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the-present-is-a-gift-au · 4 months

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Chapter 5: In Which a Nickname is Given

Over the following days, Twig swiftly learned that Darkrai was shockingly clingy. She would stand up from a spot she'd settled in and he would rise as well to follow her to her destination, and he would only leave whatever room she'd stepped into when she left it herself. With the fact that he'd politely turned down her offer to stay in the guest room, and Twig subsequently facing the options of either sleeping in a linen closet or keep sleeping in the main room where he'd set up shop, this was awful for her nerves. If she thought trying to sleep around Dusknoir the night the Future Trio returned was bad, trying to catch any winks with Darkrai in the room was infinitely worse. She kept jerking awake from nightmares, much to her bewilderment.

Didn't Darkrai lack his memories? Why would he send nightmares to torment her in the night when he had no reason to? She intended to confront him about it in the morning, but his level tone cut through the silence one evening after she bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath after a dream of being buried alive.

"Apologies," he said, monotone, clear, and deliberate. "I'm afraid I don't have much control over my… peculiarities."

She dragged a hand down her face. Yeah. Cool. Okay. She probably should have anticipated the fact that the guy who was once bent on throwing the world into eternal darkness had an aura of bad vibes that sent you spiraling into nightmares if you slept around him. It made sense in hindsight.

Speaking of hindsight, she should have thought up a cover story before now.

Darkrai clearly knew something was up with her. It took her forever to think up a false origin story for him, and her nervousness as she brainstormed all the details and tried to memorize them, keeping everything in her head and never daring to put them on paper, all made her look suspicious. She must look sketchy beyond belief as she wrung her hands and fidgeted in the corner across from Darkrai, glancing up every so often and then looking askance. But she finally had a cohesive narrative in mind, so she finally broke the news.

“We used to know each other,” Twig said over dinner one evening, “before you lost your memories.”

Darkrai looked up, but didn’t speak.

“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, because, uh… well, it seemed like you didn’t mind not knowing? That was the sort of energy I got, at least!” She forced out a nervous chuckle. “But, um. I figured it’d kind of be a jerk move to keep it to myself, you know?”

He made no move to respond— just stared at her unblinkingly.

“You used to be a sort of traveling do-gooder. You’d go from place to place, and you’d help however you could. We crossed paths a couple of times when my exploration team was on expeditions.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. She fixed her gaze on the tabletop and continued, “What you did meant a lot for a lot of people. I know lots of folks wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for your help.”

He didn’t react— didn’t say anything, didn’t incline his head, didn’t even flinch at the supposed reveal of his past. He just sat there and stared at her. Did he know she was lying? Did he remember his past already and had caught her in her bluff? Was he going to kill her? Was he—

“Interesting,” he said, and went back to his meal.

She blinked, surprised. She wasn’t too confident in her skills at lying, but he wasn’t calling her on her bluff, not yet… Mission accomplished? Maybe? Hopefully?

***

Twig couldn’t hide away in her home for forever, much as she wanted to when faced with the thought of explaining her sudden multi-day absence from appearing in Verdant Village. But no matter how she would have loved to spend the rest of her life rotting in secret within the walls of her home, her lack of preparation for cooking for two meant the pantry was practically empty. She needed to go to the market and get some staple ingredients so that she wasn’t just roasting apple slices— and even those would be gone eventually, so she probably should just face the music and stop putting off the inevitable grocery run.

Darkrai, of course, made to follow her out the front door.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” She asked, forcing a smile that wobbled far too much to be convincing.

“I believe a bit of fresh air would do me some good,” he answered.

He didn’t comment on the way her hands twitched around the strap of the shopping bag she’d slung over her shoulder or the way her smile wobbled even more. Twig had no idea whether that was a good or bad thing.

Twig bought everything on her shopping list in record time and managed to escape the market before it was even remotely crowded. Darkrai trailed after her in eerie silence, just a few feet away at any given time, and it was messing with her head to have him so close by. Her safety net of routines was already up in flames which meant that she was floundering emotionally, and having the guy behind roughly eighty-five percent of her collective neuroses practically attached to her hip was not helping. Thankfully, she was on the final stretch of road to reach her home, and she could enjoy the greater amount of space he offered when they were in the same room. She couldn’t wait to collapse into her bed, unwanted spectator be darned. She could make the excuse that she wasn’t good with crowds or something like that. Nevermind that the market barely had a handful of other shoppers while they were there— she was too tired to think up another reason.

But of course Gardevoir and Gallade had to be out in their front yard when they passed.

“Twig!” Gardevoir called from where she knelt in her garden. She dusted herself off and swept over to the roadside to meet her. “We haven’t seen you in quite some time. Are you alright?”

“Yep! Just peachy.” Please don’t let her notice that my smile isn’t reaching my eyes. Does that mean a charmeleon is faking their smile like it does for a human? Frick, fudge, heck— “I’ve just had some stuff come up that needed some attention.”

She hummed, then glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, pardon me, who is this fellow with you?”

Darkrai began to introduce himself, and it was in that moment that Twig processed two things— first, that your average pokemon wouldn’t recognize a Legend based on sight alone. They didn’t have photographs or really any sort of mass-produced images in wide circulation, if in circulation at all, which meant they didn’t have pictures of the physical manifestations of the functions of the universe handy. All of that was to say that Gardevoir didn’t recognize Darkrai. Yet. Because her second realization was that your average pokemon would absolutely know the names of any given Legend, which meant she needed to cover her tail, and fast.

“My name is D—”

“Ark! Ark. His name is Ark.” She could feel herself vibrating out of her own skin with nerves as all eyes turned to her. “He’s staying with me for a while. And, um, I’m sorry, but I need to get to my place to put away some groceries.”

“Oh!” Gardevoir nodded. “I’m very sorry for stalling you, Twig. Glad to have met you, Ark! I hope we see each other again soon.”

“Well met,” Darkrai replied, and had to swiftly pick up the pace to return to his place in Twig’s wake as she bolted to the house.

She didn’t speak as she stuffed all the groceries into their proper places in a linen closet-turned-pantry. But it eventually occurred to her that she should. “Sorry for butting in back there. Um. I forgot to say that everyone called you Ark. It was kind of your thing to not go by your species name.”

He loomed at the end of the hallway, his shadow blocking the light from the windows of the main room. The brightest light in the hallway was the chilly glow of his eyes as he silently picked apart her every move. She felt like she was being dissected with how he took in everything she did with a clinical gaze.

He hummed quietly. A noncommittal sound that didn’t indicate his thoughts whatsoever. “Interesting.”

Twig was going to have a heart attack one of these days, she knew it.

***

Twig broke out an old journal she had only ever used for kindling on rare occasions. It wasn’t often that she pulled it from its place on her nightstand— which was really more of a small floor table than the nightstand she had as a human— but she found herself needing its services as she woke up from another nightmare. Darkrai stared out the window from his place across the room, the picture of serenity despite the nightmare Twig had to claw her way out of seconds ago. Her resolve was wavering, and she needed to bolster it up fast. She scratched out a quick pair of lines with a piece of charcoal she kept at the journal’s side— one line long and vertical, dividing the page down its center, the second line closer to the top and horizontal. She scribbled out a pair of words in English in either of the topmost boxes she’d set apart. Darkrai couldn’t read English, could he? No pokemon she’d encountered could. She was in the clear— if he ever went snooping, he wouldn’t know she was writing out a pros and cons list on why she should or shouldn’t keep watch over him.

The pros for kicking him out and going about her life were numerous. She would actually sleep through the night once in a while, she wouldn’t have to constantly police what she said for fear of awakening the memory of some motivation for starting the literal apocalypse, and she could actually get some time to herself so she could cry in peace every now and then. There were a host of other pros, but those stood out as the most appealing right then.

The cons— or rather con, singular— meanwhile, outweighed everything she could summon. Stop another apocalypse before it happens made all those delightful reasons to give Darkrai the boot shine out in just how selfish they were. No, she wouldn’t let herself buckle in this. It was just one job. One thing for her to do to save the people she loved and the world at large. She could handle that. She had to handle that.

She felt tears prick at her eyes from how overwhelming it all was.

Darkrai cast a glance her way. He seemed nearly worried.

Twig snapped the journal closed and rolled over in bed, musing on how familiar it felt to write out the letters she had studied over and over as a human, even if her hand didn’t quite hold a pencil right any longer.

***

There was a knock at the door. Twig staggered out of bed to answer it.

“Hi Twig!” Lyra said, beaming. “Mom and Dad thought that you looked kinda sad the other day, and they said that they wanted to make you something nice, so they cooked a big pot of stew for you, and I helped a whole lot! I peeled the potatoes by myself. And I didn’t miss any peel-y bits. Dad said you don’t have to peel potatoes for stew, but I still did it because I don’t like peels, so you probably don’t either.”

The girl held out a large covered pot, little arms shaking with the effort. Twig caught it when it slipped from her hands. “Ah— careful! You don’t want to drop it.” She frowned. “Did your parents send you out to bring the pot here on your own? It’s pretty heavy.”

Lyra put her fists on her hips, puffing out her chest. “No, Dad said he would bring it on his way to get some firewood, but I said I wanted to do it! Did you see how strong I was? That pot is as big as my head, but I still carried it all the way to your house, and I didn’t spill a drop!”

Twig found herself smiling despite her exhaustion as she shifted her hold on the pot, noticing points where the broth had sloshed out on its journey here. Gosh, this kid’s enthusiasm was precious. “You didn’t, did you? Nice work, Lyra.”

“Who’s that? Is he your exploration team partner?” She gave a little gasp. “Is that Kip? Oh, wow, hi! I’m a big fan!”

Twig frowned, confused, and nearly dropped the pot herself when Darkrai’s voice sounded from directly behind her. “No, I’m not a partner of hers, nor am I named Kip. Though it would be fascinating to be on an exploration team, admittedly.”

Lyra chattered excitedly about how she wanted to be an explorer when she grew up, and Twig could barely hear the familiar rambling as she realized something. Kip. Oh, gosh, if he knew about Darkrai… Ever since the battle at Dark Crater, he’d gone from being scared of Darkrai to shaking at the very mention of his name. If he knew about her new roommate and the looming threat of Darkrai’s returning memories, his heart would give out on the spot. She’d sent him a letter recently, so she had time to figure out a cover story, but Arceus, she was not looking forward to the thought of him learning of Darkrai’s return.

Kip wouldn’t be on his expedition forever. Eventually, he’d come back to Treasure Town, and he’d want to know why Twig was so jumpy. He’d already started suspecting something was amiss when her memories returned and she was back to refusing hugs or handshakes from everyone but him, but he'd never confronted her on it. She didn’t want to think about how she’d juggle keeping both Darkrai and Kip from finding out about each other. She’d rather die.

She thanked Lyra again, cutting her rambling about exploration teams short, and asked her to thank her parents for her. “And thanks for all your work peeling the potatoes, I’m sure you did amazing! I need to put this on the stove now, see you soon, okay?”

Lyra pouted. “Aw. But I’m having fun talking to Ark.”

Darkrai gave Twig a brief, appraising glance out of the corner of his eye, then turned his gaze back to Lyra. “I’m afraid there’s work to be done for me as well. It was nice to meet you, miss… ?”

“Let’s talk again later. You’re cool. Bye Twig! Bye Ark!” She turned and started down the road to her house, half skipping and half running as she hummed to herself. Twig and Darkrai both watched her go.

“I prompted her several times for her name, and she never seemed to recognize any of them,” Darkrai mused.

Twig was jolted from her swirling panic by his quiet frustration. She almost laughed at how frazzled he sounded. “Her name’s Lyra. The gardevoir and gallade that live over there are her parents.”

“I gathered as much. She’s… very familiar, isn’t she?”

“F-Familiar?” She worried that he was referring to his past, even indirectly, but then remembered his strangely dated vocabulary. “Oh. Yeah, her parents have tried to get her to be more well-mannered, but the lessons don’t stick. I’m not exactly a good example, and she kinda puts me on a pedestal, so that doesn’t help either.”

“Hm.” He followed after her as she turned back inside. “You do have a particular way of speaking, come to think of it.”

“Um. Thanks, I guess?”

“I mean no offense. Only that your speaking habits are dramaticized when compared to your neighbors.”

Twig narrowed her eyes as she spat a small flame to light the stove and start to heat the stew. “Yeah, uh… I’m not exactly from around Verdant Village.”

“From where do you hail?”

“Way off from here. I don’t even know what it’s called— if it had a name.” That wasn’t a complete lie. She didn’t know the name of the area she had grown up in beyond its numeric bunker designation. The name for the plot of land on the surface above it had never been revealed to her after her escape from the underground.

Darkrai hummed a low note. "Curious."

Twig didn't like him asking so many questions. She needed to start expanding the cover story, and fast.

#pmd2 #pmd eos #pmd sky #pmd explorers #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd fanfic #pmd fanfiction #pmd fic #the present is a gift au

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letjohnoliversayfuck · 2 years

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Truth or Duncan

This is a fic I wrote *checks watch* 6 YEARS AGO?!

anyway, if you need some good ol' disaster psychology teacher smut, I'm your woman

Rating: E - for smut

Summary:

It's nearing the end of a late study session at Greendale and Britta gets the idea to play truth or dare. You agree to play and somehow find yourself standing in front of Professor Duncan's office.

read on AO3, or request more stuff on my Patreon

You stood in front of the door to your teacher’s office. Well, not just any teacher’s office, Professor Ian Duncan’s to be exact; the slightly odd, usually hungover English psychology teacher. You had just come out of a long evening study session and now you were in front of his office because you needed to ask him something. You wanted to be literally anywhere else right now. In fact, you had an essay to write and a test on Wednesday you could be studying for and doing those didn’t sound half-bad right about now. There were a hundred more important things you could be doing. And yet…

Ugh, this was all Britta and Annie’s fault.

You should have never agreed to play truth or dare.

- “You guys, I’m bored. Let’s do something before we all go home. My ride isn’t here yet and I don’t want to be in an empty study room in Greendale at night.” Britta said.

“Like what? I really need to pass this test, Britta.” Annie had her nose practically buried in her books while she scribbled some notes, studying for the math test you were all preparing for next week.

“Truth or dare.” She said.

“Truth or dare?” you asked, “What are we, twelve?”

Britta waved you off. “Oh, it’ll be fun. Annie you’re going to get an A like you always do, put your stuff away.” Annie rolled her eyes, sighing. She resigned and cleared her end of the lunch table of her books, highlighters, calculator and pencils.

“Great,” Britta smiled and leaned forward. “(Y/N), you can go first.”

You shook your head, gesturing to your right. “No way. Annie, you go.”

“Oh, fine.” Annie put the last pencil in her backpack and zipped it up. “Truth or dare, Britta?”

“Truth.”

“Did you really mean it when you said I looked cute in that sweater yesterday?”

“Nope.”

Annie scoffed. “I knew it, you dirty liar.”

“Whatever, now it’s my turn. (Y/N), truth or dare?”

There was no way in hell you were going to be the first person to pick dare, “Truth.”

“Lame,” Britta complained. “Alright, fine.”

The game of truth or dare went on for a while; the last time you looked out the window the sun was setting, and now it was dark blue, highlighted only by the street lamps outside and the very last sliver of light before the sun set completely. Britta was balancing books on her head for a few minutes now and Annie was asked to speak in a Scottish accent for the remainder of the game while standing on one foot. You, however had only picked dare once, in which Annie commanded you to run around the building three times, which resulted in you being out of breath more than humiliated. She wasn’t very creative at truth or dare, but it wasn’t her fault that she never played it as a kid. It was Annie’s turn again. “Truth or dare?” she asked you.

“Truth,” you reply, leaning back in your chair with arms crossed. Britta and Annie both groaned.

“Okay, next time you have to say dare.” Britta said. “Have to. You haven’t done anything yet.”

“Fine, but I already said truth.” You looked back at Annie, who was brainstorming questions to ask.

Annie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I have a good one. You’ll love me for this, Britta.” You raise an eyebrow, wondering of every possible question Annie would think to ask you. “You told us you have a crush on one of your teachers…” She leaned in closer to you. “Who is it?”

“OHHH!” Britta shouted, her eyes wide with excitement. “Great one, Annie!”

“No way, no way!” You shook your head.

“Oh, come on!” Annie whined, bouncing in her chair, pout on her face. “You said truth, and now you have to answer my question. It’s how the game works.”

“Fine, fine. You guys are gonna laugh though.” You paused and shut your eyes for a moment. You couldn’t believe what you were about to say. “It’s… Duncan.”

“What?!” They asked in unison, looking at you in bewilderment and then at each other.

You had never seen Britta with a wider grin, and Annie covered her open mouth with her hand. “No freaking way, I knew it!” Britta exclaimed, and instantly the both of them bombarded you with questions.

“Whoa, whoa, stop, I can’t answer five hundred questions at once.”

“Sorry,” Annie said. “But… why do you even like him? He’s weird. And he comes to nearly every class hungover.”

“I dunno…” You scratched the back of your head. “You guys know I have a thing for nerdy guys. And British guys! He’s a nerdy, British guy. He’s like Kryptonite for me.”

“You should totally ask him out, he’s not seeing anybody.” Britta raised her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“He’s my teacher!” you cried, hands flying into the air. “And he’s at least a decade older than I am. Besides, we’re friends, I don’t want to ruin that…”

“You’re friends?” Annie asked.

“Yeah. Well, I think he’d consider me a friend. I’ve been into his office a few times for help – when he’s actually sober, and sometimes we just chat afterward.” You noticed your friends’ stares and you began to feel uncomfortable. “Can we just get back to the game? Britta, it’s your turn.”

“Okay, fine. (Y/N), truth or dare? And you said you would say dare.”

You sighed. “Dare.”

A smile stretched across Britta’s face. “You have to ask Duncan on a date.”

“What?! No! Out of the question. No.” Britta and Annie high fived each other. “No!” You emphasized.

“He said in class this morning that he would be in his office tonight until 9, it’s 8:45. You should go right now, because I know you won’t ask him tomorrow.” Britta said.

“I won’t even ask him today! I’m not playing anymore.” You put your foot down. There was no way in hell you were going to go through with this.

And yet you found yourself standing in front of the door to Duncan’s office. Your brain was replaying what exactly Britta and Annie did or said to get you here, you still weren’t sure. A shiny gold plaque was mounted on his door that read: ‘Prof. Ian Duncan’. Your eyes read the words over and over, as if saying his name a thousand times in your head would get him to answer the door, but you were hoping a meteorite would crash into the school before that happened. Maybe you’d get lucky and somebody would still be around and pull the fire alarm. Nothing happened.

Technically you didn’t have to be here. It was truth or dare, it’s not like there was a gun to your head, and even though this was the worst idea ever, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you did ask Duncan out. Worst case scenario would be that it becomes awkward between the two of you and you can’t even look each other in the eye. Ouch. You didn’t know if you could live with that for a whole month before the semester ended. You could just leave right now, get in your car and go home, it would certainly spare you the embarrassment.

While you debated with yourself, the door of Duncan’s office swung open.

Well, crap.

“Oh! (Y/N), what brings you here?” The professor smiled and those dimples of his made your stomach do somersaults.

You blurted out the first excuse that you could think of. “I had a question about something in chapter eight.” You didn’t, actually, and you read it all last night. Why didn’t you just apologize for wasting his time and walk away?

“Well come on in.” He gestured inside, holding the door open for you. He was wearing a red and white plaid shirt, a black tie and one of his signature vests. The vest was usually overkill, but it was oddly adorable in a way; adorable in an Ian Duncan sort of way. It fit him. He shut the office door behind him when you found a spot on the couch to sit on.

He was being an actual human being, which meant that he hadn’t had a drink all day, or he hadn’t been drinking excessively, at least. It was nice seeing him this way; he could be a downright jerk when he was drunk, which brought you back to why you had a crush on the man in the first place. He pulled out the chair to his desk. “So, what’s puzzling you?”

“Oh, um…” Since you read the chapter already you had to pull another fake excuse out of your ass. “The section on operant and classical conditioning.”

“Really? I’d have thought this would be one of the easier sections for you, but alright then.”

Duncan began explaining about half the chapter while you sat awkwardly in your seat, trying to think of an excuse to leave. You felt bad about wasting his time, but you also didn’t want to go back to the study room and face Britta and Annie teasing you for the rest of the week for chickening out on the dare. But you really did want to see if he liked you the same way you did him, even though that would never happen in a thousand years. This whole situation was just a mess.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt Duncan’s hand tap your right shoulder.

“Oh, sorry, what?” You asked, feeling sheepish.

“I asked you a question and said your name three times.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you still confused?”

You tried to find the right words. Either say good night and leave now or ask him out like you came here for.

“If there’s something wrong, you can tell me.” Duncan extended his arm and he placed a hand over yours. You looked down, your stare frozen at the sight of your hands touching.

Duncan must have realized what he’d done and pulled his arm back. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“No.” Without even thinking, you leaned forward to grab his hand again.

Duncan looked down at where your hands met and then into your eyes. The genuineness in his expression fizzled and was replaced by a smirk, and his tone was smug now. “I was wondering when you would finally do that. You can’t resist me.”

You ripped your arm back away from his. “Ugh!” You said in disgust as you began to gather your things to leave. “This was a mistake.”

“No, no, no, no! I’m sorry.” Duncan stood up and ran across the room before you could get to the door. It appeared that he was reaching out to touch your shoulder, but decided against it and let his arms rest at his sides. “Please stay.”

The room was filled with a quiet, tense air as you mulled over whether you should forget about this and leave, or give him a second chance. You wanted to leave but something within in you just wouldn’t let you. You rolled your eyes and turned around to face him. “You’re really something, you know that? You were being so nice – nicer than usual, and of course when I let my guard down you show that it was all an act. You’re an ass.”

Duncan’s voice became hard. “I did not invite you into my office so you could insult me.”

A sarcastic ‘ha’ escaped your lips. “Yeah, and I didn’t come here to have my psychology teacher act all skeevy toward me.”

He crossed his arms. “And why did you come here?”

You were inches away from the door and you had half a mind to just slam it in his face. “That doesn’t matter anymore.”

“No, no, go on,” he challenged. “Why did you come here? You think I don’t have better things to do?”

“What, besides drinking yourself to sleep?”

“Ooh, that’s original,” Duncan said dryly. “I asked you a question.”

“If it’s so important to you, I was going to ask you out to lunch sometime, but not anymore!” Your face felt warm and you were pretty sure you were blushing. Now he definitely knew how you felt about him.

Duncan went from pissed to confused, he uncrossed his arms and blinked a few times, piecing it all together. “You were going to ask me out?”

You shuffled side to side nervously. “Yeah,” you replied. All the fire in your voice was now just a puff of smoke, and you didn’t want to look at him now for fear of what he would say.

“You wouldn’t want to date me…” Duncan finally said. “You deserve better.”

“Duncan…”

“No, really, like you said, I’m skeevy and an ass and vile. When there’s a girl I like a lot for some damned reason I can’t act like a normal man…” He had a vulnerable look in his eyes. “I really was being nice to you just then, but I fucked it up like I always do.”

You wished you knew what to say, but you were speechless again. Your heart sank upon hearing his self-loathing, and at the same time couldn’t let go of the fact that he just admitted he liked you too. The words repeated in your ears over and over again. Duncan’s office was silent again excepting your footsteps as you stood just inches from him, taking his hand and holding it again like you had before.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

You looked up into his eyes. “I’m… not really sure.”

“You should go home.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I’ll just push you away.”

“I don’t care.”

“You deserve better.”

“I want you.”

Your words hung in the air for a moment as the two of you stood mere inches from each other in total silence. His face and body were so close to yours you could almost feel the electricity between the two of you. Were you this close twelve seconds before? No. Yes? You didn’t remember.

And the two of you moved even closer as your lips met. It was a soft, gentle kiss, but you could feel the emotion behind it and you couldn’t help but melt into him.

Duncan broke away, “Please stay,” he said just above a whisper and exactly the way he said it before you stormed out of his office.

You said nothing but kissed him back to let him know that you weren’t going anywhere. The second kiss was less gentle and more passionate, Duncan rested his hands on your hips and you wrapped your arms around his neck, one of your hands running through his dark ebony hair that was ridiculously softer between your fingers than it looked. The smell of his cologne you couldn’t place, but it was really damn good and just did more to turn you into a puddle of goo.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled away from the kiss again and the two of you were panting. You slowly led him to the couch where he sat down and you climbed onto his lap. You closed your fingers around his tie and tugged it lightly, pulling his face to yours so your lips could meet his again. One of Duncan’s hands rested between your shoulder blades while the other inched down your spine and stopped at the curve of your ass. He broke off the kiss to give attention to your neck, his tongue slowly tracing a line from your collarbone to your jaw. The feel of his warm, wet tongue on your skin sent tingles up your spine and you shut your eyes when he began sucking on your skin. He was giving you a huge hickey that would probably last the rest of the week, but you didn’t care. His hands were all over your body and each place he touched you left a trail of goosebumps on your skin.

Shifting slightly, you felt something hard press into your thigh, and then heard a soft grunt from Duncan. Ooh. You wanted to hear that again. You grinded your hips into his and he made the same breathy sound. After the third time he realized that you were doing it on purpose.

“Oh, you bad girl.” He swatted your ass playfully.

You gasped. “Ian!”

“You’ve never called me Ian before,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. He slapped your ass again and you arched into him. “I like it.” His voice was deeper than usual, which made that accent of his sound that much more pleasing to your ears. You closed your eyes and kissed him again, your hands fumbling with the knot to his tie and untying it; then he followed suit, breaking off the kiss and tugging your shirt up over your head. It was surprising how fast two people could undress so they could touch each other again; you were left in nothing but your underwear now, and him in his boxers.

Ian shifted, moving you so your back was to the couch and now he was above you, one hand cupping your soft breast and his mouth giving attention to your chest, teasing your nipple with his tongue. As this was happening his other hand made a trail down your stomach and to your thighs, playfully caressing you. It felt like fire between your legs and God what was taking him so long to just touch you. He stroked you through your underwear, rubbing you everywhere that felt good except where you needed it most, until he tugged the last piece of clothing clinging to your body and pressed a thumb to you and finally.

While he made tiny circles around your clit, two of his dexterous, slim fingers found their way to your entrance and you couldn’t help but whimper. You thought about how you’d just been sitting here ten minutes ago going over psychology homework and now your teacher was finger fucking you. Oh, it was so wrong.

“You’re so wet, and you’re shaking.” He said, his eyes lit up with delight at seeing how your body reacted to him. He moved the hand teasing your breasts next to your head and he guided his tongue up your body to kiss your neck again. You felt raging fire catch all over your body where Ian touched you and you honestly weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it together. Your thighs were trembling, hips bucking, and you were sure you had moaned his name a few times. The inevitable was getting closer, until he pulled away from you and you had to try not to whine like a spoiled child. Ian took off his boxers and his hardness sprung up, glistening wet at the tip. Fuck.

“Before I do anything either of us regret, you sure..?”

“Ian, I’m going to fucking explode if you don’t fuck me right now.” Everything in your body was screaming his name.

He laughed at your impatience and settled into a position in front of your entrance and pushed in. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gasped when you felt him inside you, filling you. He started out slow, at an agonizing pace. You weren’t sure if he was making sure you were comfortable or teasing you but either way, it was driving you mad.

“Ian, God, please faster.”

He lowered his body and kissed your jaw sloppily as he picked up the pace and you felt like your whole body was singing with his. He was hitting you deeper now and you were digging your nails into his back. You cherished every moan and grunt that escaped his lips and you did anything you could to hear more of it. “You feel so good,” you encouraged him. Occasionally a moan of your name escaped his lips and you felt like you could come then and there hearing your name paired with that lovely accent.

Every thrust of his hips sent you spiraling closer to your climax, and his strokes were getting fewer and farer between, so you knew he was just seconds away from coming too.

“Ian, I’m-“ you managed to moan out before your orgasm overtook you and you felt your legs shudder, your walls tightening against his hard cock. Your back arched upwards and you shouted a long string of curse words and his name to the sky. Ian managed to pump out a few more thrusts and then he was a shuddering, shaking mess too. He moaned your name and kissed you as he rode out his climax, hips snapping into you.

You felt his body relax and he pulled out, shifting so he could lay down on the couch next to you. The two of you regained your breath as you cuddled in satisfied silence.

“Was it good?” Ian spoke finally as his fingers played with your hair.

“Good? More like fucking phenomenal.”

“I’m glad.”

“So…” you looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “How about that date?”

Ian laughed.

#community #ian duncan #professor ian duncan #john oliver #community fanfic #fanfiction #mine #truth or duncan

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writerfae · 2 years

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Modern AU chat fic - part four

this is how a group chat with me probably would've looked like if I actually had friends in school and not just anxiety

Halea: okay so if we would be in a high school movie which role would you guys play

Halea: discuss

Aiden: Talon would be that sports team captain that everyone thinks is homophobic but in reality he’s just really really gay and in denial

Talon: excuse me what

Maya: that’s hella specific.

Maya: yet accurate.

Talon: EXCUSE ME WHAT

Halea: sorry but they are right

Talon: you be quiet

Talon: I bet you’d be an annoying cheerleader

Talon: or class clown

Halea: gasp

Halea: how dare you

Halea: id obviously be the funny heavily lesbian coded best friend of the main character duh

Maya: but to be honest you have strong main character vibes.

Halea: aww <3

Aiden: I think you’d be the unknown girl that suddenly gains popularity and lots of friends only to later realize that you lost your true self and those people aren’t real friends and that the only ones who like you for who you really are are the friends you had when you were still unknown

Maya: that’s sorta deep

Halea: should I be flattered or insulted about this?

Talon: Aiden out here inventing whole character arcs when all he was asked for is what typecast we’d be.

Aiden: I’m dedicated okay?

Aiden: finally my weird knowledge of high school movie stereotypes comes to a use

Talon: Aiden would definitely be the nerd

Halea: i think we all agree here

Maya: yep.

Aiden: most likely yeah

Halea: you forgot the gay tho

Talon: how could I forget

Aiden: gay nerds are my favorites in these kind of movies

Halea: I wonder why…

Aiden: the downside is that I would probably get locked into a locker a lot

Talon: I’d lock you into a locker myself

Maya: wow

Aiden: love you too

Talon: that’s what you get for typecasting me as a homophobic sports team captain

Aiden: I didn’t say that

Aiden: I said everyone would THINK you’re homophobic

Aiden: I said you are a really really gay sports team captain

Halea: and if that isnt who you are idk what is

Halea: i mean thats literally who you are irl

Talon: I changed my mind I now want to lock Halea into a locker

Halea: just cause you know im right

Maya: please don’t.

Aiden: Maya would surely be school representative

Talon: makes sense

Talon: like, she’d be shy but hardworking and end up surprising everyone

Aiden: look who’s making up character arcs now

Aiden: I agree though

Halea: absolutely abd shed be amazing

Aiden: I’d even say that you’d make the best main character out of all of us

Aiden: no offense Halea

Halea: no no you are right

Maya: aww, thank you guys ^^

Halea: so Maya would be the shy girlboss main character

Halea: id be her lesbian coded best friend

Halea: and Aiden the gay dude that completes our trio

Talon: what about me?

Halea: you’re just… there

Maya: for Aiden to thirst over during the whole movie.

Aiden: eye candy but with a side arc

Talon: wow thanks. Feeling really loved right now

Aiden: if it makes you feel better you can shove me against a locker and make out with me

Talon: careful or I might come back to that offer in real life

Aiden: you say that like it’s a bad thing

Maya: guys…

Halea: stop being gross in the group chat

Aiden: anyway, now that we have this settled what are we doing with this information

Talon: why don’t you write your own high school movie script

Halea: yes omg that would be amazing

Aiden: we should do that

Talon: no you shouldn’t. I was just joking

Halea: i actually like the idea though…

Aiden: me too. Let’s meet for lunch and start brainstorming

Halea: hell yeah

Talon: what have I done

Maya: that’s what you get when you give them silly ideas.

Maya: i hope you’re good at acting.

modern AU masterpost

general tag list: @deadlycupid @writing-is-a-martial-art @writingamongther0ses @blueinkblot @wildswrites @abiandwriting @theroyalcoven @myhusbandsasemni @authortango @charleeyy @formulatingfiction @shiishki @gr3y-heron @bloodlessheirbyjacques @imstillherebitch

#writer speaks #writeblr #wip: the knights of the alder #modern au #chat fic #writing #my writing #okay so I’m gonna post this instead I’ve decided

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boinurmom13 · 1 year

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BRIEF OC INTRO AND A SHIT LOAD OF JADU HEADCANONS!!

hey guys,,,,…

back at it again at brainstorming what farms and farmers ill create once sve 2.0 comes out

idk if ive ever said this, or emphasized it enoigh, but im an avid jadu fan. like. i love him so much its not funny. like once 2.0 come out im dropping lance for jadu and camilla (im sorry).

so, in order to encompass that, heres a new addon to the barabell bloodline (if it isnt enough) with jo. (who actually pursues jadu)

there are shocking similarities between bo and jo its almost..,,, almost as if… almost as if jo’s one of bos… one of bos, and dare i say it, old designs. (shes not distrustful of guilds, tho, and is more rational than her cousin. otherwise theyre really similar in personality. they dont even knoweach other. i rly like to recycle i think its fun)

all of the extra shit under the cut cuz this is a LONGGG post

example here (pls ignore how bad it is ive grown ok. ive grown. ik the anatomys off. ik shes got back breaking tits. ik. ok. shut up)

and now, the new and improved one! where shes just better. i love her. oh, and also, yes ik she looks similar to ophelia. theyre both old designs of bo, but also half sisters. yeah, thats right. ophelias mom had an affair. anyways, i love them both equally (no i dont i love ophelia more)

anyways ik we had nothing on jadus personality but i cant help but think hes immature. like stupidly immature. and annoying. and talkative. but all in the GOOD way yk. ik his portraits and looks say hes probably more calm and mellow, maybe even a little cranky and professional, but also like…. his dialogue???

yes, jadu, i did kmow but mirages but thanks for telling me. i guess i am p well known im the guild… maybe, maybe just a lil bit hehe. im glad i stopped by too, even tho its just ot see ur face teehee

dialogue im referencing:

"Mon": "You've heard of mirages? Sometimes when it gets hot enough out here, the air shimmers, and it's like you can peer into a different world.$0",

"Wed": "I've heard people mention you a few times, @. You're pretty well known in the Guild, huh?$1",

"Tue": "yawn It gets pretty monotonous out here. I'm glad you stopped by to visit.$0",

yeah, but anyways i love jadu

did i ever share jadu headcanons? like, ever? im not sure. ik a lot of these are prolly not true, but i love to hc so many people as goofy. like. genuinely silly.

anyways, here's a bunch of jadu hcs

1) I know he's probably not going to end up AroAce, but I do not really see him being too into relationships. Like, he's obviously going to end up at a datable/someone who develops crushes considering he has blushing portraits, but I have never seen this guy being SUPER into relationships. he seems like he has little to no interest in them, or just doesn't experience those emotions. i might have to ease out of this headcannon, but that's cool. i can still heavily hc that he's demiaroace/grayaroace. who's gonna stop me? not any of you thats for sure.

2) super skinny. like. concerningly skinny. but he's self-conscious about it. idk if i've every brought this headcanon up in detail, but i've always imagined that magic can vastly alter the human body. like, it can go as little from pink hair (lance) to actually mangling and destroying the body from the inside out. in jadu's case, the energy the magic eats up leaves him without much fat or muscle on his bones. he often has to overeat just to keep up with it. the idea that he's never going to be physically fit for the job kinda bums him out, but his magic keeps him viable for his position.

3) silly. that's it. he's just silly sometimes. goofy, even.

4) really talkative. ready to info dump on anything he knows about, especially when under pressure/in high pressure areas. doesn't matter what it is. his job? yes. magic? of course. what happened in 2005? put a gun against his head and then he will. also really knowledgable in firearms. for no reason, either. like, he doesn't use them or want to. he just knows a lot about them.

5) if he does end up liking someone, chances are it's gonna be someone strong and independent. serious, but lets loose easily. like, as long as he can depend on someone and they don't need to depend back he's set. (mostly scared of accidently letting them down, but he's also kind of attracted to power that he doesn't have. like, he'd swoon over a chick that body builds proudly)

6) blunt. i think he's a really blunt person. not in a rude way, but also isn't afraid of telling the truth.

7) i think he's sometimes accidentally really horrible. like, saying things that would sound horrible coming out of any other person's mouth. don't get me wrong, jadu's a total feminist, lgbt ally/part of group, anti-racist, yada yada. like, he is super progressive, but sometimes it's just so easy to twist his words into something worse.

Jadu: I don't like the fact that you're right.

Jo: Why?

Jadu: Because it's you! It's just, you. And people like you. Like, I can't stand knowing I was corrected by someone like you.

Jo: Like me? So a woman? What, you think women can be right? Is that it?

Jadu: what.

Jadu: NO WAIT

poor example, but yall get what im getting at

8) genuinely funny. like, i think jadu would be an excellent comedian. probably pisses camilla and isaac off with out non serious he is. (camilla only in certain situations, tho)

9) really likes the song "macarena" even if it doesnt fit with the rest of his music taste.

10) probably a huge bookworm/nerd. i see him collecting old victorian romance novels either to rub it in lance's face that he has a larger collection than him (unaffective) or because he craves that kind of love, even if he can barely feel it. oh yeah, you heard me. jadu's INCREDIBLY guilty about his lack of romantic and sexual feelings towards people. it makes him feel like a total outcast.

11) short king. like isaac, i think jadu's probably considered short by American beauty standards. i'm thinking somewhere around 5'5-5'9 (165-175 centimeters to all my non 'muricans out there)

12) debating on whether or not i think he's trans. on one hand, yeah, seems like it. on the other hand, idk. maybe. if he is, definitely used magic to help him transition. (if i do end up hc him as trans, then he also definitely had a phase where he strictly used they/them and dressed femininely to try and convince himself that he wasn't fully trans. not that there's anything wrong with fem they/thems, or with trans people, but i think a lot of trans guys go through a forced feminine phase.)

13) listens to soad, icp, will wood, and slipknot. a little bit of lemon demon and tally hall, too. he also listens to a few mainstream indie rock bands, and a few old metal/rock bands.

14) fucking HATES math. absoltuely hates it. cant stand it. does not understand numbers at ALL. i actually think he's got dyscalcula.

15) also i think it'd be cool if he had echolalia, or at least frequently repeats phrases he likes or hears oher people say. mostly funny phrases, or phrases that aren't funny that he finds funny. (just like me when he repeats "shadow money wizard gang we loove castin spells")

16) definitely more internet inclined than any other guildmate of his. idk. i just think he's a part of the younger crowd, and therefore had some internet usage.

17) has a THICK galdoran accent, but has trained himself to talk in like 1000 other accents so he can mask his accent. like, if he was talking with someone from ferngill, he'd put on a ferngillian accent yk. mostly because his accents almost impossible to understand to non-galdorans

18) cannot take care of a plant even if his life depends on it. nor can he take care of a pet or anything similar. camilla cant ask him to babysit her slime (Sir Fredrick III, dont forget his name) because he'd end up cooking it for lunch without realizing.

19) loves exercise, but can preform in it well (due to the poor muscle growth). like, he loves going for a run or doing strenght training exercises, he just cant keep the muscle that he may put on.

20) has stupidly curly hair and cant control it for shit. has no clue how to maintain his hair, but is surprisingly good with makeup. like, REALLY good. (practices with camilla's makeup when she's not around. this does not make him less of a man do not say that)

ok there's 20. im sure i could come up with more (even nsfw ones if you gave me enough time to brainstorm. i have a couple but not a lot. as i've said, i dont see jadu getting down and dirty often, but ik he'll prolly be a datable once 2.0 comes out)

#sdv #stardew valley #stardew valley expanded #sve #sve jadu #jadu sve #stardew valley expanded jadu #jadu stardew valley expanded #sdv headcanons #sve headcanons #i should stop making ocs #yeah but whatever!!#i love jadu #im so excited to see how his character works out in 2.0 #cant wait for that update tbh

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monstermaster13 · 1 year

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Becoming Aykroyd Dan Aykroyd TF. NOTE: This is a tf story told from my character's point of view of my character into Dan Aykroyd and this is all based on personal experiences, experiences i've had and it also explains a lot about me as a person. And this is also based on numerous dreams and thoughts I have had. This is also sort of a follow-up to Becoming Stallone and Becoming Walken in some way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ How do I describe what my work is like as a whole? Well... let's put this way, my work is often varied, sometimes it's too unusual for some people to handle and sometimes it's just right. But that's just me. Of course you know who I am by now. I am Nathan Forester aka Monstermaster13 and i've been a Deviant for 9 years and whew...what a ride it has been so far, I have been through many faces and phases in the past selection of years but I think the form of myself is the best I have ever had. I have been sharing my stories with you for several years and some of you - actually not some, all of you...really like them, i've gone from being a Daloli-verse's favorite target to being a darling over the course of several years. Does my work make sense? Not really. You're not going to come into my story and expect to receive a grand masterpiece that Steven Spielberg would be jealous of, what you see is what you're get. Yes, i'm weird but hey...aren't we all? My work doesn't have any deep subtext to it, it is just unapologetic-ally me. Who said that my work needs to have some inner meaning to it? That one guy who said 'I used to like Nathan's work but then I realized there's no story to it and there's just a bunch of references to movies and shows that he knows and TVTropes jargon with some thinly veiled attempts at pseudo-revenge-fics'? that one guy should have known better than to say that because it made him come across as a traitor. 'He claims to be a fan of mine but he dared to bash me like that? Hmph. How dare he treat me like i'm an ex-girlfriend of his! How dare he treat me like i'm the Russell Brand to his Katy Perry!'.

Of course my interest in transformations and monsters was all kickstarted thanks to a little show called Big Wolf On Campus. Ah yes, that show made want to become a real werecreature myself like Tommy Dawkins. In actuality I was and still am basically more like Merton. I even cosplayed as a BWOC style werewolf, granted my makeup artist skills weren't perfect...I really hope to get better one day. And then I also discovered Buffy. Of course my major kickstart into the transformation sub-genre and horror in general was An American Werewolf In London, good ol John Landis, my favorite director. I used to work at a library and one thing that always brought me closer to discover who I would soon become was the shelf with all the Goosebumps and Animorphs books. The covers of the latter inspired me to want to do my own morphs, however...mine didn't turn out so good. It's hard to find good enough morphing programs that mimic the style of the covers ya know. 'Sometimes you just gotta make do with what you've got'...and that's exactly what I do, i'm an actor...actors improvise and brainstorm, it helps to inspire myself and others.

I had always been socially awkward, weird and shy...a theater geek who had a history of performing on stage in many of the local theater productions in my neighborhood. My very first gig was playing as a snowman. No, I was not Olaf but I was a pretty damn cute singing snowman, then I was a choir member in the local production of Joseph. Not a bad gig but we all know I should have played Joseph or Pharaoh. Pharaoh has the best songs after all. But the funny thing is, as much as I love performing in front of others, i'm usually quite shy about it. Even though I love to perform, I have always been a bit nervous about showcasing my talents, I tend to be my own worst critic at times when it comes to judging my own singing and acting. Most people don't seem to get that about me, I don't ask for anything much, just a chance to show what i'm good at. And what i'm good at is cheering people up. Flash-forward though to the current day, it was Tuesday the 5th of May 2020 and there I was, in the lovely bedroom I had in my secondary home. Because of the Coronavirus epidemic, everyone pretty much had to quarantine themselves up and keep themselves safe, which is what I was doing. That night, I was in my bed which I had customized to my specifications with a coffin/bat theme but with a neon red color and I was listening to classical music on my favorite radio station. As I slept though I kept having wild dreams about Dan Aykroyd, not just about him but about wanting to be him, wanting to turn into him...but why? I awoke from one of the dreams stretching my arms and pondering to myself. 'What is with me and these weird Aykroyd dreams recently? Why do I keep dreaming about becoming him?' I was puzzled as to what this meant so I thought for a few seconds. All I seemed to think about was the dreams...'Wait, how exactly is this possible? I want to actually turn into Dan Aykroyd? But how? How is this possible?' I was perplexed, I didn't say anything about it because my peers would probably think I am weird. Well weirder than usual given my transformation powers and all. I blushed, thinking about those dreams and also about that one...of Aykroyd as a ghost, I swore I could still see him and that he was following me. I rubbed my eyes just to be sure, and a few seconds later...he materialized right behind me. 'Hello, Nathan.' 'Dan! What the, how the? Am I dreaming again?' 'I've come here to help you.' 'That's good but what with?' 'Well I heard...' 'Wait...you heard about the dreams?'

"Yes, I have. And I don't think it's that embarrassing."

"Really? But I don't know how to feel about this. I mean I keep thinking about the idea of turning into you and it's bizarre. I have this dream about you possessing me and I turn into you that way. It feels unusual. But yet...oddly natural."

"Like you were meant to be like that?"

"Yes...like i'm just like you."

As odd as that sounded, I realized how much I shared in common with Dan. Similar interests, social outcast, love of music..everything about me sounded exactly like Dan personality-wise, but how....it was like I was looking into a mirror, albeit a mirror from another parallel universe or dimension in which the reflection is Dan Aykroyd and not myself but still a mirror nonetheless, although who is to say that transdimensional mirrors don't exist? Oh dear, I just realized just how Aykroydian that sounded. Then again, it's plausible. I looked over at Dan and then blushed, he chuckled. 'It's alright, there's no need to feel embarrassed.' 'What do you mean?' 'Well..I think it's cute that you want to become like me.' Dan scratched his chin for a few seconds, and then got an idea. 'What's your idea?' 'Well you write a lot of possession stories, how would you like to become me via possession?' 'You can do that?' 'Well of course I can. I can show you if you like.' I was reluctant, but since I was eager to learn how he could do such things I watched as he took on translucent form and then gestured to me to open wide, which I did...I opened my mouth as he dove into it and down my throat, possessing me in the process. 'Okay, now that you've possessed me. What's going to happen?'

Just as I was about to follow up on that question, I felt a little bit uneasy as my stomach gurgled and also swelled up, the process of morphing is a funny thing really but it' really fascinating also the very process of shifting from one form into another one physically and sometimes mentally really does teach you a few or two about yourself. My chest and torso slowly puffed up too as my arms broadened and my hands enlarged. My skin became a bit clearer and healthier as I examined my physique.

You know, I never got why they made a big deal out of Dan's weight in recent years...I mean it wasn't like he was always like this or anything. I examined myself a little bit more as I saw my clothing changing into a sleek looking suit with a black leather jacket like the types you see bikers and rockstars wear, fitting considering who I was turning into. Several small selections of brown hairs slowly spread across my belly and the top of my chest and also on my arms, I was never one for shaving anyway and even when I did shave it usually was just because I didn't want to look like a homeless person or like i'm the bastard son of Bigfoot. I chuckled a little bit as I could pretty much hear Dan's voice in my head and hey...i'm used to hearing voices, and so is he. I watched as my legs altered and my feet slowly contorted a little in size, two of the toes on both of my feet becoming webbed. If I had green skin and a long tongue I could possibly pass myself off as a human/amphibian hybrid, as my rear grew a couple of sizes and plumped up. Aaaaw...look at how softy and squishy I was becoming, I always knew he was the adorable one. My back broadened as I shot up in height to 6'1, my shoulders broadening in the process.

"Hey...this isn't so bad."

"I told ya you'd like it."

Seeing my much bigger body made me feel a little bit warm and fuzzy, then again...it was like I was discovering my twin and who I was, as my neckline lengthened and my hair slowly darkened, shortening and becoming a bit wavier. My ears grew up a couple of sizes as my forehead enlarged and my eyebrows thickened, my eyes widening and giving me a sweet, doe-eyed innocent look. Ah, there it is...the ol Aykroyd doe-eyes, those adorable innocent eyes of his..is it any wonder why Ray Stantz is the heart of the Ghostbusters? He's just a big ol adorkable sweetie pie with those eyes, optimism and that adorable innocent personality. I already had similarities to Aykroyd due to my introverted nature and love of performing, but this just proved that this was like a role I was born to play. Like any good actor, it took me several years before I could find a character and a 'role' that spoke to me but now I think I have found it.

I noticed an interesting change going on with my eyes as one of them remained brown while the other turned green, I instinctively raised one of them and chuckled as my nose broadened, a small cleft materializing in the middle of it...it itched but I resisted the urge to scratch it. My lips puckered a little to become a bit more kissable as my face rounded out a bit, my teeth brightening in the process. I had never been one to pay much attention to my teeth, normally because of how self conscious I was and I thought the teeth I had before I had them fixed made me look too much like a mutant rat-monster with a bad case of snaggletooth and if you asked me back then how I felt about them I would have been lying through my teeth, pardon the pun if I said that I liked them. Part of me always wanted to have fangs. Then again considering all those body modification cases I have seen where people spends hundreds of dollars on surgery to make themselves look like something else only to resemble something that looks like something out of someone's nightmares, i'm glad I skipped out on that. Appearances don't really mean anything to me, it's what on the insides that counts as in one's own personal inner being and who we are on the inside.

Besides, my personality was what I was focusing on as my features slowly morphed and reshaped themselves, which I admit definitely tickled...morphing into a perfect likeness of Aykroyd's features, I gotta admit he always did look pretty good, yeah I never got the 'he stopped being cool/funny once he became overweight' thing. I like Aykroyd regardless of what he looks like because after all he is my celebrity twin personality-wise. And now I was his twin appearance-wise.

I always had viewed Aykroyd as my twin and now it was literally true since I looked exactly like him, it was like looking into a mirror...granted, it was a mirror in a parallel dimension but a mirror nonetheless..and who is to say that among the countless universes out there in the world including the one that we exist in that mirrors where we see ourselves as someone we admire don't exist? And oh my...there I go again with the Aykroydisms. I guess the similarities to him are already pretty prominent and i'm just realizing that in the group of friends I was meant to be the Aykroyd of that group, yes we had a Murray and a Belushi but thank goodness we didn't have a Chevy, having a Chevy in the group would have been an absolutely intolerable nightmare of almost monstrous world-destroying proportions. And heh heh...there I go again. I have not even completed the process and I haven't stopped taking on Aykroydian traits. There was a tingling sensation in my throat as my voice deepened and altered, smoothening and contorting to become similar to my appearance, developing the corresponding mannerisms to go with my appearance, basically I resembled Dan Aykroyd and now sounded like him, my accent becoming a Canadian one as my mind and personality altered.

My memories, mind and personality were all shifting to go with my appearance and voice which was a very striking and fitting match for Aykroyd's own, as I was remember being in all of the movies he was in and also his history at working as a Second City and SNL alumni and of course the memories of growing up in Ottawa and getting really into the paranormal. And of a dear friend of mine...ah, I remember him...his name was John Belushi as I recalled and he to me..was like a brother, even though he wasn't related to me...I felt like he could have been. A few seconds later my transformation was completed and I was now Dan Aykroyd which fits me because as I mentioned earlier...he is my twin. 'How do you feel?' 'I feel good..this feels natural.' 'Well of course it is, because it is like we are one and the same.' 'Now that you mention that, yes.

"Woah...this is actually reaallly interesting."

"I told you that you would like it."

"And you were right, what you have is a gift."

"Ah, you mean what WE have is a gift...what WE have."

"Right...oops, sorry."

"No need to apologize, everything's alright here."

"So what do we do now?"

"Embrace it of course, you're me...we're one and the same."

"Aye aye captain Aykroyd!"

And thus with that I decided to share my gift with my online friends and with some of my monster roommates, spending a night or two as Dan's twin was definitely worth it and I got to make several new friends in the process. I had finally found the role that I had been born to take on and that role or in this case form was Dan Aykroyd, and it's a very fitting role. I mean i'm socially awkward and adorkable with a love of music so it's a natural fit, and also being a theater geek definitely helped with it...what can I say, it may have taken several years for me to find the perfect role that fits but now I found one that is just about perfect and it's the role i've always wanted. After all, who wouldn't want to have an Aykroyd with them? Aykroyd types are always loyal and true to themselves and that's what I am. I'm a real soul-man, and yeah i'm odd but I think you'll love me once you get to know me and throw any and all misconceptions about me that you have picked up from sites, because while I may be weird...i'm happy with who I am and i'm not changing that for anything, after all i'm a man with a mission, got some serious style. You know that song by the Eurythmics? Oh you know the one...'you can fool with your brother, but don't mess with the missionary man.' Well, my mother told me good and she told me strong...she said 'be true to yourself and you can't go wrong'. But there's one thing that you must understand, you can fool with my friends and my family...but don't you mess with the missionary man, and i'm that missionary man.

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bubbloquacious · 2 years

Note

🌻

So I've been rewatching Ben 10, which I watched as a kid, and recently I reached the second series, Ben 10: Alien Force. I always liked this series better as a kid (I preferred slightly edgier cartoons I guess) but what struck me about the start of the first season is that it's so much more thoughtful and subtle than the original series.

There's a scene in an early episode where the three main characters (Ben, Gwen, and Kevin) are looking around this warehouse at night, and Gwen makes a glowing pink ball of her magical energy powers to get some light in the room. When they hear the bad guy approach the door, there's a shot where they all look at the door, and then Gwen turns off her light and the screen goes black. A second after the door cracks open and lights the place up again but they have all silently agreed to hide somewhere. I thought that was a surprisingly cool moment for what is still very much a children's cartoon.

Another thing that has stuck with me is episode 5: All That Glitters, which is notable because none of the characters ever really make a stupid mistake. What usually happens in Ben 10 is that someone gets passed the idiot ball and that allows the villain/heroes to escape and curse the other team for getting in their way or whatever. In this one, the gang meet another superpowered kid who has inherited a plumber's badge from one of their space cop parents, which is a big thing in season one.

He's named Mike Morningstar (lol), and he can fly and shoots energy beams and he pretty much uses his powers to be a superhero, so Ben is instantly like let's get this guy on the team we need all the help we can get. Gwen thinks he's kind of cute and also she wants to make Kevin jealous because he didn't ask her out (she literally said "why haven't you asked me out yet?" at the start of the episode, when has there been a teenage romance like this?). Kevin doesn't trust him both because he's jealous and because Mike is kind of sleazy, but Ben and Gwen both have their reasons to not be that suspicious. Turns out he is obviously bad and he puts some mind control thing on Gwen.

After they fight some zombified teenage girls Mike asks Gwen out and they go for a drive, and after they've left Kevin tries to convince Ben that he's bad for business. They puzzle out the clues and chase after Mike and Gwen, where they discover he's an energy vampire and has sucked Gwen dry. Gwen is like mega powerful so Mike wipes the floor with Ben and Kevin, but then Gwen grabs Mike's arm and absorbs her own powers back, which takes out Mike and he's swarmed by the other girls whose energy he stole. At the end Ben is like "I should have listened to Kevin and not be so quick to trust" and like yeah! That's exactly what went wrong and the lesson you should take!

Gwen was hypnotized before she reasonably could've been suspicious. Ben was understandably eager to get someone powerful on the team, but also in the face of the evidence he was convinced and came to the rescue. Kevin was suspicious but couldn't quite place the evidence, so he let his gut feeling lead him to the correct conclusion. Mike had a perfect plan, and he was winning, he just did not know that Gwen was part magical alien and could just absorb her energy back when she snuck up on him. No one was an idiot!

Anyway I'm in season 2 now and there's definitely some more idiocy lmao, gonna keep watching though.

#ben 10 #i don't usually blorbo but this is exactly what the ask game is for :p #also hi viv! :3 hehe #in the episode i'm watching now there was a really good joke #the bad guy is like 'WHO DARES??' and then brainstorm says no that's not how the joke goes #first i say knock knock #and then you say WHO DARES

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kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎.

thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate in her vice city collab! i had a blast writing this piece, and i’m terribly sorry this is so long that was a mistake (and congrats on 2k!!) also, the phattest of thank you’s to @eijishimas for brainstorming/beta-ing :) you saved me ☺🤲🏼

katsuki bakugou and eijirou kirishima | f!reader, time travel sex, guns, prostitute/stripper idrk!reader, tw!blood (non-descriptive), dacryphilia, squirting, spit roasting, d-penn, shower sex, multiple rounds. minors dni!

— 5k words (yikes)

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

Las Vegas, Nevada. April 15th, Year 3036.

"You ready?"

Mina shoots you a look through the golden-lit mirror, wiggling her eyebrows. You roll your eyes and finish dusting the powder off your cheeks before rising to your feet and tugging at the belt of your silk robe. "My answer's the same every night."

Vice City. A strip club and casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, where opposites collide—the poor and the rich, the beautiful and the ugly, the smart and the stupid. There's no judgment because here, they're all degenerates looking for a good time, and you're just a pretty face with a good body.

As your silk robe hits the floor, it's kicked to the side with a heel, and you saunter through the beaded entrance to your private room and into the vibrating club. Giving your bodyguard a solid pat on the shoulder as you watch the sea of bodies shake, you complete the ritual.

"No creeps?" You demand more than request. He nods curtly.

"No creeps."

You give him a cute little smile and let your hand linger for a little longer than necessary before stepping into the neon red chaos of the strip club. Because what do the rich and the poor have in common?

They're all addicts.

Surprisingly, humanity doesn’t kill the planet.

Mother Nature's still standing strong—though the sun is a bit swollen—and space exploration solved that overpopulation issue. Bill Gates taught us all how to avoid a climate disaster and Tesla put Ford out of business. Humanity is much bigger than earth now; we're no longer people of the planet, but an intergalactic species that still eat Costco pizza rolls for dinner but killed Cable along with cars with wheels. Costco still exists—Starbucks doesn't.

Still no aliens, though.

"See something you like, Cutie?"

In your defense, he's been standing over here with his friends for ages—almost like they're casing the damn place—but those ruby red eyes kept floating your way regardless, and you'd rather bag it with someone your age before you're requested by another seventy-year-old. The redhead blinks like he's shocked you came over here in the first place—like he didn't watch you sashay yourself to the other side of the club just for him. You suppose the name fits. Cutie.

He looks at you with a strangely giddy look on his face before he's licking his lips and swallowing, eyes flickering to the blondie to his right.

"I'll be back in like, twenty minutes, man."

The blond gives him an exasperated look and groans—his other two friends don't notice. "Eiji—"

"Twenty minutes!" The redhead yells over the music as you not-so-subtly pull him away. Your regular GILF looks your way, and you suppress the queasy feeling in knowing that at least you'll be able to fuck someone from your decade.

"You got a wallet, Cutie?" You purr as you two approach the back room. The redhead winks, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the fattest black leather wallet you've seen in a long time.

"Don't go anywhere without it," he says, but falters when your bodyguard holds his hand out with a request for fifty bucks. "I—whoa dude, why am I paying you?"

"Because that's how it goes. The young lady gets her share," your bodyguard clarifies. The redhead looks at you for what seems to be for confirmation. You nod.

"Alright," he resigns with a shrug, stuffing a fifty into your bodyguard's sweaty hand. The man grunts but clears some of the beads guarding the entrance to your private room anyways, giving you two enough space to go inside.

"No door? That seems a little...exposing," the redhead snorts to himself before he's holding his hand out, despite the fact that you’re already nestling comfortably in his lap. "Eijirou, by the way."

You take his hand apprehensively, and he snorts at your confused frown. Eijirou's big—painfully so, and you feel small sat upon his thick thighs because you are in comparison—and he has to curve his back a bit so you're at eye-level. "What? No one's introduced themselves to you before?"

You shake your head, "Usually they just throw me onto the bed and get right to it."

Eijirou rolls his eyes at that, and you don't realize he's guiding your hips into a smooth roll until the harsh fabric of his jeans brushes against you in the best way. He moves you in time with the music vibrating the walls, "I guess that makes me more of a gentleman, then."

His lips hover over yours and yet he never advances, doesn't move to kiss you on the lips, nothing—it nearly has you buzzing. So does the hand he pins you to his lap with. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

"What's your name, Sweetheart," he asks lowly. You give it to him, and he grins.

"Y/N,” Eijirou tries on his lips before he confirms it with a nod. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Aren't you the flatterer," you purr, coiling your arms around your neck. His hand finds your ass and you're almost positive he's going to close the gap between you two until he says:

"Who were you runnin' from, Y/N?”

Years in the business help build a mask and you wear yours well, with that cute little smile as you cock your head to the side and ask, "I'm afraid I'm not following."

"Oh, I think you are," he says, looking you dead in the eyes. The gravity in his face doesn't falter. "Who was it."

As he stares into your soul, your own eyes avert to the sheets. "What's it to you?"

"It's nothing to me, really," he shrugs off his jacket and places it on the bed next to him before returning to his initial position—or perhaps, closer. "But I happen to find you real cute, and cute things deserve to feel safe, no?"

"In case you haven't checked, this isn't a very safe place," you scoff, removing your arms from his neck to cross them over your chest. "And I don't appreciate idiots like you trying to save someone like me just 'cause you wanna get your dick wet more than once."

Eijirou raises an eyebrow but he never stalls, "Oh? This happens often then?"

"I—" you falter, "...No."

"C'mon, Sweetheart," Eijirou tugs you by the waist and you have to press your hands to his chest to keep him from falling forwards. "You don't wanna stay in this place, do you?"

"It's my job," you defend with a huff. The redhead shrugs.

"Sure, but don't you want a little adventure? A little excitement in your life?"

"Like there isn't enough excitement right here?" You snort. Eijirou teeters his head back and forth, though the daring look never fades.

"But something tells me you're bored," he says with a near sarcastic face, clicking his tongue. "Something tells me you find the idea of something new exciting."

You open your mouth to respond but he keeps you from doing so, finally pressing his lips to yours. You nearly squeal in surprise but somehow, you find yourself kissing back with a passion you've never kissed another client with before—and maybe, just maybe, the idea of something new doesn't sound too bad.

Eijirou pulls away with a cocky grin like he knew you'd like it. Like he knew that'd be the catalyst for your response to what he says next, and maybe, he's not as much of an idiot as you thought.

And maybe you’re more of an idiot than you thought.

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

"Yes," you breathe, like an idiot, because you were wholly and utterly unprepared for what happens next.

Eijirou gives you the cutest smile, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun.

He sees your expression change and lifts both hands, pointing the black pistol towards the ceiling, "I—hey wait, you're gonna be fine, okay? I won't shoot you."

You cower and he pouts. Apparently, this wasn't the reaction he was expecting at all.

"I swear! I'm mentally stable, see?" He flips it sideways with a grin, "the safety's on."

You hate it that his comment makes you trust him. Slightly.

"C'mon," Eijirou smiles, reaching his gunless hand out for you to take. You do, albeit reluctantly. "I won't do anything too stupid. Just...shake things up a bit."

Shake things up a bit, Eijirou says, and yet the first thing he does is when you two exit the room is press the pistol to your bodyguard’s head.

"Eijirou," you hiss. Luckily no one in the club has noticed, yet, but you doubt their ignorance will last for long.

"I'm gonna need my fifty back, buddy," Eijirou pats the man on the back, and it's strange—you've always thought your bodyguard to be a big guy, but he looks rather petite next to the redhead. Your bodyguard reaches for his walkie-talkie, but Eijirou tuts, tapping his hand away with the tip of his gun.

"Hey dude, I'm not gonna shoot you. See? The safety's on," He repeats, flashing the barrel. Your bodyguard's eyes widen, and so do yours.

The safety isn't on.

"So, that fifty," Eijirou purrs, and your bodyguard stuffs the bill into his chest with a grumble. Eijirou hums, satisfied, and gives the crumpled bill to you without a second glance, too busy nodding to his friend on the other side of the strip club. A noirette from across the way nods back.

Pop-pop!

It's fucking chaos, as anyone would expect when blindly firing into a crowded club. Eijirou keeps a tight hold on your hand as he and his other three boys storm towards the pit bosses working the casinos with guns a-blazing, demanding they fill their pillowcases like a bunch of C-class thugs.

What the fuck did you get yourself into.

"This is not what I meant by excitement," you hiss through grit teeth as a terrified pit boss fills Eijirou's bag like he's a greedy kid with an attitude on Halloween, while your co-workers cower under the bar and pool tables. Eijirou sticks his tongue your way.

"This isn't the exciting part, Little Miss Excitement."

It's the steady sound of sirens that has your eyes widening, and the fact that you're positive they're getting louder. You catch sight of your bodyguard on his walkie-talkie, big body cowering behind the smallest trashcan, and turn back just in time to see Eijirou squint as he aims and shoots bullseye.

"That is."

The police have lost sight of two vehicles carrying the four armed men who robbed Vice City Casino and Club tonight at roughly 2:53 am. Witnesses say they came in a group of four but left with an exotic dancer named—

The moment the blondie from the club sees you walk through the door, he’s tossing the stack of bills in his hand with a sigh.

"Katsuki, Y/N. Y/N, Katsuki."

Katsuki looks nothing but happy, and refuses to acknowledge your presence as he crosses his arms.

"Ei. What the hell did we say about witnesses."

"Um," the redhead rubs his lips together before wearily looking at you, and you hike his jacket further up your shoulder. At least he was decent enough to give you that. She's an exception?"

"Not a fuckin' thing," the blond grunts, turning to you to flash a tight smile. "Goodbye."

"I—wait," Eijirou skates until he's stood over the ash-blond, with a hand on his shoulder and the other braced against the table. Speaking in a quieter voice, he says, "C'mon man. The poor thing was practically begging to get outta there."

The ash-blond does nothing but sigh before shoving a palm into a pile of money to push himself into the kitchen—and subsequently further away from you.

"She's gonna call the cops," Katsuki grunts wearily from the island, eyes narrowed. Eijirou follows.

"She's not gonna call the cops, dude," the redhead scoffs at the outlandish idea. "You heard the radio! At this point, she's as deep in it as we are."

As they continue to go back and forth over the island, you let your eyes wander. It’s a penthouse, and rather homely, with near egg yolk lighting, high walls, and big windows. You can't help but think about how you're in a strangely expensive part of the city before remembering this evening's events. No wonder they can afford such a nice place.

You find yourself smiling at a particular corner with a frustrating amount of photos stuffed on a little glass table, one that contains a selfie of the two housemates in high school uniforms. There's a ring sat in front of it, one that glints gold when you hold it up to your face, and if you squint you can see little flecks of green in the red of the ruby. It looks scarily close to an engagement ring.

"Hey, what's this?"

Both of their eyes rocket from the conversation to see you slip the delicate thing onto your ring finger.

"Don't touch it!" Eijirou tenses before realizing it's much too late for that. "Er—at least don't twist the top."

"The...top?" You ask, lifting your hand until it's at eye level.

"Yeah like, the jewel thingy," the redhead gestures to the ruby—and you can't stop thinking about how it's almost the same color as his hair. Waddling into the kitchen with your eye still trained on the thing, you ask:

"What is it?"

"A time-travel device," the ash-blond grunts. Eyes still full of suspicion, he watches you and the redhead interact over the island with arms crossed over his chest and reclining against the sink. You frown.

"Aren't those usually...bigger?" Because even though it's 3036, time-travel is still fairly new (space exploration took a long time, okay) and all the machines you've seen are at least the size of a shower. And yet, this one can sit on your pinky.

"Kats has been working on some stuff," Eijirou beams and it edges on proud; you notice the ash-blond near blushes with a huff as you hop to sit on the marble counter.

"'S nothin'."

You stare at the thing in faint amazement, and Katsuki kicks off the sink to near the island. Lifting an eyebrow, you say, "You know you could get rich off something like this? Instead of robbing strip clubs for a living.”

The ash-blond scoffs, and you wonder if someone else has told him that before. "If I gave that to the public, I have no fuckin' clue what they'd do with that shit."

And you shrug, supposing he's right—time-travel devices are hard to get your hands on, and that's for a reason. If everyone starts jumping around in the time-space continuum, fucking with shit, the world will promptly and utterly collapse. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

"It doesn't work with a big time range," Katsuki defends with a shrug, sliding his forearms on the counter. "The most it can do is a few hours"

"Not that it makes this any less cool," Eijirou says with a slight bounce. "I personally think it's really fun to play with."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "That's 'cause you use it to fuck."

You nearly choke.

"I—what?"

"W-Well, okay," Eijirou chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But also other stuff! Like when I'm really hungry, I might go to the future and take some of my fries. Future me's fries, that is."

"Or you'll try to take future-me’s goddamn burger," Katsuki growls. You flip the ring over like there's anything left to see.

"How often do you use it?"

"Nightly," Katsuki answers for him. Your eyebrows lift. Oh wow.

"It—it's not nightly," Eijirou defends weakly, huffing and puffing. "Weekly maybe, but—"

"Almost every night," Katsuki sums for him, giving you a little grin. You snort back before your eyes drop to the ring again.

"Uh oh," the redhead almost gasps, fingers thrumming on the island on either side of your being, "She's thinkin' about it."

"I'm not thinking about it," you huff, though your eyes never leave the ring. It's an...interesting prospect.

"Oh, you're totally thinking about it," Katsuki grunts, and you struggle to find where his enthusiasm came from. What happened to goodbye?

"C'mon," Eijirou tempts with a casual toss of the head. He touches your shoulder—Katsuki touches the other. "See what happens."

"What if—" you stare at the ring with pursed lips, fingers grabbing the ruby. "What if it's random? Or if we're not where we expect to be in a few hours or something."

Eijirou shrugs. "It's always a gamble, but that's where the fun is, no?"

You look down at the thing with a sigh. You suppose.

In one quick move, you twist the gem and screw your eyes shut. At first, you feel nothing, but then there's a sudden head rush, and you can easily see how someone can get addicted to this.

You hear a faint sound, one that could be excused as a rush of wind past your ears, before you feel your knees against a hard surface and your body in a different position.

"Oh, I like this much better."

You open to your eyes to a much different sight than you closed them to.

Katsuki and Eijirou look gargantuan when you’re on your knees, your back flush against the refrigerator and eyes watering due to the cock nestled halfway down your throat. You choke in surprise from the sensation, hands rushing to keep Katsuki from cutting your oxygen supply off for good as Eijirou stands impatient, cock hard in his hand and drooling for attention.

"F-Fuck," the ash-blond wheezes, seemingly just as taken aback from the position as you are. "Your mouth is fuckin' heaven."

"C'mon Sweetheart, don't ignore me now," EIjirou purrs, chuckling as the head of his cock hits your cheek with a wet slap. "At least give me a little something."

You grab his cock harder than you would've out of slight indignance, grinning around the other when it makes him hiss; Eijirou joins Katsuki in resting a hand on the fridge door for purchase.

You weren't the best at Vice City for nothing, after all.

"Shit, loosen that grip a little, will ya?" Eijirou wheezes—you don't listen, and his chest shudders when you seem to only move faster.

"'M too fuckin' close, where's that ring," Katsuki blabbers more than he grunts, and you lift your hand just in time for him to twist the jewel again, sending you three rocketing into the past.

You cough and splutter atop the kitchen island, chest heaving as you finally get the air Katsuki's cock allows. The head rush definitely doesn't help, and you find yourself getting dizzy enough to grab for someone's hand.

"Breathe, Princess," Katsuki says, and Eijirou lifts your hand to his chest so yours can rise and fall with his.

"So that's," you wheeze once you're able to get some semblance of a breath back. "That's time travel sex, huh?"

"Yeah," Eijirou says, a little breathless himself. "Addictive, right?"

"A little," you giggle, and find yourself looking for the ring again. Katsuki snorts.

"What, you wanna go back or somethin'?"

You flush red, eyes darting to the walls guilty, "A little bi—wah!"

There's a rush and the room morphs again. You would’ve fallen headfirst into a set of white sheets if it weren’t for the fact that you’re sat on Eijirou’s face.

"Hello beautiful~" the redhead singsongs from below, and you can't help but notice your bra is MIA as Katsuki takes a seat behind

you to run his hands up your sides to put the underside of your breasts.

"Pervert," you snort, though you figure you’re just as bad as he is with two of Eijirou's fingers deep in your pussy and Katsuki's hand on your clit. The redhead's leaving hickey after hickey on your inner thighs and you just try your damnest to not fall.

"Only for you," Eijirou winks cheekily, scissoring his fingers, and your hips stutter against his face when he slides his tongue in between.

"Fuckin' love the sounds you make," Katsuki grunts, before his other hand finds your neck and tightens. "And fuck you're so goddamn wet—you love this, don't you?"

You keen with a nod (and suppress the urge to say no shit, Sherlock), and Katsuki's pinching your clit between his two fingers, licking a fat stripe up your neck and chuckling when you shiver.

"What, your clients don't make you feel this good, Sweetheart?" Eijirou practically moans into your cunt, eyebrows folding when you thread your fingers through his hair and yank. "Bet that fifty was worth it, wasn't it?"

"Y-Yeah I—" you whimper, unable to get a sentence past your shuddering chest. "Guys, I'm gonna—"

The bedroom melts back into the kitchen, you're back in Eijirou’s jacket and not sat on his face. Your thighs and neck are hickey-less and yet, you're still so fucking horny.

"I hate you," you seethe, almost immediately, and Eijirou's grin is so wide it bends his eyes.

"Awe, you love me," he giggles and your frown only deepens as you reach for the ring—Katsuki snatches it out of arms way with a tut.

"Ah ah Princess, don't be greedy now," he purrs, but you couldn't give a shit about being greedy, and it shows in the way you quickly grab for it again. Katsuki passes the ring to Eijirou and it easily becomes a game of monkey in the middle.

"Give it—"

"I don't think so, Sweetheart," Eijirou says, pressing a big hand to your face to keep you from going any further. With a smirk, the redhead twists the ring, and suddenly you're full of him on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight," he curses behind grit teeth, sweat practically dripping off his shoulders in rivulets as he pushes your face into the kitchen island so hard it's numb. So are your knees. "You're so pretty like this—shit—"

You barely have the room to whimper, let alone answer, and you find Katsuki perched on the opposite counter, weeping cock in hand. The redhead chuckles as you struggle to take all of him, hips squirming as he aims for places you've never been able to hit on your own. "I'd stick your tongue back in your mouth if I were you, Sweetheart. The money’s a little dirty, don't you think?"

And that's when you realize your knees are elevated upon two stacks of green, possibly some of what Katsuki had been counting earlier, and a twenty swims in a pool of drool under your cheek.

"Oh, but I don't think you care," Eijirou grunts, shoving your face deeper into the marble countertop as his hips speed up. "Dirty fuckin' girl. Bet you'd do anything for a fifty."

"I wanna fuck her," Katsuki rushes as if his mouth moves before he can speak. Eijirou wheezes a laugh.

"What, I can't enjoy this?"

"No,” the ash-blond grunts.

"Hmm..." Eijirou debates, though his hips never stop as he gives Katsuki a look and goes, "How about no?"

Katsuki growls at that, and you find your fingers clumsily twisting the ruby on the ring that sits on Eijirou's finger, sending the three of you flinging further into the future.

"Fuck!"

"This isn't the future I was referring to, but I'm not complainin'," Katsuki grunts with a feral grin. You nearly slip due to all the water in the shower and you're positive that you see the sunrise through the window paint Eijirou's skin gold.

"I gotcha, Sweetheart," Eijirou soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your arms while your nails dig into his shoulders, the red lines jagged from how roughly Katsuki fucks you from behind. "Fuck—you're doing so good for us, taking him so well."

You whimper and Katsuki lands a heavy slap on your ass—heavy to the point where you nearly knocks both you and the redhead into the tile behind him. Eijirou's calloused hands find your clit fairly easily, and that's enough to almost send you over the edge, pussy fluttering around Katsuki's cock.

"She's gonna cum," Katsuki grunts. "Can fuckin' feel it."

"Uh oh," the redhead singsongs, turning to you with a grin. "Were you trying to be slick, Sweetheart?”

Though it's difficult, you lift your head, eyes swimming in unshed tears as you choke, "I—n-no, it's jus—"

You're in the bedroom again—this time your back comes in contact with a dresser, metal rattling from the weight Eijirou slams you into it with. The redhead supports you both with two feet planted into the floor and a hand around your waist, grunting into your ear with an exhaustion that implies you've got to be at this for hours.

"Ei-Eiji—"

"I know, Sweetheart," the redhead coos breathlessly, licking up the sweat that runs down your neck. "Just a few more times, okay? Hold on for just a little longer."

You sob, head thunking against the wall as you realize you have no idea where Katsuki is. Though it's only a fleeting thought because before you know it, Eijirou's dropping you to your feet, bending you in half, and railing you into the wall.

"Goddamn," he grunts, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip, "this is—this is the best lay I've had in a fat second."

You pant a laugh, hands pressing into the wall to steady yourself, "Good—good to know the fifty bucks was worth it."

"Oh baby, it was more than worth it," Eijirou hikes your leg up as high as it'll go for a deeper angle and he gets it, his growl melting into a semi-chuckle as you squeal, thighs jumping.

"Fuck Ei!" You scream, and he's tugging your hair to straighten your back out.

"You like it rough, Sweetheart?" He pants into your ear, grabbing your neck for a better grip. You nod as much as you can.

"Y-Yeah—I—" Eijirou drops you until you're stood at a perfect 90-degree angle, "I need—need'ta cum, p-please—"

"Twist the ring, Sweetheart," He pants, resting his hand on the wall next to yours. It still glints gold on his fourth finger in the moonlight, "Get us there together, yeah?"

You don't have to be told twice.

"Mph!"

"Fuck!”

Your knees dig into a mattress again as Katsuki fills your mouth. With his cock down your throat and Eijirou's buried deep in your cunt, there isn't much you can do but take both of them at the same time—though you're positive that's what they intended.

"Shit, me too." Eijirou wheezes a chuckle as his hips piston into you, his sweaty chest sticking to your back while he reaches between your thighs to rub your clit. That’s enough to send you flailing over the edge, moan muffled by Katsuki’s slowly softening cock. Then, with a devilish grin (and before the redhead can cum) Katsuki reaches for the ring on Eijirou’s finger and twists it.

“You asshole,” Eijirou groans, and suddenly you three are back in the shower, with Katsuki’s hips battering into yours as the redhead supports your weight from below. Katsuki chuckles before his grip tightens and he’s filling you with another load.

“C’mon Princess,” Katsuki grunts, reaching for your clit. “Come for us again.”

You choke again before you’re digging your head into Eijirou’s muscled chest with a moan, shaking from the aftershocks Katsuki continues to fuck you through them.

Until the room morphs, and you’re face down on the kitchen counter.

“Fucking finally,” Eijirou wheezes with a bitter chuckle, casually flipping Katsuki the middle finger as he's sat on the opposing counter. “Fuck, you're shaking baby, you gonna cum with me? Yeah?“

Eijirou batters into your cervix and that's the catalyst for your third orgasm. You squeeze so tight you think you may have knocked the wind out of the redhead when his chest crashes into your back, and you open your eyes just in time to see the kitchen melt into the bedroom again—in a time you all have yet to visit.

Your legs are thrown over Katsuki’s shoulders as he pushes your back deeper into Eijirou’s chest, both of their cocks filling you so much and so well it brings tears to your eyes. As your thighs quiver with an impending orgasm, Katsuki’s the first to fall off the edge, eyebrows furrowing as his nails dig into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, voice fucked hoarse and lips bit pink. Eijirou nibbles into your shoulder with a gasp as his sweaty hand finds your clit again, neither of their hips ever stopping.

“Cum for us one more time, Sweetheart,” he pants into your neck before adding another hickey to the collection. Your chest shudders.

“I—I can’t—“

“Oh yes you fuckin’ can,” Katsuki growls, and you squeal as he tweaks a nipple. “I know you got one more in there. Give it.”

Your legs kick against his chest with a curse as you orgasm for the final time—this one much wetter than the last.

“Holy shit,” Eijirou nearly laughs, looking at where the three of you are connected. “Did you just squirt?”

“I—“ your face blends red when you see the absolute and utter mess that sits in Katsuki’s lap, before looking away with a determination to never see it again. “...Maybe.”

“Clean up?” Eijirou asks, eyes flickering to the ash-blond. Katsuki shrugs.

“Nah.”

A rush of wind and you’re sat on the kitchen counter. Eijirou’s jacket protects you from getting goosebumps due to a drop in temperature and though you do shiver, you find your body much more unscathed than it was.

“Hi,” Eijirou chuckles a little breathlessly.

“Hi,” you giggle back, a little nervous but in the best way. “So um...we do all of that tonight?”

“I guess so,” the redhead says a bit cheekily, raising an eyebrow. And then, with a wink, “Probably more.”

You stare at the ring on his hand in awe. Whoa.

"I fuck—fine, we can keep her, Shitty Hair," Katsuki grumbles from his spot near the kitchen sink, and despite the sour look on his face, you can't find a hint of it in his voice. Figures.

"Told you he'd say yes," Eijirou beams with a thumbs up.

"Can we...go do that stuff now?" You ask, albeit a bit hesitantly because...well, usually people are asking to have sex with you. Is this how they feel?

"Of course we can, Sweetheart," the redhead beams, before taking the ring off to place it onto the counter. "It was all a part of the future, after all."

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #— 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #tw.blood #tw.guns

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taechaos · 3 years

Text

New Idea

pairing: Step-brother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

warnings: non-con, bondage, pseudo-incest, sadism, smut, mentions of killing

synopsis: You wished to hang out with your brother Taehyung when he wasn't home, only to realize he was better off staying away.

word count: 3.2k

It was late at night. Rain flooded outside, drops trickled down your window and puddles formed on the roads as they reflected the neon lit storefront signs beautifully. The tears from the clouds splashed against the cement loudly, and you watched the empty streets in boredom. With your cheek leaning on your palm, elbow propped up on the round wooden table across your window, you miserably yearned to feel some sort of sugar rush with a deep frown on your face. Things have been mundane, repeating the same old routines as days quickly went by. You wondered what Taehyung had been up to in the time that he’d been gone. You knew he could resolve your boredom instantly had he been right beside you.

Taehyung – your step-brother who was the embodiment of adrenaline, and was most likely awake with you right now. The man never slept, always staying up at night brainstorming ideas for what to do during the day that was no doubt just as exciting as the day before. Bags adorned his eyes that somehow fit his wild persona that never needed asking for permission to do things that were illegal most of the time. It was especially daring when having strict parents, and the only reason he wasn’t locked up in a mental institution was because he was the pride of your family with excelling grades in college that he rarely ever attended. They never approved of anything he’d done, especially not the teal hair he was currently rocking. You on the other hand, looked up to him as a role model.

What you’d do to see him right now. Sometimes he tagged you along with his adventures, such as exploring abandoned buildings and getting matching tattoos on your forearms that he chose. Despite the rebellious acts he put you through, he always defended you against your parents and got away with everything with a light scolding from his smooth tongue. Admiration wouldn’t begin to describe the amount of respect you had for him, though he was rarely ever around. Unbeknownst to you however, he never failed to go a day without pecking your cheek while you were unconscious.

He was everything you aspired to be: a carefree soul with a creative mind and a heart filled with exhilaration. The only thing he hadn’t done was probably murder. It was a shame that absence made the heart grow fonder, because throughout the time you’d known him since your early teens, he hadn’t changed one bit with his disappearances that could go on for days.

Taehyung never changed.

Was this what they called depression? Feeling numb and hating your life for how ordinary it was? You didn’t know, but what you knew was that you really needed Taehyung right now. It was 3AM and your parents were sound asleep in the apartment while you moped over how much you missed your step-brother’s presence. Not a single moment was dull with him, while you were too much of a coward to go through with any of your desires.

And as if your prayers were answered, a pound came on the door. The loud knock instantly gave away the person behind the door; Taehyung, who never cared for how loud he was unless he was on a stealthy mission.

Your heart skipped a beat as the door swung open and the silhouette of your step-brother entered before it was slammed shut with a lock. “You’re awake?” he asked in a whisper without moving an inch when he noticed your seated form.

“Can’t sleep,” you breathed, unable to hide the joy you felt upon seeing him in your tone. He couldn’t have picked a better time to visit you.

“Why not?” he walked over to you before kneeling. There was a smile on his face that matched yours, instantly giving away he came to your room with purpose. It was expected, for he never approached you if not to tell you about one of his newer ideas.

“Was bored.”

“So was I,” a mischievous smirk graced his face. The street lights outside illuminated his messy hair that your hand itched to ruffle. “But I found us a solution.”

Your eyes gleamed with hope, your grin never faltering. “Tell me,” you impatiently urged, your knees already bouncing up and down with excitement.

“I’ll give you a hint: we’ll both be having fun. But you need to listen to me,” he cautioned with a raised finger. You nodded frantically, willing to do whatever he needed you to do. “Okay, stand up.”

You obeyed him and only then noticed the bag slung over his shoulder once you stood before him. “Let me do all the work, yeah? You just stand still.”

“I really want to know what it is,” you whined and bounced on your feet.

Taehyung held onto your tits that bounced with you and you quietly gasped. “Better not be acting like this with anyone other than me. Naughty,” he scolded before unzipping his small pouch.

“I don’t go out without a bra,” you rolled your eyes playfully. Taehyung was notorious for doing and saying things without a filter, uncaring of the effect it had on others. This was simply him looking after you without any boundaries, because he never set any with you.

He pulled out a duct tape from the mystery bag. “Turn around and hold your hands behind you.” You complied without protest, the ripping of a duct tape resounding in the room as he tore it with his teeth. He taped your wrists together like cuffs before facing you again by the pull of your shoulder.

Confusion washed over you, but not a trace of fear. “What’s this about?”

“Now go lie down,” he ignored you and nodded at your bed. You sat on the center, your sheets already rumpled from all the tossing and turning you’d done in an attempt to sleep. His figure loomed over you and your heart raced in anticipation. “Don’t move, okay?”

You silently watched him with piqued curiosity as he pushed you down. The soft mattress dipped under your weight and you didn’t move a muscle until you felt him tug at your flannel pajama pants. “Taehyung? What are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” he ignored you again and you furrowed your brows as he undressed you. “You’re going to like it.”

Without a single clue of his intentions, you expected him to change your pants after he took them off, but definitely didn’t expect him to aim at your panties next. The second he held onto the hems, you crawled away from him and repeated more firmly, “Taehyung, what are you doing?”

He yanked you back to him by your ankles. “Don’t you trust me? You said you’d listen to me.”

“I don’t think I want to do this,” you strained and tried to pull your knees to your chest, but he tightened his grip on your ankles.

“It’ll be fun, just sit still,” he spoke airily, his tone unbothered compared to your worried one. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Once you felt somewhat reassured, you relaxed your legs and lied back down. The discomfort swallowed you whole when he undressed your bottom half completely. The chilly air hit your bare legs and left goosebumps in its wake.

“You shouldn’t be shy about being naked with me,” he chuckled and tapped your pussy carelessly. You yelped and bent your knees again.

“Taehyung, this isn’t right,” you stressed and clenched your thighs together. You were growing wary about this ‘idea’ and you weren’t sure whether his pupils were dilated because of the dark anymore. He could be high. “Let’s try something else, please.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he scoffed and spread your thighs apart, hovering over your loins. “You’re going to love this, just calm it.” He grabbed the duct tape again and tore off a smaller piece before placing it on your mouth, making your efforts of leaning away fruitless. Your voice was muffled behind the sticky tape as you shook your head. “Don’t make me tape your legs too,” he warned as you tried pushing him away. He sat on your knees as he began unzipping his washed denim jeans, ignoring your babbling.

“Been watching a lot of porn lately,” he began casually as tears brimmed in your eyes. “I usually find it boring, but I came across a video that I couldn’t resist reenacting. Plus you were bored too,” he defended, “it’d be mean if I spared my little sister of this fun.”

You didn’t know whether he was joking or not, but you were ready to start crying if he was actually doing what you were thinking. You sighed in relief when he reached for his pouch for a pair of scissors. It had to be a joke then–

Taehyung began cutting your shirt from the middle, and you whimpered when your tits were on full display. Your nipples hardened as a result of the exposure, and tears immediately began streaming down your face mixed with muffled sobs.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” he exclaimed, “we’re not related by blood. It should be fine.”

When you continued crying, he said, “I’ll take off my shirt too, if it helps.” He heaved his t-shirt over his head, his firm chest hard to make out in the midnight dark. “I was thinking kissing would ease you into it, but only if you’re quiet.” Your cries grew louder instead. He sighed exasperatedly, “You can be such a crybaby sometimes.”

He started leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck, and you whimpered at the feeling. You were ticklish and though you were completely terrified, the kisses were a bit soothing. “This is me being nice to you, because oh boy, that guy in the video was a fucking monster,” he laughed while going down the valley between your breasts. A finger flicked your nipple while his other hand rubbed over your folds. “Want me to eat you out first? You’re not wet enough.”

You shook your head in refusal, so he merely shrugged and began circling your clit instead, his fingers now pinching your nipple. His mouth latched onto your other nipple and he swirled his tongue around the areola, clashing pleasure with pain. The rain drowned out your involuntary moans but Taehyung caught them anyway; it wasn’t hard to miss when your arousal began coating his hand. He released your nipple with a pop and locked eyes with you. “You’re enjoying this? Not gonna lie, I was expecting you to cry longer but... you're a little slutty, aren't you?” He slapped your pussy experimentally and smiled when you moaned loudly. “Keep this up and I might just take off the tape.”

For a moment, he wondered if this was why people enjoyed sex so much; your moans were like music to his ears and your body was making his cock throb even more. He could really get used to this, he thought as he slapped your pussy over and over, the sound echoing in the room along with your high-pitched whines.

“Shit, I need to record this,” he mumbled before reaching for his phone on his back pocket. Your protests went to deaf ears as he began recording your pussy and spanked it, the microphone picking up all your sounds of pleasure. Once it reached the one-minute mark, he threw his phone on your pillow and took out his erect length from its restraints, giving it a few pumps as the tip oozed with pre-cum. “I never thought fucking you would be this easy. Thought about it every time I touched myself.”

You went quiet at the revelation and he smirked at your raised brows. “Why are you surprised? Whenever I’m home, you come hug me with your bare tits pressed up against me. Not that I’m complaining of course,” he chuckled hotly. “Want me to kiss you now?”

When you didn’t respond quickly enough, he ripped the tape off of your mouth without mercy and your eyes teared up at the pain with an ouch. He didn’t waste a second in enveloping his lips with yours as he cupped your pussy, smearing his pre-cum on your labia. He swallowed your moans as his mouth moved vigorously, tongue meeting yours as he explored your cavern. The smacking of your lips caused you to clench your hole, the sound arousing to your ears as you kissed him back.

“You going to stay quiet for me?” he murmured against your lips, his cock poking at your hole teasingly. You hesitated but nodded nonetheless. “Good girl,” he praised with a grin and lightly pecked you before properly positioning himself.

The reason why Taehyung was so eager to have sex with you wasn’t just because he was horny, but also because really wanted it to be your pussy that he fucked first, and maybe second, and third. He was a virgin who watched too much porn when he wasn’t outside, and now that you were 18, he thought it to be the perfect timing for you to lose your virginity to him like he’d imagined when he was 15.

Due to his experience, he didn’t ease into your pussy and instead shoved his cock entirely. You screamed and he instantly put a hand over your mouth. “Too much?” he asked with a strained voice. His cock was just begging to be thrusted into you, but he couldn’t have you screaming and waking your parents. When you nodded with eyes shut in pain, he groaned to himself. He was twitching inside you, and after a few seconds, he began moving.

You were crying and bitching again, but he paid no mind to it as he pressed his hand onto your mouth while gently slamming his hips into you, his courtesy for now. You'd adjust sooner or later, but the stretch was excruciating; your walls stung and you started to bleed on him.

"Oh fuck," he giggled sadistically once he noticed the crimson fluid, "that didn't happen in the video." He gazed into your glossy eyes before quickening his pace, growing rougher. "You're crying again; what's new?"

Taehyung was laughing as he was moaning, but you couldn’t hear anything except for the ringing in your ears. Your heart pounded and you were struggling to breathe through your nose as he fucked you relentlessly.

“I kind of feel bad for you,” he panted with a sinister smile. “Does it still hurt?” He took your sobs as a yes. “Poor baby,” he cooed with a pout before moving his free hand to your clit. “This might help.” You were struggling with your bound hands, but you couldn’t move your legs because of how much it hurt. Your fighting was useless, and your body was growing numb except for the thumb that made it less painful.

Taehyung removed his hand from your mouth to hear your moans clearly. Whether it was from pleasure or pain, he didn’t know, but he loved it. He wanted to be the only one to see you in this state. He’d gauge out any eyes that got to see you naked and stab any ears that got to hear your pretty sounds.

But it was a little difficult to savour it when he was reaching his climax so soon; damn inexperience and the low stamina that came with. He had enough self-control to pull out of you to finish himself off with his hand. He missed the warmth and tightness of your pussy and how it kept clenching down on him quickly, but it had to come at a cost – not cumming inside you.

“You fucking monster!” you yelled hoarsely, eyes blurred with tears and face covered in tears.

“Too loud,” he sighed and forced your mouth open to shove his length inside. “Try anything, and I’ll fucking kill you.” His cock was heavy on your tongue as you gagged on it every time he thrusted. It wasn’t long before he released in your mouth and you choked, swallowing his cum without a choice. Another loud moan erupted from him as his hips stuttered while gently slamming into you for the last time.

“Fuck,” he exhaled before collapsing on you with his palms holding up to not smother you completely. “Shit, you’re such a good fucking girl.”

When he raised his face from your shoulder, you spat on him. He laughed hysterically before wiping off your saliva from his cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, damn.”

“You’re the fucking worst Taehyung,” your voice wavered as you insulted him. “I hope you rot in hell. I always saw you as my role model, but now I understand why everyone fucking hates you.”

“Sheesh,” he snorted, “I told you I’d make it up to you, didn’t I? It might hurt now, but it’ll feel a lot better when we do it again.”

“If you try-” he cut you off by going down on you, taking his clit into your mouth and immediately emitting a moan out of you. “Stop, stop, stop,” you chanted in gasps, trapping his head with your thighs and contradicting your words. He chuckled against your swollen pussy, making it feel even better and yet worse. This euphoric sensation wasn’t what you needed after being traumatized by your own step-brother, but it was what your body wanted after getting a taste of his tongue.

He was slurping up your juices and spitting on your folds before abusing your clit again. The bastard knew how to distract you from your newfound grudge, but you weren’t going to forgive him after your orgasm. Your hips moved against him on instinct as his tongue ran up and down your labia. A knot formed in your stomach, your tears long forgotten as you became more persistent in riding him in this awkward position. He heaved your thighs over his shoulder to take full control, and with his vigorous sucking and pulling, you came undone with a spasm.

“Feels good, right?” he asked rhetorically and fell limp next to you.

“I’ve never hated someone as much as you,” you seethed while recovering from your high.

“You’re going to tell me that wasn’t fun? No way,” he stared at you in disbelief.

“You hurt me,” you sniffled and covered your face.

"I'm sorry princess," the nickname felt foreign on his tongue as he held your arm. "I'll leave forever if you want me to."

He hummed when you stayed silent with a runny nose. "I'll clean you up and go, okay?"

"No," you huffed. "You become my slave for a whole month."

"You want me to stay home with you?"

You nodded while rubbing your eyes with your fists. "You can't do that and just leave, and I hate you but I miss you."

Taehyung resisted the urge to squeeze your cheek and coo. He knew you'd regret asking him to stay, but he wouldn't say no to spending time with you 24/7.

Chuckling through his nose, he said, "I miss you too." He traced the tattoo on your forearm, a minimalistic mockingbird with an arrow slicing through the middle. He picked it because it represented you; an innocent little thing who didn't even look down at her wound, only focused on flying back to Taehyung, a hawk that waited with open arms - ready for his meal.

If you wanted him to stay, then that's what Taehyung would do. You'd fallen for his trap twice, the third wouldn't be so bad. He'd make sure you enjoyed it this time.

#bts #kim taehyung #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #kth #thekpopnetwork #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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dropsofletters · 3 years

Text

real or unreal? [pcy]

—summary: her newest romance novel needs a main male character, but no brainstorming is enough to give her the perfect role for the man that swoops the other protagonist off her feet.

finding inspiration in a man she hears of from an old colonel from the army, his existence bleeds onto every page she writes, and yet, she has to get to know him—to see the face behind such gorgeous memories.

lieutenant park, they call him, and he’ll never know he’s the muse behind the one book that will probably make her reach stardom.

—title: real or unreal? —pairing: park chanyeol x reader —genre: military!au ; writer!au ; muse!au —type: fluff ; angst ; longing —word count: 8,000 —note: this is a kofi request. if you wanna support me, you can always ask me to write something over there!

Excellent liars make even better writers. They wrap words in the most gorgeous of ways, make the bad guy turn good in the middle of the plot just in the sake of love, and they make every reader eat it up. Chosen ones, real love, spaceships and more—writers have filled their banks with more than one hundred thousand words full of bullshit.

Head thumping, she lets the dinging line in the paragraph she must be writing in eat her alive. The point of writing is so paradoxical that she doesn’t understand it at times. She misses it like a madwoman when her fingers can’t lay on the keyboard, but once she needs to, every ounce of inspiration or will dissipates into the thin air. Not only that, but then there comes the perfectionist in her that reads over that first draft, that first chapter of another book that will probably get denied by agents and publishing houses alike and she hates it.

Because, how many times have people read about the bad boy with shredded abs, a crooked smile, pushed back hair and too much bite, with enough sex and alcohol to last him three lifetimes, and they still love it. She doesn’t, however.

She has fallen for the bad boy. Been with the bad boy. Kissed the bad boy to bits and pieces hoping that he saw her and only her, but then you realize much like love, eyes have peripherals and he can see much more. There is a world out there, why settle for her?

This house had been covered in his scent once. His tall height, his incredible strength, his beaming smile and the typicality of his features. Handsome with a swipe of his hair, a hooded jacket and his hands on his pockets when he neared her, pressed a chaste kiss to her neck while she wrote and begged her to give her inspiration. A month ago, she would’ve melted at the sound of his voice, right now, she is not so sure she can stand the idea of Jaejin coming over.

But she knows he’s about to. In this tidy home, with faux dark green plants and tall ceilings, crafted by his own immaculate job while she chased after a dream that could happen just as it couldn’t, she knows he is one step away from coming over from one of his spectacular, elongated trips to God-knows-where with who-knows-what-kind-of-bitch.

The laptop turns off, her reflection staring back at her. It’s a sight to laugh at, really, much like the nervousness and ache she felt to go through his e-mail, his Twitter, his Instagram, even his Facebook. Look through every friend on the list, every following she could find until she saw it. What she had been looking for all those times Jaejin insisted she could never come to his business trips.

A woman with a profile picture that included him. Hugging him. Head resting on his shoulder as his handsome features came into full view. And she’s gorgeous.

She’s so gorgeous that she almost feels like crying—for the umpteenth time—when she realizes the laptop’s screen is black, and her reflection is staring back at her. Horns of hair stand up on each side of her face, eyes puffy from so much crying, his shirt on her body, covered in some of the sauce that she had with some fried cuisine just a while earlier.

And it’s not her. It has never been about her. These five months have not included her at all—and the bad boy never falls for anyone; they put a ceiling over your head, they make you feel loved, they say you’re the only woman in their eyesight, that they have changed so much you never have to worry or be insecure again. You don’t have to check for other women who flirt with him, because he can only think of you.

So, what did she do when she was told all those lies? She wrote romance books. Erotica. Sweeter than ever. Dramas. Whatever it was—it came to life. All those men with gorgeous features, much like Jaejin, and amazing personalities that switched just for her. Who kissed every insecurity away and fell in love with the dip of the main character’s hips, or the strength of her heart Those who swore they’d never hurt her quite like the people in her past did?

Tell that to the tears that try to stream down her face when she hears the entrance door opening.

Her nostrils make out the scent of him, but before he could arrive and leave that lingering within her, she stands up, placing her hands on her back when she goes over to the main hallway, deep gray walls contrasting with his dark hair, gorgeous smile and the twinkle behind his eyes when he opens his eyes and with his melted-chocolate voice says:

“Come here, gorgeous.” She doesn’t move, but he doesn’t give her the option to doubt. His hands are resting on the back of her thighs in a second, bringing her up until he can rest a full kiss on her lips, his thin ones cold to the couch but warm to the heart when she pulls away. She hates him so much, but this is the man she met in high school; that one impossible guy who reconnected with her years later and changed.

Changed so much he still preferred to have the most gorgeous, hot and spectacular woman in the world but only decided to do it behind her back, because she is one thing…and that’s why she is his girlfriend, she is safe and sound, she is the one that will wait for him at home and that will give him the benefit of thinking he is moving forward, that he’s an adult.

She’s the one he says he loves as someone else jerks it for him.

“Jin…” She trails her voice, looking over to the side when he leans forward to steal another kiss from her lips. “You smell like alcohol.”

That’s what tumbles the house of cards apart. He had gone out to drink before even coming home, and she can’t even start to think who he had gone with—

“Had some drinks with the folks. Nothing special.” Jaejin traces her hair with the tips of his fingers to put the baby hairs down. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a drink since my little dominatrix keeps me on check and tied up.”

With that, her feet fall on the floor with a soft thud because of his lack of hold. Jaejin goes to settle his coat on the hanger, but those words can only be repeated inside her head over and over again.

Tied up.

She keeps him so tied up she had gone insane—green with jealousy as she checked through his social media because he wouldn’t answer to her texts for days.

Tied up.

Tied up enough for him to think he had the power to destroy her, and not even give her a warning.

The one thing tied up is her tongue when she expects him to get closer, to wrap his arms around her waist, grab the skin there and place a kiss on her neck. Make her think that, perhaps, he isn’t as sedated as she knows he is and that he wants her. Desires her like he promised he did that one time they reconnected a year ago; when he said he didn’t even know what he was thinking about when they were younger when she always was there.

He doesn’t.

“What did you make for dinner?” He questions, taking his phone in between his fingers and going to plop himself down on the couch when she calls out for him.

“Jaejin.”

That catches his attention, but he doesn’t look up from the device. “You never call me Jaejin.”

“I need a break.”

That does it. His phone falls on his lap just as he leans his head back on the burgundy couch, expensive and chosen by him, and the first thing she wants to destroy in this fucking place. “A break?” He asks, voice sturdy. “A break from what?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she tries to gain strength to say this, but her voice wavers when she closes her eyes and breathes out: “A break from you.”

Jaejin is silent, and she doesn’t dare see the mess that is about to ensue. Instead, she waits for the clash of emotions. Her boyfriend stands up at that moment, steady steps reaching out to her when he scoffs.

“A break from me? What are you even talking about?”

“I can’t stand being in this relationship anymore. I’m sorry. I don’t want to let go of you,” With that, she opens her eyes, because that man who likes to pretend that he is broken had been the last person on her list when she was younger. He always sounded like trouble, and she had been the nice, good girl that kept away from it all. The night it changed was the night that she should’ve ran away. “But I have to.”

“Have to?” With his questions, he continues. “You’re taking me for a fool here. I’ve given you all. A house. A life. A fucking ring to promise you that this is going somewhere and this is what you pay me with?”

He doesn’t raise his voice, but swords go through her with everything he adds. “You didn’t give me a life, Jaejin. I was given that the moment I was born—”

“You were that one fucking nerd in the bleachers that no one wanted to talk to because you are complicated and insecure and…” He tugs at his hair at that moment, turning around when a groan leaves his lips. “You are too fucking pretty for the trouble that you are and now, you’re running away again. Like you did back then, always hiding, always trying to look at people over your shoulder because you’re so conceited and—”

There comes the explosion, the kind that appears in a book and ends in an apology, but the acids in her stomach churn at what he says. Maybe, first opinions do matter. What would anyone think if they heard from the person that they feel like they love that they are complicated and insecure, much like they were in the past? It burns, too badly.

“Fuck you.” She says, tugging at the edge of his shirt to have him turning around. “You don’t get to say that because you didn’t even give two shits about me back then. How could you even know me?”

“Because I thought you were cute. Of course, I was going to notice you.”

“Don’t try to make yourself sound nice—”

“Well, fuck, sorry for reacting to my girlfriend wanting to take a break from me.” Sarcastically, Jaejin conquers.

“You have other bitches to fuck while you wait for me, don’t you?” She questions, hating the way she sounds, the words she spits out, but the anger can’t stop her from saying what she feels. Jaejin raises his eyebrows at that, a small smile taking over his features.

“Is this what this drama is all about? Honey, I truly have no one—”

“Stop lying.” Her voice cuts through the air when she feels his hands stopping at her arms, clutching softly. “Stop lying because it hurts.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Then, why did you go with her?” She opens her eyes then, tears blurring her vision and making him seem too far away. “You said you had changed,” With that, she pushes herself away from him, anger bubbling within her like a volcano ready to explode. “You said you’d wanted me and only me. You said we’d have a future, that you were a better man now and I wouldn’t have to worry ever again. I wouldn’t have to be that fucking insecure little girl I once was with what you had promised me, but here I am, being her again, because you have brought her back.”

Grief takes over his features, pushing his hair away from his face as he follows after her, her steps taking her towards the door. “Who is this her you’re talking about? I don’t—”

The name scalds her tongue when she holds onto the doorknob and breathes out: “Kim Juna.” His breath stops at the mention of such name. “Kim Juna and whoever the fuck she is, but she sure as hell has you displayed over her social media.”

“Shit.” For the first time since he had gotten there, Jaejin did what he did whenever he got home. Sheltered her, kissed her neck and made her…melt—or, not really. She felt repulsed, actually. “She doesn’t mean anything. I—I was just…shit, I have a lot of issues, baby. I think I can have it all and I didn’t realize I can have it all with one woman and that’s—”

“No.” She shakes her head, opening the door to let the freezing breeze bite at her arms and thighs. “You get to have it all, Jin. You deserve it. You just don’t get to have me.”

If she had to describe how an autopsy feels like, she’d compare it to the moment she steps out of the house she shared with Jaejin. Her heart taken out, she takes a few steps forward, part of her wishing for him to go after her, but he doesn’t. He stays in place, paralyzed, locking the door as the swish of the wind bites at her and reminds her where she is.

She’s running away.

Tears cradle her vision, making a child out of her as her shoulders shake unconsciously. Her bare feet patter against damp grass, walking away from the house until she sees it. The lights of a car turned on, directly pointed at her, until she hears a horn and a call of her name.

Whoever pops their head out of their car, parked right in front of her neighbors’ house, seems to be worried about her. Though, when the lights are dimmed down and her eyes can finally concentrate on the figure, she realizes who it is immediately.

Colonel Song has a face that cannot be forgotten. Somewhere in 1983, he must have been the most handsome man of his team, but now, he’s bathed in wrinkles and shy smiles. His wife opens the entrance door, waiting for him, but he’s already getting out of the car and walking towards her, small hands extended out to hold her shoulders.

Small, hooded eyes and thin lips, a bit of a stubble rests on his pale skin, with his hair reaching his earlobes, tall and sturdy to protect his family and his nation once in a lifetime. Salt and pepper hair drapes over his forehead when he looks down at her, questioning.

“Oh no, darlin’, don’t cry.” His thick accent says, reminiscent of the times the Song’s had asked them to tag along for dinner. Their youngest daughter had gotten married somewhere during the latest summer, and they wanted nothing more than to have someone else to take care of. Parents through and through. “What just happened to you? The night’s too cold to be out and about like this.”

She rubs at her eyes, unaware of the ache in her throat and the amount of shame she feels at that moment. “It’s nothing to worry about, Colonel Song.”

“It is!” The old man conquers, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and bringing her along to his front yard. “I’ve had enough daughters to know that seeing a woman with little to no clothing walking away from her boyfriend’s house with tears running down her face is never a good sign.”

Read like a book—like the ones she will never get to write properly, a shudder rakes up her spine, lips trembling when more tears gather in her vision. “You’re wicked observative, Colonel.”

“Something life brings you. Just knowledge.” With that, he reaches his wife, a smile on his face. “I’m guessing we have some extra food for our guest tonight, don’t we?”

“We always have extra food as long as you don’t get your hands on the pan, Hyunsoo.” With dyed brown hair and a small figure, Mrs. Song places one hand on her head and rubs the skin there with a single thumb. “What’s the crying for?”

“I asked her the same thing.” Mrs. Song’s husband adds, pulling her through the door once his wife widens the space to enter and though every portion of her soul begs to be an adult, to find a motel to stay in and simply shut her mouth and not put this old couple through the hassle of understanding her pain, she can’t stop herself from saying the truth.

Because a thing she doesn’t have is many friends. She had locked herself up in the idea of a romance book and Jaejin, loving him like the one man that would last her a lifetime, and the lifetime is over by now.

She tugs at the edge of her—his—t-shirt as embarrassment takes over her. Truth be told, she doesn’t want to leave, for the house is too warm, small yet gorgeous, not modern at all, with wooden counters and creaking stairs. Pictures scattered across the walls, holding memories along with Colonel Song’s medals and recognitions.

“J—Jaejin was cheating on me.” She whispers, voice awfully low when she turns around to look at the couple, whose eyes soften at the sight of her. “And I just asked him for a break.”

“So…” Colonel Song mumbles. “You have nowhere to stay?”

She shakes her head. “Not for the night. I left everything I own at his place and he’s there. B—But, I can find something. I will—”

Mrs. Song shakes her head. “You’ll stay here for as long as you need, honey.” She conquers. “We had four daughters and we won’t care about having a fifth if we need to. We’re not leaving you alone tonight.”

Maybe, fear is what petrifies her and makes her nod, lonesome in a home that exudes everything and romance. Happy endings work for some people, and she happens to be one of those who don’t follow after the rule.

###

For the three weeks she spends at the Song’s house, locked up in fear of coming face to face with Jaejin, she learns a few things. How to avoid writing is one; that Colonel Song likes his eggs in the morning with thinly sliced onions and squared tomatoes, and, how to forget? That Mrs. Song likes to sing to her plants, the ones that she has been watering instead as she searches for freelanced jobs to help around the house.

She had tried to leave the day after her break up with Jaejin, but the Song’s didn’t relent—said something along the lines of needing some fun in their lives and for them to forget their loneliness for a while. In light of this, she finds herself on a Monday morning, whisking eggs to place them on a pan—with onions and tomatoes—at five in the morning just before the Colonel has to go train the newest additions to the army.

The walls send love her way, the cramped kitchen basking her in a warm embrace when she bumps her hips with the counter accidentally, trying to make some space for herself as she waters the plants by the windows. Silent as ever, she takes this time to breathe in the scent of being the only one awake for a while—when she doesn’t see the looks of sorrow and worry in the two old persons’ faces.

Old scars will heal, but for now, she feels like a clown walking around with a warning sign that says ‘on the brink of crying with a smile on her face’.

Just as the water runs down on flowery and thorn-filled plants, the wind passes through the opened windows in the kitchen, flowing and whistling until it knocks something over. What follows is noise, enough to make her close her eyes and turn around to see what had broken or fallen.

Kneeling on the flooring, a crooked picture welcomes her eyesight. A single man stands in the blurry picture, though his smile is memorable. Cheekbones protrude in a welcoming smile, his long fingers cradling his forehead to keep the sun away from his brown, almost caramel-like eyes, rounded and big, ready to unwind all the secrets in the world, with his dark walnut-colored hair swept by the wind, a few strands standing in the air, curling like veins and matching the golden tone of his skin.

What surprises her is the strength of his body, slim yet carved, a white tank top covering his upper body, cladded to his every curve thanks to the thin layer of sweat on his chest, his shirt tied around his tiny waist.

“You okay?” She hears a voice call out for her, worried like a dad, and when she looks to the side, the closest thing she has to that concept comes in full view. Colonel Song rids the sleep away from his eyes with a rub of his fingertips, a yawn interrupting his sentence. “Haerin heard something fall. I was knocked out like a log.”

A smile spreads across her features, turning off the stove just when she puts the picture down on the counter. “Sorry, I was preparing breakfast and the wind knocked this over.” Colonel Song is already going over to the heated coffee machine, pouring some of the black liquid on his preferred cup. It reads ‘In Love With My Five Girls’ and she can’t help but chuckle every time she sees it.

“Oh,” Clicking his tongue after taking his first sip of coffee, he rests one finger on top of the picture. “I never hold up pictures of my men in my house. I like to separate my duty with my life, but Lieutenant Park deserved a spot.”

Though that’s an indicative of his position in the army, it doesn’t give her much to hold onto, and that face is enough to transcend every portion of her brain and bathe her in curiousness.

“A good pal of yours?”

“Saved my life a bunch of times, indeed.” She can’t quite understand how someone so young is over his position, or how he had managed to earn such respect from Colonel Song. “A brave one—competitive as all hell, but it fits him. Park Chanyeol, one sick motherfucker…would always look at the brighter side, in some way or another.”

She doesn’t realize that the Colonel is already pouring his food onto a plate, slicing it in half to leave some for his wife until her hand falls from her cheek and onto the counter.

Watching, she licks her lips before saying: “He looks like a heartbreaker.”

“Oh, he was.” Chuckling, Colonel Song nods at her words. “But I can’t blame women for falling for him. There was something about him…some form of wild, thoughtful yet reckless nature to him. He was the both worlds that people want and need.”

“How did you meet him?” When becoming a writer, or trying to be one, she had learned to grow interested in people just by hearing their stories, and by the way Colonel Song smiles at her, he’s glad to tell her the answer.

“Maybe, you’d like to grab a cup of coffee, too.”

And she does.

###

Park Chanyeol. A name to remember. She recalls perfectly well the moment that she saw him enter the front yard of the Song family, but his features are more of a memory that she’d have to recall before her last breath is given.

Muddy boots and striking hair, accompanied by a perfectly put-together uniform, grasping his wide shoulders and leaving his tiny waist for a memory that she blushes on and on about. He kneels down to do one of his shoelaces, boots spanking against the pavement with expertise.

This is the man Colonel Song had spoken about in his stories, going off until his tongue was dry, she feels like she sees every portion of him when she leans in that kitchen window, with her notebook pressed to the counter and her figure unaware and unseen for him. He’s there, so benevolent, so unreachable and perfectly put-together.

Today, he sports a frown on his features, as if troubled, and she can’t help but wonder if the stories Colonel Song had told her were true—she likes to think of people as walking paradoxes, as plotlines and character sheets that she needs to fill.

Lieutenant Park had been married, as far as Colonel Song had told her. Married to his job, first and foremost, but also married to the woman he had once loved. It lasted a year; a year and a few tries to get their family started, only to fail. His wife felt like less of a woman, succumbing to self-hatred until he couldn’t reach her.

While jotting down his description, her mind wandered, thought of stories behind that frown, each hair contracting to his will, to what he had seen in this world and she hadn’t. Only when she hears a knock on the door, she rushes to the bedroom, starting on a first chapter of a new book.

###

For five years, she has tried being a writer. Think about that—she doesn’t know how many days five years, but if someone can die from one day to the other, then someone can definitely lose a lot of time of their lives just by reaching for a dream that is impossible.

Now, she’s seated in Colonel Song’s office, as his little secretary, sorting papers into folders, giving calls over to him and making sure he eats his eggs in the morning. It’s a job after a month of living with him, and she’s goddamned thankful of how much support she has gotten from that family, but even in this place, with tidy desks in light yellows and too many badges in the walls for her not to feel pressured, she can’t stop writing.

Can’t stop thinking about the story that Colonel Song had told her that morning he got late to work, just because he was so lost in his thoughts, in the way he smiled and cried for him. She did, too, and sometimes, she can’t tell if she sees him or he’s gone, if he’s part of her imagination or he visits Colonel Song each Thursday without avail.

Someone in the office gives her an answer that Friday afternoon, just as she’s arranging the last few folders and giving them over to Colonel Song for him to sign when she sees it, perched in Soldier Byun’s hands as he stares down at his phone, a smile plastered on his face when he speaks to the rest of his team.

“Chanyeol’s finally sent something!” He adds, enchanting in the way he speaks when he waves his phone in the air. She manages to steal a look over his shoulder, of Chanyeol seated on the floor with a smile on his face, his hair longer, in front of some tourism spot that she can’t quite pinpoint. “Having the time of his life while we’re out here suffering.” Though, she knows Soldier Byun doesn’t mean it, much less for the way he seems to be over the moon just by seeing his friend.

One of the smallest of the team gives a step back, chuckling at Baekhyun’s words. “Tell him to get us some women over th—oops, sorry.” He knocks her over, making her folders fall on the flooring just as he kneels down to pick them up. “Shit, sorry. Colonel Song will kill me—”

Instead of looking at said soldier, she looks at Baekhyun, eyes trained on the phone on his hands. “Don’t sweat it. I won’t tell him. It was nothing. I’ll arrange them again…” But her voice drags, distracted, heated ears reminding her of the imagery she has written in the most profound romance book she has written yet. A complicated soul who had spent his life not trying to find love in fear of what could happen, of what he could lose.

Baekhyun seems to understand her, running a hand over his short and dark hair before quirking an eyebrow. “You saw him?”

She hums, but she stands up before he could further question anything. Colonel Song told her Baekhyun can be a bit of an ass. “I did.” She replies.

“Pretty handsome, isn’t he?” Soldier Byun questions just as she’s about to get out of the small offices and into the field. Her feet stop against her will, listening to his voice when he says: “He would’ve taken a liking of you if only he was here, y’know?”

Nostalgia fills his tone without noticing, and she takes this moment to swallow thickly. “What a bummer we didn’t meet at the right time, then.” Remembering what Colonel Song had told her, she turns around, resting one hand on the doorframe. “Have a nice day, Soldier Byun.”

###

Colonel Song had started speaking that one morning when she had taken the first sip of her drink, soft in his approach, pensive in the way his eyes squinted at the food on his plate. “I wasn’t unfamiliar to the Park family. His uncle was my best friend once, the soldier by my side through every event that happened in my life.” He told. “And I lost him. I was the one who couldn’t protect him and from then on, I promised myself I wouldn’t deal with someone from the Park family ever again.”

The man has a way of telling things—straight-on, as if they don’t hurt him, and anyone who would look at him would think that Colonel Song is the imagery of temperance, balance and guarding. What they don’t know is that even the strongest of cards in the deck can lose from time to time.

The coffee is lukewarm by the time he swallows his food and speaks again at the weight of her question. “So, how did Lieutenant Park start working with you?”

“He was crazily stupid. Stubborn, couldn’t get through his head even if you wanted to.” Colonel Song explained at the time. “So, he was in lower rankings of the army and I didn’t see him until he became a Lieutenant. Chosen by someone of higher caliber than I am. I wasn’t excited to see him, and I am sure he wasn’t very pleased to see me either.” With that, he shakes his head, a small smile taking over his face. “The boy was respectful; I’ll give him that. On his first day, he grabbed my hand, shook it like a man and said: ‘You may have not protected my uncle, but I’ll protect you.’ I was angry, as you can tell.”

“Of course,” She said. “He wasn’t the most adoring of subordinates.”

“I knew that.” Colonel Song agreed. “Reason as to why I made every practice he had impossible. I’d scold him, make him work harder than others, he’d break in sweat and sport this deep frown on his face and I think…I think I did it just to feel better. To feel like pushing him away would take the memory of his uncle away.” Shadows bathed over his features at that moment, diving in the rest of his drink before smacking his lips together. “It didn’t, and it definitely made him hate me more.”

“Can see it.”

“Hey, I’m a nice man, you know this!”

“I’m certain.”

“Either way,” He patted a napkin to his lips before sighing. “One day, we were on a mission. It was…well, complicated. Fire raked around me, bubbling, scalding me, I could feel my poor old lungs just dying on me, and guess who came for me?”

She knew the name, could figure out the hero in him when her lips wrap around the syllables: “Park Chanyeol.”

“The devil took over that boy, I tell you. He walked through fire just to get to me, the one motherfucker who made his life miserable while serving…” Colonel Song swallowed thickly, and her heart rose to her throat.

“And what happened to him?”

###

Never had some bled out of the pages quite like the Chanyeol-inspired character did.

It was horrible, terrible, pathetic in every way that the only form she could write was by imagining his story, rewriting the stars as one would think, but it’s what she gets, the only form she can feel ready to face the world. In most occasions, she likes to imagine him to be there, just arriving to the Colonel’s place, once again saving his life. That way, she can take that strength from him and pour it into more mundane tasks.

Eighty thousand words in two months and she feels her fingers draining their softness to more of a harsher skin when she puts that last dot, that wishful end that leaves her throat dry…because, in all honesty, she doesn’t know the end. This alluring, gorgeous, dark yet bright character is not the man that everyone knows in the quarter. If anything, it’s a part of her imagination; it’s the man that has visited her dreams, that leaves the tingle of nonexistent perfume on her skin and on her bed…

He’s part of her imagination, but so real at the same time.

Because Colonel Song talks about him as if he’s the best person he has ever met, and she can’t help but think so as well. Trusting people is a task she’s not ready to go through, but meeting her muse shouldn’t be so difficult…it shouldn’t feel like a sin.

Her name is called just as she opens the door late at night, vision blurry and aching because of her computer’s light.

“Yes, Mrs. Song?”

“I can’t find my daughter’s e-mail, could you help me? It’s in my agenda but I’m doing the laundry!” The words are distant, followed by the rhythmic drum of the washing machine.

Well, it’s one of the few things she can do for living in this place.

“On it!”

Mrs. Song agenda rests on her small coffee table, years old and cladded in brown leather, holding the address, numbers, e-mails of her closest friends and what she sees just as she’s looking for Chaerin’s number—her youngest daughter—, is an address for lettering that she wouldn’t have ever expected.

Park Chanyeol –Vienna.

Vienna, sounds fitting for him. Expensive, recondite, even a bit surprising. It’s the curiousness of having him palpable, within the reach of her hold that has her grasping her phone in between her hands and taking a picture of the complete address underneath that.

Maybe, one day she’ll have the courage to say how much his story inspired her.

###

“A few burns in his arms, inhaled a little too much smoke as he dragged my ass away from that disaster.” Colonel Song’s eyes closed tightly, a small breath shuddering through his nose before he opened them again. The air was dense, her heart contracting against the necessity to know more about the man in the picture. “It lives with me, darlin’. Each time I wake up, I realize that one of the main reasons why Lieutenant Park’s life changed was because of me. His skin was tainted, never the same, but that wasn’t the end. His marriage ended not long after, he left the army, and he told me the day he was leaving…”

The way his face basked in shadows let her know that it hurt him. Not only had he lost Chanyeol’s uncle, but he had to see the younger man lose his will along the way. Maybe, that is what life builds us for—to fall, to lose, to escape.

Her hand extended to hold his own, as if convincing him that this was a nightmare that wanted to twist him from reality, but every portion of what passed his brain was real. There was a hero out there, much like Colonel Song’s best friend, who lost it all to save someone else.

“I’d save you again if I had to, Colonel.” He whispered, eyes twinkling when he looked up at the ceiling. “His voice was so deep…he continued by telling me: ‘I should’ve let you die, you sick bastard, but I’d do it again…because I’d be a changed man if I didn’t.’”

“Shit.” She cursed, pulling away from him to take in the words that Chanyeol had said. He feared becoming someone he could not recognize, but he did along the way.

“But I burned him. In some way or another, I destroyed that will and innocence he had within him. I…I brought a hero to life, but I wanted him to be a guy. I wanted him to just be…carefree for once, just like his uncle.” He covered his face with his hands, pursing his lips to stop anything unnecessary to fly through. “So, I pleaded for him to live. He had saved me, so I needed him to live. Travel. Enjoy the world. I don’t know—just, fuck, he had done so much that I needed to feel like I could do something for him.”

After a few minutes of silence, her throat croaked out a small: “Where did he go?”

“Somewhere in Europe. Playing some gigs. Living his life.” He said, chuckling, rubbing the small tears that had appeared in his eyes. “I sure hope that he fell in love or, I don’t know, managed to heal his wounds…because I haven’t been able to write to him since the last time that I saw him. I’m too chicken.”

###

Riding on a bicycle is, quite possibly, the most childish thing she has done in a while, but with the harsh sun beaming down her face, her hair moving with the wind and some folders resting in her backpack as she prepares to get to work, she knows she has something else to do before she gets to the office.

Three months is a long while to live with someone, and even at this point, just as she’s rummaging through websites to find a place to live in, she can’t give a shit about how destiny had put her in the worst position. Sure, a messy break-up had brought her here, but at what cause? To meet amazing people? To learn a new task? To finish a book that she has now edited and printed to send it to a certain someone in Vienna?

Yeah, that last sentence is the one that makes her fear the most.

For the last few months, she has looked out of the goddamned kitchen window and imagined Chanyeol to come over, meet ends with Colonel Song and for him to get to know her. Part of her wants to hear his voice, understand how deep it was, perhaps dip a toe in getting to know him, in comparing if the character that she based on him—in what she could feel of his presence—was anything like him, but there is something that united Colonel Song and herself…

They were both too scared.

It took her a whole month to write the letter that accompanies the printed, edited version of her last try at romance, until she decided it was perfect. Her thighs ache by the time she gets off the bicycle, lifting her hand to greet one of the workers at the mailing company.

Isn’t his name…Yixing, or something? With adorable dimples and a thoughtful, somewhat lost face, the man grabs the small box in between his fingers, dangling it in the air as if to weight it.

“Not as heavy as your usual packages.” He points out, intelligent in his approach when she leans her weight forward and speaks to him in a quickened manner.

“Shipping is already expensive when sending it to Vienna, so I had to make it light.” Giving enough information, she pats her hand against the counter.

“Should I ask why you’re sending something to Vienna?” Though, he’s already preparing everything, putting a sticker on the package and doing his job to utmost perfection.

Heat fills her face when she stammers out an answer: “J—Just…something for a friend.”

“Sounds nice of you.” Not quite as malicious as anyone else—for example, Soldier Byun—could be, he hums at her answer. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Not really.” She opens the door then, waving at him before adding: “Have a nice day, Xing.”

“Thanks! You, too!��

She doesn’t know if it’s the sun that makes her feel heated when she gets on the bicycle once again or if she’s overthinking what she just did.

###

I know you don’t know me, but I’ve heard wonders about you.

That’s a weird way to start this letter, but I didn’t want to do the typical ‘Dear Chanyeol, you don’t know who the fuck I am and before you stop reading this letter: Nope, not a creep, not at all’, so I went for this instead. My name is at the end of the letter, just in case you want to learn it…or if you’re calling the police on me, I’ll let you.

Jokes aside…hi. I’m living with Colonel Song since two months ago, or three, almost. You know, the typical trope—boyfriend cheats on girlfriend, girlfriend goes a bit crazy, feels like she loses her heart and she breaks up with him, but he never follows after her but you know who does? Yep, his neighbor. His, quite frankly, old neighbor that rubs your tears and tells you, along with his wife, that you’re so much better than him. For a while, I didn’t believe it…and now, I really think I might.

The wind happened to knock one of your pictures over at Colonel Song’s place. I don’t know if you know this, but the man looks up to you as if you were his own personal hero. Cried as if he was a kid over again when he told me your story. It’s none of my business, but I was curious. One, because I thought you were really handsome and two, because I believe in destiny, and I know just how well Colonel Song hangs his pictures. They don’t move…so why did yours happen to fall?

You may roll your eyes at what I think of you. You, Lieutenant Park or Park Chanyeol or just Chanyeol by now, may think that I’m just some crazy woman who romanticizes the burns, as little or as big, that rest on your arms, or the way you saved Colonel Park…but actually, I couldn’t stop myself.

So, a name, a little bit of a dumb, nerdy introduction and something else you should know about me—I’m a writer and a shitty one at that. Romance, erotica, yeah, that’s what I wrote most of the time…but I happened to listen to your story and make one based on it. Forgetting all the stupid tropes and plots that I had ever created and making something that I am proud of.

So, Park Chanyeol living in Vienna, here’s my book and I hope you like it. It sucks, but it’s my last try before I give up on my dream.

With you, I didn’t know if you were real or unreal…and it’s been a pleasure to just figure that blurring line out.

It was nice to write about you.

###

A new place means a new start.

But the spark of love she ignited four months ago still exists within her. After all, the Song’s had done everything in order to change her life and introduced her to a new portion of herself she didn’t know existed. More mature, given to life and to destiny, breathing in and out in contentedness once she slips inside her almost empty apartment.

The box that Mrs. Song had left on her counter still stands after long hours of working. Her navy coat rests on the floor as she goes towards the kitchen, hoping to find some takeout through the contacts in her phone—or, maybe, Mrs. Song had packed one of those granola bars that she knew she loved to bits and pieces. Her hand rummages through the contents of her little piece of memories until it lands on a piece of paper.

Sure, there are granola bars, but what is the paper for?

A romanticist at heart, Mrs. Song may have tearfully written a letter for her midway adopted daughter these past four months. At the thought, she leans against the counter, breathing out harshly through her nose as she gets ready for the train of feels. The good old kind.

What she didn’t expect was the mess handwriting and the PCY at the beginning of the letter.

He responded.

Park Chanyeol responded a month after.

Fuck no!

Or rather, fuck yes?

“You already know my name, but let me introduce myself again.

I’m the fucking main character of a book. What part of that isn’t awesome?

I read each and every page and laughed my ass out but also thought to myself about how much justice you did to my shitty story. Not only that…but the main character? That dude? Even more awesome than I am. I’m glad my dumb self could serve as inspiration.

I didn’t know what else to tell you this past month…but each and every time, I stopped and thought for a moment: ‘I can’t let this writer stop, well, writing’.

So, keep going. Please, next time I’m over there, I want to go to Colonel Song’s house and ask to meet you and hear him say ‘well, she’s busy, but she’ll definitely catch up with you once she gets out of her book-signing world tour’.

Or, something like that.

I need me a printed copy with your signature, please.

Felt like sending a postal as a thank you while I solve some things here. I’m not quite ready to go there yet, but I hope to meet you one day.”

With shaking fingertips, she takes the postal in between her hands. He’s standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, dated a year ago, with his elbows bent and a small smile to the camera portrayed, sunsets cladding every portion of him, but his body covered in thick Sharpie to emulate abs.

“I’ll have to get as shredded as in the book next time I see you.”

That’s the time she learns she can’t wait to meet Park Chanyeol and feel him as a reality.

#chanyeol scenarios #chanyeol #exo scenarios #exo #kpop scenarios #writing #exo fluff #exo angst #exo au #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol angst #chanyeol au #DUDE EXO IS COMING BACK #had to write this #the teasers were OOF

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

Could you write 22 “Oh, you’re just grumpy” with Monkie King and a deage MK?

OOOOH coming back to this? Yeah, I am totally up for giving this another go! MK is having a not so great time, nothing warning worthy but I do HC him not being the healthiest kid. Mild spoilers for season 2 episodes 1 and 2.

Oh, you're just grumpy.

"Noooooooo!" MK shouted, stomping his foot on the ground in anger. "I'm not grumpy, I'm mad! You can't let them leave me behind! Take me back! I'm the Monkie Kid! I have to do this myself! I-"

"You are currently physically 4 years old with all the control over your powers of that age," Sun Wukong rebutted with a soft sigh, frowning and wincing at the high pitched angered scream in reaction he received at that. That was... not the best way to go about this... He needed a different tactic.

He knelt down to be at eye level with his now even younger protégé, holding out his hand. When MK stared at it he chanced putting it on his shoulder and continued when MK didn’t shrug it off or start yelling again. “Bud, MK, it’s ok. I know you’re frustrated. You have every right to be! But we just want to make sure you’re safe until we can get you back to normal.”

This was not the kind of trouble the Monkey King expected to happen immediately before... well, put a cork on that for now. But this wasn't the kind of trouble be expected to happen regardless of time frame. How in the world anyone managed to not only curse an object in this way but find a way to slip it on his student was anyone's guess. But the fact of the matter was that MK, the Monkie Kid himself, was now physically 4 years old. Mentally, he was still the same age he was before the curse, personality and memories still completely intact... for the most part, it became clear to them very quickly that being physically a kid again came with more than just a smaller body. It came with the mood swings and heightened emotions of “kid brain” as Mei called it, when MK immediately burst into tears at just the mention of being left behind so Mei and the others could go after the demon. And then he couldn’t figure out why he was crying, whether from frustration or worry or both or why he even started, which lead to more crying out of sheer confusion, which made everyone feel very bad.

They’d managed to calm him down long enough for the Monkey King get him on his cloud and bring him to Flower Fruit Mountain in case the demon attempted to go after him like this, but that was short lived once they actually made landfall.

"But I can do this!" MK continued, pouting and tears of frustration starting to peak at the corners of his eyes once again, albeit calmer frustration. "I-I beat the Spider Queen! I can handle one demon who had to slap a bracelet on me to make me a kid to beat me, even if I'm tiny! I can kick his butt!"

"I know you can, Bud," Wukong said evenly, offering him an understanding smile. "And normally I'd let you go in guns blazing and know you could handle everything no problem now! You've more than proven you can handle stuff even I couldn't. If you were just shrunk I wouldn’t dare think you couldn’t handle this." He reached out a hand, ruffling his hair far more gently that he normally would. But still rough, rough enough to let him know he wasn't going to just treat him like glass now. "But this is a bit different. Remember what I said when Macaque was having you use your full power?” MK scowled for a second before nodding. “Using your powers like this? Could hurt you. And I don’t want to see you get hurt like that. Heck, even I would have trouble controlling my powers and probably get hurt if I was turned into a little kid monkey man, and if this happened to me I would trust you if you told me to stay safe."

"... you would?" MK asked softly, and Wukong nodded. Maybe it was a... bit of a stretch of the truth. Sun Wukong would probably need some convincing too (Great Sage title leading to Great Misjudgement sometimes, the previously mentioned Spider Queen fight a key example), but that's just one more thing he and MK had in common.

"Course I would,” Wukong said, and given said convincing that was the truth. “I trust you, MK, and-AGH!" He may be the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, but nothing prepared him for the barreling rocket that was a 4 year old launching themselves at him to hug him with all the strength of... well, himself!

"I trust you too!" MK yelled right in his ear and oh if he thought his student had a loud yell before. But that only lasted for a second before he pulled back from the hug, body limp and head rested on his shoulder as the energy seemed to sap a bit from him as Wukong stood back up and he held him on his hip instead of setting him down when he saw the bright red rings around his eyes and how tired he seemed already... Tang had mentioned that he knew MK wasn’t exactly the healthiest as a child... "But... I feel bad not doing anything..."

"Then we can do something, that's an easy fix!" Wukong laughed, and his chest warmed as he was reminded of the few children he had helped take care of or play with while on the long journey centuries ago. He was a softie, really. "No training though, I am not going to body slam you when you come up to my knees."

This apparently was the magic joke to make, making MK devolve into a fit of giggles. A testament to how this cursed object affected him, he never would have giggled at that without it. Probably... MK had an odd sense of humor sometimes. But then again, so did he!

"Actually... I think I have just the thing for us to try."

All things considered, Wukong probably should have expected something like this. He did tell MK that he probably didn’t have much control over his powers. And that using his powers was a bad idea. And Tang did warn him he wasn’t a healthy child. The three together were a bad combo when his powers activated with MK’s unconscious reactions to certain things...

“How you feeling, Bud?” Wukong whispered softly, rubbing his back as he laid face down on his couch. He’d barely used his powers at all, just activated his true sight to find ingredients when they were cooking without even thinking about it, but that was enough to make the kid’s head feel like it was splitting open (in symptoms that sounded like a migraine, which... yeah, he felt really bad for him, and the jolt of worry and fear that shot through him surprised him less than he felt it should). “Still bad?”

There were a few of Wukong’s monkeys hanging out on the couch, one in particular was curled up next to MK’s head. Perhaps they were keeping him company while he wasn’t feeling well and nodded off in the process.

“I think I’m ok now,” MK answered, sitting back up and leaning into the Monkey King’s side (he seemed to seek out contact a lot more like this, letting Wukong carry him to the house, leaning on his shoulder when he showed him how to prepare the snacks they were making, now this... it made him wonder just how much physical affection he got as a kid). He looked leagues better than he had just 40 minutes ago, thankfully not nearly as exhausted as he had looked before he laid down. “Headache went away... I dunno, a while ago. But I didn’t wanna get up.”

“Completely understandable,” Wukong nodded in approval, glad that he’d gotten some form of rest. He needed it after everything he had been through. “You feel like getting up now, though? I made us some lunch... dinner... not desert food! Just like I promised.”

“Yeah!” MK exclaimed, immediately jumping off the couch and making his way to the kitchen like a rocket. “How about our snacks, how much longer do they have? Do you think we did ok? Do you think the others are gonna like em!?”

“They still have well over an hour of sitting in the fridge,” Wukong laughed, following him and watching him scramble to sit on one of the chairs at the table. “But I think we did a pretty good job of making annin tofu for the first time. They already look pretty darn delicious.” The almond jelly dish wasn’t as hard as he believed it would be, and using agar even he would be able to enjoy it... once he added some peaches on top, of course! “But that’s for later, for now what do you think of your meal?” MK looked up from his bowl, a spoonful of rice and vegetables already in his mouth. Wukong couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’ll take that as a job well done.”

The two ate their respective lunches, rice and steamed vegetables for MK and rice and fruits for Wukong, talking about what dishes they could try making together in the future. Being a monkey Wukong had a very limited pallet for what he could (and would, given other circumstances) actually eat, so brainstorming workaround for that was a great way to pass the time before moving back to the couch. They played some, shockingly not Sun Wukong related, games that he had stashed away (and he was very offended by MK’s disbelief that he had media not related to himself in his house, totally offended). The game was one of those ones with a motion controller that you had to move around to play, and MK was having a blast with it.

The monkeys also seemed to be enjoying the show quite a lot.

Before the two knew it the sun had begun to set, MK’s grip on his controller starting to weaken as he sat down on the couch and attempted to keep his eyes open. Even with his rest earlier he was exhausted.

“Did anyone... tell you anything yet?” He asked softly, once again leaning into Wukong’s side with a yawn.

“Not yet,” Wukong admitted, looking at MK’s phone for the fourth time in he hour. “Not since they told me they found out where the demon went. But that probably means they’re focused on catching him! They’re gonna get the guy, I have a good feeling about it.”

“If you say so...” MK mumbled out, the controller slipping from his grasp as he closed his eyes.

“UH.. Bud? MK?” Wukong gently nudged his student, smiling softly when he realized that he’d just fallen asleep. “OK, that game clearly did it’s job a little too well.” He made to stand up, stopping short when something tugged on his clothing. MK had an iron grip on him, holding tight to his side and not looking like he was going to be letting go any time soon.

Well... Wukong didn’t have the heart to make him let go or chance waking him up to move him... so instead he took a hair and poofed up a blanket to lay over top of MK as he made himself comfortable on the side of the couch. It didn’t take long, and it took even less time for the monkeys around the house to curl up around and on top of the duo.

It was nice... Wukong didn’t want to admit it, but he was going to miss this. Not just when MK was changed back to his normal age, but when he had to... “go on vacation”.

He felt bad, lying to his student. His kid, now that he realized he couldn’t keep from admitting that to himself. But he trusted MK, genuinely trusted him in this regard, to keep everyone in the city safe while he was gone and he didn’t want the extra stress of knowing just what Wukong was really doing to weigh him down. He knew how much MK worried, seen how much anxiety he had after Macaque and the fight with the Spider Queen, how hard it would be to keep him from following him into places that were too dangerous for him to traverse without training they hadn’t completed yet.

He... really regretted not training him more in the beginning. Regretted it more than most things he had lately. Maybe if he had he could have explained things to him better. Known that if he did sneakily follow him he would at least be in much less danger.

He couldn’t let himself be too close after this. He’d have to go back to normal, aloof, jokey, “ah you’re fine cool beans good luck bud I believe in you!” Monkey King. For MK’s sake.

As he looked down at the sleeping child curled into his side he had to make himself believe it was for MK’s sake.

Why did that feel like it was a lie?

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #deage fic #mk #qi xiaotian #monkey kid #sun wukong #dad wukong #kinda #SPACER TAG FOR HIDING SPOILERS ALL LOVE TO THE SPACER TAG #oops I made it SAD #are you even surprised?#someone is in denial about the possible consequences of their actions #WUKONG MAKE BETTER CHOICES THIS IS NOT THE WAY TO DO THIS #prompt fill

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well-its-not-human-anymore · 3 years

Note

Okokok here this: april, reader and casey try to prank the boys. How does it go. With who does it fails/success, what was the prank, do they get caught? Do the boys get revenge, and if so, how?

Also, splinter sees it all unfolds, does he just gets himself a snack and watch, or does he tries to subtly join in without getting caught? (We all know hes got a playful side cmon)

Bonus: they try to prank vern too, maybe the boys join in to prank him? What do they do? Does he retaliate?

Okay so I admit I let my brain go nuts on this one, so it's a little long but I was cackling the entire time I was writing it.

TMNT Headcanons

Prank Wars

Leonardo

In your complete and utter defence, Leo had 100% started this

And also in your defence, you did tell him not to

Twice

But he tricked you into watching a horror movie and ended up dying your hair green

This meant war

You'd even wrapped up April and Casey into it

Their problems were your problems

Which meant that April was the one who convinced Splinter not to say anything to his sons

He was perfectly happy to oblige

Casey was just there to help set things up

And you liked the way his mind worked

The objective wasn't to go unnoticed, there would be no point in doing it and having no proof

You were doing this to prove that you could

Leo had emphasized that he couldn't be distracted

That you were to obvious and clumsy to prank him without him noticing

Challenge fucking accepted

And that's how you ended up at the kitchen table eating lunch with April and Casey when the boys were coming back from meditating with Splinter

April kept having to shove food in her mouth to hide her laughter

Casey just decided to wear sunglasses

And you kept overpowering the urge to smirk

"Hey guys, good to see you. Y/n have you seen my katanas?"

With the obstruction of water in your mouth you just nodded at him, pointing to the other room

He sauntered off, none the wiser to your victorious grin

When he came back in only a moment later his expression had done a complete 180

Leo made direct eye contact with you and you held that stare like a wolf cornered in its den

"does someone want to explain why my katanas are encased in blueberry jello?"

You raised your hand like a child in class

"hate to break it to you, but it's actually berry blue you uncultured bitch"

Raphael

Ohhhh you were so undeniably dead

A whole other level of six feet under

It wasn't a surprise that April and Casey had backed out on this one

It also wasn't a surprise that Splinter had offered to stand up for you if things went sideways

Donnie even gave you a sheet of paper with a list of hiding spots before hand

All of this went completely unnoticed by Raph, the target of your latest scheme.

And that was fine, you had only one objective here-

Make it out alive

But it was amazing what 1 person could do with some extra cash and internet access

So that's what led you to your current position.

Cross legged on the bench, watching the large red terrapin get ready for his first set, that in itself wasn't unusual, you always watched him lift just in case you needed to run and grab someone if something went wrong

Raph was none the wiser to your plan

At least that's what you thought

Your book was in your lap and you were calmly scanning your pages, somewhat comprehending the words but keeping a very close eye on the turtle across from you

"Hey y/n?"

You peeked over the edge of your book to meet his eyes

And your heart sank to your stomach

"Yeah Raph?"

He smirked at you, taking a lumbering step forward

"You ever seen that episode of the Office where Jim fills Dwight's phone with nickels so when he takes 'em out Dwight punches himself in the face?"

Shit shit shit shit shit shit-

"Uh... No, can't say that I have, why do you ask?"

That damn smile got even wider and all of your muscles tensed, you were ready to bolt

"I'm giving you a fifteen second headstart. Starting right now."

You flew to your feet and sprinted out of the weight room

"DONNIE WE GOTTA CODE RED!"

Your lungs were ready to burst by the time you made it to your decided hiding spot. Heavy footsteps went right underneath you and you held your breath, you wouldn't dare move.

You didn't come down until hours later when Splinter came and coaxed to you out of hiding

But deep down you knew you'd started something you couldn't finish.

Vern Fenwick

You didn't even have to convince the guys to partake in this

You didn't even get the chance to tell them what you were planning

They were already brainstorming

None of you let a word of it slip to April, she would've shut you down faster than you could blink

A complete buzz kill

But fake blood was relatively cheap and all of Vern's flooring was tile (meaning extremely easy to clean and bleach)

Donnie had really been the mastermind behind the execution, none of you had any idea how he'd rigged the apartment plumbing

But he'd assured you it would only affect Vern's suite and no one else's so you didn't concern yourself with it further

And after the fact you had to wonder what exactly the former cameraman was planning on the date he'd been in the middle of

All you knew was that you got a very frantic call from the falcon himself yelling about blood coming out of his tap and the sink wouldn't shut off and it was everywhere and what the fuck was happening?

You all knew that Splinter thought it was hilarious, he'd never been particularly fond of Vern

But he did make his sons assist in the clean up and bleaching of the victims apartment floor

You went too and offered moral support

Vern had hit on you one too many times, so there was no way you'd feel bad about this

Michaelangelo

As far as pranking went, you and Mikey were partners in crime

He always had great ideas and you always came up with the best ways to execute those ideas without getting caught

But when you separated those two chaos was guaranteed

You weren't entirely sure how you had been pitted against each other but you weren't entirely mad about it

You couldn't say the same for anyone else though, the others had been on edge all week.

Pranking Mikey was a challenge, he knew how you worked and vice versa

You'd been brainstorming with April for weeks now, maybe a new perspective would help

That's what the two of you told yourselves anyways

Much to your dismay, Mikey and Casey had been plotting against you as well, the traitor.

And perhaps even more unfortunate was the fact that both of your pranks somehow overlapped and backfired on the rest of the family

Because Mikey and Casey may have replaced the family tea set with a edible sugar replica that looked identical to the original

So that when you were asked to make tea for Splinter and Leo it would dissolve the second you poured the hot tea

But they didn't tell anyone else so Leo was left with an impromptu anxiety attack when he made his own tea before sitting down to meditate and it melted into sugary leaf water

And you and April had planned the 'cutting off your finger in the kitchen' with the knife, fake finger, and fake blood

Which in theory should've worked because Mikey was in the kitchen the most, that was his territory

However once you'd started your plan you couldn't stop it

so when you 'cut your finger off' and screamed for Mikey you didn't have time to yell "wait it's a prank!" before Donnie caught a glimpse of the scene and fainted

In your defence you didn't know the purple turtle could move that fast

And to Mikey's relief he was going to throw that cutting board out anyways

Splinter explicitly banned the two of you from pranking each other after that incident

Donatello

Per your own common sense you had come to the conclusion that pranking the families resident genius was a horribly stupid idea

So for once, you'd practiced some self control and refrained from any pranks involving Donnie

Now that's not to say that the turtle vowed from aiming any pranks towards you

He had morals but messing with you walked the line separating adorable from batshit crazy

And he was all for it

April advised against it severely and even Splinter seemed to think it wasn't the best idea, but that was a lesson his son had to learn on his own

On the flip side, the second Casey heard about Donnie's plan he was all for it

So when you came over for dinner they both had to hide their excited smiles as Casey passed you your spaghetti

He knew it was your favorite

Everyone else was oblivious, which looking back on it was a very bad thing

April had her suspicions that Donnie was pulling something this evening, but she couldn't put her finger on it

That wasn't until you swirled a mouthful of noodles around your fork and shoved it into your mouth, you were starving

Here lies your predicament-

You swallowed thickly and blinked like you were in pain, your hand went to your throat and you reached for your water, ending up chugging almost the entire bottle.

Your eyes met Donnie's in a serious type of concern

"Is there hot sauce in this?"

April choked on her breadstick and quickly covered her mouth

Casey hadn't picked up on it yet

"Awh yeah- how'd you figure it out so quickly?"

You erupted in a coughing fit that sent April rushing to your side before you could tumble to the floor

"You fucking assholes! Y/N has a capsaicin allergy! Casey go start the car we need to get them to the hospital!"

On the bright side you were fine after you were rushed to the ER

But you didn't speak to Donnie or Casey for two weeks following the accident

You eventually forgave them for it and they haven't targeted you since

Sorry if it got a little dark at the end, but I felt like it was more realistic. Also that has actually happened to me but it was a nut allergy (and that's how I found out I was allergic to cashews) But I feel like the ending was a good example of how pranking someone can go horribly wrong, you should always consider the possibilities before doing something that could cause harm to a person. (Unless they really really deserve it)

I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you guys like it as much as I do! 😁🧡👍

-Mars 🌠

#tmnt x reader #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt vern #prankwars #tmnt headcanons #tmnt bayverse #bayverse donatello #writing requests

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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 3 years

Text

The Angel Nextdoor

Pairing: Artist!Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: This is the first Tom fic I’ve ever posted and I’m a little nervous, but I’m really proud of it. I hope you guys really like it, I’d love to hear your feedback. Now, this is my Valentine’s day special, and I know what you’re thinking, “Ashley, how can you post a Valentine’s say special on February 15th? It doesn’t make any sense.”. But to that I say, you’ve just never seen this kind of innovation, I’m an artist and I have to take risks like this sometimes. I hope you can understand, love you all xx

Summary: Tom’s latest assignment might just give him the push he needs to finally confess his feelings.

Masterlist

Promt list

“This is the handout for your final, we’re going to talk about it more next class, but for now just look this over and start brainstorming,” Ms. Miller passed a stack of papers down the row with a smile, “You’ll have a full month to work on it so I expect really polished pieces for this.”

Tom glanced over the requirements before settling at the prompt.

‘Paint someone close to you (friend, family member, significant other, ect…) in the style of their favorite artist or painting.’

It seemed simple enough, and he could think of a handful of people to ask. Definitely not family, he didn’t want to travel home and back that frequently. He could ask Harrison, and he was sure he would say yes, but there was one person who really stuck out in his mind. It was (y/n) of course, who better to paint than the most beautiful person in the world? And could anyone really expect an artist like him not to want to paint the object of her affection? Of course actually doing it was a different story. Asking her to let him paint her was a daunting task, one Tom was sure he couldn’t complete. So he was going to paint Harrison.

“Try to come to class with a narrowed down list of who you may end up painting, you’ll need to know for sure by Friday,” Ms. Miller sighed as the class began packing up, “I’ll see you all on Wednesday.”

Tom shoved everything in his bag and went straight for the dinning hall, where he was supposed to meet Harrison and (y/n) for lunch. He debated again trying to ask her, but quickly shoved the thought from his mind. She had inspired his work before certainly, it was inevitable that she’d inspire him, or her image would wander to his mind when he was working, but he had never painted her. Of course he wanted to paint her directly, but it was intimate, it always felt wrong to do without her permission. Just asking to paint her surely would have revealed his feelings too, something he wanted to do on his own terms, when he was ready, with concrete proof that she liked him back and he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

“That’s not a happy face,” Harrison hummed as Tom sat down in front of him, “Bad grade or something?”

“No, we just got our final already,” he sighed, letting his bag fall besides him.

“Already?”

He nodded, “Yeah, she wants it to be really polished.”

“Does it seem really hard?”

“It’s nothing I can’t do, I’m gonna need your help though.”

“I’m sorry, you’ve seen me paint before right?”

Tom rolled his eyes, “Obviously not with that. I’m just supposed to paint someone close to me and I don’t want to drive home every other day so I was gonna ask if I could paint you.”

Harrison knit his brow in confusion, “Why wouldn’t you ask (y/n)?”

Tom flushed, “Absolutely not.”

“Why not? You two would get to spend a lot of time together, alone. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes, and I’d like to paint her, but it’s so intimate. I want to be the one to tell her I like her, not a painting. Plus she could say no and then I’d never be able to show my face in public again.”

“There is no way she would say no,” Harrison rolled her eyes, “Just ask her, she’d be happy to help and you might just finally see that she’s into you. Then I can stop watching you two pine over one another.”

“No, just drop it,” Tom ordered, spotting (y/n) approaching their table, “Don’t say anything to her.”

“Hey boys,” she smiled as she sat besides Tom, “How were classes?”

“Mine were fine, Tom’s already getting his finals though.”

Tom shot him a glare while she sighed, “That’s brutal, I’m sorry Tom.”

“I’ll survive,” he hummed, “It’s not anything too rough.”

“What is it?” she asked curiously.

“Just painting someone I know,” his cheeks dusted pink, “Nothing too hard.”

“Too bad I can’t help you out with it more,” Harrison bit his cheek, “Maybe (y/n) could pose for you.”

Tom decided he’d have to push Harrison out their dorm window when they got home.

“Oh yeah, I don’t mind,” she smiled kindly to him.

“It’s okay, it’s probably going to take me awhile and I know you’re busy, I can just ask one of my brothers,” he insisted.

“And drive home every other day? That’s ridiculous, I’ll just do it.”

Tom sucked in a deep breath, trying to decide quickly what the right decision to make was. But he was a painter, he couldn’t give up the chance to paint something so perfect in good conscience, and he didn’t really want to say no either.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” he smiled to her.

“No problem. So what do I need to do?”

“I’m supposed to paint you in the style of your favorite artist, or painting.”

“Well…” she tapped her lip thoughtfully, “Oh, they guy that painted those little cupids, and he did that Birth of Venus you showed me with all the cupids in it, I really liked his stuff. What was his name again?”

“William-Adolphe Bouguereau,” Tom pursed his lips, “I could do that, it’s not too far off from what I like to do anyway.”

“Cool, I guess I should start practicing my poses then?”

He chuckled, “No, we’ll just do something comfortable for you,” he bit the inside of his cheek, “There’s a bit of planning to do first, like what you’re gonna wear and the colors I’m gonna use, and sketching, I’ll just need a few days.”

“Well why don’t you come over and we can raid my closet? Maybe I can help with some of the other stuff too.”

Harrison was smiling like a proud dad when Tom glanced over at him, “Um, yeah, that would be good, I could come over after class Wednesday?”

“It’s a date.”

“I laid out some clothes already,” (y/n) smiled to Tom as she led him to her room, “I mean you’ll know better than me, but I tried to pick some things I thought would paint well.”

“Thanks, I was thinking something really simple would be best,” he began examining the clothes on her bed, smiling when he spotted the same white, babydoll dress she liked to wear whenever it got hot, “How about this one? It has that sort of angelic feel.”

She picked up the dress and held it against her, “It’s the comfiest too.”

He laughed, “Well that one for sure then. Next would be location, and I know you really like L'Amour et Psyché, enfants, so I thought it would be nice to have you sitting on a cloud to reference that.”

“Whatever you think is best Tom, you’re the artist,” she hummed, “I think that sounds nice though.”

“I think we’ll do that then. Do you want to toss the dress on so we can run through some poses?”

She nodded and Tom stepped outside, allowing her a moment to change. He’d thought about the painting all night, sketching out different poses and swatching colors he wanted to try. The anger he’d felt towards Harrison at lunch had faded almost instantly to excitement. He’d hung out with her a million times before, but he usually let his nerves get the best of him if things started getting flirty. Painting always relaxed him though, and he was sure that he would be able to make his feelings known once he was behind the canvas.

Of course, unbeknownst to Tom, her feelings were quite similar. Tom was handsome, of course, and funny and kind, and she got along with him better than anyone else. She had never felt the way she felt for him with anyone else, but flirting was hard. She always got nervous and backed off, there was just too much at risk. She didn’t know if Tom felt the same way, and she didn’t want to risk damaging their relationship by telling him she was into him. Of course she was happy just to help Tom for the class, but she thought it was a good chance to tread the waters.

“Ready,” (y/n) smiled as she left her room, “Where do you want me boss?”

“The couch is fine,” he was holding his sketchbook now, holding it firm against his chest, “If you could sit kind of sideways and put your arms on the back of the couch.”

She sat as he told her, glancing over her shoulder at him, “Like this?”

“That’s really nice, very reminiscent of the original…” he glanced down at his sketchbook, “Are you comfortable?”

“It’s a little awkward,” she admitted.

“Then it’s a no. How about with your hands in front of you, just resting.”

“This is better,” she smiled as she switched positions, “But if you want me the other way I don’t mind.”

“I just want you to be comfortable,” he assured before glancing back at the sketchbook, “Why don’t you try on your stomach, with your arms under your head.”

She giggled as she moved, kicking her legs like a child, “This is like the fifth grade slumber party position. I feel like we’re gonna play truth or dare.”

He rolled his eyes, “You’re never going to break into the modeling industry if you mess around like that.”

“You’re lucky I’m not a model or I’d be charging,” she stuck her tongue out before laying her head on her hands, “Is this right?”

“Almost, just cross your arms like this,” he set her arms in the position he wanted before stepping away again, “Are you comfy like that?”

“Yeah, I could sleep like this.”

“Good, there’s just one other pose I wanted to try. Could you roll over?”

She flipped to her back and set her hands over her stomach, “Do I look like an angel now?”

“Almost,” he moved one of his arms, extending it above her head and leaving the other over her stomach, “Perfect,” he declared, looking her over with a smile, “Very angelic.”

Her cheeks dusted pink and she bit down on her cheek, “Thanks.”

“I think this is the one,” he scribbled a few things in his sketchbook, “What do you think?”

"I could lay here all day."

“Perfect, can you stay there for a few so I can sketch you?”

She nodded, drumming her fingers along her stomach, "Did you get a better explanation of the project today?"

"Yeah, she said our grade is going to be focused on the emotion of the piece since we're painting someone close to us. She wants us to focus on portraying them how we see them."

"How are you gonna portray me then?" she blushed as she questioned him.

"An angel," he spoke without thinking, his cheeks flushing instantly, "Not with wings or anything, just sort of what I'm going for."

She was sure her face was about to catch on fire, "You don't have to do that, I mean I like the angel paintings, but you should portray me how you see me."

"I am, it just happened to fit with what you like," he tried his best to conceal his face behind his sketchbook as he spoke, "You're really sweet, and you always make everyone around you really happy, I think an angel is fitting."

“I think you’re like that,” she met his eyes, just barely peeking over the edge of his sketchbook, “You always make me happy.”

“I’m really glad I do,” he bit the inside of his cheek nervously, “I think I’ve got everything I need for today, I’ll do some thumbnailing tonight and go pick up some supplies.”

“Cool,” she sat back up, twirling some of her hair nervously, “So when do you want to start?”

“You have that essay right? Why don’t we do Saturday? I don’t want to take up a bunch of your time.”

“That’s sweet but I’m gonna procrastinate no matter what,” she giggled, “Saturday is good though, then we’d have all day to work.”

“I’ll be over at ten then,” he closed his sketchbook before shoving is back into his bag, “If you really want to procrastinate you could come to the store with me. I mean I have to make sure I can match your skin and hair and everything…”

“Well sure, but if you want even more of my very valuable time I at least expect you to buy me some tea.”

He laughed, “Fine, fine, we’ll stop for tea.”

Day 1

Tom was surprised by how awake (y/n) was when he arrived, she was never much of a morning person. When he showed up she had brewed some tea for them both and was already wearing the white dress they’d agreed upon. Tom had drawn about a thousand thumbnails before finally deciding on exactly what he wanted the painting to look like. He decided he’d start on it Friday night, figuring it would be good to get most of the background out of the way so he could focus on painting her while they were together. She gushed over how good the painting already looked, telling him they were the most perfect clouds she’d ever seen while he set up his work station. She was always hyping him up, he appreciated it, even though he was nervous to get started.

“You ready?” he asked finally.

She nodded, “Yeah,” she sat down, doing her best to mimic the pose she had earlier in the week, “Am I good?”

Tom nodded, “Perfect.”

“Awesome, I won’t move a muscle.”

He chuckled, “You can move. Just not too much,” he sighed, picking up his palette and taking one more moment to stare at his canvas, “Okay, time to start.”

(y/n) watched him quietly at first, watching the cute way he stuck out his tongue when he concentrated. She had never seen him paint, the occasional sketch sure, but with painting she’d only even seen finished pieces. They were always amazing, but she felt like getting to see the work in progress was something special. Most people never got to meet someone as passionate or as talented as Tom, let alone get to be the subject of their work.

“Do you mind if I draw the curtains?” Tom broke her trance.

“It’s your painting.”

He laughed, “No, I mean open them. Why on earth would I add a window to a painting of you in the sky?”

“I don’t know how your artist brain works, maybe you think clouds have windows,” she laughed in response, “Go ahead, I thought you wouldn’t want the lighting changing all day.”

“Well I’m going to paint the light source where I want it to be,” he explained as he stood, “But I want to make sure I’m painting you how you’d look in more natural light. Maybe angels have windows, but I’m nearly certain they don’t have iridescent light bulbs.”

“You seriously think heaven has fluorescent lighting?”

“I think they use the sun,” he deadpanned, though a smirk tempted the corners of his mouth, “You can turn on the tv or something.”

“That’s okay, I like watching you.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion, “Why? I’m just staring at a canvas.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s something you're passionate about, it’s cute watching you get in the zone.”

“Oh,” he blushed and turned his attention back to his work, “Thanks. I’ll be more talkative once I get a little further along, I just really like to concentrate in the beginning.”

“It’s fine,” she assured again, “I’m not bored Tom, I don’t mind a bit of quiet time.”

“Okay.”

Truthfully he didn’t mind it either, at least when he was with her. He just liked being in the same room together, even if they were just studying or watching a movie, it was nice to just be together.

Day 2

“Would you mind if I came over after class tomorrow?” Tom questioned, breaking (y/n)’s attention from the tv.

“That’s fine by me,” she smiled to him, “It’s not like I usually have plans with anyone else on a Monday afternoon.”

“Yeah, no one else can stand you,” he chuckled while she feigned offense.

“You know I could be charging you for this? I’m doing this for free out of the goodness of my heart.”

“You think I have money? I’m a starving artist darling, free is all I can afford.”

“You better be nice then,” she teased with a smile.

“I’m cooking you lunch aren’t I?” he sighed before setting his paints down, “Speaking of which, I think I’m ready for a lunch break.”

“Me too,” she rubbed her stomach, “Break time?”

He nodded, “Yeah, you still want pasta?”

“You know I do,” she winked as she stood up, stretching her arms up above her head, “Can I peak?”

He nodded, “It still doesn’t look like much, but I’m making good progress.”

She bounced over to the painting, smiling ear to ear as she took in all he had done, “It looks more and more amazing every time I see it. This is amazing Tom, seriously it looks so good already.”

He smiled, blushing at the praise, “Thanks, I think it’s coming along really well.”

Day 3

Tom was making much quicker progress than he had expected, he just found it very easy to find his rhythm every time they sat down to work. Part of it was her, part of it was the subject matter, also her. He was pretty sure all the hours he’d previously spent staring at her had something to do with it too. So far he was proud of his work, though he was sure it wouldn’t have been possible for a painting of her to look bad anyway. When he sat down to paint her he didn’t have to think about it much, just paint, it came very natural. It just felt naturally to immortalize someone like her, but the talking helped the most. Normally he painted alone and he’d wear himself out or hit some kind of wall and be forced to stop, but he hadn’t had that problem since working with her. It was like his hands moved on their own while he just hung out with his best friend. It was just easy...

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you stay so clean when you paint?”

“I figured it out around the same time I stopped fingerpainting.”

She laughed, “Okay well when I try to paint I still get at least some paint on my hands and arms and stuff, you never get paint anywhere.”

“This is the third time you’ve seen me paint, I’ve gotten messy plenty of times but I’m trying really hard not to get paint all over your house.”

“Have you ever painted a girl?” she giggled, “Her body I mean, like gotten naked and painted on each other?”

He flushed suddenly, “No, have you?”

“No, but it would be fun wouldn’t it?”

“It would be cold,” he pursed his lips, he was well hidden by the canvas, so he had a lot more confidence in his ability to be cheeky, “We can take a break if you want to try it out.”

She went quiet for a moment, Tom thought he might have to throw himself out of her window but when he looked at her her cheeks were just as red, and she decided to press on, “What would you paint?”

“Depends where I’m painting.”

She bit her bottom lip, a playful smile overtaking her despite her pink cheeks, “Well I would paint a grid and play tic tac toe on your abs.”

She burst into laughter at her own awful joke and Tom did his best to fight off his own laughter, “That was not funny.”

“Yes it was that’s hilarious!” she kept laughing, clenching her stomach and rolling onto her side, only to find there was no room and roll onto the floor with a thud, “Ow.”

Tom started laughing, “You deserve that for making such a shit joke.”

“Fuck off,” she groaned.

Day 4

“Do you ever get lonely living here all alone?” Tom knit his brow as he tried to perfect her nose.

She nodded, “Sometimes, but I don’t really want a roommate you know? I need a boyfriend or something so I can just call him over when I decide I want someone to spend the night.”

“You could call me,” Tom didn’t dare peek out from behind the canvas after that comment, “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted me to spend the night sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we could even build a pillow fort and play truth or dare.”

She laughed lightly, “Well who could pass up an offer like that?”

Day 5

Rather than painting the whole night, Tom and (y/n) had decided to get some studying done, putting them at a much later start when they eventually did get to the painting. (y/n) seemed tired, and Tom had told her they could skip the night, especially since he was making such good progress already, but she had insisted she was fine. So they started working, and (y/n) watched tv, half away while Tom started working. The painting was coming along amazing, and Tom had planned to just get some of the more tedious, detailing work done and let her get to bed, but of course once he actually started working it was a different story. He had quickly gotten wrapped up in his work, not stopping until the noise of the tv stopped, the screen flashing to ask if anyone was still watching.

“Sorry, I was just getting in the zone I-” Tom stopped mid sentence, spotting her already passed out on the couch. Her head was tossed to the side and one of her arms hung off the couch. The sight was endearing, but Tom felt bad about not noticing, “Oh dear,” he set his pallet down and stood up, flicking the tv off before approaching her, “Well come on darling, let’s get you to bed,” he nudged her lightly, “(y/n), time to wake up.”

She stirred slightly, a small groan leaving her lips before her eyes peaked open, “Tommy?”

He nodded, a small smile on his lips, “I would have carried you, but you’ve got to lock up behind me.”

She yawned, “Sorry, I’ll stay awake Tom, you can keep working.”

“You’re exhausted sweetheart, you need to get some sleep,” he smiled, setting a hand on her cheek carefully, “I got a lot done today anyway, promise.”

“Okay,” she yawned again before taking his hand, “I’ll help you clean up.”

“I’ll take care of it, why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

She nodded again, pushing herself up sleepily and padding off to her bedroom. Tom smiled to himself while he cleaned up, thinking about how nice it would have been to carry her off and tuck her in, or better yet fall asleep besides her. He could only hope he’d get there one day, if he could ever force out his feelings. It was seeming more and more possible everyday. Just as he’d suspected, hiding behind the canvas had made it much easier to flip the conversation to something flirty, and much to his delight, she didn’t seem to mind, if anything she flirted back.

“Looks good,” (y/n) hummed as she glanced over the painting, “Tomorrow we should be able to start early.”

“Thank you, honestly at this rate I’ll only need a few more days.”

“That’s awesome Tommy, I can’t wait to see it all done.”

“Me too,” he tossed an arm over her shoulder with a smile, “Come see me out.”

“I am, I am,” she smiled as he led her to the door, “Drive safe.”

“I will, get some sleep darling,” he kissed the top of her head before heading for the car.

Day 6

The doorbell made Tom jump, and nearly swipe a black line through one of her eyes, “Fucking hell,” he swore under his breath,

She giggles, “It’s just the pizza Tom,” she jumped off the couch, heading straight for the door, “Which means stop working busy bee we’ve got a pizza to devour!”

He pushed himself up with a sigh, “I’m in the homestretch here, I just need to push through.”

“No, you need to nourish your body and keep your mind sharp,” she winked to him as she opened the door accepting the pizza with a quick thank you.

“Smells delicious,” he plucked the box from her arms, “I think I’ll pretty much finish up tonight, but I’ll want to really polish it tomorrow when I’ve got fresh eyes. And I probably won’t want to stop once I’ve got started so eat and pee before I get here.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute or you wouldn’t get away with bossing people around like that,” she passed him a plate before tossing open the box.

“I know,” he winked to her, dishing them both a slice, “You know I probably only need another hour or so tonight, so we could watch a movie or something while we eat, then I could finish up after.”

A swarm of butterflies fluttered around her stomach, almost making it impossible for her to answer, “That sounds nice Tom, you definitely deserve to relax.”

“We both do,” he grabbed her remote as he fell down on the couch.

“I’ve been laying on the couch, relaxing is currently all I know.”

“Nah, I’m sure it gets tiring sitting there looking pretty all day,” he sucked in a sharp breath when she sat down, pressed right against his side.

“It does,” she nodded in agreement, “Alright, you pick for us alright?”

“Sure.”

He didn’t pay much attention to what he was picking, he was much more concerned with their proximity. They’d watched plenty of movies and tv shows together during their friendship, but they never sat so close. It gave Tom a lot of confidence, since she’d opted to sit besides him, he took it as a sign that his flirting was landing. So after they finished eating he decided he should also initiate something and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Without even thinking she had laid her head on his shoulder, it just felt natural. Tom pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head and turned his attention to the tv.

Day 7

Tom stood up, stepping back a few feet to examine his work. He did it fairly frequently so (y/n) didn’t think anything of it and turned right back to the tv, until Tom spoke.

“It’s perfect, I’m done,” he declared with a small smile.

(y/n) raised a brow, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I have to seal it and everything, but the actual painting is done. I’ll turn it in on Monday.”

“Don’t you have a few more weeks?” she asked as she stood.

He nodded, “I don’t need them, I’m finished, it’s gorgeous, I don’t need to do anything else.”

“Well can I see?”

“Of course!” he grabbed her shoulders, quickly pulling her to face the work, “What do you think?”

She went wide eyed, taken back by how good he’d made her look. It was strange, seeing herself in a painting. It was done well of course, and it looked just like her, but better somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was, maybe the background or the romantic theme of the painting, but she just looked better. She looked like an angel, perched on a bed of pink and blue swirling clouds, reminiscent of the paintings she likes, but distinctly Tom’s work.

“Wow,” she turned to him with a big smile, “Tom it’s incredible, I don’t know how you made me look like that.”

“That’s just what you look like.”

She shook her head, “It’s better somehow, like the perfect version of me or something. You did incredible.”

“No,” he shook his head, “That’s just you, but thank you. I’m really proud of this, I think it’s one of my best.”

She blushed, “Yeah, you’re gonna get a killer grade.”

He hadn’t thought much about the grave, the assignment had taken a back seat to just painting her, “Yeah, I hope so,” he grabbed her upper arms and smiled down at her, “You’re incredible you know that? Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

She bit her lip and nodded, “You don’t have to thank me, I had fun.”

“Me too,” his eyes caught her lips for just a moment, soft and supple and more than kissable, “I, uh, we should do something to celebrate, dinner or something.”

“That would be fun too,” she tucked some hair behind her ear, leaning towards him just slightly.

He found himself leaning in too, but as much as he wanted to kiss her, something just wouldn’t let him. He kissed her forehead and backed away awkwardly, “I, uh, need to pack everything up, I have to get the sealant on pretty quick and I left it at home so…”

The sealant was in his bag, but he felt like running away suddenly, his nerves truly getting the best of him.

Her cheeks burned in embarrassment but she nodded, ‘Y-Yeah, no problem, I’ll help you pack up.”

“Wait so let me get this straight, all this flirting and pining, you chickened out on the kiss?” Harrison’s jaw fell open in disbelief.

Tom nodded, hiding his head against his arms, “Yes, and I nearly died the first time so let's not talk about it now.”

“Dude,” he gaped, “Are you kidding me? All you had to do was pucker up!”

“I know!” Tom groaned, “I know, I don’t even know what happened, I just froze up. I mean what if I misread it? She probably didn’t want me to kiss her, in fact I know she didn’t.”

“You said she leaned in first!”

“I thought she did but I’m stupid! There’s no way she was trying to kiss me.” “It literally could not be more obvious that you two like each other so I don’t want to hear it. You need to just call her up and tell her you froze up and ask her out.”

“I can’t, I will literally drop dead.”

Harrison rolled his eyes, “Then I’ll do it.”

“Dude no! I’m not ten, I can’t send you to ask a girl out for me, that’s a guaranteed no at this point.”

“Then just tell her,” Harrison groaned, “Before I lose it, please.”

Tom was coming to terms with the fact that he was going to die alone by Wednesday morning. It was hard to accept, but easier to accept than almost kissing his dream girl and chickening out, so the choice had been easy. But apparently the universe had other plans for him, as Ms. Miller decided to pull him aside after class.

“I want to talk about your final,” she placed his painting on an easel.

He blushed, “You don’t like it?”

She shook her head, “No, no, Tom this is incredible. I was going to suggest that you enter it into the National Galleries up and coming contest.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded, “Yeah, this is amazing, it would be a shame if the world didn’t see it,” she chuckled lightly, “And I’m sure it would get you some brownie points with your girlfriend.”

“Oh, she’s not my girlfriend,” he spoke softly, pretending to cough to try and hide his words, “Just my friend.”

“You painted just a friend like this?”

He nodded.

“And remind me of the title.”

“The Angel Nextdoor.”

“Do you call all your friends angel?”

“Uh no, just her,” he bit his lip while she raised a brow at him, “She doesn’t know I’m into her.”

Ms. Miller glanced at the painting with a hum, “Has she seen the painting?”

He nodded, “Yeah, she was there the whole time.”

“I think she knows.”

He began to blush again, “Really?”

She nodded, “I could tell just from looking at it that you must really love this girl, I’m sure she can tell too,” she smiled and leaned back on her desk, “Anyways, I just wanted to let you know about the competition, I’ll have your marks soon.”

He nodded, “Thanks, I’ll, uh, think about it.”

He scrambled out of class quickly, wondering if maybe he didn’t have to die alone. Maybe he could confess, and maybe (y/n) who had gushed to him about the painting he’d poured all his love into, would reciprocate. Maybe she had leaned in to try and kiss him, and maybe, just maybe, she really did like him back. Instead of stopping at the dining hall where he was supposed to meet Harrison and (y/n) he paced right past it, towards (y/n)’s class, trying to hype himself up the whole way.

(y/n) had spent the past few days with her mind full of questions. She had leaned in, hoping Tom would get the hint and they would kiss. It seemed to be going that way but then he stopped. Tom had seemed flirty while he was painting her, and she tried her best to show her own interest. He had even held her while they watched a movie, but then he didn’t kiss her. He just kissed her on the forehead and left. She was worried she had misread everything, and almost certain she had. She was anxious about seeing him for the first time since the almost kiss, worried things would be tense or weird. So she was quite worried when she spotted him outside of her class, worried he was about to tell her to never bring up the incident and forget anything happened.

“Hey,” she smiled to him, “What are you doing here?” “I came to talk to you,” he blushed a bit, “Uh, Ms. Miller really likes my painting, she thought I should enter it in this competition for up and comers.”

“Really? Tom that’s awesome, congrats!”

He nodded, “Yeah, thanks, I thought it was really cool too, but she said she thought it was good because she could really see my emotions.”

“Also awesome, you’re gonna ace that class.”

“Okay, but, um…” he trailed off for a minute, unsure of how to force the words out, “The emotion was love, that she saw I mean. She said she could tell I really loved you, a-and I know you know that I do love you, but I love you way more than any of my other friends, and it’s different too… I mean I know I’m like a struggling artist, and that’s not the most desirable thing, and I’m not this perfect, beautiful person like you are, but I do love you, and I love you so much it’s overwhelming sometimes. The best thing I’ve ever painted is you because I love you so much, romantically.”

She stood totally frozen, with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open, making Tom’s heart pound nervously against his chest. He thought he might black out but she moved suddenly, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him hard. Her lips were plump and soft and so much better than he could have imagined. He grabbed her waist, leaning into her with a smile.

“I love you too,” she smiled as she pulled away, “I think you’re perfect and I am totally crazy about you.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded excitedly, “Of course! How could I not? You’re incredibly talented and you're funny and your kind, Tom you’re amazing, of course I am so totally in love with you.”

He smiled and sealed their lips again, “Maybe we could go on a date sometime then?”

She nodded again, “Of course, but I’ve got one condition.”

“Anything.”

“There has to be more kissing.”

He laughed before pecking her lips again, “I think I can handle that.”

215 notes · View notes

my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

Not sure if you still want to write for old prompts but if so; May I request Rodimus, Brainstorm, and a bot of your choice for the kidnapped s/o defending their bot and giving the kidnapper a tongue lashing? Your writing is so good it seriously brightens my day reading through it all! :D

I never tire of my prompts, lovely anon! Thanks a million and here's the good boys! I couldn't think of anyone I wanted to do for the third bot but I poured my heart and soul into these two, I hope you like them!

Rodimus

·Your panic had never really gone beyond some light anxiety about when you'd get to eat next, but you credited that to the rescue party you knew was coming. Rodimus had bested bad guys far more competent than this loser, so you had few worries about getting out. Truthfully your greatest concern was how unfathomably annoying your captor was proving to be. Between their grandiose personality and their constant taunting over the communication line, you feel as if you're going to go mad. Unfortunately, when the mocking starts to be aimed directly at Rodimus without end, you quickly build to your limit. The gloves come off when your captor crosses the final line and calls your partner "Hot Rod" in an unacceptable jab.

·"Oh for God's sake! It's Rodimus you dolt, not Hot Rod! I know the extra syllable is a little difficult for you, but try to keep up!" Your shout echoes so loudly in the tiny cave that a bit of dust falls from the ceiling. Your captor is quick to try and shut you up, but that doesn't stop you in the slightest, as yelling feels far better than taking any more of their trash. For pete's sake, they stole you for ransom and they're expecting good behavior? Entitlement falls way short of describing what a jerk this bot is, and you let them know it, channeling the insults you know your partner would unleash if they could.

·"You think you scare me? You think you scare anyone?! You're dumb enough to piss off the captain of the Lost Light buddy, you should be afraid! Rodimus sees guys like you as footnotes compared to what he usually deals with!" Quite accustomed to your beloved captain charging in to save the day, you let loose a long list of his accomplishments, proudly defending and boasting at the same time. Your captor can't even get a word in edgewise. With a devilish smirk, you start to go on about all the less public ways Rodimus rules as a partner. His impeccable charm, his smooth wit, and his capacity to perform as a Prime where it really counts... That last bit is kept from vulgarity only due to a none too distant explosion cutting you off.

·Before anything can move, the door quite literally melts before imploding inward as molten metal, revealing Rodimus covered in flame. He moves in a fiery blur, his fist more akin to a meteorite as it collides with your captor to knock them out in a single punch. At your cheering of his name, he comes to your side in a flash, fire dissipating completely after he frees you of your bonds. Moments later the remainder of the crew is pouring in with Magnus scolding Rodimus for rushing ahead. He ignored him completely as he takes you into his arms, optics shining as if he's beholding something more precious than the Matrix could ever be. Though his words are flirty, his tone is tender and brimming with affection as he takes you back to the ship. His lovestruck expression doesn't seem to go away even when he throws a massive party to celebrate your rescue.

·In an incredibly rare moment where his responsibilities pull him away from you, a bot close to him tells you something they think you should know. Rodimus was initially devastated by your kidnapping. Though the entire ship had rallied for your rescue, he'd barely held it together enough to take charge, and hearing the bot mock him had nearly sent him over the edge. Your outburst had, as if by a miracle, revitalized him. Hearing you stick up for him, including your grand list of what you adored about him, had so inspired him that controlling his fire had become easy. It was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. You believing in him had put into perspective what he was capable of, to the point it lit a fire in the most literal sense of the phrase.

Brainstorm

·Dating a bot brilliant enough to rend time had made you quite accustomed to shenanigans of all kinds. Thus, you were calm when kidnapped, both due to the aforementioned reason as well as your certainty of rescue. However, that calm had proved short lived when your captor proved to be an annoying jerk with a massive inferiority complex. Their ceaseless mockery through the communication channel was like torture the DJD would have found too cruel to condone. You'd been able to stay cool for some time, focusing on keeping the situation calm and looking for weak points your rescuers might exploit, but inevitably you'd been pushed to your limit. The final straw had been your captor having the audacity to mock your partner for being a hopeless inventor who only managed to make things no one needed, and that sent you over the edge.

·"Hopeless?! You call inventing time travel and creating the multiverse hopeless?! This coming from a loser in a cave with the most backwards security system on this side of the galaxy?!" Your outburst had come with a rattling of your chains to emphasize your point, and between your voice and the clanking metal you'd immediately had the full attention of the bad bot. Still enraged, you made a point of detailing every single categorical failure they'd displayed, having learned plenty about judging the quality of technology in Brainstorm's lab. There's more than enough material for you to throw at them with the nightmare of poor maintenance surrounding you. "When was the last time you bothered patching up these turrets anyway?! Hope you're not planning on using these for defense, Brainstorm will have them short circuiting before he's done hacking that door!"

·There's something resembling an attempt at a comeback, but you're a mile ahead before it's even halfway out. To say your beloved bot eclipses this loser's intellect would imply they'd actually register on the same level, and you have to laugh at the absurdity of someone so incompetent daring to come after one of the most brilliant bots in the galaxy, something you let them know in no uncertain terms. The litany of reality warping ways you might be rescued is as long as it is ridiculously plausible. You begin going off on the countless other ways Brainstorm might get around this captive situation, extolling his many talents in weapon design and paying special attention to how brilliantly he thinks outside the box. You're about to get into the details of other areas he's creative in when the lights go out and everything plunges in to darkness.

·Flashes of biolights, small explosions, and shouts of action are all you have to discern some incredible rush of activity. Before you can really figure out what's happening a beautiful pair of yellow optics light up the darkness, and in a split second your chains are broken and you're being lovingly cupped by a pair of careful hands. At the flip of a small device the lights flicker on to reveal a beaten but otherwise fine captor being cuffed, but you ignore that entirely when Brainstorm removes his mask to speak to you. Playfully fussing over your condition, he uncharacteristically kisses your little head in full view of everyone, something he's never done before. In fact, the next few days he's nothing but openly loving and outright showy in his affections, publicly presenting you with a series of fantastic gifts invented to profess his love.

·In a rare moment of solitude, you're unexpectedly taken aside by a bot who says they need to let you know something important. Brainstorm was almost dangerous. He'd already lost one love, and he'd been so intent on not losing another he'd been forced from his lab to prevent him from tearing reality asunder to get to you. He'd been nearly impossible to console or restrain until your voice came through the comm. Hearing you defend him so passionately had calmed and invigorated him all at once, grounding him in reality and giving him the clarity he needed to assist in rescuing you. The device he'd created to extinguish enemy defenses had been put together at a speed that impressed Perceptor. It was thanks to you that he remembered to go slow and take things one step at a time, because just as much as you were worth fighting for, you were worth living for.

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sfb123 · 3 years

Text

Sapere Aude - Part 12

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

If you’re new to Sapere Aude, please click the link above to start from the beginning. There’s so much going on right now that you’ll be way too confused to start from this point. Plus, there are some major bombshells that won’t be as fun if you read this and get a bunch of spoilers.

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Disclaimer: I have no current affiliation with any other Via Imperii themed stories. Any claims that I have pre-read anything are false.

Word Count: 2,015

A/N: I started writing this chapter, and all of the sudden realized it was way to long, and nobody was going to be able to hang in for the whole thing, so I ended up splitting it up into two, which means chapter 13 is already on deck and ready to roll, you should be seeing that next week (I don’t want to bombard you with too many chapters at once). I really didn’t know what I was going to do with this part of the story, but I just started writing and my fingers spit out the words.

Shout outs to @jessiembruno for constantly letting me annoy you with brainstorming, snippet bombardment, and beta read love notes. You are the best ride or die a girl could ask for. @txemrn thank you for pre-reading, and being an amazing cheerleader. All of this, this whole story, me writing in general, it’s all your fault, and I will forever be grateful to you for it (if you hate my work, and wonder who the hell I think I am to be here and be doing this, A. I agree and B. blame this lady). @twinkleallnight thank you thank you thank you for both of the amazing mood boards that you created for me. I appreciate you.

Tags: Listed below, hit me up to be added or removed.

“Riley, love, come sit. You need to calm down, I can’t understand what you’re saying.” Liam carefully guided her to the couch and helped her sit. “Wait right there, take deep breaths, I’m going to go get you some water.” He kissed her forehead and wiped away a few of her tears before walking into the kitchen, quickly returning with a glass of water. He placed it in her hands and sat beside her, placing one hand on her back, the other on her knee.

He spent the next several minutes just sitting with her in silence, taking all of the time she needed to compose herself. As her breathing began to return to normal, she placed the glass on the table in front of her and leaned back on the couch. She lifted her hand to wipe her tears, but Liam beat her to it, gently running his thumbs along her cheeks.

“Are you feeling up to telling me what happened?” His hands lingered on her face as he looked deeply into her eyes with a loving, yet concerned expression.

She shook her head, placing her hands over his. “Not really, but I have to. It’s bad, Liam. It’s really bad.” Riley took a deep breath, preparing herself to say the next words. “They’re pushing for an Auvernal alliance.”

Liam’s hands quickly dropped to his lap. “But we shut that idea down years ago. Auvernal doesn’t want to work with us, they want to take us over.”

“I know, I tried to explain that to them, but they think we made the decision because we didn’t want to marry our daughter off to their nightmare child. And they’re not wrong, but so much more went into our decision. We were looking out for the whole country.”

“Of course we were, for them to think anything else is outrageous. She was behind this, wasn’t she? She’s from Auvernal, I wouldn't put it past her.” Liam stood from his seat and began to pace the room.

Riley followed him to the other side of the room, the roles quickly reversing, she was now going to be the one keeping him composed. “No, actually Neville brought it up and the rest of the group agreed. She brought the room back to order, told everyone we would take a breather and revisit it. She wants to set up a meeting with me next week to discuss it one on one. I told her off.”

His feet immediately stopped moving and he turned to face his wife. “You...told her off?” She nodded slowly. “What did you say?” Liam really didn’t care to hear anything about Eleanor, but he couldn’t help but be curious about what Riley said to her. His heart swelled, knowing that she stood up for him, he loved her so much.

“She tried to ask me if I was alright, and I unloaded on her. How would I have been alright after being ambushed by everyone? And I called her out for not defending our decision. The only reason I’ve been trying to work with her and hear her out was because she said she did all of this to protect you. How the fuck does any of this protect you?” She approached him slowly, taking his hands in hers. “How could she question your judgement like that? Obviously we had good reasons for ending that agreement. She said she’s been keeping tabs on you since she left, but obviously she doesn’t know you at all if she thinks you would make a selfish decision under the guise of protecting your country. You’re not your father.”

He pulled Riley to him and held her tightly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. “I am going to arrange for everyone to meet us in Valtoria as soon as possible. We are going to take some time away, as a family, while we come up with a plan for how to stop this.” He felt her head move against his chest, nodding in agreement. He kissed her on the crown of her head before pulling back to look her in the eyes. “Riley, it means the world that you stood up to her like that for me. Thank you.”

“You would have done the same for me.” She shrugged, she didn’t think she did anything particularly remarkable. Standing up for her husband was just a thing that she did, like breathing or eating.

Liam smiled softly at his wife. “In a heartbeat.” He agreed, before kissing her tenderly.

***

A few days later, as promised, Liam had arranged for Maxwell, Drake, and Olivia to meet them in Valtoria for the weekend. They would use this time to come up with a plan, but it also gave everyone a much needed respite from everything that had been going on. They agreed to take a couple of days to relax and enjoy their time as an extended family before digging into the inevitable unpleasantness.

Everyone was relaxing by the lake, Drake and Eleanor were fishing while the rest of the group sat around a nearby picnic table talking and enjoying some snacks prepared by the kitchen staff.

“Your Majesty.” Mara approached, interrupting the conversation. “I apologize, but I need a moment of your time.”

“Of course.” Riley stood from her seat and addressed her friends. “I’ll be right back guys.” Liam kissed her hand before releasing it, watching her walk away.

Once they got out of earshot of everyone else, Mara informed Riley that Eleanor had sent a request for the one on one meeting she had mentioned at the Via Imperii gathering. And that she would need to leave immediately to meet with her.

“But I’m on a family vacation, Mara. Can’t this wait another day or two?” Riley didn’t want to have this meeting at all, and now it was going to be interrupting time with her family.

“I’m afraid not ma’am, she said it is time sensitive.”

“Fine.” Riley sighed. “Please go get the car ready, I will let everyone know that I have to step away.”

Mara nodded in acknowledgement and took her leave to arrange for their departure as Riley returned to the table. Everyone took note of her somber expression, they had a feeling they knew exactly what this was about.

Liam stood from his seat and approached her, taking her hand. “What is it, love?”

“She wants to have that meeting. Now.” Riley took a deep breath running a nervous hand through her hair. “Mara went to get the car.”

Liam pulled her into a comforting embrace, wrapping his arms securely around her. “It’s alright, this may actually work in our favor. We were all going to talk about a plan tonight anyway. Maybe you will be able to get more information, or anything else that could help us.”

Riley pulled away and met his eyes. “You’re right. I need to suck it up, I just want this to be over.”

“I know love, I know. Me too.” He placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her on the forehead.

Riley said goodbye to everyone else and made her way to the front of the estate, meeting Mara at the car before getting in and heading to the Fierro Estate. The ride was spent in silence as Riley took the time to gather her thoughts and think of the best probing questions to ask, allowing her to get the most information without being too obvious in her phishing.

Upon their arrival, Mara led her to the back of the estate, to a room that was much smaller than the others she had seen. Mara opened the door and signaled for Riley to step inside, she entered and noticed Neville sitting at a small table, a smug expression on his face. She turned to address Mara, who had closed the door and was standing in front of it, clearly intending to prevent Riley from leaving.

“What is this all about Neville? I am supposed to be meeting with Eleanor.”

Neville stood and slowly approached the queen. “Come now Riley, I knew you were uneducated, but I had no idea you were this dumb. You haven’t already realized that she’s not the one that called you here?”

“Enough with this ‘your status doesn’t matter in the Via Imperii’ bullshit. I am your queen, and I expect to be addressed as such.” Riley stood tall, her hands firmly planted on her hips.

“Titles should be reserved for those worthy of them. You have done nothing in your time here to deserve respect, so if I am not required to show it, I certainly won’t.”

“Alright, I’m sick of this. We already know you can’t sword fight for shit, Drake proved that in front of the entire court. Let’s see how you are with hand to hand combat.”

Neville chuckled. “I’m not going to fight you. You’re not even worth that.”

Riley began poking at his shoulder. “Why? Afraid to get your ass kicked by a girl?”

“Of course not. You forget, I have the upper hand here, I don’t have to resort to such childish, archaic methods.” He looked beyond Riley. “Mara, rational conversation is clearly not going to work here. Please restrain our guest.”

***

As the sun began to set over the lake in Valtoria, everyone collected their things and began to head into the house.

“Daddy, when will mommy be home?” Eleanor looked up at her father as they walked hand in hand.

“Soon princess, mommy will be home soon.” Liam checked his watch and looked up at Drake with a concerned expression. “She should have been back by now.” he said quietly so that Eleanor wouldn’t hear.

Drake clapped Liam on the shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll go ask Bas to ping her phone to get a location on her. We can send a guard to keep an eye out if you want.” Liam nodded and Drake broke away from the group.

Liam walked with Elanor into her bedroom, followed by Thomas. As Thomas crossed the threshold, his phone began ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out, checking the ID quickly before silencing it and returning it to his pocket.

Liam looked up from the bookshelf where Eleanor was picking a story. “You can take that if you’d like, Thomas. I will be here with Eleanor, we’ll be alright for a few minutes.”

“Thank you Sir, I will make it brief.” Thomas bowed before exiting the room. “Mother?” He answered the phone once the door was shut behind him.

“Thomas dear, I haven’t been able to get a hold of Mara to coordinate my meeting with Riley. Can you tell me where she is?”

Thomas furrowed his brow. “She’s with you. She took Riley to the estate earlier today for your meeting. She said you called her this morning.”

“But I haven’t spoken to Mara since the meeting the other night. I certainly didn’t call for Riley.” Eleanor’s mind raced thinking of all of the possible reasons that Mara would have misled Riley like that. She flashed back to the night of the meeting, after Riley stormed off, Eleanor saw her approach Mara, who had been speaking with Neville. “Thomas, I need you to get Liam and meet me at the estate. Send some additional guards as well.”

“Mom...what’s going on.”

“I’m not quite sure, but if it’s what I think it is, we have to move fast.”

“Ok.” Thomas ended the call and returned to Eleanor’s bedroom. Eleanor was sitting at her table reading, while Liam stood with Drake and Bastien on the other side of the room. “Sir,” Thomas interrupted their conversation, “we have a situation.”

“Thomas, you are senior enough in the guard that you can handle it on your own, we are trying to locate the queen.” Bastien ordered, but Thomas didn’t move.

“Um...actually, it’s about the queen. Your majesty, you need to come with me, and we need to send some additional guards along with us.”

Permatag:

@anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @bbrandy2002 @chemist-ana @choicesficwriterscreations @choiceskatie @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @emkay512 @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @pixie88 @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @sweatyrysconnoisseur @tessa-liam @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn

Sapere Aude:

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Liam x Riley:

@jared2612

Liam:

@amandablink @yourmajesty09

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