that and help me instead, would you?” She was far from mad at him which he could tell from the way she couldn’t keep an entirely straight face but on the other side of things Amy clearly wasn’t having the easiest time undressing her full grown husband either. Suddenly the task that was changing Flynn 7 times a day was put into a quite interesting perspective: a perspective she didn’t necessarily need.

And so, feeling that his wife was doing all the hard work, he helped. It might’ve taken him 5 minutes to pop open and zip down his jeans, but he succeeded and it was with way too much pride that he kicked his jeans off in a madman-ninja manner which resulted in them flying across the room to touchdown by the door. Normally Amy would demand he put them in the laundry bin but for once she couldn’t care less. The pants being off itself was a great victory.

“Nicely done, babe,” she joked trying to ignore the fact that 3 simple tasks had taken them almost 40 minutes by now, prompting her to playfully throw his night shirt in way so it landed on his head. “Now put that on and you’re good to pass out for the night.”

She walked back over to her side of the bed, throwing in a glance at Flynn in his crib to make sure he was still well and asleep, before crawling back under the covers and pushing the part on Jake’s side aside to invite him in.

It was a matter of seconds before he dropped into place but instead of passing out immediately as Amy had expected him to, her husband shuffled across the bed’s invisible center line wordlessly asking for snuggles that Amy, of course, couldn’t decline. She loved that Jake went out and had some fun by himself, although, at the end of the day, nothing would ever beat having him home with her – even if it meant dealing with an all at once incapable and horny man child.

So, by all means, she lifted her arm to welcome him to make himself at home under it, felt his head moving to on top of her chest, before she put it back down in a soft grip around his shoulders. His free arm would then soon enough wrap around her middle earning him a soft peck to the forehead.

“I love you, Amz,” he mumbled tiredly into her shirt.

“I love you too, Jake,” she smiled leaning her cheek against where she’d just planted the kiss.

“And I love our baby. Zo much. I mizzed him all ze night,” he mumbled on the verge of falling asleep.

And while she always did expect it these days, right then and there when she very honestly in the moment least did expect it, a loud cry as if scripted, tore through the darkness of their bedroom. A small sigh escaped her body although she was couldn’t help but smile at the irony of the situation.

“… Sounds like he missed you too, babe.”

“Oh no,” Jake whined basically imitating Flynn to a point where it was scary as Amy scooted out from his snuggle and the newfound warmth of their bed. “I woke him up. I’m zo zo sorry.”

In the meantime Amy had made her way to the crib.

“You didn’t wake him up, honey,” she made sure to reassure Jake of the fact before picking up the tiny crying figure before promptly looking at the time on her night stand, where her suspicion was immediately proved to be right. “It’s 4 AM: he’s just hungry.”

Not many things in this world were sure or certain, but if there was one thing that was then it was definitely Amy’s knowledge when it came to her son’s schedule. Yes, Jake got up with Flynn just as frequently as she did, but contrary to her, Jake didn’t take note of the time and just did what his son demanded without interest in cracking the code to their baby’s life-pattern: as long as he got to care for him and make him happy again, the logistics were somewhat irrelevant to Jake.

“You sure?” he complained nervously questioning his wife as she sat back down in bed with Flynn cradled to her chest.

“Yes, completely.”

With her always being right and all, Jake settled for accepting his wife’s statement quieting down to take in the sight of their son fumbling to find where his mother had lifted up her shirt in order to feed him. Seconds later, like the peace that followed after a huge sky-cracking thunderstorm, silence settled upon the family of three letting the two adult of said family know that Flynn had once again worked out how to still his hunger. Apart from the very faint sounds of suckling, the occasional little pop followed by a wail when he’d lose his mouthful and complain until Amy managed to help him back on track, idyllic silence of the night wrapped up the apartment as if Jake had never interrupted it just an hour prior.

It was in moments like these where Jake became untouchable, completely disregarding any physical or mental state he might be in, and simply gave in to soaking in the faultless felicity parenthood provided him with. He’d never been anything but happy with Amy but this life he’d been living for 3 months now was even better and beyond any imaginable expectations he’d had. Flynn, though being the one who was completely dependent on his father’s care, had given Jake life a renewed meaning he hadn’t known or felt close to before. A meaning he’d originally been so afraid of even considering before he met Amy but had come to realize he wanted with her and only her.

He wanted 4 AM cries. He wanted the sight of Amy, depending on what her energy level was, either dozing off to or actively admiring their son latching onto her swelled chest as he suckled on it. He wanted the rush of pride every time Flynn made a new sound even if it was simply bringing into existence a new pitch when he squealed or whimpered. Jake wanted all and everything, big and small, as long as it was with them.

So of course, as soon as Flynn was placed stomach down on Amy’s chest after being done eating and burped, earning himself a sweet praise when he succeeded, Jake was back to snuggling into his wife’s side. There was no minding sharing her chest with the tiny human as it provided Jake with the perfect combination of cuddling with his wife and the incredible sight of their stupefying son slipping back into a peaceful state of sleepy satisfaction.

“He’s sro prerfect, Amy.”

“I know, babe,” with a hand safely cradling and stroking the back of Flynn’s decently hairy head she mumbled her reply obviously in the early stages of dozing off herself. The other hand, this arm having returned to its spot around Jake, was resting against her husband’s back stroking it in a synchronized motion.

“Like, he’z like getting ze one exact toy you wanted ze mostest in your Happy Meal as a child.”

She would laugh out loud at his comparison, finding it incredibly endearing, but she was by then too exhausted and only managed to form a tired smile – also the laughing would cause her chest and then automatically Flynn to quiver which she was not about to dare.

“He really is,” she mumbled.

“I think we shrould have anozer.”

It was easy to tell that the comment was partly genuine and sweet but also partly… intoxicated. Though Amy didn’t doubt the fact that Jake wouldn’t mind more children, she also didn’t doubt the fact that he definitely wouldn’t remember this conversation when he woke up some hours later with a hammering headache and zombie-like state of mind.

“I think I have enough on my hands with you two.”

Yes, she did see them having at least two kids but one newborn was definitely more than enough at the moment, plus they had plenty of time to consider further additions to the family once Flynn would be older and Jake not completely wasted. Although it was nice to hear some truth about his inner thoughts spill from her drunk husband, there was no doubt in her mind that there was no need to hurry. They would get there eventually and for now they were already so very happy.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the feeling of Jake’s lips planting a soft, half-sloppy kiss to, first, their son’s head, then, then her neck. Then small movements beneath her hand on Flynn was next, quickly peaking her curiosity and winning over her exhaustion then forcing herself to open her eyes. Immediately feeling glad she did so because she was met by the most heartwarming sight of Jake carefully caressing Flynn’s tiny feet.

“We’re gunna make zo many perfect bebiez, Amy Trivago. Zo many. Like zis one.”

“I’m sure of it, babe,” she gave into one last tired chuckle hoping agreeing would give him the peace he needed to fall asleep. And besides the fact his fingers continuously toyed with the tiny feet, Jake seemed fast asleep a few moments later leaving Amy to soak in the moment, fighting to stay awake just a few more minutes to enjoy how incredibly lucky she was.

There was indeed nothing better than feeling her two favorite boys’ heartbeats against her skin as she herself dove into a deep sleep.

#i'm pretty pleased with this one #both cute and fluffy #domestic peraltiago for days #peraltiago #jake x amy #peraltiago fanfic #jake and amy #jake peralta #amy santiago #baby peraltiago #fanfiction #b99 #Brooklyn Nine-Nine

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billhaderlovebot · 5 years

Text

beep beep (4) - richie tozier

some sexy stuff, swearing, angst, the usual. i don't know how many more parts there are going to be but if 5 is the last one then prepare for a Big Boy™

@ceruleanrainblues @the-star-above-you @a-second-hand-sorrow @shockwavee

----

the divorce was messy. timothy took pretty much everything on the grounds that you had run off with another man (which you thought was pretty fair) and he also had slandered your name in front of your whole family in court, which was actually quite petty of him. richie almost murdered him, that day, and had to keep his hand in yours so that he wouldn't get up and break timothy's nose again right in front of his big-shot lawyer.

your family, it was safe to say, did not approve of richie, because timothy was always such a nice boy, and you've made a terrible mistake, dear. the only one who ever did like richie was your grandmother, and she was long gone, bless her cotton socks.

so, yeah, you'd run off with richie.

yeah, you'd escaped from an unhappy marriage in which you never felt loved to be with someone who looked at you like you hung the fucking moon.

okay, granted, you did sleep with richie that night, which wasn't entirely moral, considering you were married to another man, but, yknow, timothy hadn't gone anywhere near you in months and months, and richie was just so good at the sex thing.

also, you loved him. so much.

leaving you with barely enough money to pay your hospital bills sucked. you weren't even sure how timothy was able to do that legally.

but it was alright. you took your stuff and moved into richie's penthouse apartment in malibu almost as soon as you'd been discharged from the hospital. he had made enough money over the first half of his trash-mouth tour to support the both of you for the time being, and he cancelled the reno dates, and all the dates for the foreseeable, because all he wanted to do was be around you and the rest of the losers.

your books and mugs and weird stuff that you'd hoarded over the years slowly spread themselves around richie's apartment, and it made him so happy because it was so utterly domestic.

whenever he saw your shoes in the hallway or your toothbrush in the weird ceramic holder with a bee on it that bev had bought him, he grinned like a stupid, lovestruck idiot, because he was a stupid, lovestruck idiot.

eddie came over a lot, regularly crashing in the spare bedroom because he, too was going through a divorce, and myra kaspbrak was quite a bit more intimidating than timothy. so, that became eddie's room while he was looking for his own apartment.

and you were so fucking happy.

the piece of string that had been serving as your engagement ring after richie proposing on a whim was a constant reminder of how loved you were, and you tied a matching one around his finger, because you didn't feel it was fair that he got to do the whole cute proposal thing.

it had been six months since derry. since the sewers, since defeating IT for the final time. since reuniting with your soulmate. you were sure that life couldn't get better.

eventually, you'd gotten an actual ring.

richie had given it to you on a whim, as usual, opening the little ring box in your direction while you were both surrounded by chinese food, the fourth consecutive episode of snapped playing in the background.

you had choked on your wok-fried garlic and soy broccoli, and he'd thumped your back so you wouldn't almost die, again, which hurt your recovering shoulder, and then he had panicked, and you were crying and laughing and choking all at the same time.

point is, he had given you a ring.

it was a thin, gold band with three little diamonds set into the middle, and you had immediately fallen in love with it.

you hadn't, however, wanted to take off the piece of string, so you wore it on the same finger as the proper engagement ring. richie was relieved because he also hadn't wanted to take the string off.

that night, after some really really great celebration sex, (albeit a little careful, as you sometimes got sharp pains up and down your ribs if you exerted yourself too much) richie bared his soul to you.

he told you everything.

and he cried, and he trembled because he was so scared of ending things with you before they had even begun.

it was the first time he had ever said it out loud.

"i'm bisexual."

and he had let out a breath, then. a breath that he had been holding in for almost three decades.

"oh, richie." and you held him to you without a second thought.

you had always known, somehow.

you'd known, for the same reason one knows the sun has risen. because you had eyes.

you'd seen how richie had always gravitated towards eddie, always grabbing onto him in moments of distress, the soft looks richie would give him when he didn't have time to put up his walls. you knew, and you loved him all the same. of course you did.

you didn't tell him, however, that you had known.

because this moment was so important. the moment where he finally had control over his life and his identity and he was spilling his heart out to you. you would not take that away from him.

this was his time. his moment. his life.

he told you about eddie, and the arcade, and the kissing bridge, and how he'd always, always pushed it down but now it was only the two of you, and if he was to marry you, he wanted everything out in the open.

and god damn you if you let him keep hating himself.

"richie, thankyou for telling me. im so happy that you... that you felt you could talk about it. and to me."

"so... you're not..."

"angry? no. honey, this is who you are. what kind of partner would i be if i didn't love you for who you are? you're perfect, richie."

he cried again, and you let him, because he fucking needed it.

----

richie's nightmares were bad.

really, really fucking bad.

he didn't have them as much as beverly said she had, because, while he had been caught in the deadlights, It was dead and couldn't push into his mind any further. he often couldn't remember what they were about, only that he woke up so scared he would cry. the deadlight-induced terrors came and went, but they always caught both of you off guard.

when it first happened, you were more than a little bit confused, because richie was not a restless sleeper.

you woke to quiet whimpers coming from the man sleeping beside you as he writhed under the bedlinen.

in your sleep-addled haze, it took you a minute to understand what was happening, wiping the sleep from your eyes and adjusting to the darkness.

what, moments ago, was little more than disturbed whimpers, was now loud, heart-fucking-wrenching sobs, the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment.

his body shook next to yours and you were beginning to panic, reaching for him.

"richie? baby, wake up." you shook him lightly, noting the sweat practically dripping from him, and his face, scrunched in fear. he whined lowly, jerking in the bed, but he did not wake. you hadn't been faced with such a situation before, especially not with him, so this was touch and go.

this had never happened before and you were absolutely shitting bricks.

you shook him again, and he jolted awake, crying out as he sat up with a start.

"richie?"

his eyes snapped open, searching wildly around the room for something that wasn't there.

the only light came from the moon and city lights outside your house. sobs of pain overtook him, great, heaving breaths, and then the man you were in love with was crying his fucking eyes out in front of you; fisting his hands in his sweat-soaked hair as his whole body shuddered.

they were tremors he had no control over, the aftershocks of the nightmare taking control of him.

it broke your heart. your face softened as you reached for him again.

god, he held on to you so tight that you almost started crying yourself.

"eddie..." he choked. "ben didn't warn him in time. and i-i-i couldn't... fuck-"

"eddie is at home." you murmured, pressing your lips to his sweat-slick forehead "a ten minute drive. he just moved in. we can go up to see him tomorrow, if you want."

"It's... It's in my head." richie sobbed. the front of your shirt was soaked through with tears. "It's still in my head."

"It's dead, richie."

"so why can i still feel it?"

and you didn't know what to tell him.

---

your first fight, needless to say, sucked.

you didn't even remember what you were fighting about, only that you screamed at each other a lot, and there were tears, and it ended with richie, head in his hands, asking you to leave him alone for a minute in a voice so uncharacteristically calm that it scared you. and so you left for the bedroom, shutting the door, your head swimming and chest burning from the sobs you'd been caging in there.

you knew, realistically, that this was just one fight, and you'd be back to normal within the hour, but this was the first fight you'd had since you were kids, and god only knows how hot headed you'd gotten in the 27 years since then. both of you.

and you hated yourself for letting it get this far and making him not want to be around you.

it was times like this, when richie's nightmares were at their worst and you woke up every night like fucking clockwork to make sure he was real and still there and still breathing, and eddie came round constantly because he couldn't stand being alone in a new place, it was times like this that you needed to be close. so while it was just a dumb fight, you allowed yourself to cry.

richie clicked open the door about half an hour later, shuffling into the room. his eyes were red and he was probably shaking a little bit, you thought.

"im sorry." his voice came out small, and you sat up from the bed immediately.

"no, im sorry, rich. i was overreacting and it was fucking stupid and we need to just-"

and richie all but staggered forwards, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you, hard. you gasped, and he used the opportunity to gain access to the inside of your mouth. cheeky bastard.

you both had been crying for a while, so the kiss was rather wet, but you overlooked it on account of the fact that his hand was not-so-discreetly sliding up your shirt and fumbling at your bra clasp. as suave as he liked to think he was, his bra skills needed work. he eventually did it, and seemed more than a little bit proud of himself, muttering a triumphant: "fuck yeah."

you tugged richie's bottom lip between your teeth and he fucking groaned. and that noise coming from his mouth was so fucking hot that your knees almost buckled.

you made a mental note to do the sex thing really really well tonight, because the sex thing was definitely happening and it had been a bad night for the both of you and you fucking needed him, right the fuck now.

it wasn't long before you ended up underneath him, and he was pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, and you were breathing hard and you honestly thought that if he didn't get the fuck on with it you'd probably die right there.

"rich- ahh- richie?"

"yes, baby?"

god, how the fuck was he so smug all the time?

"i think you should- fuck, oh my god- probably get on with things right the the fuck now, or i'll have to... i'll-" you curled your fingers into his hair, your nails scratching across his scalp.

"or?" he hummed, continuing his ministrations everywhere except where you wanted them.

"i'll have to, mmmh, hurt you, actually." you whispered, breathless. you were unable to form a solid argument, what with richie fucking tozier being so sexy and all, teasing the shit out of you.

"you will?" richie put a hand on each of your legs and spread them further apart, his lips relentless, sucking and biting your sensitive flesh. this man was going to fucking kill you, god.

"yeah, yeah, i'll- ahh- bite your fucking face off, or something-"

and then he was between your thighs, right fucking there, so he never did find out what that something actually was, because whatever came out of your mouth after that wasn't decipherable.

---

"we shouldn't fight." richie murmured, as if he was afraid of being too loud in case he broke the moment.

you traced gentle patterns on his chest with your fingertips.

"i know." you said, equally as cautious.

"but i don't even remember what we were fighting about, and we just had several rounds of the apology." he laughed quietly, kissing your bare shoulder.

smirking at the hickeys on your collarbone, he pressed a kiss there, too, admiring his handiwork.

"i love you, fuck face." you yawned, your eyes fluttering shut.

"yeah, and i love you, dickweed."

richie stared fondly at the piece of string around his ring finger. you would be alright. after all, your wedding was coming up.

he had no nightmares that night.

#it richie #adult richie #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #beep beep richie #losers club x reader #losers club #it 2019 #it chapter 2

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fatgirlsguidetodating · 4 years

Text

My bullying hell.

NOTE: I know this isn’t a dating piece (I’m working on a couple of blog posts at the moment though) but I went walking near my old school, which has been demolished for housing although there’s a fight to make it parkland instead, and it brought back memories. I know most of us get bullied for something. For me that was often my weight but in this case it was more. I think this is why I can be so insecure, and sometimes too sensitive and needy. I contemplated changing initials on the off chance any found my blog or twitter but decided not to. Not once did they display an iota of regret. Even as adults they acted like mean girls do you know what, fuck them.

I know that for many people high school can be hell in parts. I know that many kids have been bullied in school. For me that part was almost the entire year of 8th grade, a year so horrible that I regularly contemplated killing myself, cried myself to sleep most nights, woke in the morning crying because God (despite my not believing in God) hadn't answered my prayers to let me just die, and just generally was completely and utterly miserable and totally alone. I remember one day, with my usual puffy red eyes in the morning, thinking how if it were possible that we only get a certain quota of tears in our lifetime that I must surely have used up a shitload of them. I remember mum, in tears with me, having to practically drag me to school. I remember countless meetings with the school social worker, the year co-ordination, the vice principal and mum. All this was because it had been decreed by the popular girl of the class that I was persona non grata. Nobody was allowed to talk to me in class or out of class- unless it was to say something cruel like about how I was fat. That was allowed. Tripping me over was allowed. Knocking my bag or books over so I had to pick everything up was allowed. Pulling my school dress or skirt up to laugh at my fat arse in front of the boys was allowed. But nice things? No.

There were only 2 people who went against this. On one occasion one of the boys who I had also gone to primary school with asked me if I was ok? Such small words. I managed to nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. "Hang in there," he said. "It'll blow over." I had to hide my face behind my then long hair so he- and nobody- saw my tears. That one simple act of kindness meant more than he will ever know.

The second was when one of the girls I used to hang around with before the decree returned a book she borrowed from me. Her little sister had made a mess of the book. She offered to buy me another one to replace it. I said it was fine. I didn't need to be hated anymore than I was. She left me a note inside the book apologising and signing it with xoxo. I remember thinking how hollow it was given she hadn't spoken to me in a few months. But at the same time I appreciated it.

How did this happen? In an absolutely ridiculous fashion.

Something mean was written about me on a table: it said, in essence, my name is X and 1) I want to be TC’s girlfriend (ironic as he was my best friend), 2) GW’sbest friend , 3) I never have showers and I think there MAY have been a fourth one but I can't for the life of me remember what it said. I think I blocked a lot of that year out. My minds way of protecting myself I guess, like people often do for traumatic events.

As an adult I can say they were relatively benign statements but as a 14 year old they weren't. The thing was the popular girl, LA (now LH) decided that I had written them about myself. (Seriously!) Her reasoning: it looked "kinda" like my handwriting (it didn't) and it looked like it was written by my pen (one owned by something like half the class including, ironically, her). Interestingly a few months later one of the popular girls told me that she had seen her coming out of that classroom at one of the break tones not long before it was discovered. I'll never know who did it but the simple fact that the popular girl said it was me meant that naturally the class agreed with her.

So when she said nobody was to talk to me they all just did it. Not a single person stood up for me. I have felt lonely at many, many times in my life (haven't we all) but the loneliness of that one moment will never ever be forgotten. Even now I feel literally sick as I remember that moment. It was like one of those movies where you wake up from a dream and everyone's gone, and you are all alone. Or a dream where you suddenly become invisible and no matter how much you scream and jump up and down and wave your hands you remain invisible.

I had hoped that maybe my friends would have stuck up for me. I would even have taken them doing it not publicly but privately if they were too scared to disobey or too ashamed to be my friend in front of the popular girl and her best friend JB (now JI) my two tormentors. Like still hanging out with me at lunch and recess. The popular girl wouldn't know after all. But no. Even the girls I had hung with pretty much since the start of school when we'd made friends with me followed and I was suddenly cut off from everyone, completely and utterly alone....

There are some things that stand out from the next eight or so months, things beyond the pain and loneliness. Moments where the bullying was worse than the usual daily taunts. Like the time they soaked a bunch of tampons in water so they became nice and big and ran around the corner and threw them all at me. Because I found a spot to sit and have my lunch all alone day in day out. Technically, being at the front side of the school, near the road, it was out of bounds but I didn't care. On rainy days I got a bit wet but I didn't care- I even thought well maybe I'll get pneumonia and even if I don't get lucky enough to die from it I could get some time off school, away from my living hell. Sometimes I'd eat quickly- prompting comments from the girls about how fat people like me ate too quick- and then go to the library to hide in a corner and read. Being a bookworm over those eight or so months I got through even more books that I ever imagined I could.

I was trying to eat healthy (I was on a diet which, lets face it, I have been on for most of my life!) and I often had those little tubs of two fruits in my lunch. The girls would sneak around and laugh at my lunch. I'd be tripped over, had leftover bits of food thrown at me, was called fat and ugly so many times that even now I say it about myself and actually mean it. One day after PE I discovered my watch had been stolen from the box we put all our special items in. It was a Mickey Mouse watch I got from Disneyland that played music. I was devastated. These girls that I speak of were- surprisingly- not my two tormentors, the instigator of it all, but my former friends. I think that these girls, and the few boys who sometimes hung out with them, were actually crueler to me than the popular girl and her friend. I could never understand that. I still don't.

For almost eight months my mum battled with the school to have me moved to another form but they kept saying that the numbers were at maximum in each form. I offered at one point to take a lie detector test to prove I hadn't written those things. I spent way too many hours in the social workers office in tears.

At one point all of a sudden one of the boys started being nice to me. I lapped up the kindness, kind of like how an abused dog will still always want their masters approval. Every kind word was like a balm on my soul. He'd come and sit with me sometimes at lunch and we would talk and laugh. It was only when someone slipped a note in my locker- I suspect the girl who returned the book- telling me that he had been given a dare by the two tormentors to get me to sleep with him. Needless to say the next time he came to see me I said to him "I know what you're doing. I know it's a dare and you've been telling them everything I said!" (Probably one of the only times in my life I stood up for myself.) He didn't even look ashamed or guilty, he laughed and said "well I wouldn't sleep with a fat four eyes like you for no reason. You are pretty dumb for believing it." Perhaps the saddest thing was the fact that I contemplated not telling him I knew. Oh I wouldn't have gone so far as to sleep with him knowing what I knew but to just continue the ruse for awhile because he provided the only conversation in school hours, the only kindness, in all the pain and loneliness. But, ultimately, I knew being alone was better than living a lie.

My persona non grata status didn't extend to just my class. All the popular kids knew not to talk to me and to make fun of me or even spit on me if I walked past. One of them even tripped me up on the top of the stairs so I went flying down them, landing on my side so hard it was bruised and hard to breathe for ages. I never told on them. I knew that "dobbing" would just make my life worse. Though how they could have made it worse than that I will never know.

The worst moment was when I actually did attempt to kill myself. This is something I haven't ever told a single soul. My mum only found out I had wanted to kill myself a few months ago- not that I attempted it a couple of times- and she was devastated. But I never told her at the time because I saw how much it pained her to see me so unhappy. I couldn't burden her anymore. The night it happened was a Sunday night, the night before school started again for the new term. I was pretty naive. It was pre-Internet which, in retrospect is probably a good thing because had Google existed back then I would have found a way to do it. I took a packet and a half of Panadol. I thought surely that was enough. It wasn't. Not only did I not die, but I simply woke up the next morning feeling like absolute shit.

The turning point came about seven months in. A chance encounter in the library with one of the girls I'd gone to primary school with and I told her about what my life was like. She was horrified and said I could come and hang with her friends sometimes. Not all the time, she said, because they wouldn't like that but sometimes. I probably should have thought it a strange offer but needless to say at the time a little bit was better than nothing. So maybe two or three times a week at lunch mainly I would go and hang with them. I didn't really say much. I had always been shy but my ordeal had made me even more so. When people came up behind me and stuck crap down the back of my top or yelled "boo fatty four eyes" suddenly I would jump a mile. If I saw one of my two tormentors or any of their friends I would instantly start shaking waiting for what they would do or say this time. They soon learnt they didn't even need to speak, just look at me, and I'd be affected. So when my school friend said to me that I couldn't really hang out with them anymore because the others thought I was stuck up (because I didn't speak much) I didn't feel much emotion. It seemed to me that it was perfectly right. Why WOULDN'T they reject me too? Who would even WANT to be friends with someone like me?

Finally, FINALLY, after eight months battling the school by mum they let me move classes. Not to the form I wanted to go in as by then I had made a couple of friends through my childhood male best friend who lived a few houses up and I had known since we were three and who I spent most weekends and school holidays with along with my brother and his younger sister who were in the same year, but a new one nonetheless.

It was the middle of second period, I think, that I was moved. The class were in the science block so I'm guessing it was a science class but I can't quite remember. The year level co-ordinator took me in there and just said, "X is in this class now. She's been given the class schedule." Of course everyone turned to look at me curiously. I slipped into a seat in the back of the room and put my head down. At the desk next along from me were three girls. At one point they said my name and I looked up and asked "yes?" I was given a withering look. "I wasn't talking to you. X here has the same name as you." I was told.

The next period those three girls asked me to sit with them and asked plenty of questions. But then after lunch they told me they'd spoken to my main tormentor and knew who I was and what I did. Great, I remember thinking, I could never ever leave it behind me!

But, slowly, over the remaining few months in the year I began to make friends. There were four girls in my form who became my friends- to this day one of them remains one of my best friends- and from another form there were another two. The six of them hung around together and, as time went on, I became part of their group. There were another few girls in the form who sometimes came to hang out with us.

I was with two of them (both had the same name and it also coincidentally happened to be the name of my main tormentor) one day walking across the courtyard when my tormentor and her best friend (the girl who had been one of my close friends for years before this all happened and who's friendship with me seemed to threaten my main tormentor for some reason before the table incident) suddenly appeared. Apparently someone had written something in chalk in the girls toilet near the year ten common room (or it may have been year twelve then, I can't remember when the merger happened) about her and I was blamed. One of the girls stood up for me, pointing out there were many with her name including my two new friends. But no. It was definitely about her because it had her last initial or name. She tried to get in my face, telling me she knew it was me and I had mental problems etc but my two new friends basically stood in front of her. They were a bit tough and told her that she'd have to go through them to get to me. She chose to walk away.

Though she did get the popular girls in my class to make extra fun of me for a bit but all of a sudden it was water off a ducks back because I had my new friends. They did try and get them to abandon me, telling them what I had done but I'd already told them my side and all the pain- though I had edited it because it was too raw to tell the whole truth, in all its intricate and painful details that soon- and the attempts failed.

Soon it was summer and I spent much of it with my new friends.

In the next school year my old friends and my tormentors still would make smart comments or something when I walked past but the more I ignored it, the more I showed no reaction, the less they did it though it never totally stopped throughout my whole time at high school.

Teenagers can be cruel and girls I think the cruelest of the bunch. Sure teenage boys can be cruel too but girls are bitchy and that is much worse in my opinion. Boys might have a fight and then it's done with. Girls will just bitch and snipe and make you miserable. My tormentors never said sorry, never acknowledged I didn't do it. I occasionally see their names pop up as comments on mutual friends posts on Facebook and I look at their profiles and see how perfect their lives seem. Both are married, one has two kids, one has one. I wonder, when I see them, how it's fair that they get the perfect life and I don't. There is no sign of karma having ever gone their way for what they did to me. As for the girls who were my friends before the decree, I'm Facebook friends with a couple of them. We never really spoke again at school. But, with school far behind us and time dulling some of the bad memories and letting most people look back at their school days as the halcyon days of youth, and remember the good times not the bad, a couple of them are friends on Facebook. Only one have I ever really caught up with but another two I do talk to sometimes on there.

I do believe that, to this day, it has affected me. Just writing this is affecting me: for instance I'm feeling a bit sick, my hands are a bit shaky, and I feel like I want to have a bit of a cry. (Yes- I still have tears left despite those eight long months. The human body can be, I think, up to 65% water. I swear back then my percentage was much lower because of my nightly crying myself to sleep.) But I feel good having written this, having gotten one of my stories off my chest. Sure there are others in my life I may talk about in the future but this is one that shaped me. For instance I know I can be a bit of a needy friend, wanting to see friends more often, wondering when I haven't heard from them in a certain amount of time if I've been replaced or done something to make them angry or upset. I take things way too personally, am far too sensitive about things said or done, I overthink things. And I have no self-confidence at all. I don't see the good in me. Outside or in. When someone gives me a compliment my first reaction is to laugh at them. Especially if they say something positive about my body. I look at them and I say, "are you blind?"

If you take anything from my story please let it be this: kindness doesn't cost a thing and just a little bit can truly make a major difference in someone's life. Bullying- whether it's a child, teenager or even an adult- can really fuck someone's life up. And words- like fat four eyes- can do just as much damage, in fact I would argue MORE than hands. Words CAN hurt. Words can linger in a person's mind years and years after they have been said. They can affect the way they live their life and choices they make. They can reverberate in a person's brain for years. So please be kind. And if you are lucky enough to have kids teach them that too. Because- especially with the proliferation of social media in our lives- words can lead to people taking their lives. That stupid little childhood singsong retort to insults "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" is a load of utter bullshit. Words- just like actions- can kill. Bullying can kill.

#bullying #mybullyinghell #dontbeabully #itcankill #kindnessmatters

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spideyspoods · 5 years

Text

Foolproof (FFH Spoilers!)

Pairing: Peter Parker X F!Reader

A/N: Here is the finished product! Thank y’all so much for all the love on the sneak peek :”)

Warnings: FFH Spoilers! Some cursing and depictions of action sequences. Word Count: 4k (sorry)

Masterlist!

Peter tapped his pencil rapidly against the surface of the wooden desk. “I got it!” he exclaimed loudly enough to catch the attention of essentially everyone in the art room. Ned jolted in his seat, trying to see what his best friend had written. “Okay I think I have a plan to get Y/N to like me!” Peter whispered. For months, he had been completely enamored by her. It was hard to not see her, seeing as if she’s class president after all. It seemed like she could do anything, and he didn’t doubt it for a second. They had talked a few times, but not as much as he had hoped. “There are five steps-”

“Dude. I support you, I really do, but shouldn’t this all happen naturally?” Peter raised an eyebrow and sat a little bit straighter, “You don’t understand, I have to follow this step by step! It’s pretty much foolproof!”

“Peter, nothing is foolproof.” Before he could talk back, he spotted Y/N walking their direction and tucked the paper that held his master plan into the side pocket of his backpack. With the same sunny smile he adored, she stepped up and waved. “Are you guys excited for tomorrow?” Knowing that Peter would be tongue-tied, Ned answered for him. “You know it! Peter over here is,” uh oh “thinking of a perfect souvenir to bring back to May.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet!” The bell rang, and Peter practically bolted out of his chair, slinging his backpack onto his shoulders. Y/N turned, “Well I’ll see you tomorrow!” With a quick wave, Peter could feel his cheeks burn. “Oh wait, Peter! You dropped this!” His eyes widened at the sheet of paper she held in her hand. “My bad! Sorry about that.” He reached to grab it, accidentally brushing her fingers.

“It’s all good. That the infamous souvenir list?” she spoke with air quotes.

“Um yeah, it is.”

“Let me know which ones are the best, I’ll have to get some for myself.” She winked and walked to her next class, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts.

Step One: Talk to Her

Y/N stood at her locker, pulling out the notebook she needed for her next class. Peter watched her from across the hall. Despite MJ’s protest calling it, “creepy” and that “she’ll probably think you’re a stalker,” he took deep breaths and put his hands in his pocket, clearing his throat. “Hey, Y/N!” but it wasn’t coming from him. A tall guy with black hair and charming smile waved at her before Peter could. Brad Davis. From what he’s heard, Brad seemed like a fairly nice guy, but he was everything Peter wasn’t. Brad was popular, one of the star players on the basketball team; someone who was invited to every party every weekend. He had something to offer Y/N and Peter knew he couldn’t ever beat that. The nervous tight-lipped smile on his face morphed into a frown as Y/N laughed at something he had said. The bell rung and the crowds thinned out. Maybe this was harder than it looked.

Step Two: Spend Time With Her

“How’s it going on the Y/N front?” May questioned, leaning against his door frame. Peter merely huffed, throwing things into his suitcase. “Could be better.”

“What happened?”

“I just can’t do it, May!” he exclaimed, “I really like her, but I don’t think I even have the chance to talk! I tried to today, but nothing happened! Not to mention that Brad’s been getting close to her.”

May frowned, “Well you just have to show her that Peter Parker charm! You’re the Spider-Man! You’ve done scarier things before!” He couldn’t help but laugh, May had a way of doing that. She was right after all, though he didn’t want to admit it. “I can do this.”

“Damn right you can!”

At the airport, everyone filed into a neat line waiting for the security check. Y/N was way ahead of him, towards the front chatting with Betty. Looking back to an unamused MJ and a smirking Ned, Peter proposed the next part of his plan. “Okay so here’s what’s going to happen-.”

Once they started boarding, students dashed to claim seats near their best friends. Peter & Ned took seats next to each other, while Y/N sat between Betty & MJ. “Okay, remember the plan?” Ned smiled, throwing a thumbs up before stepping into the aisles. “Hey, is it okay if Peter switches with one of you?” Peter watched from behind, pretending to look busy. “Why?”

“There’s this lady next to him with a seriously strong perfume and he’s kind of allergic-” before he could finish, Y/N stood up. “Here, he can take my seat.” Ned’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, “Uh no! You can’t!” This wasn’t the plan! The girl looked at him confused, “Why not?”

“Did I hear allergy?” Mr. Harrington exclaimed. Betty raised her hand, “Yeah, Peter has a perfume allergy.” The teacher’s eyes bulged out of his head. He started to shake, and stopped what he was doing; letting a carry on fall to the aisle. “Oh no. Not again. We’ll need to take some drastic measures let’s see,” he tried resolving the solution in his head, “Ned switch with MJ, Daniel take Peter’s spot.” The teacher looked at Y/N.

“Mr. Harrington I have a spot over here if that’ll work,” said Brad as he pointed to an aisle seat right next to him. Peter pinched himself and huffed.

“That’s perfect! Great thinking, Brad. Y/N take that seat over there. Parker, you’re coming with me.” Defeated, Peter tentatively took the seat between the two teachers. As the one on his right started to drone about his love life, he saw Brad & Y/N two rows over. Peter tried to sleep, to get her off his mind but failed; seeing her head on his shoulder.

During their peaceful stroll in Venice, Peter peered into a souvenir shop. What Ned had told her the other day wasn’t entirely fake. It wasn’t for May, all she wanted was for the two to get together, but it was for none other than Y/N.

He looked closer into a display case that held delicate necklaces, accented with Murano glass. His eyes were drawn to a three small, deep red beads strung on a black thread. After attempting to speak Italian, which didn’t go as smoothly as he wanted, he bought it and carried it in the small bag. Turning to the exit, his shoulder crashed into someone’s forearm.

“Oh! Sorry about that, Peter!” Shit. Y/N gave him her classic smile, before pointing towards the bag. “Looks like you went souvenir shopping without me.” Should I give it to her now? He thought, contemplating his choices. No. Well, yes? Peter, stop talking to yourself! She’ll think it’s weird-

“Peter, you okay there?”

“Um,” here goes nothing “actually-” he felt a chill down his spine and rushed outside to see a giant figure that seemed to be made out of water? Running to the canals, he saw Ned and Betty trapped with no escape. Quickly, he pulled them out and made his best friend face him. “Ned I’m going to need you to bring everyone inside and away from the canals! I can’t have anyone seeing who I am.” Nodding, he gestured everyone to follow while Peter started to fight.

Y/N was utterly baffled and took people into safety. “Has anyone seen Peter?”

“Who cares about Peter? We’re all about to die!” Flash shrieked, holding out his phone with a shaky hand to show all of his five viewers on the stream. With a surge of confidence, she swung the creaky door open to face the water monster. “Come at me!” Immediately, she regret saying that. It seemed to bubble up and shove a wave in her direction. Without thinking, she picked up a wooden oar and threw it. Great move, L/N. She was thrown against the stucco wall, gasping for air. “Damn it.” Needless to say it hurt...a lot.

“Y/N!” Brad picked her up and sat her down in the hotel lobby. “Are you okay?”

“Well for being thrown into a wall by a mini tsunami,” she grimaced “I’m feeling pretty great.” He chuckled. “I didn’t know you were a doctor, Davis.”

“I picked up a few things here and there. Sometimes TV shows are more helpful than they seem.”

“Tell me about it. I probably don’t know how to pay taxes, but I know how to make a killer baked alaska.” There was a brief silence before he spoke again, “Looks like your back took it hard. Is it okay if I check?” Y/N nodded, lifting her shirt up enough for him to see the hues of purple and blue.

Ned sighed, opening the lobby door and looked upon something that he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to see. Y/N’s shirt was only somewhat on, Brad’s hands on her back. He gasped and bolted out, only stopping to see MJ block his path. “What’s going on?”

“Brad and Y/N! They’re-,” he frowned “I need to get some air.” MJ rolled her eyes and peered through the glass.

“Nothing life-threatening, I’ll go get some ice real quick.” Her clothes were still very much soaked, and at this point she was shivering. Brad quirked a brow and without hesitation took off his beige hoodie before handing to her with a dazzling smile. “You can use this for now.”

“Thanks.” He did a small salute before heading upstairs to the ice machine. Pulling the hoodie over her head, the first thing she saw was MJ.

“I’d know that look anywhere, something the matter?” she pulled up a chair.

“You and Brad seem to be getting close there.”

“He’s just doing the right thing. Besides, we’re just friends.” she shrugged.

“Riiiiight. Just friends, my ass.”

“Would I ever lie to you?”

“No, but you might start now-”

“We survived!” yelled Flash. Behind him, the rest of the class gathered around the TV screen to rewatch the battle. The rusted welcome bell dinged, bringing her attention to the door. “Peter where were you?” He looked tired and out of breath, but kept his spirits up anyways. “I got caught up with the others, yeah.” He hoped that was convincing enough. “Good to know you’re all in one piece, Parker.” Brad emerged from the hallway with the bag of ice and handed it to Y/N. Peter’s eyes shot down to her clothes, she definitely wasn’t wearing that before. It all clicked into place when he realized whose it was.

The TV showed clips and commentary of the disaster that happened not even an hour ago. “Looks like they’re calling him Mysterio, man of mystery in Italian.” Flash scoffed, “Yeah, but he’s no Spider-Man.”

“What is it with you and Spider-Man?” Thinking that no one would notice, Ned exaggeratedly winked at Peter, who smirked.

“He’s a great role model and has helped me become a better person.” Flash turned around and saw Peter with his arms crossed, “’Sup, dickwad.”

Step Three: Show Her How Much You Care

After a slight detour, the class made a quick change of plans and embarked on a road trip to Prague. The entire trip, Peter searched for a Plan B, now that Paris was out of the picture. In a small town square, the charter bus came to one last pit stop. Dimitri, the ominous driver, directed him towards a shop where an agent waited for him. After some explaining, it seemed that she simply made him a new suit to try on. To say that he was uncomfortable was an understatement. He slowly took off his pants to hear a door open. “Oh my god!” Brad recoiled, and Peter felt his heart drop. Out of all the people. “I thought this was the bathroom-”

“It’s not what it looks like, I promise!” He hurriedly snapped a photo and left as fast as he could. Frantically, Peter put his clothes back on and caught up. “Wait! I promise what you saw wasn’t what you thought you saw.”

“Hey if you want to hook up with hot European girls on this trip, it’s not my business.”

“That’s not what was happening!”

“Look, Peter. I know you like Y/N and I do too, but she deserves to know the truth.” He tucks the phone into his pocket before going to the actual restroom. Frustrated, Peter puts his head in his hands. Of course Brad liked Y/N; he obviously knew why. She was ridiculously smart and one of the most confident people he had ever known. He thought about giving up on the plan he had so desperately wanted to use. He could hear May nagging at him in the back of his head. Maybe- just maybe -for one night; he’d be able to set it aside.

“So due to safety precautions and a generous donor, we won’t be going to the light festival! We’ll be watching a riveting opera instead!” said Mr. Harrington, desperately trying to keep his job. A collective groan of protest echoed through the marble floors of the upscale hotel. “Well I think that this is a great idea to experience the cultural roots of what this city has to offer.” Ned spoke, to which the frazzled teacher gave him a relieved look. “See? Thank you, Ned. Aren’t you glad we made you pack a formal outfit? We’ll look ravishing for a whole four hours!”

“Four hours?”

Mr. Dell made it very obvious that it wasn’t his idea. He didn’t even know why he was here himself, if he was being honest. The teachers looked at the grand clock on the wall, “Looks like we’ll meet back here in thirty minutes!”

The opera house was empty aside from the four couples in the balcony seat. “Looks like we beat the rush, am I right?” Y/N’s classmates picked the orchestra seats and wished with all their heart that they were partying instead. Peter stood back, hands in his pockets waiting for an opening to leave and get in position. “Hey there, stranger. You look good.” He turned to his right to see Y/N looking at him. He wore a simple black tux and his white dress shirt looked a little crumpled. His heart practically stopped at the sight of her. Her dress was the exact same shade as the bold, red necklace he had got her. The same eyes he had fawned over dazzled as he noticed the small smirk on her face. “Thank you,” he coughed “you look really pretty.”

“Thanks, Parker. I haven’t caught up with you in a while, do you want to sit together?” This was his chance.

“Parker, are you in position?” Fury whispered in his ear. Not again.

“No.”

“Oh,” Y/N was taken aback and he wished that he didn’t see the hurt in her eyes “that’s fine. I’ll just-”

“Wait! I meant yes!”

“You just said no, didn’t you?”

“No! Well, yes.” He was digging himself into a deeper hole by the second, “I’ll meet you there in a second. Save my spot?”

“Don’t be late.”

Ned and Betty picked up golden opera glasses as Peter turned to tap Ned’s shoulder. “I have to go. Tell Y/N I’m sorry, I just didn’t feel good.” He sighed, hating to be the messenger. “Okay, but you owe her. Stay safe, alright?” He nodded and caught a glimpse of Brad taking the seat next to her. Not so subtly, he flipped him off. Peter was ready to run down the aisles, but Fury protested yet again.

Peter was without a doubt hiding something, she just didn’t know what. As the orchestra started tuning, she saw MJ slip out of her seat. At first, she thought nothing of it until Ned & Betty did the same. Something urged her to follow and she found herself wandering the cobble pathways. After a few minutes, she was met with flames that flickered and danced as chaos erupted once again.

It wasn’t long until she heard someone she knew all too well.

“Tell everyone to get back inside!” The voice coming from a guy dressed in all black, flipping through the sky. At once, all the pieces clicked together.

Step Four: Admit How You Feel

Peter was absolutely not okay. He’s seen better days, and definitely better encounters with her. How could he complete the plan if it never started in the first place? His head hung low as he exited the elevators in the hotel, looking for Ned’s room.

Y/N heard three sharp knocks on her door, but she didn’t remember asking for room service. “Peter? What are you doing here?” She took notice of the cut on his hand.

“Oh, I thought this was Ned’s room. I’ll go-”

“No wait, I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about this whole,” she waved her hands around “situation. Where did you go earlier?” Y/N questioned, although she knew exactly where he went earlier. He frowned and fumbled with the watch on his wrist, “Is it okay if we talk about this outside?”

There was an awkward silence between them as they decided that a bridge near the hotel would be a good place. “Peter, are you alright? You’ve been acting a little strange the entire trip. If you want to talk about it with someone, I’m all ears.” She smoothed out her skirt as she sat on the ledge, fiddling with a bracelet.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be? You’re Spider-Man and the world needs saving. I can’t blame you for doing your job.” His brain short-circuited once again. She knows. Of course she knows.

“Woah, I’m not Spider-Man! Wh-where’d you get that from? That’s crazy and it makes no sense at all!” With a newfound confidence, Y/N got back onto her feet, “It makes perfect sense. That’s why we’re outside where no one can hear you admit it. Plus, you made it kind of obvious. Subtly is not your strong suit, Parker.” Oh if only she knew.

“But I meant to tell you something different-” The door swung open to reveal MJ looking upon the duo only a few steps apart. “Peter we found something from the battle- am I interrupting something?” The boy looked between both of them before shaking his head, “It’s fine, she knows.”

“Relax, he’ll be fine. Just breathe.” MJ sat on the bed, watching Y/N look out the window where Peter just slipped out of. With sheer panic in her eyes, she faced her friend. “How do you know? If what we’ve encountered are just holograms, imagine what the real deal would be like! He’s just a kid.” Y/N exclaimed. Typically, she would be able to keep an open mind, but it seemed that chaos took a big jab to her lungs, leaving her out of breath. Peter, someone she knew, was going to single handedly fight some sort of evil villain. “Y/N take a deep breath. If he sees you stressed out like this-”

“That’s a big if.”

“I’m just saying, he’s done this before. It’ll all work out. Now, you’re a little worked up about this more than we are.” Defeated, Y/N sprawls on the bed.

“It’s because I care about him, okay?” she blurted out, before backtracking. “As a friend! I care about him as a friend!”

“You’re both helpless. Get some sleep, we’re headed to London tomorrow and I don’t want to see the cranky side of you.”

“Love you too, MJ.” the door shut as Y/N closed her eyes, seeking for answers in her dreams.

Step Five: Kiss Her- If She’s Okay With That

Radio silence. She’s heard absolutely nothing from Peter, which only made matters worse. Y/N found herself worrying about his well being even more, finally coming to terms with how she felt. The class piled onto a double decker bus, slowly rolling towards the Tower Bridge. Not long after, ominous clouds rolled in, as she looked back to Ned and MJ, the only other people that knew of his secret. “Is this what I think it is?” A monster, the Elemental Fusion, loomed over the city and roared loud enough to send chills down everyone’s spine. “It’s not real, it’s not real.” Ned whispered to himself, staring in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me? That’s as real as a demon gets! Flash mob, are you seeing this?” He points his phone, yet again. Mr. Harrington motioned for the students to follow him, “Come on, let’s get out of here!” The fusion sent an explosion hurling towards their pack. Y/N ran faster, barely missing the fire. She didn’t care where she was going, as long as it was far away. A man in a crisp suit and a distressed expression stopped them. “Y/N, Ned, MJ! I work with Spider-Man-”

“You work for Spider-Man?!” Flash interrupted, obviously pissing him off even further.

“I work with Spider-Man, not for Spider-Man! Follow me!” He stumbled, and headed for a sleek jet right as a ball of fire caused it to shatter into flaming shards.

“Backup plan!” The Elemental Fusion disappeared, revealing itself to be a horde of drones. Dangerous drones. Four of them started to zoom in their direction. Shit.

The man led them into the Crown Jewels room, deeming it safe. As they ran for cover, a white drone followed them inside. MJ started eyeing a mace, carefully plucking it out of the knight’s hand. It screeched, drawing the attention towards her. Quickly, Betty knocked over a statue, where the drone unleashed its fury upon it before powering down after MJ’s swift hit. “Badass,” Y/N stated. Right when they thought it was all over, one more crashed through the windows; aiming straight for them. The man closed the door as everyone caught their breath inside.

Bullet after bullet, the wooden door grew weak. “I spent my entire life playing video games and now we’re about to die!” Ned confessed, clutching Betty’s hand who spoke up next. “I have a fake ID! But I never even used it!” MJ followed suit, holding onto the mace for her life. “I have the need to tell the truth even if it hurts people!” Flash put his phone down for once and yelled in despair, “I only make these useless livestreams for likes and clout!”

“I’m in love with Spider-Man’s Aunt!” The man gasped, with his eyes closed. Y/N’s heart pounded and she confessed without hesitation, “I have a crush on Peter and I never got to tell him!” Ned squealed a shrill ‘yes’ as the door split in half. Grabbing a sword from the ground, Y/N prepared to fight.

In an instant, the drone powered down and clattered to the floor. With a skeptic look, she carefully left the room and saw the rest of the machines do the exact same.

“Peter?” she yelled, crossing the bridge littered in rubble. She saw a blur of red and black, standing amongst the ruins. She ran, pulling him in for a hug. “Y/N you’re okay, thank god.” he panted.

She pulled back realizing just how badly he got hurt. His knuckles were bruised and a cut slashed through his cheek. She placed her hands on his shoulders and Peter’s knees grew weak, possibly from her and the fatigue. He managed to pull out a small drawstring bag, tugging it open. “Y/N I had this whole plan to get closer to you on this trip, and one of the steps involved giving you this when the time was right but it never happened.” He carefully took the chain into his hand, showing her the necklace however one of the beads were shattered.

“Oh no, Y/N I’m so sorry it must have-”

“Peter, it’s okay. It’s beautiful.” Y/N took a closer look. She felt touched, no one had ever done such a thing for her.

“Can you help me put it on, please?” She turned around as he clasped it around her neck. “Thank you, again.” Peter studied her face, vision darting between her lips and eyes. With a smile, she cupped his cheeks, taking him in for a soft kiss. Both of their hearts raced, the sensation getting the best of themselves. It felt good.

It felt right.

Peter pulled away, a rosy tint to his face. He reached for her hands, “Wait so you like me? I thought you were with Brad.”

She chuckled, “He’s just a friend, but he stands no chance against you. Besides, you’re not the only one who can keep a secret, Peter Parker.” she nudged his shoulder. He was a little dazed, and stood a bit straighter. “Well I should probably fix this all up.” He bent down to get his mask, pulling it over his face.

“I’ll be waiting for you.” She waved goodbye and joined the rest of her friends. Y/N looked back and swore she saw him high five himself in glee.

What a dork, she thought with a lovesick grin.

Thank you for reading! Hopefully it was alright! Feedback is appreciated, but not required! My taglist is open and so are my requests! :)

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kissmejae · 5 years

Text

Habits

PAIRING: Jung Jaehyun × Reader

GENRE: fluff, neighbours!AU (I guess?)

SUMMARY: Y/N has a bad habit of spying on the people living across the street, and when someone new moves in, everything changes.

WORD COUNT: 2.6k words

A/N: This is based on the prompt “a note, a cup of coffee, a new home” and where I live. Sadly there’s no Jaehyun or cute café, but the fat cat is there!! Also, I have no fucking clue how to use comma in English, sorry.

WARNINGS: Stalking if you squint really hard

You had a bad habit of looking through the windows on the other side of your lane. You lived on the third floor in a flat in the central part of town, and the old buildings stood so close that it was nearly impossible not to spy a little on the lives of all the people across the street. Just a little. You knew how the chubby red cat on the first floor liked to jump out the window at times, wandering the street and sneaking into the basement. The girl in the penthouse with the sloping walls would open the windows on sunny days and water her plants, standing for a while, taking in the view. The guys in the flat next to the red cat, who were probably your age, would always sit in the couch at night and watch football.

The middle aged man living directly across from your flat would always stand in the kitchen late at night and cook dinner, the antique lamp in the windowsill shining in a dusty orange hue. But today the lamp and its owner were gone. All of a sudden. You knew nothing about him, honestly – his name, his job and everything else was foreign to you. And still it hit you with a weird sense of melancholia that you’d never see him cook spaghetti again with his shirt unbuttoned, as you had so many times. The place was empty, but not for long.

It was the first day of the month, a busy time for people moving out of their old homes and into new ones. The neighbourhood you lived in housed many different types of people; college students saving money by living together, young couples that were amidst the milestone of having their first child, single adults that probably worked overtime too often, and the occasional retired citizens that had lived here for decades, never growing tired of city life.

You belonged to the first category, and it seemed that the new inhabitants of the empty flat were just the same. It was difficult to tell, but the guy unloading boxes upon boxes from a trailer was hardly a year older than you. You see, looking down at the street from the third floor, you could mostly see his brown hair and his strong shoulders, so it was more of a calculated guess. You had to admit that it excited you to have someone new to observe – mind you, you weren’t a creepy stalker at all, you just enjoyed picking up on people’s habits. And for that exact reason you stepped away to give him some privacy, even if he had no idea he was being watched.

Days had passed, and you had come to learn that two guys had moved in; the one you saw on the first day, and this taller friend. As with many young men, they didn’t seem to be experts at interior decorating, the place looked quite… minimalistic in it’s style as far as you were concerned. The thing is that you could only see through their kitchen window, as the other rooms faced away from your street, so maybe it was only the shared kitchen that was boring. Something that on the other hand wasn’t boring at all, actually rather amusing, was that the “first” boy had a lot of the same habits as the former renter, especially the part about cooking dinner late at night. He stood in the same position, body facing 90 degrees away from the window, concentrating on frying an egg, making noodles or boiling water for tea.

It was kind of relaxing to watch him stand there, but at some point he began cooking while being shirtless, which made it rather awkward for you. You had to admit to yourself that he had, shall we say.. good genes. It made your innocent act of watching seem very wrong and weird, especially because it made it even more tempting for you, and that annoyed you endlessly. Besides, you felt that it wasn’t simply his bare torso that drew you in, it was something more, something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. Sometimes, you’d turn the lights off in your room, roll down the curtains and look just for a moment, promising yourself that this had to end soon. Heck, you didn’t even know his name.

One of the best, if not the best part about living in an urban area was the Parisian style café at the street level of your complex. Everything they served was utterly delicious, and because you were a regular, they’d occasionally treat you to a coffee on the house. You didn’t always have time, but on the weekends you loved taking a seat in the sun, reading a good book while eating breakfast. Taking your time. And (you guessed it) doing a teeny tiny bit of people watching. Sometimes you’d even dress up for the event, wearing a flowy dress or some gorgeous sunglasses, pretending you were in an old movie. When you weren’t reading anything interesting, you’d bring your trusted old notebook and scribble whatever came to mind. Write a poem that you’d cross out immediately because it was too cheesy or too dull, make a caricature of the old man with the silver moustache that sits at the same café table every day, or maybe just make your grocery list.

This day, as you sat at your small round table with your orange juice and croissant, you saw him outside of the apartment for the first time. Well, the first time since the day he moved in. The whole scene that played out was so strange to you at first – as soon as he came out of the front door he crossed the street, walking straight in your direction. As if time slowed down, you reasoned that he had seen you staring through your window all this time, and now he was about to call you out for it in public. Your heart was beating so fast, you felt so, so stupid. As he was only a few meters away from, you made eye contact and you truly felt an imaginary ceiling crash down on you.

“Fuck” you whispered almost inaudibly.

But the impossible happened – he walked right past you, and you just sat there on the rattan chair completely confused. Did your life just flash before your eyes for nothing? Apparently it did, because when you turned your head slightly towards the bar, he was ordering a coffee to go, oblivious to you and your internal crisis. As you saw him leave and disappear at the street corner, you decided that you were so over your stupid curiosity. It shouldn’t be you that felt paranoid, right?

–

And so you turned back into a normal person that didn’t deliberately daydream over your neighbours. Of course you couldn’t help noticing the lit windows at night and so on, but nobody could. And frankly, besides thinking about him occasionally, you didn’t miss your habit much.

You still enjoyed staying at the café downstairs as much as your schedule and the weather allowed, and the unwritten rule was that it was okay to look at the people passing by here. It was always a mix of familiar faces and the faces you’d never seen before nor ever would again. You loved drawing inspiration from them; what they wore, what words they used when speaking on the phone with friends, how they walked… There was something comforting about how unique they all were. Maybe we didn’t all need to fit into some imaginary box to please others… Maybe it was okay to be yourself with being judged.

At one instance the unnamed boy came down for coffee again, but this time you were free of worry as your conscience was sparkly clean. You didn’t spy on him anymore. Eye contact was made once again as he walked by, and this time around he even flashed you a small polite smile of recognition. Needless to say you returned it, though he was almost past you already, but for the first time you got a full-frontal look at his face, and it made your heart flutter more than it should. It was acceptable to find a stranger attractive, but it was nothing but a bad idea to have feelings for someone you didn’t know. He made it very difficult not to.

Yet again you reminded yourself to stay in your own god damn lane.

–

Time passed, and by now you were both very much regulars at the café, the difference being that you always stayed while he always had his coffee to go. Always leaving and turning at the corner, lord knows where he went. You didn’t pay much attention to him anymore, but it all changed when he one day nonchalantly left a handwritten note on a torn piece of paper, as he walked by your favourite table. You felt completely frozen in your seat, as if he had broken a contract that neither of you had actually signed. You had done your best to keep to yourself for so long, and he had the audacity to acknowledge your presence? You were riddled as to what the content of the folded note could be. Your inner romanticist hoped for a phone number, but that was ridiculous. With slightly numb and shaking hands you unfolded the paper.

“We have the same taste in music, but you should close the windows next time if you don’t want the whole street to hear :~)”

You had to read it twice and process it all. Shit. You couldn’t help but to snigger a little, your face turning baby pink in embarrassment. You covered your face with your hands – all this time you’d been watching everyone else’s habits oblivious to the fact that someone was watching yours. Yes, sometimes you just had to bellow your favourite tunes, and the highest notes weren’t always easy to hit no matter how hard you tried. You really were a first class fool. And worst of all he knew you were a fool. The scribbled note had so much meaning to unpack; Was he mocking you? Was he flirting? What were you supposed to do now?? Knock on his door? Ignore him?

It was all too much for you at once, but you decided that it was a good thing that you had the same taste, and that he included the smiley at the end. You couldn’t answer the perhaps most important question though – why did he not write his name?

That night your thoughts kept you up for a bit. Regarding his name, it was of course possible to cross the street and check the name list on intercom, but 1) maybe there wasn’t even an intercom, 2) there would probably be two names since he had a roomie and 3) (most important of all) it was too desperate. The whole situation was so strange to you, you had truly never experienced something like it before.

It sparked a tiny flame of anxiety within you. You felt scared to go to your café again in case you ran in to each other again, because you truly wouldn’t know what to do. Yet again you had lived here much longer than him, so what was his business making you embarrassed to be in your very own neighbourhood? You also felt cautious about doing anything out of the ordinary in your bedroom, because what if someone saw you? It really troubled you because on one hand, you didn’t want to be the butt of someone’s joke for singing with open windows, and on the other hand, whenever you had been watching people through their windows, you only found their habits and lives endearing, so why were you so afraid? You decided that it was only reasonable to keep doing you fearlessly, and that overthinking it all led to no good.

And so you did. On one of the last Sunday mornings before autumn took the warm weather away from you, you were sat at your table downstairs. Everything was as usual. As expected, your brown-haired neighbour bust out the door, crossing the quiet street to get the same coffee as he always got. You busied yourself with reading a novel, you couldn’t stand to look him in the eyes as you’d only fall harder and deeper. You were so engulfed in the book that you didn’t notice him coming towards you instead of leaving the same way he always did.

“Can I sit?” his caramel voice spoke from behind you.

You jumped a little in your seat from the shock and turned your head instantly.

You looked at him for a second before replying with a “Yes” in the most unaffected way you could muster. You were not about to be a fool again. It took everything in you to seem normal. Internally all alarm were going off and you could feel the heat rush to your face.

“I don’t think you read my note” he broke the silence.

You looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“I did read it?”

He couldn’t hide his smile, as if he knew something you didn’t.

“Really? Because I still hear you sing at full force from time to time.” He took a sip of his paper cup.

“How can you be sure it’s me,” you retorted in an unamused voice, trying to be innocent.

“Oh, there’s this great invention called windows, you can see right through them!” he nudged you with his elbow.

You help but to warm up at his kind and funny nature, laughing a little at his words.

“Ok you got me. But don’t pretend that I’m the only human on earth doing that!”

“I’m just messing with you,” he smiled, “but it is kind of hilarious to watch you sometimes… You and all your habits.”

“My habits?” you asked, mortified.

“Yeah, you have so many, but I swear I’m not a stalker!”

You couldn’t really blame him could you.

“You just… Sometimes you take aaaall the clothes out of your wardrobe and try everything on, posing for the mirror, it’s honestly endearing. I’ve also seen you practice your dance moves in front of that mirror, and I know you hate to hear this, but I think you should keep that mess inside of your room for now,” he chuckled. “But I really like hearing you sing so I’m glad you didn’t shut your windows.”

You were completely speechless. It was a lot to take in right now, but the smile on your face didn’t lie. It was super weird to hear these things you never even noticed yourself, but it wasn’t as bad as you feared it could be – after all he seemed smitten by your goofiness, not judgmental. Part of you wanted to hit back with all the weird things you’d seen him do, but you opted for something simpler.

“This is so weird right?” you began, “I’ve seen you stand over there in your kitchen cooking at the weirdest hours of the day, blaming myself for creeping on you, and all this time you did the same? And we don’t even know each other’s names?” You were sort of astonished with your own honesty, but his company made you feel oddly safe.

“You like people watching too?” he asked.

“Who doesn’t,” you answered.

“I’m Jaehyun,” he finally admitted, offering his hand.

“I’m Y/N,” you replied, shaking his soft hand.

He studied you for a moment, and took the chance to ask: “Can I take you out some time? Maybe go people watching?”

Your heart was beating rapidly as you immediately accepted his offer, and he smiled as he told you a secret.

“I know that you read my note. I made sure that my roomie Johnny watched you from the kitchen window, he said that your face went red as a tomato.”

#jaehyun fic #jaehyun fan fic #jaehyun fluff #nct fic #nct fan fic #jaehyun fanfic #nct fanfic #nct fluff #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #yoonoh #fluff #nct #wow i haven't posted a pic in YEARS #pls lmk if you liked it

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blakescoven · 5 years

Text

Undress Rehearsal (Duncan Shepherd x fem!Reader)

Summary: You got a fashion degree and moved to DC to work as stylist assistant. Unexpectedly you meet a familiar face during a meeting and it seems there’s a spark between you two...but things may take a wrong turn.

A/N: Hey lovelies!! This is my first fic EVER, so be nice! Also, forgive any grammar mistake (English isn’t my first language). Since the ending is kinda open, I guess I could write a PART 2. I’m so happy to finally be able to post this one-shot, even though it sucks! I’d appreciate every comment/reblog/DM about it and about how I could actually improve my writing. This is a sort of experiment! I’m still trying to figure out “my style”. Oh and this is important: bold type means flashback, italics are Y/N’s thoughts and // means a few days passed! ENJOY and thank you for reading! I love you.

Warnings: mean!Duncan (just a little), making out and veeery light NSFW, plot!twist, lol I think that’s enough(?)

Word count: 6.1K

moodboard by the talented @hecohansen31

You were late again. It happened twice this week. But how could that happen? You had always been a punctual and reliable person, at night you ensured that the alarm was correctly set and you never went to bed too late, afraid to not being able to wake up the morning after. So how could it be possible? Maybe because of your jetlag, but after almost a month, well, this had become a really bad excuse. Then perhaps, the frenetic pace was already affecting you that much, making you too tired to hurry up and get ready. This couldn’t happen again; you were jeopardizing your new dream job because of this straggler behavior. While you were running along the streets of Washington DC, those were your recurring thoughts. Your wheezing and the speeded-up heartbeats, pounding in your hears, were drowning out any deafening noise coming from cars and traffic, which always filled the city driveways.

From the early hours of the day, the avenues were swarming with people going to their office, each of them withdrawn into oneself, busy minding their own business with their smartphones, bringing takeaway breakfast on the other hand. You were way too anxious and distracted from running breathlessly; you had already bumped into three stupid human beings, slowly strolling down the sidewalk like damn sloths. Every single step was followed by a quick glance at your cellphone screen, checking the time and ensuring there was no missed call of your boss.

If you knew anything in this world, it was that you had to take this job seriously, dealing with the fact that your exhausting dues would have allowed your eager ass to work your way up and finally become a fashion designer. So, you didn’t expect any great satisfaction to come very soon. And starting from the bottom was really tough. After years of studying and a well-deserved university degree, you were prepared for whatever the future might have brought. Despite that, you didn’t expect at all to end up in DC, working as a stylist assistant. Sure, this would have opened the door to your real dream job, be part of the style department, designing collections for a luxury brand. You had tried your luck moving to New York, but you ended up broke, with no savings left and no available job opening. For this reason, you decided to take that chance here. You hadn’t made any progress till now though. You were new, yes, but your tasks and assignments were hardly restricted to bring coffee or running around the Capital with tons of garment bags for upcoming fittings.

Finally, after that insane 3km rush, without even stopping for a second - no, you couldn’t afford an Uber ride every time -, you arrived. Your feet hurt like hell, your cheeks covered with scarlet shades like the worst of sunburns and your breath coming in short gasps…and your hair, oh dear Lord, it was a mess. You were sure you were also sweating. Luckily, Richard, your boss, was quite nice to you and somewhat tolerant; he was sincerely impressed by all your efforts, skills and abilities, so much that he wasn’t utterly certain what you were doing there.

Five minutes past the established hour and, thank God, the client hadn’t arrived yet. You didn’t have much information or details about that meeting. You only knew that you had to help during a fitting for a client, extremely influential on the political scene. He needed a few new looks and outfits for public appearances, interviews, and fundraising events. Of course, you assumed he would have been an old middle-aged white man, with too much money to count and eager for power.

Mr moneybags is getting late tho. Too busy making grands? you thought.

Meanwhile, you were trying to look more presentable, also to not risk damaging the brand reputation.

“Y/N?”

Your calves burned and, in that moment, you thought that bringing extra sneakers would have been a good idea.

“Y/N?!”

Since the client hadn’t arrived yet, maybe you could sit down and rest for a minute on that super comfy booth near the mirror…

“Y/N!!!! HELLOO!!!” Your train of thoughts was abruptly interrupted by your boss’ yells, which suddenly caught your attention.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, I zoned out! Forgive me, what can I do for you?”

The man, a healthy and elegant 40ish brunette, looked at you concerned “Y/N I know it’s hard to settle down, but I need you to be 100% focused today. The man who’s coming is a big deal for us, he’s a powerful figure in Washington politics! He has recently taken her mother’s place as CEO of the family company. So, I want us to make a good impression!” after saying that, he looked at you from head to toe, a bit baffled.

“So…” he continued “…I need you to – in that moment you really hoped you were about to receive a major task, finally a turning point – ..to run to the bar across the street and buy some coffee, and come back quickly!” All your expectations fell apart in a sea of disappointment. “Hurry up!”

You put on a forced smile and went straight to the exit.

After having waited in line for centuries, you figured that probably the client had to have arrived, and therefore, just as you had started your day, you came back running as fast as you could, to save time.

You were holding the coffee cups in your left hand, while you were struggling to turn off your phone, which had started ringing. Opening the glass door with your hip, you were still trying to silence the ringtone, this, without even minding where put your feet up. Ugh, mom, stop calling me...always the worst timing! you screamed in your own mind, frowning. Before you could slow down your steps, one of your heels didn’t grip well the lacquered floor, making you stumble and trip. A sudden change in your balance and you couldn’t avoid slipping forward, causing the not-so-angelic flying of coffee directly on the special guest of the situation.

Damn it.

And to make matters worse, you fell to the ground, cursing the day you were born. Hell no, it can’t have really happened to me. You had just made a complete ass of yourself. You would have rather sink below the waves into the oblivion.

“OH SHIT SHIT SHIT I-I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know h-how it happened!” you were apologizing, still keeping your eyes fixed on the once-full cups rolling down the parquet, next to your badly chipped mobile touchscreen.

“The floor must be slippery…please let me make it up to you, I ca- ” you stopped all of a sudden when you lifted your gaze, for the first time since you had stepped in. Standing in front of you there was the most attractive man you’d ever seen. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on you, like two burning flames almost forming deep holes in your soul.

It’s hot in here or it’s just me?

He was tall and his toned arms were easily visible through the once-white shirt. Now that expensive fashion piece was all covered by a huge stain of hot coffee. And it was your fault. You were speechless. Your attention all focused on the man’s features. Your gaze was busy running down those perfect shaped cheekbones and the sharp jawline. Oh boy, gods’ gift indeed.

Oddly familiar to you though.

You clearly remained to stare for too long to not be noticed, because the man himself broke the silence.

“Uhm, don’t worry” he seemed taken aback for a second “I’ll send it to the cleaners or I’ll throw it away, I don’t care” he said, immediately composing himself, while carefully unbuttoning the ruined shirt, with those long fingers... You were blushing. His low soothing voice sent shivers down your spine. But his tone was plain, no apparent emotion, he seemed almost indifferent, maybe even a little annoyed. Ah, pompous ass.

Your attention was caught by your boss, who, with a worried voice, while pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed, proposed him to choose another shirt among the others and take it as an apology gift. The man accepted, nodding with a crooked smile and with smug remarks about the needlessness of gifts for a man as rich as him.

Cocky asshole! You mused, with a roll of her eyes.

Anxious to change the subject, Richard, started the introductions. “Mr Shepherd, she is my smart – but clearly clumsy – assistant, Y/N” at that very moment that name awoke the memories in your mind.

No. It can’t be true.

“Well, nice to meet you” he remarked “Y/N”, repeating your name like he was tasting it on his own tongue “..or so.” he added, with a stupid smug grin on his breathtaking face. When they shook hands, you felt a sort of jolt and realized you had been holding your breath all this time. You remained silent.

That was the same man you met 6 months ago on the flight you took to go to New York, when you moved for the first time. It was him the influential man of the meeting.

Duncan-fucking-Shepherd.

Duncan. This name was the only thing in your mind right now, while you were lying on the couch, in your little apartment, with a glass of wine loosely resting on your lower lip. Oh my God, did he recognize me? Did he figure out it was me? How had he called me that day? Oh, his angel, right. Fuck.

Your head hurt, but you couldn’t help but keep on repeat your two first meetings again and again in your mind. The Duncan Shepherd from today was completely different, compared to the man you had encountered on that plane.

He hadn’t talked about himself very much, just spilled that he was a businessman traveling for work. You had immediately noticed how mature he was to be in his late 20ish. And incredibly handsome. And charming. And seductive.

Ok, stop.

You still couldn’t understand why you. Among all the attractive available women he could easily have, during all the time of the flight, he had been flirting with you. You. He made you feel sexy, desirable and safe, after a very long time.

It was the first class. You were there because of a lucky misunderstanding. While the plane was taking off, you two had a moment, since he saw you panicking. You had started talking for real only two hours after having left Milan. The conversation started casually, then developed into a flirty game. Little did you knew that a few hours later, you would eventually find yourselves making out so much intensely, whilst the rest of the passengers was sleeping with lights off. This wasn’t like you; you were strangers after all. Damn, you only knew his first name. But you couldn’t help your crazy attraction towards him. A sort of electricity, a particular connection that you had never felt with anybody else in your life.

You were staring off into space, completely lost in your inner thoughts, while biting hard your lip and fidgeting with the hem of your oversize t-shirt. You nervously swallowed and closed your eyes. Your hand began to move from the fabric and wander over your bare legs, brushing them with your fingertips. Throwing back your head and swallowing again, you frowned and sighed. You couldn’t make those thoughts disappear. He got under your skin and no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake him.

His soft lips on yours, hot and peachy, the trailing of his wet open-mouthed kisses along your throat and the series of marks he was leaving on your skin, on the way down your collarbone. Feeling the smile of the other against your lips as you two kissed. The best feeling in the world. His small moans when you had pulled his lower lips between your teeth, while his hands were touching and roaming all over your body, as if he wanted to memorize each spot, each curve, each part of you. “Baby I wish it was just the two of us right now, damn, I want you so badly” he whispered. God, if they had been alone, you’d have gone further for sure. You were both turned on, you could tell, especially from the prominent bulge on his designer pants. All you wanted was to climb on top of him, straddling his hips, panting in his hear and feel his hot breath all over you. Intense was the craving to undress him, feel his skin against yours. Shit, it was like a living a dream.

The meeting had been canceled and rescheduled for tomorrow. The situation was quite unpleasant. What you were supposed to do now?

Judgment Day had come. You hadn’t slept at all, all night spent tossing and turning between the sheets and looking at the ceiling. How were you supposed to act now? Should you have mentioned anything? What was really killing you, was the feeling that ‘your moment’ had meant nothing for him. Yes, after 6 months, you had gone over it, also because you had no idea how to contact him. But after seeing him again, all the buried thrills came rushing back. You absolutely needed to test the waters today. What did you have to lose? Well, your dignity maybe. If he wanted to, Duncan could have easily said something. And of course, a man of his status could have anything, or anybody, he wanted. Maybe you were overthinking, maybe not.

Since it was almost dawn, and the sun was peeking through the blinds, creating a delicate play of lights and shadows on the curtains, you decided you could actually distract yourself choosing what to wear for the meeting. You shouldn’t have done it. Your bedroom had become a battlefield, all your clothes scattered all over it, like some lifeless leftovers of the closet, now empty. Almost like a little bomb went off. You kept trying combinations on combinations, each time taking off the pieces and throwing them away anywhere around you, as if you were on the verge of a breakdown. It was still a business meeting; you couldn’t dress up too revealing or doll up too much. But at the same time, you’d never give up on being yourself and express your personality through what you wore. Respecting yourself was the most important thing. Self-love. However, this didn’t solve the problem at all. You wanted to appear at your best, challenge him, in a subtle way.

On your way to the office, an unexpected call tuned you away from your own thoughts.

“Richard! Good morning! Are you calling me for coffee? Because I’ve already stopped off at the bar, now tell me who is the best assistant in the whole world?! And I’m not even late!” your smile vanished as soon as your boss answered.

“WHAT?! What does it mean you won’t be there today?” Your heart skipped a beat and started pumping so much blood through your veins, that you felt as a heatwave was rushing inside of you. “W-well if you have family issues, we agree that it’s necessary to postpone the gathering..I-” your eyes widened at the realization that you’d be alone. With Duncan.

You almost fainted on the spot.

“I’m sure you can handle it on your own! You can still reach me with a phone call, if you ever need me. Plus, don’t you think this would be the right chance to prove yourself and finally level up, get noticed and considered for that vacant position in the style & design dep.? My money’s on you, girl!”

How could you blame him, though? He was always so encouraging.

You sighed through the phone, so he added “Look, it won’t be hard. Remember that Mr Shepherd is in your hands. We have to turn him into one of the brand advocates; he’s young, a self-made man, the best choice to promote the brand awareness. It’s up to you now.”

Wow, that’s very reassuring you figured, shaking your head.

“Ok, you can do this, I have to go now, let me know how it goes. Bye!” Fuck.

“W-wait! I can’t do that withou-” he has already hung up. Looking up to the sky and letting out a frustrating grunt, you allowed yourself a childish whine and mumbled a ‘why me’.

Now you were standing outside the building, trying to collect yourself before entering. You were wearing an oversized see-through blouse, tucked in a black knee-length skirt, and an *accent color* blazer with rolled-up sleeves, to complete the look. You were ready to fight. No more clumsy bullshit.

Breathe, remember to breathe you reminded yourself, looking at the elevator door.

You strode next to the receptionist’s desk, Tiffany, or, as you liked to call her, ‘Crazypants’; since her eyes were always so disturbingly wide open – Does she ever blink? – and her hair painfully pinned back, so tight that must have hurt her. She seemed a cross between a barbie and a psycho killer. As soon as you walked by her desk, Crazypants greeted you overly excited, calling you with her earsplitting high-pitched voice. You put on your fakest smile and replied,

“Morning Tiff, uhm, I wish I could stay and chat, but I have work to-”

“The client is already here. He’s waiting for you in the fitting room” she winked. Hell, you hoped your blushing wasn’t so obvious, you couldn’t even have a few minutes to be psychologically prepared. Well, maybe better pull off the band-aid.

“Thank you for warning me! I’ll be right there” you answered. Not even before your exams you felt all this pressure.

Why is it always so hot?!

Walking along the hallway as if you were going to your own execution, you found yourself in front of the door of the rehearsal room. You gently opened it and entered. Do you know when, at some point in movies, there’s a slow-motion moment with background music?! There it was. Precisely. He had his back turned, gazing the skyline through the glass wall. And the second he heard the clicking of a pair of heels, he turned his head, smiling at you and looking intensely at your figure. You were about to die for real now.

How could someone be so beautiful?

His hair perfectly styled, his hot stubble,... Oh, that stubble was your weakness. You could already feel it between your legs and…

“Hey hey, easy with that” he teased with his deep honeyed voice, pointing the take-out coffee cups you were holding. You winced and giggled

“I’ll never stop apologizing about that, ehm, incident…but if you want one, go ahead!”

You looked at each other smiling for a while, until you had to break the silence and eventually get down to business. “So, I guess it’s better if we start…Mr Shepherd, so then you’ll be free to go back to work”, he exhaled and nodded

“Oh please, just call me Duncan.”

You saw a sort of shift in his features. His face went blank. He adopted a bossier and intimidating position, like last time. Ok, maybe he just wants to keep it professional, I understand.

“When is Richard coming?” he questioned while taking his trench coat off. “To be honest, it’ll just be me today, but it’s all right, you’re in good hands” you slightly smiled. He sighed again and you rose your eyebrow, taking it as an unspoken insult.

“Is there a problem?”

“Well, yes, I didn’t come here to waste my time with a newbie assistant.” Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“No need to get upset darling, this is what you are, after all” he stated shrugging. You were speechless; yes, you were an assistant, but the way he said that, as if you were a dumb zero…What an asshole.

“Oookay, since I’m here..let’s continue” he glanced at you, waiting for her next move. “I agree, you can change in the wa-” you paused; he was literally undressing in front of you.

“What? There’s nothing you’ve never seen...I guess” You were confused…was he teasing you or something? “You should be more professional, I’m saying it for you”, your rage slowly increasing and flowing throughout your entire body. He was a completely different man, with all those unnecessary mean remarks. He gave you mixed feelings. You would have punched him, but at the same time, contemplating his perfectly-shaped heavenly body, his toned muscles, his thighs..you wanted to jump on him, kiss him and be his, in every way possible.

“You’re staring.”

“W-what?! No. I’m waiting for you to finish undressing, so I can give you the first change to wear..”

“Sure.”

You’d already had enough of his attitude. “I suggest starting with this evening suit, since Richard told me you’ll attend a charity gala in a few days.”

“Hush, please, save it. I don’t need all your pointless suggestions. I can handle it by myself.” he seemed almost..angry? You didn’t know how to hit back anymore. Why was he acting like that, all of a sudden? He tried on a few different outfits while you were staying there, silent, shifting your weight from a leg to another, your eyes wandering through the room, your lips pressed into a thin line and your mind trying to figure out what was happening. Duncan, noticing the tapping of your fingers on your thigh, rolled his eyes and gave you an annoyed look.

Then he huffed “Impatient, uh?”

You were hovering on the brink of an outburst.

“Why don’t you do your job and bring me some water, or take notes, or whatever you get paid for?”

“My job is helping you find a set of appropriate clothes for various occasions, trying to create the right mix & match that suits your taste and personality...” you retorted in a plain tone.

“Oh, thanks for the not required explanation, Wikipedia..”

“..but I’m not stupid, I know what a fucking stylist does” he was pushing your buttons.

“If you’d allow me to do my job, instead of questioning me, I could recommend something..”

“No need to whine, baby girl…So do it, instead of staying there like a scared little girl.”

“If relying on someone to select your wardrobe really bothers you..why don’t you choose them by yourself?” you sassed, struggling to remain polite.

“Well, I’ve demanded the help of a professional, not that of a ‘coffee-bringer’…and I’m wasting my time here”.

Ok, that’s enough.

He was still a client, but for you being treated like that wasn’t acceptable anymore. “You know what? I don’t fucking care if I get fired after saying these words. But I’m done with your dumbass comments. You’re a douchebag. I’m trying to do my job and, just because you’re rich and influential, you think you can treat me like that. Like I’m trash?” you were finally giving in to an outburst “The saddest thing is that I really hoped you would remember me. About that moment we shared 6 months ago, on that flight to New York. But obviously, I’ve given it much thought. Turns out that I’m just one of many, aren’t I? I’ve been thinking about you for weeks and when I saw you again, it all came flooding back. I’m so stupid. It’s not your fault, I was wrong to think that day could have really meant something.”

While talking, you were struggling to hold back the tears, you weren’t supposed to look pathetic, but your eyes were already watering. “So, do me a favor: end this meeting now. I’ll call Richard and tell him to take care of you, since you do not believe I’m capable enough to fulfill your needs..”

“..oh and don’t worry about seeing me again, I don’t want anything to do with you! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” you spat, entering the small wardrobe room, without bothering to switch on the light, hoping that your angry tears would have remained unnoticed in the darkness and that Duncan would have gone for good. So you started moving crutches on the clothes stand, to make room for those outfits to restock over.

Unexpectedly you felt an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. It was Duncan. He hadn’t left.

His body pressed against yours, you were paralyzed, his arms keeping a firm grip on you. What’s happening? You knew you should have pushed him back and kick him out, but something inside you decided against it. It was like a part of your dumb heart wanted to stay still in that position forever. You two remained silent, until he whispered in your hear, with his hot breath and his cologne filling your nostrils - a mixture of cinnamon, sandalwood and tobacco.

“I’m sorry..” he sighed. He sounded sincere.

“..I went too far.”

Now your own hands were resting upon his arms. You could feel the heat his body was radiating right now. With a honeyed soft tone, he murmured “Please forgive me, I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that having you standing here again, in front of me, stunned me. I didn’t know what to do and I misunderstood your demeanor. I thought you were pretending nothing had happened, or that you didn’t recall that day, or that you simply didn’t care.”

His hold slowly loosened, allowing you to turn around and look at him with narrowed eyes and a puzzled expression, without a word.

“Uhm, I’m not very good at communicating my emotions, but you’re right. I’ve been a dick. You didn’t deserve it, but I was overwhelmed by the attempt to suppress my own feelings. Since I saw you again,”

he paused,

“you are all I can think about.” he admitted, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb, but you tried to resist him,

“I hope you’re not trying to play me, because otherwise I’ll smash that stupid hot smirk to the ground.”

“So do you think I’m hot, uh?!”

“You dumbass.”

“God, you’re so damn sexy when you’re mad.” he teased, coming closer.

“What?” you giggled. He stared at your lips “I just can’t stop thinking about kissing you right now…” and unexpectedly, his hand drifted to your hip, pulling you even closer. You inhaled deeply. You were against his warm chest, sculpted to perfection. Why must he be so perfect? You placed your hand against it, intending to push him away, but instead you left it there. You froze, from both fear and excitement.

You two stared into each other’s eyes and his breathing quickened as did yours. He slowly leaned in, so his forehead rested against yours. You closed your eyes. Your faces were inches apart now, and he lightly traced your lips with one finger. His other hand placed behind your neck, shortening the distance even more.

Your noses bumped and your mouths matched up slightly-opened, breathing each other’s air directly. He brushed his lips against yours and you freaking loved it. You loved the way your body melted into his. The way your lips perfectly fitted like two puzzle pieces. The way Duncan held you tighter and tighter. It sent shivers down your back. His only desire was to touch you, to move his hands under your layers and feel your smooth skin.

You two broke the kiss for a second to catch your breath. Then he pulled you in, claiming your mouth again, hungry and intense. Duncan lowered his hands down your hips, cupping your ass and dragging you impossibly close. You deepened the kiss swallowing his groan of pleasure as you lost into each other, no space between you two. His hands were exploring your body, while you grabbed his hair tightly to restrain your own moans.

Slowly, you started exploring each other’s mouths with your tongues. Sometimes sucking his lower lip and biting it a little bit. He started kissing your jaw and leaving hickeys on your neck. He didn’t want to let you go, so he pulled you again and kissed you so hard, with much more intensity. He squeezed you, suggesting that he wasn’t going to stop. You didn’t mind at all and continued making out.

He slowly put his hands under your blouse, trying to reach and unhook your bra, eager to run his fingers along your breasts and rub it. You began unbuttoning his button-down, seductively leaving wet kisses and love bites on his chest. He moaned. Then Duncan raised your blouse and took it off completely, so he could see you.

“You’re beautiful” he purred, and started massaging your chest and kissing it hardly, licking and biting gently your nipple. While Duncan was playing with your body, you could only keep on tugging his hair, making his moans vibrate against your body. Then he kneeled down kissing your stomach.

Both of you couldn’t silent your groans anymore, the entire room was filled by sexual noises. But you didn’t care at all. You knew where it was going. Duncan pushed you against a wall, grinding on you and you could clearly feel his hardness pressed against your body. You needed more friction.

“Jump.” he suddenly hinted, and used his veiny arms to hold you up by your thighs lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your core was throbbing at that very moment.

But you were brought back to planet Earth right after; that divine feeling was ruined by a pesky thought that clouded your mind.

What if he’s just interested in sex?

He sensed your sudden slowing down. “If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. When you remained silent, he brushed his mouth against your temple,

“Or now.”

he followed the line of your cheekbone,

“Or now.”

now he was kissing your chin,

“Or—”

then your lips were against his, again. You kept undressing slowly, savoring the moment.

But that damn thought came back, stuck in your mind. And eventually it hit you. “Wait…wait” you said, trying to steady your breathing.

“What’s wrong angel? I did something wrong or..” he questioned worriedly. “No, not at all, it was perfect..but I don’t think this is right.”

“Wait what?! Why?” Duncan replied in disbelief.

“I’m not a yes girl, Duncan. I’m not looking for casual hookups, I really want to know you better and see where this leads us.” you smiled reassuringly, caressing his cheek. You were scared as fuck. Maybe he wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship, just random booty calls. But you had to take the risk. You wanted to.

“Uhm..yeah. I guess that sounds fair enough.” he chuckled and you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “How about a coffee date? I know a place, it’s quite secluded, to not attract the attention of press and journalists” you tilted your head and frowned,

“What do you mean?”

“Angel, I don’t want you to be targeted by newspapers, they aim to find some dirt on me and make every aspect of my private life public. I prefer keeping a low profile, and put you in an uncomfortable position is the last thing I would want.” “Oh, ok. I got it.” you were a little thoughtful, to be honest. But in that moment, you would have agreed with everything he was saying. You used every inch of strength you had, to stop and not go further. Not that there was anything wrong with that. You just wished to learn more about that handsome man in front of you; his desires, his passions, his values and aspirations.

“I’d better get back to work, they’ll wonder what happened to me.” he smirked. “Yeah, you better hurry up, then” you laughed, while putting your blouse on. “I’m gonna put aside the chosen clothes” you informed, but before you could leave the cramped room, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back in his arms, giving a last soft peck on your lips.

“How can I focus now, with the thought of you against me?!”

“You’ll have to make do with the memory..” you shot back “..for now.” you cooed, whispering in his hear.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. You had exchanged numbers and with all those texts you were sending to each other, you felt like a schoolgirl again. Nothing could have ruined that sensation. Before going back home, Richard called you, questioning you about the meeting, not noticing your struggle to not make disconnected sentences or beat around the bush, to hide your embarrassment. Then, to thank you for having his back, he gave you another assignment: a high-society lady had requested a selection of gowns to choose, to attend a few fundraising events. Another important add-on for your CV. A few more efforts and they would have finally offered you the long-awaited position in the creative team.

The consultation had been set up two days later, you had to go to the customer’s penthouse this time. Ugh, lazy rich people. You rang the doorbell and right after you were greeted by a thin blonde girl, all fake boobs and tinted tips, wearing a dress that seemed closer to a long top, rather than an actual dress.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Come in! I’ll be right back” she yelled. You came in holding the garment bag; you were shocked when you found out how actually big the apartment was: super modern, black & white themed and with some art hanging on the walls.

Uhm, de gustibus you muttered to yourself.

“Here I am, sorry for the waiting. I am Madison!” Why rich people seem so reluctant to share their last name with me? you mused, smiling to yourself.

“Let’s start, shall we?”

And then Madison took you to what has to be her large bedroom. Odd. That seemed more like a bachelor to you, but judging wasn’t your thing.

The fitting went smooth as silk. This Madison was a bombshell, every single dress fitted her body as it was sewn on her. For the upcoming event she chose a nude silk dress, that perfectly matched her skin tone. She looked pretty excited for the pick, so much that she started screaming and calling out loud, making you aware that there was someone else around.

“Muffin come here!!! I chose the dress!! It’s perfect oh my God! You must see it before I take it off!”

MUFFIN.

Seriously? Do not laugh, please, do not laugh.

You were biting her lip a little too hard. While Madison kept calling her…muffin, you decided to do something and began packing all the stuff back up into the bag.

“Oh finally, you walk so slow, babe…now, look! What do you think?” Before the man could answer she continued “Oh wait, how rude I am. Y/N, this is my fiancé...”

As soon as you turned around and lifted your gaze, your heart stopped beating.

“…Duncan!”

His smile soon disappeared too, replaced by a shocked and guilty expression, like a deer caught in the headlights. You froze in place.

You were trying to hold back the impending flood of tears, washing it away with your anger. A million different feelings rushed through you, but at the same time you couldn’t feel anything, just your own heart, literally breaking down in pieces.

“Do you already know each other?” Madison asked, noting Duncan’s surprise. You gathered all the strength left within you and stated

“Just one of the many customers.”

Then, lowering your broken voice, you sputtered a “Now I really have to go.”

Without saying anything more, you took the garment bag and run straight to the door, shutting it down behind your back. Right after, a teardrop rolled over your cheek, and your eyes started watering. Once that the first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Before turning into a sobbing mess, you walked fast down the hallway, reaching the elevator and waiting for the doors to open up.

Before you could take another step, a large hand took you by the wrist, keeping you in place. You turned around and instantly pushed him back, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“Please,” he begged,

“Let me explain. Please, I don’t want to lose you! We have something..w-we can talk about it, please, wait!”

“Go to Hell” you snapped;

and then you shoved his hand away, entering the elevator. Stupid. I am so fucking stupid. You two looked at each other one last time, shedding tears. The eyes of both soaking blatantly. And then the doors shut.

That heartbreak felt like concrete drying in your chest.

________________________________________________________________

Tagging: (I hope you don’t mind BUT tell me if you want to be removed, I was just curious to know your opinion about it, if you'd like to read it) MUCH LOVE @ladynuwanda @hecohansen31 @michael-langdon-appreciation @sojournmichael @so-langdon @stupidocupido @sammythankyou @emmyrosee

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noir-porker-parker-holland · 5 years

Text

Uncle Roger

Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: none; fluff

A/n: Italics is the reader’s pov; bold is roger’s pov

Queen was your best friends. You met them in college when you were studying to be a lawyer. Needless to say, after much coaxing the band asked you to be their assistant. You said yes because you needed the money and because it would give you a chance to spend more time with them. On a trip you hooked up with a guy and he got you pregnant. You didn't remember who he was or anything about him, so you realized in the journey of having your child you were completely and utterly alone.

You walked into the studio and said to yourself, I need to tell them today. You had been saying that to yourself for weeks, but couldn't bring yourself to. Your baby bump was getting bigger and there was no way you could hide in the next couple of weeks. You saw John first and he gave you a smile, you stepped in the middle of all of the shits and said you had something to say, “Remember when you were on tour, and I got really drunk. Well do you remember that bloke I hooked up with, because I don't. Which is not ideal because he just happen to have gotten me pregnant.” You said. Their mouths hung open and you were shifting your weight from one foot to the other awkwardly. “Congratulations my dear, seems as though we'll have a new member.” Freddie said coming over to hug you. “Do you know what the gender is?” He asked. You shook your head, “another topic for another time. Maybe you could throw a party so I could tell my friends and family.” He chuckled.

John ran to hug engulfing you in a giant hug. You and him had gotten very close recently and quite frankly you considered him your best friend along with the rest of Queen. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see Roger not moving and still in shock. He caught your eye and was brought back to reality. “Uh- Congratulations y/n, this kid better be a drummer,” he said teasingly making you chuckle. Brian and him engulfed you in a hug and you relaxed because you had four less people to tell. You were happy but genuinely scared.

After that day, Roger offered to have you move into his apartment so he could keep an eye on you an the baby because he was apparently the closest thing that the baby was going to get to a dad right now. You politely declined but he insisted. You finally caved and moved into the spare room. But Roger noted that that room would be the baby's so you shared a room with Roger. Not that you minded, that just meant Roger would have to go out the girl's house if he wanted to hook up. That was another thing that changed due to you being pregnant. Roger stopped hooking up with girls, it seemed odd but you couldn't understand why. He was always so adamant about being a playboy. Maybe you being pregnant changed his views. But what did you know?

Nine months later, you had a beautiful baby girl with the help of Roger. He had been there for you the entire time. Through mood swings and morning sickness to labor and contractions. Overall, he really stepped into the fatherly role you needed. The day you brought home the baby Roger was quite nervous to say the least.

You looked down as you walked to see the sleeping face of your daughter. Right next you was Roger, who seemed quite unsure of something. “Roger, are you ok? You seem nervous,” you said. He looked at you and scoffed, “me? Nervous? Pfff,” he said. You shook your head at his antics but continued walking to his car.

Through the whole drive Roger was driving quite slow and it took you to say “jeez you drive like my grandma” to finally get him to speed up. But again he had that look on his face. Lord what was going through his head.

As we got inside, he helped me carry things in. As we got settled, the look on his face never vanished. “Roger please tell me what's wrong,” you said putting your hands on his shoulder standing between his legs. He look up a you, “I'm quite nervous,” he said quietly but you managed to hear it. “About what?” You asked. “Raising Rosie. I'm the so called dad so I'm nervous about seeing her grow up and me fucking up,” he confessed. You put your hand under his chin and made him look up at you, “you'll do great. I know you will,” you kissed his forehead before leaving to put Rosie in her crib for the first time. The look on Roger's face so faded as he saw the sleepy form of who he calls his daughter.

It's has been two years since that autumn day and Freddie decided to throw a party for the munchkin that was your daughter. You told him, strictly friends and family but that didn't stop Freddie from adding extra spice to the party.

From the big staircase that led to the bedrooms upstairs, Rosie stood with her purple blanket slung over her shoulder. Still clad in her blue onesie, she made her way down. She got to the bottom of the stairs when Freddie saw her. “My little Rosie why are you awake?” He said immediately picking her up. She hid her face in his neck and whispered, “uncle Roger.” He looked around till he found the blonde locks, “do you want uncle Roger?” He asked. He felt her nod and he left to see Roger.

Roger had two women, one on every arm. He didn't see Freddie or Rosie till Freddie cleared his throat. “Roger, there is a much more special girl wanting your attention.” Freddy said making the girls scoff. “Excuse me, do me a favor and get out of your bubble. The very tired baby girl here is more deserving of his attention than you will ever be.” The girls stood up and left. Freddie smirked. “Really Fred?” He said. “I'm sorry I was-” Freddie was cut off by a little voice saying “uncle Roger.” Roger's eyes looked down to see Rosie untucking a hand to make a grabby hand at him. He sighed but smiled at the sight. “Alrighty baby,” he said immediately turning soft at the baby girl. Freddie snickered, “what?” Roger asked taking Rosie from Fred. “It's just funny seeing you go from macho playboy to Uncle Roger just like that.” Roger shoved Freddie lightly before upstairs to put Rosie to sleep.

He opened the room and turned on the lamp she had by her bed. He took off his shoes so he was more comfortable sitting down in the rocking chair next to her crib. “Alright here we go,” he whispered. He draped her purple blanket over her back and she nuzzled her face into his neck. He could feel her breath tickle his neck. “Do you want me to stay here till you fall asleep?” He asked her, but she shook her head. “Sing.” He looked down at her, and smiled, “what would you like me to sing?” She shrugged. He hummed the tune of 'Love of my Life's before singing it softly. Rosie could feel her eyes start to droop and sleep was overtaking her. Roger rocked her back and forth, and before he knew it Rosie and him both we asleep.

The next morning you woke up with the sudden urge to check on Rosie. You thought she'd come and wake you up but that never happened. You started to worry while walking to her room. You cracked open the door slightly and saw them together. Roger and Rosie, asleep. You smiled before closing the door once again. Roger must've heard you because he whispered a small “hey” . You looked back into the room, and Roger was putting Rosie in her crib before grabbing his shoes and making his way to you. He followed you out till you both were in the kitchen. “How'd you sleep?” You asked. He sat up on a stool, and looked at you making breakfast, “fine, Rosie was really warm.” He said making you giggle softly. To be completely honest, Roger loved making you laugh. If he was in a bad mood, hearing you laugh would instantly make him be in a better mood. Did he like you more than a friend? Yes. Did you? Yes. Were you both completely oblivious to the other's feelings? Yes. Were you going to do something about it? …

You made breakfast for you both before you heard a scream. You ran to Rosie's room and saw her in her crib crying. You swiftly took her out and tried to comfort her. “What's wrong my love?” You asked before Roger came in with a confused, yet scared look on his face. Seeing Roger made Rosie calm down almost immediately. You realized this and gave her to him, “seems as though she wants you, daddy.” you said walking out of the room. You didn't mean it in any wrong way, it's just he acted like a dad would to Rosie. He looked in your general direction before looking at Rosie in his arms, “jeez your mama is going to be the death of me. God i love her.” He said as Rosie fussed, “I know right, if only she knew.” You didn't mean to overhear him but when you did, butterflies erupted in your belly.

He came out of the room later in Rosie in his arms again. You laughed when you saw her grabbing at his long blonde locks, “she won't let go- OW,” He said as she pulled harder. “Here let me take her,” you said. You grabbed Rosie, and balanced her on your hip as you made food. You kept thinking about what Roger said and analyzed what he had said. Did he really like you more than a friend? Who know but you needed to tell him whether or not he liked you back. You went upstairs and put her in crib before mustering the courage to confront him about it. “Roger,” you started. He looked up at you. “I heard what you said in Rosie's room and I just wanted to say that I love you too. And I'm not just talking about as a friend.” Your heart felt as though it was beating out of your chest. Why was he taking so long in responding?

Did she really like me? If I say something stupid, she might take it back? Oh God. Ok what do I say? I thought but was cut off when he saw you shifting uneasily. I cleared my throat before answering, “well since you heard me, there's no need for me to say it again.” I said.

You smiled as you crept closer to him. He placed his forehead on yours and just stood there, neither of you wanted to make the first move. You both leaned in and closed the gap in the middle. The kiss was passionate and long overdue. By the time you pulled away, your lips were plump, and you had grins resting upon your faces. “What does this mean?” You asked. “What do you want it to mean? He asked. “It's time to be my daddy,” You said seductively but failed. He chuckled, “well if that's what my baby wants.” He said before placing his hands on your waist and pulled you into a kiss. A kiss that would be tone of many down the line. A kiss that surely neither him nor you would forget.

TAGLIST: @sleepybesson

Shoot an ask if you want to be part of my taglist.

btw imma be doing some roger x reader and ben x reader stuff so just expect this

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #dad!roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fluff #roger taylor angst #roger taylor smu #roger taylor x you #roger taylor imagine #rogerina #queen #queen fandom

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honestly-weird-weirdly-honest · 4 years

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The Things I Want To Do

Hello Internet :)

Be warned, this is going to be one of those obligatory This Is What I Want To Blog about posts...

I have wanted to start a blog for a while now, but I never really got to it because I am a horrible procrastinator and I really suck at selfdissipline...

So to give myself the mental kick in the ass that I apparently need to get shit done, I am going to blog about my projects and hopefully create a sense of accountability for myself. And if I manage to entertain or inspie or educate someone along the way, that will absolutely make my day.

So without further ado, here ar the things you can expect to see coming up on this blog (this list has no particular order or meaning to ist order. All of these projects theoretically have equal meaning to me, none have priority over the others, and they absolutely do interlock with each other, so keep that in mind.)

Project Number 1: Getting healthy and losing weight

I realized a few years back (more like 10, but who's counting...sigh) that I kept gaining weight and my health and fitness was going down at the same time.

Needless to say, I was not happy with that, and I have tried to lose weight several times. Mostly it worked for a few weeks, then I sort of lost track and went back to my bad habits.

So right now, I weigh a shocking 100,5 kg (~221lbs) and have a body fat percentage of around 58%, and I would really like to get back to a normal weight and body fat Percentage, think like 58 kg (~128lbs) and maybe 15-20% body fat.

( I am not 100% sure about the body fat percentage, I'm still researching what a normal healthy range ist there, and there are a scary amount of contradicting numbers out there, so that might take a bit.)

I'll go into more depth on how I got where I am weight wise and what I plan to do about it, but aside from losing weight I really want to gain back my fitness. Wouldn't it be great not to feel like coughing up a lung after a short run to catch a bus...

So what I'll be doing is basically:

- trying to figure out how to lose weight effectively and permanently

- changing the way I eat, including the scary amount of caffeine I drink each day

- stop smoking

- working out to gain back my fitness

- and documenting the whole shebang for you to follow along.

Project Number 2: Mental Health and depression

I have been struggling with depression for the past 7-8 years, and while I am currently Ok-ish, I want to start documenting my moods, educating people on depression and healthy coping mechanisms.

Now before someone goes on the "You need professional treatment"-tangent, I know, I have been in treatment, and I am currently trying to find a therapist to work with again.

But waitlists are a bitch, so this is sort of my version of self-help.

I don't really have a plan for how I want to go about this project yet, it might end up being some weird stream-of-consciousness word vomit type thing. I don't really know yet, and I don't want to overthink it, so I'll just let that happen as is goes.

Project number 3: Book reviews

I have always loved books. Literally always. I would beg my parents to read just one more story before bedtime, would fall asleep listening to cassettes or CDs with kids stories, I learned to read before I started first grade.

When I left school I didn't have much time for reading anymore, because my apprenticeship had me commuting between 3 cities, so I spent a lot of time driving around, working or studying for exams.

I started to listen to audiobooks on my 8+ hour drives and while doing necessary but annoying task like cleaning and such, and now I have a collection of about 290-ish titles in my audible library, and I am still buying 2-3 books a month.

In the past few years I have found a few great books, several good books, some utterly horrifyingly bad books, and to be honest, with most I didn't know which it was going to be, because a lot of reviews you can find online are not what I would like them to be, so I'll just write the reviews I would like to read when picking out my next book.

Project number 4: Costumes and Sewing

Now I am not a trained tailor, so some of my sewing projects are not as good as I would like them to be, but I enjoy it nonetheless.

I sew my own costumes for LARP, which is one of my big hobbies that I spend a lot of time on, either at cons or making costumes and props and so on.

So for this Project, you will be seeing walkthroughs of my projects, Work in Progress pictures, some of my already finished garments and possible adjustments of them as I hopefully use weight, and whatever else I think might fit in under this caption, like how I find a look that I like ( I mostly do fantasy costumes, but I like to incorporate some historical aspects) or my adventures in pattern drafting (which are wild, let me tell you).

So yeah, these are my 4 big projects that I will be keeping track of with this blog.

I have no idea what sort of schedule I will be able to keep, but I'll figure that out along the way.

So for now, if you are reading this, welcome to my brain, and I hope you've enjoyed my weird rambling introduction to what I want to do here, and I hope you'll stay for what comes next.

#Welcome #introduction #what you can expect #goals #body goals #get healthy #weightloss #losing weight #mental health #depression #coping mechanism #sewing #costumes #books #book review #reading

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xaz-fr · 5 years

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A Manor in ATLAS

@deadpool-scar-bro @hikayelastoria @cornsnoot-fr @redlion-fr @mushroomdraggo @murdoch-fr @tales-around-sornieth @frxemriss @rainhearts-hatchery @rexcaliburr-fr @starry-ampelope @plainstriderbard @reanimatedfr @ally-fr @golden-lionsnake @rookfern @khadjin-fr (let me know if you’d like to be added to the lore pinglist)

(let me know if you’d like to be added to the lore pinglist)

Dragons are anthro. This just in everyone: Jericho is SUPER gay and suddenly faced with a bright and shining nearly on fire twink of a boy he’s like ‘... oh no’. Also everyone but Pera belongs to Rook lols

Jericho had about five things to do at any one time. Like today before lunch he needed to make sure Setekh went to see her latest asset acquisition; talk with her lead scientist about the study of said asset; she then had a meeting with one of her department heads around the same time; and she had requested some personal time for herself. Jericho didn't ask what she needed that time for. And that was all just before lunch. Setekh had several more meetings after lunch, including one with some investors and one with her group of attorneys about some take corporate takeover. And that didn't include all the call he took every day from all over ATLAS, both the city and the company.

He was answering the phone from someone wanting to plan a lunch meeting with Setekh when he saw the time. Setekh was in a meeting in her office but they needed to get going to visit the new asset. “Look, Rochhel, Setekh doesn't have a lunch meeting available for six weeks.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. If you want I can send you the calendar invite for her next available day. Or ignore it. Now if you’ll excuse me Setekh is calling. Good day,” and he hung up, not waiting for an answer. He opened a messenger app on his computer and messages Setekh in her office reminding her her next appointment was now.

While he waited for her response he was looking at his calendar. When was his next day off? He technically had two every week but it certainly didn't feel like it. When was his next allowed vacation time? That was really when he had a day off. It was eight months away.

Setekh never answered his message, she just walked out of her office in her sharp business suit. Jericho quickly grabbed a folder or two and his tablet and got up from his desk. “As always, a pleasure, Downwind,” she said to the imperial she’d been in the meeting with. They were shaking hands and then he left.

“You have an appointment to see Liv about your new asset, ma'am,” Jericho said to remind her what she was doing.

“Ah, right— you will like this Jericho,” she said.

Jericho’s face didn't change. “I doubt that but I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” he said. Setekh just laughed and started out her office. Jericho followed dutifully behind. “After this meeting with Liv and the asset you have a meeting with Andromeda before I freed up your schedule as requested for personal time.”

“Very good,” Setekh said as they got into Setekh’s personal, private, elevator. “Who is my lunch meeting with?”

Jericho went to her calendar to check as she pushed the correct button to take them down. “Veer Staggerbatte is taking you to lunch at a place in Neon Gala called the Tipped Cup.”

“Is it a nice place?”

“Reviews look decent. Specializes in western Expanse cuisine.”

Setekh scoffed. “So cactus and desert lizards. Wonderful,” she was not amused.

Jericho didn't comment. “Staggerbatte is hoping you'll approve funding for a research expedition he wants to do.”

“Where?”

“No idea,” Jericho admitted as the doors to Tempest Biotechs. The lab was white, sterile looking, and everyone was in white and toxic green.

Liv- Liviander- was the head of the Tempest Biotechs division of ATLAS. Her office was right in the ATLAS building which was more than some divisions of ATLAS could say. They could see Liv standing far down the lab in an empty space. She was wearing a crazy helmet today and her wings and head fins were flexing as she talked to a gangly skydancer who was also standing in the middle of the empty space.

“Liviander,” Setekh said when the two of them came up to the department head.

Liv spun, ‘Set!” she cried in delight. “What a wonderful gift you’ve given me. I haven't seen such an anomaly in years. Years Setekh. Do you know how difficult it is to find something interesting to do around here?”

Setekh chuckled. “I am glad something is finally up to your desires,” she said. “I take it the asset is more than willing to cooperate.”

“Oh yes. Oh yes. He is a dream,” Liv cooed and moved away from them. Jericho looked up, distracted from answering messages. Liv draped an arm across the skydancer in the middle of the room.

Jericho immediately dropped his folders and tablet like an idiot. “Oh shit,” he scrambled to catch the tablet before it dropped and the front shattered. It bounced in his hands a few times before he yanked it to his chest. Setekh looked at him in confusion. “Ah- uh, butterfingers,” he said awkwardly.

“Don’t drop my things, Jericho,” Setekh said sternly.

“Yes. Sorry, ma'am,” and Jericho crouched to grab up his papers, stuffing them back into the folders.

“Here, you missed these, Mr. Jericho,” a voice said from above him as papers were offered to him. Jericho looked up slowly at the skydancer from before. He was possibly the single most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Dark feathers like the sea but around his beak and horns it was like blue fire curled around them. And his wings. It was like they were pure fire, shimmering in perfection of the bright white lights of the lab. He looked like a Fire dragon but when Jericho looked into his eyes he saw only deep green. A Nature dragon? A Nature dragon who looked like they were on fire? What? What?!

“Ah-oh— thank you,” he said awkwardly and took the papers, their fingers briefly touching. His fingers and lower arm also looked like they’d been dipped in liquid blue fire, becoming yellow and purple up to his elbow.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled at Jericho and Jericho was glad he was wearing a turtleneck so you couldn't see the feathers on his neck get all puffed up.

“This is our latest asset,” Setekh said. “His name is Pera.”

“Pera?” Jericho asked, refusing to look at him.

“Yes. He’s on loan from one of our allied clan and is staying with a mutually friendly but independent entity in ATLAS.”

“I — I didn’t realize we had dragon assets in Tempest,” he swallowed awkwardly.

“No no. Not normally,” Liv agreed. “But Pera is a very special boy and I am so excited to figure out all your little secrets,” she said in a mad delight.

Pera laughed awkwardly. “Ah- well… I don't know how much you will figure out. Sometimes the Gods are just like that,” he grinned and it was more of a grimace.

The meeting with Liv went on for a few more minutes. Mostly it was Setekh reminding Liv to be nice to Pera and if she harmed a feather on Pera’s head not only would Setekh he furious but an ancient and powerful Wind clan would be furious. And Setekh didn't plan to save Liv if she earned their ire. Liv assured Setekh she’d be utterly polite and delicate with Pera while he was here.

Jericho only sort of heard any of that. He just couldn't take his eye off Pera. He’d seen a lot of pretty drakes in his time around Setekh. Say nothing to the fact that an odd friend of hers was literally the master of a harem of concubines and he tended to bring some over now and then to entertain Setekh. Needless to say every concubine in his harem was gorgeous. But Pera was different. He wasn’t some sexy drake brought along for entertainment. He was just… a normal drake who just happened to be special. And Tidelord he was special.

Jericho knew under no circumstances should he be left alone with Pera. He wasn't sure his heart could take it. Not to mention he didn't know if he'd be able to stop staring. Between Pera’s unusual looks and the general air of helpfulness he gave off even just standing there, a slight smile on his face, Jericho knew he was just fucked. It was all the more infuriating because he didn't normally get like this. In fact handsome drakes were often the last thing on his mind; despite Setekh sometimes asking if he was eve going to have a boyfriend. He didn't know how the Shade he was supposed to do that when he was at Setekh’s every beck and call.

Then the meeting was over. He missed most of it. “Alright, Jericho, time to go see Andromeda. Let’s go,” Setekh’s voice snapped him to the now.

“Ah- yes, of course, ma'am,” he said and followed after her.

“Bye Ms. Setekh, Mr. Jericho,” Pera called after them. Jericho made the mistake of looking back and saw him cheerfully waving. Jericho looked back around and hunched his shoulders. What a horrible drake.

#flight rising #fr lore #fr lore share #lore share #amia #thou shalt always queue

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