#the pacing was way to rushed and the glue seemed to dry at a very unrealistic pace 4/10 respectfully mid and kind of meh 🫤

[moon-lixie]

Help - Seo Changbin

“But what if he tries to kiss me? You know I don't know how to kiss.” And just how he helped you calm your nerves and pick the clothes you would wear, Changbin helped you with this one last detail.

genre: fluff, 80s AU

word count: 2.647k

The music turned slightly louder as a result of Changbin´s nervous fingers toying with the stereo of your room, blasting Hungry Heart by Bruce Springsteen in a volume where you could appreciate every single word clearly. You didn't pay particular attention to that detail as you kept moving your feet back and forth in the air.

Laying down on your bed, your elbows supported the weight of your head that leaned comfortably against your palm. Under your concentrated gaze was a magazine acquired barely minutes ago as you walked back from school with your friend.

A deep sigh left your friend's lips, almost disrupting the calmness with the blatant distress that it carried. And for the first time in the last fifteen minutes your gaze fluttered over his figure long enough for him to snap his head in your direction.

Once his gaze started softening and his brows abandoned the previously furrowed state they had met your glance with, you moved your orbs back to the pages that lazily turned due to your slightly bored fingers.

Many Friday afternoons had been spent like that, with your friend hanging around your house or vice versa. It wasn´t often that you got bored or impatient for the night to arrive soon —because that meant parting ways with Changbin and that idea always sounded dreadful— but today was one of those days.

Today, when the night arrived, you would be going on a date —your very first one that is— and it stirred inside you an excitement that couldn´t be dampened by nothing in this world. Or so you thought before your friend released another awfully loud sigh.

“Could you quit whatever it is that you're doing? You're ruining the mood,” escaped from your lips with a fake annoyance that prevented him from tensing up any further.

He mumbled a quick and awfully faint apology but you still managed to make it out in between the familiar melody of Died in your arms that began playing as the voice from the man working on the radio station currently playing faded.

It was your turn to sigh as he started pacing restlessly around the carpeted floor of your room. Whatever was the thing that could possibly bother him that much escaped your seemingly limited understanding.

For a split second you considered asking him what was bothering him so greatly, but knowing him you were certain that if it distressed him enough for him not to even bother hiding his restlessness, it wasn't particularly something he would be comfortable to talk about freely.

He seemed to limit himself to look at the floor solely until his eyes travelled to one of the walls without notice. It wasn't the one covered with the posters of your favourite bands —that of course happened to be his favourite ones as well— nor the one where your window stared at the backyard he had sneaked into in the middle of the night more times that you could count with a single hand.

It had been the one where you had tried to do a collage of photos; you had ultimately given up one particularly hot day of the last summer that only added to the uncomfortable sticky feeling of glue drying on your palms and the lack of photos that had prompted you to carry a camera around the last months.

A small smile morphed Changbin´s expression into a less sour one, eliciting a smile of your own. The corners of his eyes began crinkling as he took notice of the fact that most pictures were of him or at least included his presence; for a second you thought you could blush in embarrassment, quickly discarting the thought upon realizing that if someone was aware of your lack of close friends it was Changbin.

Standing up you left the magazine open on one particularly unimportant page and walked to stand beside the person you loved to tease about his height.

Watching as his hand reached out forward, you took in how he ever so gently pressed the tips of his fingers on the white edges of the polaroid that perfectly encapsulated one morning on the nearby park that had risen upon you two not long ago.

A flash of sadness unmistakably passed through his pupils, worry setting itself deep within your chest.

“Hey, is everything okay?” you asked in a hushed tone as if raising your voice in the slightest would result in scaring him away.

Without words he tried to reassure you that everything was fine, softly shaking his head and flashing your way the smallest of smiles. If only you hadn't known him since you were both kids, then maybe you would believe he was really okay.

The exact moment you were about to give up on letting him drown in his own pitifulness and ask him what was going on, he turned around and quickly made his way to plop down on your bed.

Your right eyebrow quirked in amusement as you watched him reach out for the one stuffed animal he had given you for your birthday four springs ago, pressing it tightly against his chest. For a moment you caught yourself feeling slightly annoyed at him not hugging you, if he wanted to hug something so desperately you would've liked to be his first option.

After letting a small huff escape from in between your lips, you walked towards him only to playfully snatch the brown fluffiness away from his arms and ultimately lay down beside him after saying, “you were going to asphyxiate it if you kept going like that.”

“It was either him or you,” he said, this time mirroring your playfulness and seemingly letting his worries aside.

“First of all, who said that it was a he?” you said while shooting a disapproving glare to your friend, “and second, if I needed to sacrifice myself to save this poor soul then I would.”

“Don't say I didn't warn you.” Before you were able to question his words he lunged at you, his fingers tickling just the spots that had you trying to stifle your laugh with all your might.

Seconds later he hugged you close to his chest, laughs filling the whole room and erasing any trace of worry from his face. While you just begged him to let you go as a poor attempt of expressing that you wanted him to do the exact opposite.

His loud laugh died down as he let you go and faced the ceiling once again, only sporadically leaving his mouth as a breathy giggle that matched perfectly the ones bubbling up from your throat.

And then, just as silence began to install itself on your bed right between the both of you, he said something that surprised you, “isn't it time for you to get ready for that date? I mean, that's the only reason you brought me here, right?” His tone was teasing and playful, for a second it pulled you away from the daze that the thought of almost forgetting about your date brought.

Right then you had no idea but as you agreed you were also signing for an extremely picky Changbin who kept shaking his head in disapproval over and over again as you chose different clothing pieces from your closet, either because he had turned into a full fashionista on the last hours or just because he wanted to annoy you.

“I swear to god Seo Changbin, if you don't say that this is the one when I come out we´re going to have some trouble.” The comment seemed to amuse him seeing that he had snorted right away.

Taking one last look at the mirror above your sink, you opened the bathroom door and stepped right where he could see you perfectly. “So, how do I look?”

He could´ve laughed at the weird poses you were striking while trying to add to the simple set of denim shorts and the white graphic tee tucked inside them if only he didn't seem so out of breath.

The top you wore was one that you had bought with him one Saturday when you had the great idea of buying some matching outfits and he had refused until you finally convinced him to buy a simple t-shirt, just that.

“God, does it look that bad?” you began saying with a frown painting your features with worry, “I mean, it is a bit casual but you said that it would be better not to overdo it-”

“No, no,” he quickly interrupted what both of you knew would be a string of incoherent and unstoppable talking that erupted as a habit that came from pure nervousness, “you look great, really. This is it.”

One small smile brightened your face but did nothing to ease the nerves that increased as the excitement washed away, because your date was no longer a what if that could take place in the future but a fact that would occur without a doubt.

Your trembling hands reached towards your bed where most of your clothes had been left discarded, along with the magazine that just now you remember existed —without a doubt it would be crinkled.

Starting to pick up some stuff with the intention of cleaning up, Changbin soon joined you and bumped the side of his hips against yours before walking with obvious content towards your closet. It meant a lot to you that, just like always, he was trying to help you ease your nerves without being awfully obvious about it.

Quickly, you rushed towards where he was and pushed him softly to the side before laughing and putting some folded pieces of clothing inside its respectful cabinets. He didn't just brush it off and instead paid you back with the same treatment, beginning like that another fit of laughter that barely allowed you to be quick about sorting out the pile of clothing.

When you both finished the sky had turned into a deep and dark purple that threatened to end your precious time with your friend; you were beginning to judge yourself for being so impatient earlier when all you wanted now was for hours to stretch endlessly if it meant staying in his comforting presence.

His hand held yours and brought you out of your daze; your heart shouldn’t have been beating as hard because it was just Changbin. That’s right, just Changbin, your sweet and incredibly attentive friend, just that…

A comforting smile met your sight after he squeezed your hand gently to catch your attention. It was just friendly Changbin, and they were just nerves for your date, not butterflies.

Without a word he brought you to sit on the floor right in front of him, so you could be facing straight as his slightly furrowed brows and beautifully brown eyes.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked, squeezing your hand one more time in the process. “Tell me so that I can help.”

You wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation, a couple of hours before anyone would’ve thought those words would end up slipping from your lips, not his.

“I don't know,” you murmured quite uncertain of what to say next, so you just said exactly that, “I have no idea what to do.”

“Ask me then, I’ll help you.”

The tone of his voice, so confident and friendly, made you want to laugh out loud. “This isn’t like studying, silly.”

“We can pretend it is. Let’s say it’s a math problem we need to solve, you know I got your back.”

That you did know, he always had your back just like you had his. It had been an unspoken promise of two toddlers that still managed to stay perfectly immaculate.

You began speaking, asking silly questions and eventually moving onto the real ones, the things that worried you and made your stomach churn until you felt nauseous.

“And what if he tries to kiss me? You know I don't know how to kiss.” This particular question left your lips as a mere whisper; it had caused Changbin’s grip on your hand to tighten as he hadn’t let go of your hand since you both had sat down.

“W-Well.” His voice was shaky, it made you wonder if perhaps that was a question too difficult to answer or if you shouldn’t have mentioned it. Immediately your gaze traveled to the ground as you tried to hide your embarrassed expression.

“I guess I can help with that too.” And just how he helped you calm your nerves and pick the clothes you would wear, he helped you with that one last detail.

The fingers of his free hand brushed on your chin as he lifted your face for you to stare at him. He leaned ever so slowly, a small nervous smile coating his rosy lips whose colour matched the blush bringing liveliness to his face.

Time seemed to move terribly slow as his lids fluttered shut, seconds later it was your turn to close your eyes. Before you knew his lips were brushing over yours, his breathing fanning over your cheek in a tickling fashion that made you feel warm inside rather than making you want to laugh.

When he finally pressed his lips fully on yours it felt like you were melting, a tingling sensation travelled through your whole body and you squeezed his hand as tightly as possible.

It felt like years before he moved away from you, though you were aware that it must have been barely a couple of seconds. Just as you were pulling away, eyes still closed, his hand cupping your cheek, he spoke softly, “It would be something like that.”

A shiver ran down your spine when his breath fanned over your lips and before you even knew your lips were pressed against his once again. This time it wasn’t as awkward or stiff; in fact, he let go of your hand and moved his position for him to be kneeling. Getting closer to you seemed like his mission as his other hand gently pressed against your cheek that had begun feeling jealous of the warmth the other was receiving from his touch.

His lips moved against yours slowly and careful not to scare you away, for a second you could swear you tasted a tinge of the vanilla ice cream he had bought on the way home at the tip of your tongue.

This time as he pulled away you weren’t left with confusing interrogations that messed up with your mind but with a hammering heart that seemed to overpower the noise coming from the stereo.

“Or something like that,” Changbin said, chuckling to himself with satisfaction before sitting back where he had been like he had never once moved. But you could see it on the faint smile covering his lips that he was enjoying himself more than his timid hands were trying to show as they were shoved under the thighs of his crossed legs.

“I don’t want to go anywhere now,” you said in between breaths; he laughed right away with a warmness that reached your cheeks as well as your heart.

“I don’t want you to go either.”

The smile on his lips painted itself on your face as well; seeming to get out of a strange daze the music from the radio reached your ears with a newfound intensity that made you scared about possibly disturbing someone. That thought was left aside when you recognised the song playing, it was Friends will be Friends by Queen.

There were butterflies dancing freely on your stomach and a sense of comfort that made your heart sing. Laughing out loud you leaned towards Changbin once again; Freddie Mercury had no idea what he was talking about, because sometimes friends were much more than just that.

#kpop #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot #skz changbin #stray kids changbin #changbin fluff

[densi-mber]

Frozen, Part 2

A/N: Here’s the second part of Frozen. In the first part, Kensi and Deeks were trapped in the cold after hunting down some suspects. Deeks was also injured.

***

“Oh my god, babe, how could you not feel this?” Kensi asked, kneeling in front of Deeks with his shirt peeled up to chest. Fortunately the cut wasn’t terribly deep, but it was bad enough. Bad enough to have soaked through his shirt already.

“I feel it now,” Deeks said, yelping as she pressed down on the wound. “Actually, that really hurts. Stop poking it!”

“I’m trying to see how bad it is.”

“Well, your warm little hands are heating it up and now it’s burning.”

Her hands were anything but warm and his blood was actually starting to freeze on his skin and clothes.

“Ok, I’m going to put a bandage on this, see if you can get through to Eric,” she told him. She slipped off the small backpack which had a bare minimum of supplies, including a first-aid kit. She tossed an extra pair of gloves to Deeks while he called Eric and then ripped open a bandage.

“No signal,” he said a minute later, shaking his head.

“Damn it!” They couldn’t stay out here for much longer without any protection, especially with Deeks being wounded. She glanced at him, noticing that the tips of his ears were bright red and if she wasn’t mistaken, his lips were just the slightest bit blue. “Deeks, what happened to your hat?” she snapped, realizing that his hair was damp and loose around his face.

“I had to take it off cause I couldn’t hear anything and I lost it somewhere along the way,” he answered with a shrug. Kensi muttered under her breath, realizing how accusatory she sounded.

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” She grabbed his hand by way of apology, glancing around them.

“We need to start moving, Kens.”

“You really think we’re going to make it five miles in this cold?” she asked rhetorically. “And it’s only going to get worse in a couple hours.”

“No, I don’t think we’ll make it that far, but I remember Nell saying something about there being a bunch of old cabins around here,” he said with the barest of grins.

***

Have I ever-ah-mentioned how much I hate Iowa?” Deeks asked casually, pausing in between words to pull in shallow breaths. “We would never be in danger of freezing to death in Los Angeles.”

Despite his efforts to stay positive, the cold was definitely starting to get to him. His toes and fingers were stiff, although he supposed it was a good sign that they were still burning and not numb.

Plus, though he hadn’t dared mentioned it Kensi, exhaustion was starting to set in. His legs felt heavy and his abdomen somehow ached and felt numb at the same time. It was a disconcerting sensation.

“With our luck we’d get locked in an industrial freezer or something,” Kensi said with forced lightness, pausing in between words to breath. Her arms were firm around him, making sure he didn’t stumble over hidden tree roots and rocks.

“I think I saw that on a show once.”

“Cabin.”

“No, it was called Castle. You know, the one with Nathan Fillion where he’s a writer and-“

“No, there’s a cabin,” Kensi repeated, cutting off his tangent, and pointing to an area maybe a couple hundred feet away. Sure enough, there was a small cabin buried in a dense copse of trees.

“Fantastic,” he muttered. As they moved closer, it looked completely uninhabited and probably for some time, based on the piles of snow, debris around the doorway, and cobwebs in the windows.

Kensi cleared the snow away from one of the windows and peered in.

“It doesn’t look like there’s anyone inside. C’mon.” She shouldered the door open, which stuck a little, but eventually gave way with a loud creak.

“Very homey,” Deeks commented, shivering as they walked into the small space which was barely warmer than outside. It was pretty barren with jut a single cot and bare mattress that had definitely seen better days, a splintered cupboard with a couple pots on top, and most importantly, a fireplace.

“Sit down, I’m going to look for some blankets and firewood,” Kensi directed him.

“I can help,” he offered, feeling pretty stupid just standing there. It was partially his fault they were in this situation. If he’d been a little more careful, he wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. “The faster we heat this place up, the less chance we have of becoming popsicles.”

Kensi shook her head, already searching through the cupboard. She pulled out a box of instant potatoes and a can of beans and set them to the side.

“And the more you move around, the more you’ll aggravate your wound.” She turned back to look at him with another can of beans and Campbell’s chicken soup in her hands. The faded labels on both made Deeks think they’d been sitting there untouched for several years. “Are you saying you don’t have faith in my fire building skills?”

Her breath puffed out in a great white cloud as she attempted to keep her teeth from chattering. He could tell the cold was getting to her too, but predictably, she was ignoring it.

“I would never,” he said, dropping his backpack beside the cot. “Kensi Marie Blye’s survival skills are world renowned and-agh!” He’d sat down and his cut gave a painful, tearing sensation. Kensi spun around immediately at his scream, but he waved her off, ignoring the fresh gush of blood he felt seeping into his shirt. “I’m fine. I just sat down too fast. Did you find any blankets?”

She gave him a suspicious look, turning back to the cupboard, and pulling out some more random items before she made a triumphant sound.

“Three,” she said, throwing him a grayish bundle. “They look a little thin, but I guess it’s better than nothing. Ok, I’ll get some fire wood and then we’re bandaging your cut again. Don’t touch it until I get back.”

Deeks rolled his eyes at her instructions, which seemed a little ridiculous given the severity of said cut, but didn’t protest. He knew Kensi was worried and felt better knowing where he was.

After a few minutes, he stood up again and started pacing, trying to force some feeling into his legs. He tucked his hands under his armpits, singing “Staying Alive” to himself until his voice grew hoarse. Every few seconds, a blast of wind tore through the cabin and blew in bits of snow through minute cracks in the walls and ceiling.

Just as he was getting ready to go after Kensi, the door slammed open again, and she stumbled in with a giant armload of logs and branches.

“I found some wood,” she said unnecessarily as he rushed to help her. “There’s a shack about half a mile from here filled with chopped wood. I left another pile outside.” Her entire face was red and wind-chapped and Deeks wanted to demand she immediately get in bed and cover up.

Since that didn’t seem likely to happen, he brought in the rest of the wood while she was distracted with building a fire. By the time he finished, his hands were completely numb, his clothes completely wet and sticking to his skin.

As Kensi finished lighting the fire, he noticed her hands shaking uncontrollably, making her movements jerky and uncoordinated. She’d spent even more time outside, completely unprotected. She fumbled with the lighter a couple times before she managed to set the kindling on top of the logs aflame.

He grabbed one of her hands between his and rubbed them, wincing at the bright red color, and nearly white tips of her fingers.

“Baby, we need to get you warmed up,” he said, starting to get truly worried about hypothermia. Even with the fire, it would tale at least a couple hours before the cabin was warm.

“I’m fine Deeks,” she insisted, tugging her fingers from his. Ignoring his concern, Kensi grabbed her bag again, pulling out more first aid supplies. “Take your coat and shirt off.”

Deeks reluctantly pulled off both, knowing Kensi would probably freak out when she saw how much he’d bled. His shirt stuck a little, tacky with drying and frozen blood. He had to admit that the cut looked nasty with varied levels of dried blood smeared all around. As the cold air hit it full force again, it started burning more intensely.

Surprisingly, Kensi didn’t say anything when she leaned over him. She dabbed away the fresh blood with a couple cotton swabs and then tore open a packet of liquid bandage.

“Can you hold the edges together?” she asked. That sounded awful as far as Deeks was concerned, but he followed her directions, putting pressure on either side of the cut while Kensi squeezed the glue-like substance on in small incriminates.

“Ok, I think I’m fine with just bleeding out,” he groaned a few minutes later, the wound burning as the glue seeped in.

“That is not even remotely funny,” Kensi commented tightly. “Besides, I’m almost done.” Her hands were still trembling and a little clumsy. He didn’t comment on her technique though; if a slightly lumpy scar was the worst result of this catastrophe, he’d be a happy man. Kensi insisted on applying a cloth bandage just in case and then she was finally done.

“Ok, now we gotta get you warmed up,” he said as he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Kensi’s shoulder and then started tugging off his boots and socks.

“What do you suggest?” Kensi asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“There’s only one option.” He paused with a boot in his head and gave Kensi a serious look. “Naked cuddling.”

#densimber 2020 #densimber 4.0 #densi #densimber day 22 #ncis la fanfiction #Deeks and Kensi whump #by ejzah

[diamondcamefromhell]

Timeless love

Jaskier x female!reader part 4

[PART 1]  [PART 2]   [PART 3]

Summary: This is an AU, where Y/N is a young woman, trying to make ends meet with her freelancing writing job. She lives in her small Nottingham studio apartment along with her cat Apollo. Things change when one evening as she is waiting for her taxi, she meets what she thinks is Joey Batey, but the man in front of her is convinced he’s Jaskier, a character from her current favorite show. Y/N now has to figure out what to do.

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 2,124

A/N: first of all, thank u for positive reviews and kind comments on this story so far, again, it is kind of a slow burner, everything is moving slowly but this is what the story really is, as its taking place in our world, where no dragons or strigas exist and the biggest monsters are, well.. humans? ya kno

but anyways, any and all feedback is appreciated <3

I have to cut our loses. We spend a good hour outside, wondering around my apartment building. But we find nothing, not even a smallest hint of what happened to make Jaskier end up here. The bard stays quiet for most of the search, as I can tell he is still very much worried about me.

He only speaks when he sees a car pass by, as it startles him so much he immediately jumps behind me. I explain to him what it is, or try to, and he relaxes a little. Still flinching whenever a car goes by, though.

We rush inside, before Dave decides to visit again, as I lock the door. Apollo comes to greet us, meowing, but I ignore my friend, as anxiety washes over me and I can barely contain it. I know my companion feels it, as he glues himself to me, following my every step as I rush to the kitchen.

I see Jaskier sit at the couch again, not saying anything. I want to break the silence, but know my voice would shake, and I didn’t want to worry him even more. I throw some toast in the toaster, I will offer him a meal as an apology. I put butter and cinnamon on toast, bringing it to him. I set the plate on the coffee table, sitting down.

“I’m sorry.” I apologize, as the man looks at me. I can’t put my finger on it, but his expression makes me feel weird.

“Don’t be, I over-stepped.” I shake my head, pressing my lips together. I am willing to swallow a bit of my pride for this man.

“No Jaskier. I just… I made a promise. To the stars.” I close my eyes, scared of him judging me. This way, at least I don’t have to see it. “That I would make it on my own. Whatever that it may be. I don’t like it when people help me or try to be nice to me. Makes me feel… weak.”

“But everyone needs help from time to time.” There is no judgement in his voice, so I open my eyes. He gives me a kind smile, as Apollo jumps in my lap, purring. “You are helping me, does it mean I am weak?”

“No.” I say, biting the inside of my mouth, trying to stop the water works from leaking.

“Then why are you weak, if I help you a little?” I can’t answer that, so I just look down, at my cat, who is now napping, soundly. He has a point. “You’re being unfair on yourself. Allow me to say this, Y/N, even my great friend Geralt needs help sometimes. And he’s the bloody Witcher. It does not make him any weaker, if anything, it shows strength.”

“I know.” My voice shakes a little, as I wipe my nose. My eyes may be dry, but nose was runny. “It’s just, I prefer to be alone.”

“I used to say that.” His mind drifts far away. I cant help but admire how beautiful he manages to look. “But I hated nothing more than being alone.”

“I have Apollo.” I argue. He sighs, looking at me.

“Y/N.” He speaks to me like I am a child. We lock eyes, and I see so much care in his gaze, I want to run away. But I stay. “You need people.”

“Either way.” I say, ignoring him. I am barely holding back the tears. “Eat your meal. I have something to show you.”

I spring to my feet. Showing him moving pictures may be a good enough distraction for now. Introducing him to some of the great Internet, so we can avoid the sensitive topics. I look down to see my hands still shaking, so I rush to the bathroom.

There I see Jaskier clothes in a pile on the floor. I sigh, folding them, as tears escape my eyes. I turn on the faucet, making sure the bard can’t hear my heavy breaths and sniffling. It takes me a couple of minutes of crying to clam down. I wash my face, avoiding looking in the mirror. I stop the faucet and flush the toilet, purely because I am scared to go out just yet.

When I do, however, he doesn’t look at me, and I feel relieved. I rush to the bed, grabbing my laptop, soon landing next to him. Our legs touch and I feel the build up static shock me, so I jump back. He giggles, but I ignore that, opening up the computer, entering my password in a quick move.

One glance at him, and I see how mesmerized he is, my heart feels like it will burst. I take a couple deep breaths, wondering what I could show him.

YouTube and Netflix both were dangerous, as they could have his show on the main page, I still bite the bullet, turning the screen from his eyes, going to youtube. As expected, my feed is filled with recommended videos from Joey Batey. I stare at Jaskier for a moment, wondering if somehow he could be Joey, just very confused and lost one. But then I remember the Instagram story, and know I’m grasping at straws.

I search for cat videos, not sure what else to show him. What would interest a man who thinks he is from a fantasy world?

“Look.” I say, pressing play. It seems like his eyes are about to fall out as he stares at the screen, I giggle landing my hand on his. “Relax.”

“What is this magic?” I pause the video, pulling my hand away. Our eyes meet.

“This, Jask, is video. Moving pictures, if you will.” He still seems confused. “We have these things called cameras, that can take not-moving images of a moment, so you can cherish it, or can take moving things, like this cat video. There is even more, people create characters and stories and film them.”

“Do you have a camera?” I nod, putting laptop on the table, as I rush to get my Canon. I come back, turning it on. I decide to use the view finder. I sit next to him. “Here.”

“How do I use it?” He asks, twisting it around, before he begins staring at the screen.

I explain. Then he takes some pictures, of my room, me, my laptop and Apollo. I take some of him, and we even try to take some together, as we both laugh, trying to fit in that small space.

Then I show him some films. I start with my personal favourite and a classic – Titanic. Stopping whenever he get’s to confused, explaining things. We move to more and more films, only taking a break when we both get hungry.

I take the chance and sacrifice my wallet and order us some pizza, which he seems to like. He tries his first fizzy drink, Sprite, and at first he hates it, but I see him sip it more and more as the day progresses.

It keeps up for a couple of weeks. We spend days watching movies as he slowly learns more about the way my world works. We spend some of my savings as I order different take out, but eventually he helps me cook some dinner for us. He slowly, but surely adapts.

Until it all crashes down.

I go to use the bathroom, leaving Jaskier at the laptop. When I come out, however, he is on his feet, anxiously walking around. I stop, my heart dropping to my feet. I see Joey’s face on the screen. No, not his.

I see Jaskier. A video of him, in the tavern, signing.  

He probably went to YouTube And found a video of himself. And a whole lot of questions.

My gaze goes from the screen, to the man, who has stopped pacing, and now is staring at me. His eyes burn, as I see betrayal written all over it. I don’t know what he even thinks is going on and I don’t know how I can explain it to him.

“Jaskier, please.” I point to the couch, but he just shakes his head. I put my hands behind my back, so he wouldn’t see them shake.

“What does that mean?” He asks, as his voice breaks. I feel my heart shatter.

“Please, sit down.” I try to plea, my voice slightly shaky.

“Just tell me what it means!” I flinch at his yell, fighting back the tears. No matter how much it hurts me, I know that he was hurting so much more.

“I don’t know.” I say, and that is the honest truth. His shoulders hang low. “Jaskier, I don’t know.”

“I’m a character.” His voice fills with disgust, as a sudden rush of bravery washes over me. I step to him, grabbing his shoulders.

“You’re so much more than that. You’re here.” I plead again, forcing him to look at me. “You’re you.”

“I’m not even real.” He hisses, escaping my grip. I wrap my hands around myself, as I continue staring at him, as he walks around. Looking for something, anything probably. Wanting things to make sense.

“Then am I crazy and just imagining you? Dave saw you too, Jaskier.” I raise my voice, which makes him stop pacing. Our eyes meet. “You are as real as me. This world just isn’t yours. How that happened, I don’t know, and we will get you home.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There is so much hurt in his voice that I want to hide under my bed. Run away. Escape. But I choose to stay, for him.

“There is no easy way to say something like this. I don’t even know what this is!” My voice cracks, and that makes Jaskier’s expression soften a little. The storm is passing. “Yes, I recognized you as Joey because he plays you. But you are more than Jaskier we can see on tv. You’re more.”

“Y/N.” Tears escape and that completely washes any and all anger the bard might have had. He comes to me, pulling me towards himself, until we are in an embrace.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.” I sheepishly say, as he rubs my back. “Hiding it wasn’t right. But explaining this… it’s just unexplainable.”

“I can’t expect you to have all the answers.” I shake my head, as he hugs me tighter. I hear him sigh. “I’m sorry. I scared you. You were trying to protect me.”

“You had a right to be mad.” I say, as tears finally seem to stop. I wipe my eyes and nose to my sleeve, but Jaskier doesn’t let me go just yet.

“You’ve been nothing, but kind to me. You gave me a home.” He lands a kiss on my forehead, as my heart melts. “I should be thanking you.”

He now lets me go. I wrap my hands around me, as I watch him go to the laptop, give it one final look, as he closes it. My heart breaks and I know he probably will look at it more. When I leave him alone, or at night. He will hurt himself more but he will never show me.

Because he knows it would hurt me too.

“When you said who you were, Jask, I didn’t believe it. I’ve seen the show. That’s how I knew about Geralt and Yen.” I confess, as he looks at me. His face expressionless. “That’s also why it was so easy to take you home. It felt like I knew you. Because if you were who you said you are… I’ve seen you. You were already part of my world.”

“You liked me?” He asks, crossing his arms. I can’t help but smile.

“I did. You were truly my favourite.” That makes him smirk, but his eyes remain sad. “Getting to know you, only furthers that.”

“I want to watch the show.” He says, and I knew he would. I bite inside of my mouth, as I think about it.

“I can’t stop you from watching your own story, Jask.” I say, hugging myself tighter. “I cant try and protect you anymore.”

“Watch it with me.” Our eyes lock as my heart skips a beat. He seems so sad and scared.

“Of course.” I say, swallowing back more tears.

So we watch it. We watch his story unfold. I avoid looking at him during these eight hours, scared of what he may look like. After the finale, I pause the show before another one starts. There is silence between us as I finally look at him.

He has tears in his eyes, and for a second time today, I feel my heart shatter.

[PART FIVE]

~~~~~~~~~~

TAG LIST [if you want to be added or removed from this list, let me know <3]

@ultracolorfulnerdcollection ; @viyamystic ; @sleepyblossom ; @killjoy-acid-crash ; @halszka-potter <33

#timeless love #jaskier x reader #jaskier au #witcher au #slowburner #jaskier angst #not much fluff #but its coming #joey batey #kinda?? #its weird #idk what tags to use #either works #please enjoy #lots of love

[amenomiko]

What Being Like A Girl Feels Like

There's one time when the Warlords went to the future with MC, and every time he observed what the women in the future do, or what MC has been wearing on her face, or maybe even the curiosity when they talk about a women's multi task as a wife and also as a mother would be..

MC asked if he would like to try to be like a girl in a day. He be like "Meh / Nah / That's ridiculous." at first, but eventually he agreed when MC said "Oh well, it would be interesting to me on how you can adapt to it." with a shrug.

Nobunaga - Wearing a Bra

"Heh. Only this one piece of cloth? Alright."

"Wh- you want me to wear this plastic--"

He frowned to the fake silicon boobs that MC make him wear before giving him a bra to cover it.

"It's okay, just wear a mask or sunglasses, they will just think you are a-"

"Don't say it..!"

He were given a task to buy some groceries by MC. Hmph. Just a few walks away from her apartment, this would be easy........ It's closed.

Then he have no choice but to go to the town.... Closed.

Fine..! There's one near the station. He is glad he knows the way..! Closed.

"Why, me, the Demon King.. Has.. To.. Do.. This..!" He huffed with a gritting teeth as he take a breath when he walk up the stairs. Just how the women in this world manage to bring this heavy thing around their chest to wherever they go??

As he came back, he let out a long sigh of relief when MC helped him to unbuckle his bra and silicon breasts.

After that he hugged MC so tight, saying "I respect you." While massaged on the shoulder by her.

Hideyoshi - Heels

"Oh? Walk around this while I multitasking? Alright, this will be easy."

Not.

Everytime he move around, he will slip and fall. Slip and fall. Like a baby deer about to walk on its own legs.

He trembled whenever he move his feet, one after another.

"Hideyoshi..! I need help with this book- kya..!"

"M-MC?? WHAT'S WRONG??"

Despite trembling like crazy, he managed to move his feet into a quick pace. But halfway through, he is wheezing.

Just how those working women that he saw at the streets can run and walk fast in this shoes??

"M-MC..I'm.. Coming- OOF!"

He fell near the door, bumping on the door knob in the process.

Apparently MC let out a surprised sound just now because one of the books in her arms fell to the side when she tried to carry it.

That night, she dab a cold cloth on his swollen ankles with a giggle. "Hehehhe good job."

"...It's not a laughing matter ( T ʖ̯ T).." He rub his own swollen forehead.

Masamune - Being Pregnant

MC borrowed a fake silicone belly, a silicone that is specially made so it is heavy like the 3rd trimester pregnant belly.

"Oooh.. Not bad." He wink to himself in the mirror. "I look sexy. Heheh."

"Alright. Help me with the chores, I will be--"

"Go go, I'm doing just fine~~" He smirked to her, waving her off.

The moment she finally went on her way, he turned to the living room. "Okay..! Let's start. Oh."

He smiled to the pile of clothes on the floor. "I was very rough indeed 😏."

"Oof-"

He feels very heavy the moment he tried to bend down.

"Ehh okay, let's try that again-" He winced to the pain in his waist. "Oookay. How about this one- uh- wh- I can't see the floor-- gah this belly is too big-- wa--!!"

He rolled on the floor like a watermelon. "....Nevermind. I will just- oof! M-my waist..! Nnnh!" He growled in each and every movements. "Okay.. Phew..! I guess I will eat lunch first."

He didn't. It was hard for him to eat as the belly boink away his plate. Each time he move forward towards the table, the plate move further and further away from him.

Drip. Drip. "Ah crap..! The clothes outside--! Mmmf--" He tried to look down to wear the outdoor shoes but to no avail. "Dammit!!"

At the end of the day, MC find a gloomy Masamune in the middle of the room. She had to help with the chores, feed him dinner, and listen to his rants of how bad the day was to him.

"I swear I won't let you do all those stupid chores when you are pregnant!" He said it while hugging her tightly.

Ieyasu - Charcoal Mask

"I don't understand why you women wanted to ruin your skin with this.. thing that we usually use to make fire."

He sigh as he mumbled "You are more than beautiful, why do you even need this-- wh- I'm just-...!"

Both of them were blushing for a while, until Ieyasu covered it with cough. "S-so. I have to wear and wait til it dry and take it off? That's surprisingly easy. Fine."

As he applied the mask all over his face, (scrunching his face to how he look like), he wait and wait and grow impatient. "How many more I have to wait?" He grunts.

"Another 20 minutes, Ieyasu. Let it dry naturally alright? Don't force it to dry so much or else you will regret it later..!" She shouted from the other room, followed by a giggle.

Nope. 20 minutes? N O P E. He glances to the hand fan next to him and starts to fan his face. "Hmh what's there to regret for?" After a few minutes of fanning, he smirked to himself. "See, all is left is to peel-"

He couldn't take it off.

"....Shit..!"

"Ieyasu..? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine..! Don't bother!!" Shit! The moment he shouted back the pain gets stronger.

MC eyes widen when there is a lot of sound coming from the bathroom with "Shit shit shit shit fuck this shit shit shit..!!!"

She is worried. And so she stopped in whatever she was doing and quickly rush to the bathroom.

"Ieyasu, are you ok-"

He turned around with half of the mask peeled off his face "..what-"

"KYAAAAAAAAAAA OAO!!!!!! Ugh--"

She fainted.

"MC!!!!!"

That night, she has been sobbing into his arms with "I'm sorry uguu I'm sorry.. QAQ~~". "Shh.. It's fine.." Ieyasu has been patting her head to calm her down while the other rub the aloe vera gel on his red face.

Mitsunari - Lipstick

He observed on how MC applied her lipstick, asking "Wow.. What is this called?"

"This is a lipstick. Easier to wear than a lip gloss."

"What is a lip gloss?"

"This one. It's makes your lips glossier, except its like a lipstick in a liquid form. Want to try?"

"Okay!"

MC hand him a pink lip gloss and move to the other room after that.

So he apply and apply and apply. Layer after layer.

"Hehehe they won't realize because you are pretty like a girl..! Let's go, Mitsunari." MC grabbed his hand, didn't bother checking on his lips because to her it looks beautiful. Until...

She ordered a drink at the cafe they were having lunch for.

"Awww you look so gorgeous, Mitsunari--"

She sipped her tea and flabbergasted when Mitsunari revealed his PINK TEETH.

"PPPPPPPPUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!"

His face is showered with tea now.

MC? Choking on her meal and were rushed to the hospital in instant.

Not to mention the doctor nearly had a heart attack when Mitsunari explained to him what had happened.

Mitsuhide - Eyelashes and Mascara

"So you put the glue here.."

"Wait- Mitsuhide-- that is too mu-"

Too late, he already put it on. Upside down. He slowly opened his eyes and smirked to the mirror. "You women are so quirky. This looks... Unique."

"I would like to say thank you for choosing a kind adjectives, but you are the one who make it that way yourself."

"Now onward to this mascara thing-" He opened his eyes widely (nearly give heart attack to MC who mumbles 'That's not necessary actually... Hey did you hear me..?')

He accidentally poke his own eye. "Ahaha.. Ouch. That's kind of.. Hm." He tried again "Oh- hmhm not bad. This mascara thing is such a tease like you, little mouse."

"No, that is you."

Kenshin - Eyeliner

"Alright, I've done your left eye, now you do your right eye by yourself okay?"

"Hmh. From what I observe you doing it, this is easy."

Yeah right.

He applied, and applied. "This seems imbalance.." He applied again. "Hmm this is too short..." And "Hmm the 'wing' thing is too low--"

DING DONG! "Delivery~~!!"

"Oh, Kenshin~ could you get it for me? I'm cooking right now~"

"Hmh."

He put down the eyeliner, not bothering to check on himself in the mirror and so when he opened the door...

"Good morning, Sir, this is your packa- AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH \(OAO)/!!!!" The delivery man fainted, forming a foam from his mouth.

MC rushed to the door, "Kenshin? I heard a scream-- HOLY MOTHER OF EYELINERS--"

Imagine his left eye is pretty, while the other is like the make up of WWE Wrestler. Yeah, like that.

Shingen - Corset

"This is what you use to shape your body? My, my, goddess, I can always "shape" you whenever we have se--"

**SLAP**

"Anyway." He smirked to the corset in his hand (with a hand red mark on his cheek nonetheless), "Let's wear this shall we?"

"Oh correction. Who said that you are going to wear modern corset hmm (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)?"

"Eh ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)?"

Later.... Shingen were smacking on the sofa, wheezing from the massive tightness around his waist "M-MC..! H-HAVE MERCY-- *GASSSPPP*"

She pulled the rope so tight with a giggle. "Hehehehehe this is fun isn't it (ू•ᴗ•ू❁) ❤❤❤~~? This is how we became sexy, Shingen~ I bet you can't even have a bite of your dessert. I shall present this to Yukimura." (She made him wear the victorian era's corset)

"N-no..! Forgive me..! Anything but that..!"

Yukimura - Lace Panties

"Wh- wh- wh O//////O???"

"D-don't be ridiculous..! I won't wear this.. this.. Piece of... Transparent see through-- GAH!!"

"My you are not a virgin anymore but your way of saying is virgin, Yuki ( ͡°з ͡°)."

"Shut it stupid-- GAH DON'T STRIP ME! AAHHH STOP!!" He shrieked like a girl when MC stripped his pants and made him wear it.

"Okay, let's go..!"

He couldn't stop MC on time and now he is wriggling, blushing to the itchiness down there. "D-damn it.. MC..!!!"

"Yes?"

"Y-you.. Damn you..!"

"Psst. They will see the "shape" if you move a lot you know?"

"S-SHAPE?? WHAT SHAPE O//////O??"

"The line of the underwear, silly. Pffft. What do you think?"

"GUHHHH!!!" His face is hot and red like a red chilli pepper now.

Sasuke - Make up as a whole.

This ninja decided to surprise his lover with the most beautiful make up before she arrived back home.

But Boop!

Blackout.

Still, it's fine for him. He is used to the dark. He is confident he can do it.

First... Base primer.

And foundation. And Concealer. Blusher. Eyeshadow. Eyeliner. Fake lashes. And so on, and so on.

His ears perked to the sound of rattling keys. Thank god he's almost done.

The moment MC stepped into the apartment, the lights coincidentally turned on at the same time. "MC." He walk to welcome his lover excitedly to show his "make up".

"Ah, thank god the light is on agaAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH \(QAQ)/ WHY IS THERE 'IT CLOWN' IN HERE?? SASUKE-- SASUKE HELP!!!!!"

"M-MC it was me--"

"KYAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!"

She run out from the door, screaming, waking up the neigbors and that evening Sasuke nearly get caught by the police.

The very next week, he moved out.

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikemen sengoku imagines #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikemen sengoku Mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku mitsunari #ikemen sengoku ieyasu #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikemen sengoku shingen #ikemen sengoku yukimura #ikemen sengoku sasuke #ikesen

[cosmichoneyedblossoms]

Borderline

— Blinded Love —

Pairing: Sehun x Reader x Chanyeol

Genre: Syndicate!au | Smut | Angst

Word Count: 1,966

Warning: Mild language, smut, mentions of blood and a broken nose

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

You stared at them from the top of the stairs, Chanyeol’s mangled lip and obviously broken nose were caked in dried blood, congealed and cracked, “What in God's name happened to your face…?” You rasped, walking down the stairs.

“Nothing, baby.” Chanyeol laughed, nudging Sehun towards the living room.

“Why must you lie to me?” You sighed and walked past him to the closet. Once inside the small room, you reached up to the top shelf, grabbing a small duffel bag filled with medical items.

“Who said I’m lying?” Chanyeol watched as you toted your medical bag over to the vacant couch.

“You broke your own nose and jacked up your own face…?” Both of the boys could tell you were annoyed; who could blame you, it was three in the morning and they came home just to have you put them back together again.

“The guys were a little more heavily weighted than we were informed this time.” Sehun’s voice was rougher than usual, deeper, gruffer as if he had a cold or something had restricted airflow. Chanyeol came and plopped down next to your duffle on the couch, his exhausted eyes looked up into yours causing your heart to flutter.

“Let me get a washcloth to clean up your face…” Sehun watched you pop up from the couch and make your way to the bathroom; the red velvet pajamas clung to your shape, the hem of the shorts hugged your thighs in such a way that could be called indecent, but he didn’t mind it. He could tell that you had just woken up from the messy way your hair was falling from your loose bun, the dark smudges under your lower lash line from the remnants of your mascara that refused to come off—even like this, he still found you undeniably beautiful. Your eyes found Sehun’s caramel tinted irises through streaks of blood splatter against his warm skin, “Hunnie, are you injured anywhere?”

“N-Nah. I’m fine.” His eyes followed you back in front of Chanyeol, “I’m sorry we came to you like this though…”

“If you guys would’ve been careful like I said, we probably wouldn’t be here like this…” You padded away the dried blood that was stuck to Chanyeol’s face.

“It’s our job, Y/N…” This time Chanyeol took control of the conversation, “We just do as we’re asked, no questions.”

“What if they had firearms? You could be dealing with more than a broken nose and a fucked-up lip.” You pressed a little too hard against his nose which caused Chanyeol to quickly grab your hand, his grip made you hiss at the pain he was giving you.

“Ow, let go—”

“If you don’t like my career choice, you’re more than welcome to leave.” His eyes were tainted with something that wasn’t unfamiliar to you, but it was terrifying to you. Chanyeol was a strong man, a very powerful man, with the knowledge you possessed of his life you didn’t know if he’d let you go as easily as he says he would.

“Whatever.” You hissed tossing the washcloth to the side of him, “Fix your own nose, I’m going back to bed.” Sehun watched the rotten smirk that spread over Chanyeol’s lips as his eyes followed you to the stairs.

“Why do you have to do that, Yeol?” He asked and Chanyeol laughed while he grabbed the washcloth, continuing to clean the blood from his face.

“It’s fun to tease her. You know she won’t ever leave me, she loves me too much to really leave.” He winced at the pain the washcloth was giving him and Sehun couldn’t help but laugh.

“Teasing her will only push her away and as for your face? You got what you deserved.” He stood up from the chair and followed your trail to the stairs.

“Hey, where are you going?” Chanyeol hissed turning around to look at him.

“I’m going to shower? Is that a crime?” He hummed, ascending the stairs, vanishing from Chanyeol’s sight. Sehun’s thoughts dwelled on the words Chanyeol said about you, how you loved him too much to leave, and the sad thing is that Sehun knew that it was true. You’ve been by his side since the beginning of time, even before they were in the business they’re in right now, you were there—you loved him, but Sehun loved you too.

He walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light, his glare connected with his own reflection, his heart skipping a beat seeing the smear of blood across his paleness, the dark red stains on his shirt; splatters and smears over his arms and hands… were you used to seeing this by now?

“Want some help?” He didn’t even have to turn around to know that you were standing in the doorway with your arms crossed like you usually did, he could feel your eyes staring right through him, you always could see him for who he was.

“Nah, it’s okay—” Your gentle touch startled him as you turned him around to face you.

“Sit down on the toilet and I’ll assess and clean you up.” He knew you weren’t going to let it go so he sat down with a huff. Closing his eyes, he could feel your legs straddle his lap, the weight of your body sitting in his lap sent a flutter of butterflies to his stomach. While you whispered to yourself he was engrossed in the way your fingers traced his skin, the gentle pressing of your pads against his bones, the way you comfortably sat in his lap in the littlest of clothing not knowing how excited you made him, “Everything seems to be in order here…” Your weight left his lap, a quiet sigh escaped him as the sound of rushing water covered it.

“Shouldn’t you be taking care of Chanyeol?” You scoffed with the abrupt stop of the water.

“He can take care of himself…” You resumed your place in his lap and wiped away the crimson smears, the more you cleaned his face, the more apparent it became that it wasn’t his blood, “Not even a scratch on you…”

“I told you I was fine.” He opened his eyes to see you staring down at his chest, your fingers already working on the buttons of his stained Balenciaga, “Y/N…” You tugged the ends of his shirt from his pants and pulled the fabric from his shoulders, his body appeared free from injury. He grabbed your hands, the hems of his shirt slipped from your grip as your eyes flicked up to meet his, your gaze on him made his heart thrash in his chest; he wanted to kiss you, grip your body in his hands, feel all of you, but he couldn’t because of one person.

“Y/N…” Chanyeol’s voice filled the air and you broke the connection to look back at him standing in the doorway, “You enjoying yourself?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You breathed slipping out of Sehun’s lap to go back to the sink.

“Making moves on my dude while leaving me downstairs to take care of myself.” He passed glances between you and Sehun with a smirk on his face.

“You’re being an ass—” A yelp slipped past your lips as Chanyeol grabbed your arm and yanked you back to him.

“An ass?” He hummed, “The only ass I care about right now is yours ending up in my bed.” Sehun rolled his eyes listening to Chanyeol, “C’mon, baby…” He watched as he turned your body around, his hands traveled down your torso, long fingers slipping under the velvet of your shorts before pulling you out of sight. The slam of the bedroom door made Sehun sigh, running his fingers through his hair he stood up to fix his shirt, his mind taking its time to dwell on the radiating heat from the areas you graced with your touch. The scent of you clung to him like glue, the hints of honey filled him, notes of lavender calmed him, but the remembrance of your heat against his sent his blood crawling to one area.

“Fuck…” He growled, turning off the light, his aggravated footsteps hit the floor under them so hastily that he was sure they would break if he walked down them anymore; he walked into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, in hopes of being able to escape his thoughts, but Chanyeol made it to where he couldn’t.

He could hear everything.

From the thumping of the headboard against the wall to the creaking of the bed. What made it worse—he could hear your cries of bliss, the gasps of pleasure, your screams of ecstasy, he could hear it all. Sehun paced the floor, your moaning making it almost impossible to relax, making the ache in his pants more painful than it already was, “Fuck it…” He hissed falling back into his bed, his hands fumbled with the buckle of his belt, his fingers eager to help him reach his release.

“Fuck…” You breathed on the other side of the wall as Sehun gripped his length, he closed his eyes trying to imagine your body on top of his, his cock buried into your sticky wet heat, “Sehun…” The whisper of his name from your lips was enough to make him cum right there, but he couldn’t leave you high and dry. He bucked his hips up into you, your body shuddering in utter pleasure; your core wrapped around him so tightly he could’ve sworn it wasn’t his imagination, “I’m gonna cum…”

“Cum for me, Y/N…” He whispered as his hips rutted against his hand, his release dripped down his length as he heard your screams of your own release behind him.

Sehun padded the stairs that were stained with the suns early morning rays, the smell of coffee woke him from his light slumber. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he caught sight of you sitting out on the balcony, he got his cup of coffee ready and made his way out to join you. You looked to see him emerging out of the house, “Good morning, Sehun.”

“Morning, Y/N…” He sat down in the chair across from you, his hands lifted up the pastel green mug up to his lips, the taste of the cream heavy coffee spread over his taste buds, his body relaxed into the chair with his first taste of caffeine.

“You tired?” You asked sipping on your cup of coffee.

“Mm… not really.” He responded, sitting his mug down.

“I’m sorry if we kept you up… You know Chanyeol, once he gets started—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. He’s always been that way.” He tried to brush it off because he didn’t want to talk about it, he was drowning in guilt over listening to his best friend and the girl he likes too sleep together, he didn’t need to relive it, “So… where is he this morning?”

“Business…? He left after I fell asleep apparently because he wasn’t in bed with me when I woke up.” He could see your face fall as you brought your cup to your chest. The silence that fell around you wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but it was thick and heavy, Sehun wanted to just tell you to leave Chanyeol, but he knew you wouldn’t go for it.

“Guys!” The muffled yell from Chanyeol reached Sehun’s ears. He turned to see him scrambling to the balcony door and he pushed it open with a smile pasted on his face, “Pack your bags you two, we’re leaving!”

“Leaving?” You asked.

“What do you mean? Where are we going?” Sehun question and Chanyeol’s smile only grew.

“We’re going to Shanghai!”

#exo #chanyeol #sehun #exo imagines #exo drabbles #exo park chanyeol #exo park chanyeol drabbles #exo park chanyeol imagines #exo oh sehun #exo oh sehun drabbles #exo oh sehun imagines #oh sehun #oh sehun drabbles #oh sehun imagines #park chanyeol #park chanyeol drabbles #park chanyeol imagines #sehun imagines #sehun drabbles #chanyeol imagines #chanyeol drabbles #BORDERLINE #Exo chanyeol #exo chanyeol drabbles #exo chanyeol imagines #exo sehun #exo sehun drabbles #exo sehun imagines

[c0wgurlz]

Good Wood // E.D.

Hey guys! So this fic is a lil something special because I didn’t write it, my roommate did! Alicia @un--beau--jour wanted to try her hand at fanfiction and asked that I post it here for all of ya’ll to read. I am very proud of my roommate wife and hope you love her as much as I do. Enjoy <3

You slump into your seat, exhausted from the strenuous walk to your last class of the day. Sighing, you greet your classmates with brief smiles and take out your sketchpad from your bag. This is 3D art. You initially thought you’d be making intricate sculptures and expressing yourself through your masterpieces. But alas, this three-hour class consisted more of sitting through bland powerpoint presentations about shapeless, abstract art than creating anything of value.

In truth, it wasn’t all that terrible. There was one thing you did look forward to.

You hear a weak ‘hello’ from the doorway. Slyly, you shift your gaze from your sketchpad to observe the new arrival.  

Ethan walks in shyly, avoiding eye contact and sitting on top of a clay-stained desk at the front of the room. He sported a bit of scruff, dark hair and a never-ending supply of crisp black t-shirts. His long legs stretched in front of him as he took a somewhat awkward position on the desk. He crossed his arms and began announcing the class’s next project.

This was your professor.

He was on the cusp of 30, but didn’t look a second over 22. This was his first year teaching, and it was fairly obvious. Despite his shy demeanor, you sensed that he had another side to him. Perhaps a more assertive side, but for now he was playing it safe.

“For your next assignment, you guys will be working with wood”

This statement elicits an immature chuckle from yourself and your classmates. Ethan goes on.

“Today, I’ll be demonstrating some of the equipment available for the project in the woodshop.”

He motions behind him. Everyone begins to gather as he walks into the wood studio. I’d always been curious about the room’s extension and the strange machines within it. The shop smells of wood (no shit) and oil. Ethan rolls up his sleeves and runs his hand through his short hair. He slips on a pair of protective goggles and walks over to the first machine.

“Alright guys, this is the wood saw. You need to be very careful with all the machines in here, especially this one.”

Ethan painfully guides us through every single apparatus in the large studio. We discuss our ideas for our sculptures, the possibilities available to us, and the techniques needed to reach our results. After 3 hours of this, I’d feel comfortable calling myself a pro.

I hang back a bit while everyone else is leaving, eager to ask Ethan to approve my idea. I describe it to him and show him several sketches in my pad. He doesn’t say much, but nods his head attentively as I go on.

“Yeah. I think thats a possibility.” He says, “You might need to stay a few hours more once we get into it. There might be a few extra steps, but I like what you’ve come up with Y/N”

He smirks. “Just don’t get too ambitious with it, you might just impress me”

I look up at him, a bit shocked by the sudden flattery.

“Oh okay.” I chuckle faintly. “Thanks, Mr. Dolan, see you Thursday then.”

I finally head out, maybe blushing because of his words or perhaps because his eyes did not leave my back as I walked through the door.

It’s Thursday and for once, I’ve been looking forward to coming to class. Everyone is buzzing with anticipation to try out all the intimidating machines for the first time. We venture into the wood shop, led by Ethan. The class picks out our protective gear. I get left with the large, science lab goggles. Very hot.

I begin working on my piece; shaving the wood pieces, struggling with the saw and getting covered in wood glue. Everyone has left by now. It’s just Ethan and I left in the large studio. When I get in a creative groove, I don’t want to stop. As I am maneuvering my piece through the wood saw, Ethan walks up from behind me.

“Looking good Y/N!” He says.

“Oh. My piece? Thanks! I’m kind of having trouble with the saw though, could you show me how to cut it this way?” I respond tentatively.

He nods his head and I angle my piece to show him my current technique.

“It’s just not cutting the way I want it to,” I say.

He nods again, and steps closer to me. Ethan reaches over to angle my piece, I feel his body heat radiating from behind me as his chest brushes my back very slightly.

“You want to move it here, so you can cut in a curve” He points.

My breath jumps as he turns on the switch to activate the saw. Then, I feel his hands guiding mine as he shows me the technique. His fingers are rough and dry. This isn’t surprising seeing that he spends a lot of time working with wood. I’ve seen him working the grain, I’ll admit that his artistry is something to behold.

The saw buzzes loudly, I can hear him mumble something under his breath, but the noise muffles his words. He turns the switch off and smiles at me.

“See? Now you can do it yourself.” He says.

I want to answer with a ‘thank you’ but he moves his hand to the small of my back. I lose my ability to utter anything comprehensible. I can still feel his warm breath on my neck, and think that if it were anybody else, I’d be seriously creeped out. I can’t deny that his closeness has gotten me a bit hot and bothered. But why hasn’t he moved?, I shout in my head. Slowly, I shift my gaze to his. What has felt like a minute only really lasted a couple seconds.

“Here” He finally speaks, “Let me show you something that will help you with your sculpture.”

Intrigued, I follow him into the large supply closet. Considering how much he seems changed when it’s just the two of us. His demeanor is more confident, less awkward and more playful. I don’t mind it.

He points to several bits, which I can use to shave the wood down and create flow, he explains. Interested, I step closer to the tall shelf and reach to the top to pick one that sticks out to me.

“Careful!” He says, “Some of them are pretty sharp, I wouldn’t want it to fall on you or anything” Ethan chuckles. “It wouldn’t be pretty.”

I smirk in agreement. I gingerly reach up to pluck it from off the shelf. Ethan comes over to me and goes on to explain what I can use it for. Without lifting the metal piece from my hand, he touches my fingers as he describes its use.

“I think this is a good fit”, he says.

I look up. It is in this moment that I realize that his face is a mere inch from mine. He looks up too. His eyes meet mine and my stomach flips. I feel a rush of tingles climb up my chest as he steps just a bit closer. Our noses touch and I can hear his breathing accelerate.

Suddenly, my lips meet his and he responds immediately. I drop the bit and it clatters to the ground with an awkward ‘clink’. Ethan takes this as a cue and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me into the kiss. His lips feel as rough as his hands. Despite this, I deepen the embrace and fold my arms behind his neck. I slowly work my hand up to his nape and grab a gentle handful of his soft hair, pulling it slightly. This evokes a soft groan from him and his hand hold me even more firmly against him.

We pull away, both breathing hard.

“Oh”, I say. “I think I’ve been wanting to do that for a while”

“No shit Y/N, I have too” Ethan pauses.

“Yeah”, I chuckle. “Your flirting dropped some hints for me. It’s not like I couldn’t tell”

The sexual tension had been boiling between us for some time now. It was exhilarating to see it was reciprocated. I snake my hand up to his neck again, and pull him back to me.

“Shall we continue?” I question.

Ethan responds by kissing me hard and walking us to the nearest wall. He moves his hand from my waist to my ass, gently massaging my backside. His hands travel from my ass to under my thighs, grabbing my leg and lifting it up as we continue our embrace. I could feel him getting harder as we went on with our session, I teasingly grind my hips against his, eager to feel him fully.

“Shiit” I hear him whisper under his breath.

I slip my hands under his shirt, aching to touch his warm skin. He reciprocates by cupping my breast with his free hand, still holding my thigh up against his hip. I continue, gliding my fingers down his spine only to feel him shiver under me.

He presses me harder into the wall, which elicits a soft ‘oof’ from me. Ethan moves his lips from my mouth to my neck, nuzzling into the crook of it and gingerly biting the skin. I can still feel his hardening cock under his pants, and decide it’s time to do something about it. My hand travels downwards, grabbing him with purpose. He groans deeply, guiding his hips into my hand as I rub him. He continues to kiss my neck as I unbutton his pants at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Mm, why are you torturing me Y/N?” he moans into my ear.

“It’s more fun that way”, I tease.

Once I have him undone, I slide them down mid-thigh. I take a moment to admire his surprisingly toned legs, which had been hiding under his modest clothing for too long. His erection looks nearly painful as I pull down his boxers, a droplet of precum sliding down the length of it. I lick the tip of him, running circles around the head with my tongue. Ethan grabs my hair and pushes me into him. I look up at him. His eyes are closed and his lips parted. I stand back against the wall to face him.

“You’re not gonna keep going?”, he inquires.

“I think you’re far too eager to even bother”, I answer.

“Huh. For one of my students you’re not very respectful, are you? I am your professor after all.”

“Don’t remind me” I give him a coy smile, “But I don’t think you care much about that right now.”

He doesn’t disagree. I begin to stroke him, which certainly prevents further questioning. Ethan leans up to my ear and whispers in a low voice, “You’re not wrong. I want you now, and don’t make me beg for it Y/N”. I pull him in with an answer, “I don’t intend to, Mr. Dolan”. I take his hand and guide it down to my aching pussy. My wetness greets him and he groans in approval, “I think you’re ready for me too”, he moans. A rough finger circles my clit and I twitch with bliss. He glides a finger inside me, and then two, pumping them slowly at a delicious rhythm.

Ethan places one hand on the wall behind me and lifts my leg up again. Without much warning he pushes into me gently at first, and then with more intent. His cock throbs as he fills me. I feel him accelerate, moaning consistently as he thrusts. I run my hands up and down his back, scratching the skin with my nails. I can sense him panting into my neck, his hot breath reminding me of earlier. Ethan somehow presses me harder into the wall, uttering a “Fuck” under his breath. A warm, tingling sensation climbs from my stomach into my chest, I know I’m becoming undone. I start rubbing my clit, eagerly awaiting release. Ethan grabs my hand and throws it against the wall.

“Let me.” he says, as he replaces my hand with his.

His strength keeps me firmly hoisted up as he continues to pump in and out of me.

“I’m getting close” he mutters, his voice deep and raspy.

“Me too”, I manage to utter back.

Ethan moans loudly, “Shiit I’m gonna cum”. He presses his strong fingers into my thigh, curls the other hand into the wall and finishes inside me. It doesn’t take long for me to join him. I climax hard while digging my nails into his back. I manage a weak, high-pitched ‘fuck’ as I ride my high out.

He pulls out of me, still panting and visibly sweating.

“You killed my back Y/N” he says, and lifts his shirt and turns his back to me to show me the marks. Short, but deep scratches line his spine.

“Damn. I’m sorry! I got into it.” I respond.

He shakes his head and laughs, “Yeah, but it was worth it”.

I pull my panties back up and shift my skirt, agreeing with him in the process. Ethan proceeds to dress himself too and brushes his hair out of his face. He offers me a kiss and tells me that he could be up for this again.

“I wouldn’t mind” I blush, “But you cannot tell anybody about this okay?”

“I had no intention to, you know I could lose my job over this.” He answers.

“True, but it certainly was nice”

“Yeah, I have to say you did impress me after all” He laughs.

Very clever, I think. I could get used to extra wood shop hours.

#ethan dolan #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan smut #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan blurb #ethan dolan fluff #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan x y/n #dolan twins #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins fic #dolan twins fanfiction #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins smut #dolan twins fluff #grayson dolan #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins x y/n #i write

[laschatzi]

Just Another AU

I have really no excuse for this.

summary: Emma Swan has a stressful job and a demanding family, and sometimes she just needs to unwind. Killian Jones is always willing to help out when he gets a distress call.

word count: ~4,2k

rating: oh so very M

also on: ff.net and ao3

Emma Swan nods a thanks when the waitress places her order in front of her. Exhaling slowly, she can already feel a bit of the tension dissolve and seep from her shoulders, trickle out of her mind. She closes her eyes and blends out the cacophony of sounds in the dimly lit bar. A vague whiff of air brushing her skin and a familiar smell indicate that someone has slipped into the booth beside her.

“Hello, beautiful,” says a low accented voice.

With her eyes still closed, she smiles and pushes one of the two tumblers over to the newcomer before she finally turns to look at him. “Jones,” she greets back and reaches for her own drink, “pleasure.”

He smirks. “That you can count on.”

She snorts a little laugh and raises her glass to him. “I hope so.”

He tilts his head and touches his tumbler to hers with a soft, clinking sound. They both take a sip, and their stares lock across their glasses. Suddenly Emma finds the temperature in the room has risen a few degrees; not that this is a surprise to her – that's what Killian Jones does. That's why she's meeting him here regularly. She hums as the spiced dark rum warms her throat, leaving that familiar sharp sweetness on her tongue. Raising an eyebrow at her sound, he puts down his glass and slowly runs his tongue across his full bottom lip, a move that's always bound to glue her gaze to his mouth, and he knows it.

“So,” he finally drawls, “how... urgent is it?” The minute pause and the emphasis on the word urgent charge the air between them. Emma feels a blush rise in her cheeks and is very grateful for the dim lights.

“Why would you think it's urgent?” she replies with a well-practiced nonchalance she doesn't really feel.

“Well,” he tilts his head, “your voice mail sounded pretty distressed. Besides...” He lets his hand rest on her knee under the table almost casually and quirks his eyebrow again, “You're wearing a skirt and your legs are bare, and we both know what that means.”  

Despite the heat slowly simmering in her belly, she manages to pry her eyes away from him with enormous willpower. “I'm not distressed,” she contradicts, ignoring his last remark, “I just wanted a drink and some company.” Her fingers are closing around her glass in a deliberately slow, controlled move.

“Is that so,” he taunts and strokes the pad of his thumb along the curve of her knee. Automatically, her calf muscles flex.

“That is so,” she replies and raises the glass to her lips again.

“Then let's converse by all means.” He's not taking his eyes off her when he takes his tumbler in his other hand – actually, it's not a real hand, as Emma knows, but a prosthesis covered in a thin black glove. She feels the subtle heat in his gaze and the press of his fingers against her skin as he slides them up along her thigh.

“How was work this week?” he asks and swirls his glass slowly, watching the brown liquid intently.

“Stressful,” she replies and concentrates on keeping her breathing normal and steady, but the anticipation flowing through her veins is tempting her to speed it up.

“The family?” He raises his glass to his lips again, without looking at her this time, and she watches his Adam's apple bob as he swallows; but it's only a vain attempt to distract herself from the goosebumps spreading on her skin when his fingers squeeze her flesh under the table.

“Demanding,” comes her monosyllabic answer, and she gulps down her own drink impatiently.

He must have noticed some of her impatience in her voice, because he tilts his head to scrutinize her closely now and strokes his hand farther up her leg, his pinky finger resting in the crease of her groin.

“And your friends?” he asks almost casually and flexes his fingers to caress her inner thigh, his fingernails gently scraping over her sensitive skin. For a second, her eyes flutter shut, when she feels a rush of heat in her core, and she automatically clenches it.

“On my fucking nerves,” she answers in a strained voice, and he smiles to himself in obvious satisfaction as the mask of her nonchalance slips a bit.

“You seem indeed tense, Swan,” he comments and moves his hand to her pubic mound, cupping her through her panties in what feels like a possessive touch. She holds her breath and bites her lip, trying to brace herself against the next assault. Without further warning, he curls his middle finger and presses down on her clit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, and he chuckles deep in his throat.

“Easy,” he warns, “we don't want to draw attention now, do we?” He raises his glass to finish his drink and starts to lightly run his finger back and forth over her nub. “Do you need to... unwind, love?” His tone is playful, but when he turns to look at her again, the expression in his blue eyes and the devilish glint lurking in their corners are so lewd that they'd make her blush even without his hand between her legs. It doesn't help that she can see the tip of his tongue moving restlessly behind his teeth.

She inhales deeply through her nose. “Yes,” she mutters under her breath.

He smirks. “How badly?” he wants to know and changes the play of his fingers, massaging her through her panties in lazy circular moves. Unable to respond, Emma suppresses a whimper and curls her fingers around the edge of the table, her knuckles going white. He raises his eyebrows at her in question. “Love?” he prompts.

She flares her nostrils desperately when he applies just that little bit more pressure. “Very,” she manages to get out and lets her thighs fall more open to give him better access.

“Aye, that much is obvious,” he replies in a satisfied tone and quickens the pace of his skilled fingers while he leans towards her. He runs his tongue lasciviously through his slightly opened mouth and whispers into her left ear, “Your knickers are drenched.”

She closes her eyes, unable to focus on anything else than on the feeling of his ministrations. Her whole upper body stiffens while from the waist down she's squirming against his hand. Finally, she presses through clenched teeth, “'Tcha gonna do about it?”

“Hmm,” Killian hums, “obviously, there are two options. I can either make you come here, right at this table... like last time,” he adds in an amused tone and stops his moves for a moment to lightly pinch her clit before he picks up his massage again. She endures his torture silently and waits for him to present his other option. “Or,” he continues, his breath fanning hotly over the side of her throat, “we take this somewhere more private.” He's giving her his full arsenal and pops the 't' a little before he tilts his head and adds, “More or less private, that is.”

Emma forces herself to open her eyes and scan the room for observers, but no one seems to be aware that her date is about to get her off under the table. She's picked the darkest booth, and the other customers in this bar usually mind their own business; perfect circumstances for these trysts she indulges in when her daily life gets too exhausting and she needs to unwind, as he said. And with Killian Jones she has found the perfect accomplice, always eager and ready for these stolen moments, never asking questions when she calls and asks him to meet her here. The thrill in the danger of almost getting caught in the act creates just the right amount of adrenaline to make up for a period of exhaustion after particularly draining professional or familial tasks.

“Outside,” she demands breathlessly and bites her lip hard enough to feel the pain, a welcome distraction from the delicious hell he's raising with his devious touches.

He tilts his head. “What's it gonna be, love?” he inquires, still continuing to massage her and work more wetness into the silk of her panties, “car park? Bathroom?”

Emma swallows thickly, her throat almost too dry to speak. “There's a storage room in the back,” she all but pants, “it's never locked.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Excellent.” And just like that, his fingers are gone. She doesn't know if she should protest or be relieved. He slips out of the booth and motions for her to do the same, offering her his hand, always the gentleman. “Lead the way.”

She needs a moment to tame the tingling in her whole body and stares at his hand that has just been between her legs, doing unspeakable things to her. She snaps out of her haze when he wiggles his fingers. “Love?”

When she looks up at him, the expression in his eyes has fresh adrenaline and desire rushing through her veins, the heat and the predatory spark in his gaze speeding her heartbeat up anew. He cocks his eyebrows and tilts his head in an encouraging way, and finally she takes his hand and lets him pull her out of the booth. Drawing a deep breath, she nods as she walks past him with new found determination. “Follow me.”

Her legs do feel a little wobbly, but she has them under control as she traverses the bar, heading towards the door in the back that leads to the rest rooms, as a sign indicates. She pushes through that door, not even bothering to look if Killian follows her, because she knows he does, and strides through the small corridor behind it. When she walks by the two doors that lead to men's and ladies' room she blushes, recalling the memories of past encounters she had with Killian in either of those rooms, with his hand clasped over her mouth to keep her quiet as she was riding him in one of the ladies' toilet cabins.

A small door at the dimly lit end of the corridor is the one she's heading to. It's a small storage room where cleaning equipment, toilet paper, soap and other hygiene articles are kept. She grabs the doorknob and smiles when it turns easily. Quickly and without a noise, she pushes the door open and slips inside, Killian directly behind her. She turns the light on, and the moment the door clicks shut, she whirls around to pounce on him.

Emma shoves him against the wall, her hands immediately going to his belt in a fierce attempt to unbuckle and unzip him, while her mouth latches onto the scruffy side of his throat, right on the madly thrumming jugular vein. Not on his lips, mind you, because she knows from experience that kissing Killian Jones is a dangerous thing, very dangerous – and not a risk she's going to take. What she wants now – what she needs – is a quick, hard fuck, the dirtier, the better. Her clit is already throbbing for him, partly still from his earlier ministrations, partly in eager anticipation.

But he seems to have other plans, because he's stopping her right away with both his real and his prosthetic hand at her wrists, pulling her away from the waistband of his pants (she has already made quick work of his belt). Even though she groans in protest, he holds her almost at arm's length for a moment and makes a quick escape, whirling her around so that she's facing the wall now and he's behind her. A hard shove by his whole body against her back, and she's pushed against the wall, letting out a little surprised gasp at the sudden, very physical attack.

“Quiet,” he commands, his voice barely more than a raucous growl in her ear, causing her eyes to flutter shut as she feels him press against her from shoulder to hip. “Hands on the wall.”

She does as she's told and places her palms against the tiles while one of his legs is pushed between hers from behind. “Spread them.”

A shiver runs down her spine at his words, and she follows the order and shifts her feet apart. She knows this is gonna be good, while she mentally prepares herself for the sound of his zipper being pulled down and the hard grip at her hips to pull her to him, so that he can take her from behind – but that never happens. Instead, he leans heavily into her body with his pants still offensively in place, wraps his left arm with the prosthetic hand around her waist and murmurs into her ear, “That's a good girl.”

Emma has no idea what he has in mind, but she knows it's not what she had in mind, and patience has never been a virtue of hers. She protests, “But I need–“

“You'll get exactly what you need, love,” he assures in that damn cocky, almost arrogant voice of his, the voice that has been her downfall on various occasions. As if to confirm his words, he rolls his hips into her behind, and she can feel the hard promise pressing up against her ass. “But you're gonna come for me first,” he declares almost sternly and adds, “I know you're already wet for me, but I want you slick.”

And with that, he reaches around her and brings his hand to where it was before, between her legs, her short, flowy skirt not being a hindrance at all. He doesn't bother with any teasing but goes right down to business, massaging her throbbing nub with just the right amount of pressure and speed to bring her right to the point where she's been mere minutes before, like no interruption had ever happened. Emma presses the heels of her hands into the wall, but her knees are shaking uselessly beneath her; she knows her legs wouldn't be able to hold her upright, if Killian's strong arm around her waist wasn't supporting her.

“Please,” she pants and tries to push against his hand, hoping for him to thrust his fingers into her, but he holds her in place with his left arm and rubs her clit in a maddening pace now, and she almost sobs with relief when she feels her core start to clench rhythmically.

“Come on, Swan,” he coaxes, “I want you to ruin those panties for good.”

Damn Killian Jones and his dirty talking, gravelly voice. Her climax approaches so fast that her head is spinning, and for a moment she can't even process what's happening here. Unable to hold back her moan when he pushes her over the edge with one last stroke of his devious fingers, she comes with an insane rush into her panties. She almost collapses, but he wraps his other arm around her, too, and maneuvers her away from the wall.

“There you go,” he croons into her ear, “that wasn't hard now, was it?” With a firm grip at her waist and a swift move he lifts her on the edge of a steel table. “Now let's give you what you need.”

She's still panting, the blood rushing in her ears, and her inner muscles aren't done yet fluttering, when he steps between her legs and finally unbuttons and unzips his pants. Emma's senses are alert again, and she automatically licks her lips in eager anticipation when he lowers his pants just enough to free his erection from its denim confines. She props her hands behind her back and arches her spine to push her hips forward and meet him. Noticing her move and the impatience it betrays, despite her very recent orgasm, he smirks as he pushes her wet panties aside with his prosthetic hand and guides himself to her entrance. Oh yes, this is going to be quick, hard and dirty. She bites her lip and hisses when she feels his hot tip nudging inside and looks down, mesmerized by the sight of his cock, thick and hard and ready to enter her.

“I knew it was urgent,” Killian comments in a satisfied voice and nudges both of her thighs; she understands immediately what he wants and wraps them around his waist, ankles locking behind his back. “Hold on,” he tells her and grasps her hips firmly.

She braces herself for the ride and isn't disappointed when he snaps his hips forward fiercely and enters her in one smooth, deep stroke that has her gasp for air.

“Bloody hell, Swan,” he comments hoarsely as he starts to pound into her, “so slick and tight, just how I like it.” He sets a murderous pace right from the beginning, hitting home with every thrust.

“Keep an eye on the door,” he orders, “we don't want interruptions.”

It's ridiculous, because keeping an eye on the door isn't going to help preventing any interruption, really, as the door isn't locked or blocked in any way, but Emma knows that's exactly what he wanted to remind her of. It's part of the thrill.

“You like the danger, don't you,” he growls while he continues to ravish her so thoroughly it makes the blood sing in her ears, and the part of her brain still capable of remotely coherent thoughts whispers, open book. This man knows her better than anyone.

“Fuck,” she pants, and the bastard has even enough breath to chuckle.

“Exactly,” he replies, not less breathless than she is, “You like it when I fuck you on the bathroom sink. Or when I bend you over the hood of your car in the darkest corner of the parking lot.”

He increases the speed and force of his thrusts, and Emma feels a prickle start in the soles of her feet and goosebumps run from the base of her neck down her spine. She knows when the two waves of unbound energy will meet in her center, she'll just explode into a ball of bliss.

Killian reaches around her and presses his hand on the small of her back to pull her even closer and aims for the kill with his last thrusts and words, “Or when you drop to you knees in the back alley, begging me to fuck your mouth, where anyone could see you.”

She claws both hands into his shoulders and can't suppress a little cry when she comes again, and after two more final thrusts his hips begin to stutter in a rather uncontrolled way, and he follows her over the edge.

Emma collapses forward, her front slumping against his sternum, while she's grasping his forearms to steady herself. With her vision a little blurred and her heart still racing, she tries to breathe calmly but fails miserably, so she just gives in to the panting for a little longer. It's not like she's the only one; she notices that his chest heaves just as much as hers, the movements filling her nostrils with his warm scent spiced up by fresh sweat. After a minute or so she lifts her face to look at him and sees that his head is tipped back, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, as he obviously tries to control his own breathing and regain his senses. She smiles to herself when she sees him swallow so thickly that his Adam's apple bobs.

Her own mouth is dry, she has to lick her lips before she can speak. “That was...”

The sound of her slightly croaky voice seems to bring him back to the here and now (he has been lost for a moment), and he looks down at her for a second before he cocks his eyebrow and tilts his head with an infuriating little smirk. “I know.”

Emma snorts and slaps his chest with the back of her hand. “God, you're such a–“

“Gentleman,” he cuts her off and places a few tissues into her hand he's pulled out of his pocket before he takes half a step back and slips out of her, leaving an aching emptiness. “Always a gentleman.”

She shakes her head and snatches the tissues to clean herself just-so before sliding off the edge of the steel table. Just to be sure her legs work properly again, she steadies herself against him for a moment and lets go of him only when she's convinced she can safely stand on her own two feet. Finally she  shoves the crumpled tissues into his prosthetic hand after he's tucked himself away again and smooths out her skirt. Taking a deep breath, she walks past him without even looking, feigning a nonchalance she doesn't feel. At all.

Almost haughtily, she throws over her shoulder, “Don't follow me. Wait five minutes.”

Killian huffs an amused laugh. “Am I supposed to find some firewood in here, too, love?”

Hand already on the doorknob, she stops dead in her tracks and turns around to look at him. He's just standing there, legs slightly spread and thumb tucked into his belt, and throws her an almost challenging glance from underneath his raised eyebrows. After a few seconds, she lets go of the doorknob and walks up to him again with two long steps.

She stands on her tiptoes and whispers against his mouth, “I love you, Killian,” before she presses a longing, lingering kiss to her husband's lips. Then she smiles brightly. “See you at home?”

He runs his tongue through his mouth and tilts his head. “Oh, you will,” he promises.

With a pearly little laugh, she opens the door carefully, and, after a sneaky glance shows her there's no one in sight, slips out of the small storage room and returns to the main room. Traversing it without haste, she smiles to herself as she's aware of the vivid proof of her passionate tryst with her husband – dalliance, he would call it – between her legs; those panties are truly ruined, and the tender skin of her inner thighs is chafed from Killian's denim clad hips pounding into her. She feels sore and spent, but also alive and wonderful.

Looking left and right, she recognizes a few of the regulars of the Rabbit Hole, having broken up more than one bar brawl here over the last few years. But all they see is a short-haired brunette with glasses dressed in grey jeans and a black linen jacket, thanks to a well-practiced glamoring spell. It's an enticing game she plays with Killian from time to time, when the everyday life of a sheriff in a town with magic from multiple realms with fairytale parents and family ties that just make your head spin becomes a little too overwhelming and she just really really needs to blow off a little more steam than usual. It has started out as a silly post-sex afterglow pillow talk during which Emma admitted that having almost gotten caught once or twice by her parents had caused an insane, vitalizing rush of adrenaline in her system. She more or less joked about getting handsy in a public place, Killian challenged her that she'd never follow it up anyway, and two days later she lured him into the interrogation room in the sheriff's station with an excuse and gave him a blow job that left him wobbly-legged for twenty minutes. Without locking the door of the sheriff's station or the interrogation room. The thrill of the danger made her almost climax while she was vigorously blowing her pirate/law enforcing husband.

But on these occasions they nowadays indulge in from time to time, the stakes are higher, so she does use a safety net of precautions while still enjoying the thrill. The glamoring spell is a part of those, and their appearances never look the same. They haven't been caught once yet – even if a few times it was a close call – but if it ever happens and someone should witness a guy fucking a woman on the hood of a car in the parking lot or a woman riding a guy behind the steering wheel, the car better not be the sheriff's well-known yellow bug, and the couple better not be the sheriff herself and her deputy/husband.

Emma smiles to herself and heads for the exit with not even one single curious gaze following her. She leaves it up to Killian to pay for their drinks; he wouldn't have it any other way. When she's out in the open, she walks around the corner into the quiet side alley and then leaves the premises in the same way she got here before: with a little poofing magic. Killian will make it home soon, driving in her yellow bug glamored as an outdated Chevy – he's gotten better at it than anybody (himself included) ever would have thought.

At home, she immediately gets rid of her crumpled clothes and the ruined underwear and takes a quick shower, and when she exits the bathroom in her pjs, hair still damp, she hears Killian's footsteps on the stairs, and automatically, her lips pull into a smile.

#cs ff #cs smut #cs #captain swan #captain swan ff #my ff #just another au

[kawaiikink101-blog]

Titan’s Game

Chapter One

    The morning air was bone chilling, the sky visible of nothing besides the large gray sheet spreading across the terrain. Mikasa inhaled, both her nose and cheeks tinted in a soft pink. She gazed longingly at the tall trees surrounding her, caging her in as if trapped in some sort of earthy box. The gravel crunched beneath her feet, wet from the overnight frost. Her dark eyes traveled through the dimly lit forest, basking in the winter scenery. Mikasa sighed as she realized she had been out longer than planned, knowing the scolding that was waiting for her upon her return home. Despite the urging feeling to commence the lengthy walk back home, she couldn’t help but hesitate. The same thoughts running through her head as they always have on this day for the past three years. Will it be me? Do I have to go? What would happen if I didn’t show up? The chances of her name being drawn were slim to none. Regardless, there was no ridding herself of the itching feeling in the back of her mind. Sweeping her tongue across her chapped lips, she turned away from her hideout, connecting herself with reality once again as she made her way down the gravel path that would lead her home.

    It didn’t take long for her to reach the secluded area at the border of the small town and the large forest. The small wooden house lay a small distance from the others, adding to its isolation. A small stream of smoke arose from the chimney, creating a cloud of gray before dissolving and disappearing completely, having more take its place. She quickened her pace, not wanting to be any later than she already was. Her hand hovered over the door knob, unsure of whether or not she wanted to face her mother. No consent was needed when the door swung open, Mikasa backing away at the sudden movement. “I told you not to stay out too long. Now you won’t have time to shower.” The tall woman crossed her arms over her chest, the white apron she wore covered in some sort of powder. A small frown was set on her lips, strands of her dark hair framing her face. Despite the angry look she sported, there was no denying the woman was stunning for her age.

    “I’m sorry. I guess I lost track of time. Besides, I showered last night, I’ll be fine. I can just shower when we come back home.” Her mother sighed disapprovingly, moving from under the doorframe to allow Mikasa passage. The young girl lightly jogged past the kitchen, throwing a quick wave to her father who sat sipping from a small mug of coffee, eyes shut as he relished the warm drink. Opening the door to her room, she quickly shut it behind her, moving in the direction of her bed. A pale pink fabric lay across the white bedsheets; her dress for today’s event.

    Baring herself of the jeans and sweater she wore, she pulled the soft fabric over her body, smoothing it of any possible wrinkles. The dress reached her lower thighs, revealing her pale legs, toned from all the trips through the forest. It hung loosely around her body, the u-shaped neckline revealing her soft collarbones, and the small sleeves draped over her shoulders. Not much was left for her to do aside from her hair. Simply running her hands through the soft strands, she rid herself of any small tangles, quickly pulling her hair into a braid, starting from the top of her head, and descending to the tips of its length. Finished with her preparations, she tossed her clothing in the corner of her room, leaving it for her to wash later. Exiting the small room, she approached her mother who sat beside her father, admiring a small bundle in her lap. A red scarf.

    “Oh, Mikasa. You weren’t supposed to see this.” The woman smiled fondly, fingertips fondling the soft material. “This was supposed to be for your birthday.” Mikasa smiled, reaching for the black mary jane shoes by the door before slipping them on. Her mother pushed herself away from the table, walking in Mikasa’s direction, the red scarf in her hands. She smiled at the girl, looping the warm scarf around her neck, immediately warming her. “Thank you, mother.” Small wrinkles formed at the edge of the woman’s eyes, a bright smile lighting up her features. “You’re welcome, sweetie. Think of this as an early birthday present.” The younger nodded, watching as her mother ran her hand over her husband’s shoulder. “It’s time we go. I’m planning to cook a pot of soup later. Warm for any dry winter throats.” He nodded, running his hand over the small blond hairs on his chin. Standing from the table, he followed both girls to the door, adjusting the cuffs on his plain long-sleeved shirt. The three exited the warm house, following the gravel trail through the town, passing houses where either both parents and their children were departing, or houses where the children walked alone, their parents seeing them off from the doorway.

    All those walking along the trail had yet to say a word, the silence screaming more than the gravel crunching beneath their shoes. Mikasa bit her lip, clenching her hands as a sudden wave of butterflies swarmed her lower stomach. Sensing her distraught, her father’s warm hand engulfed her own, and he offered a smile. Though more a grimace, for no one dared smile under these circumstances. The three continued walking until they reached the center of the town, stopping just before evaluations. “You’ll be okay, Mikasa. There’s no need worry.” Her mother’s soft voice slightly calmed her nerves, but not enough to relieve the itching feeling in the back of her mind, which never seemed to cease. She nodded, glancing at the line behind the small desk. A gentle hand was placed on her cheek, pulling her attention. “You’ll be just fine. There is almost no chance of you being selected.” Her father assured, squeezing her shoulders when she nodded.

    “Stand in line. You know the routine.” Sadly enough, she did. This wasn’t anything new to her, it was her third year in a row, nothing had changed. The closer she was to her turn, the more nervous she became. Though she didn’t understand why, for she had never felt nervous the previous times. What was the difference today? “Name please.” One woman asked, boredom laced in her voice. “Mikasa Ackerman, fifteen years old.” She whispered. Glancing from the papers in her hand she nodded in conformation before waving her through, another woman pushing her forward, following a group of teenagers. All around her people were rushing to their places, some nearly knocking each other over. Managing to reach a line of girls her age, she stood beside them, quietly staring at the floor as others attempted to make conversation, hoping to lighten the mood.

    Soon, all movement died down, silence falling upon the town. A few seconds passed before someone cleared their throat, the sound projecting through the large speakers in the corners of the area. “Welcome to the annual celebration that is, The Titan Games. My name is, Hanji Zoe, district twelve’s escort. As usual, today we will be drawing a random name from both the girl’s selections and the men’s.” Mikasa watched the tall brunette, swallowing nervously. “I’d like to quickly welcome our mentor, Erwin Smith.” The woman gestured to the tall blond man, a poker-like expression on his face. “Now. The time has come to choose from our pool of female contenders.” With quicker movements than most would have liked, Hanji approached the large glass container, reaching in to stir the small slips of paper, and retreating with one in hand. She gracefully crossed the concrete floor, positioning herself before the microphone once again. Unfolding the slip of paper, she took a deep breath, everyone’s hearts hammering against their chest as they awaited the results.

    Once again, the butterflies appeared, a wave of heat coursing through Mikasa. Her body trembled as she listened carefully along with the others. It didn’t take long before the silence was broken, the butterflies coming to a stop, and a sinking feeling nestling into her lower stomach. “Mikasa Ackerman.”

    Nobody spoke, nobody moved. All waiting to see the young girl who would walk up the stage in mere moments. Mikasa’s entire being trembled and she found it hard to control the moisture that flooded her eyes. Without making a noise, she stepped forward, all eyes following her. She gulped, her saliva feeling as if it were glue in her throat. Continuing the never-ending walk to the stage, she kept her gaze to the ground, not daring to look up and see the pitiful faces of those surrounding her. As she stood at the foot of the steps, a hand reached for her. Hanji. “Come on, honey.” She placed her hand in Hanji’s, allowing herself to be pulled along, ushered to the middle of the stage, as if on display for everyone to see. “And now for the men.” Mikasa sighed, eyes wide with disbelief that this woman could so easily move on from what had just taken place.

    Hanji did as before and returned with a small slip of paper, inhaling as she unfolded it. “Interesting. No last name provided, must have been a typo.” Her dark brows furrowed, confused with the missing information. “Levi.” Although there was no clarification as to who this was, a boy of average height stepped forward, dark bangs covering his face. His dark eyes held no emotion, almost as if unaffected by the news. Mikasa had recognized the boy from school. He was the type to ignore most people, and though she didn’t know him personally, she did know that the upperclassman had quite the reputation for being cold and distant. He strode across the gravel, walking up the concrete steps to stand beside Hanji. Pursing her lips, the tall brunette nodded, looking out to the crowd once again. “Please welcome, this year’s contestants of the annual Titan Games, district twelve’s very own, Levi and Mikasa Ackerman.”

    Looking through the large crowds, Mikasa could distinguish two faces. Jaws slack and eyes wide, the image was forever burned in her mind as she was yanked off the stage.

A/N: It’s finally here!!! My second RivaMika series that I am beyond proud of. This entire series is based off The Hunger Games because I love that series and thought it would be kind of cool to make a crossover. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it and stay tuned for the second chapter.

#rivamika #rivamika fanfiction #levi x mikasa #levi #mikasa #levimika #Rivamika series #my series #rivamika fluff #rivamika smut #rivamika angst