#two minutes later he goes i thought you said you were writhing this funny thing for slipknot but the next work out of your mouth was asault

[arrowflier]

I wish you would write a fic where the gallaghers + kev & vee find out about ian's 87% comment and they all give their opinions and ask why mickey, ian's husband who's been a part of ian's life for nearly eleven years only gets 87% of his heart, if the other 13% goes towards his toxic exes and why since they're not in his life anymore, ian explaining himself and ends with ian taking the comment back so mickey has 100% of his heart

I decided this was perfect for Gallavich Week Day 5: Fix-It! Thanks as always to @gallavichthings for hosting💖. Also on AO3.

Eighty-Seven Percent (Anatomy of a Heart)

It was a normal morning in the Gallagher kitchen.

That is to say, it was chaotic.

Carl and Liam sat across from each other at the narrow table, tossing dry loops of off-brand cereal at each other over Franny’s backpack, which lay open between them. The girl herself was running circles around them both in her pajamas, Debbie chasing after her with a stern face and a frilly dress held in outstretched hands.

“Come on, Franny,” she muttered impatiently as her daughter evaded her again by diving under the table, “just put on the dress!”

Mickey laughed when Franny ran to him instead, trying to hide behind his legs where he stood by the brewing coffeemaker. Ian ruined her attempt by swinging her up into his arms and twirling her around until Debbie snatched her from him, resulting in an angry shriek as Franny writhed in her hold.

“For fuck’s sake, keep it down in here!” Lip hissed, coming in from the living room where Tami had just gotten Fred settled in his play pen. “If you get Fred crying again, I swear I’ll fucking end you all.”

If anything, the kitchen got louder as everyone there chimed in in their own defense.

Mickey just snorted as he grabbed two mugs and got to pouring the fresh coffee. “Good luck with that,” he offered to Lip, amused. “You get one Gallagher going, you get the whole fucking pack.”

Lip glared at him, opened his mouth the say something undoubtedly scathing and most likely regarding Mickey’s place in the family, when Carl laughed and chimed in from the table.

“Funny, man, that’s what Trevor said to me and Ian at the station yesterday.”

The room went quiet.

Or maybe it just seemed that way to Ian, who could see the way his husband’s back immediately tensed at the familiar name, the way he gripped the handle of his mug a little too tight and poured the coffee a little too high before setting down the pot with a hard clack.

“Trevor, huh?” Mickey asked, voice deceptively mild, and Ian winced behind him.

Carl didn’t get the memo.

“Yeah, you remember him, right?” he checked. “He still works at that youth place, came in to post bail for some kid when Ian was bringing by lunch.” He shrugged, tossed a handful of cereal into his mouth. “We chatted a bit,” he mumbled as he chewed.

Mickey gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles going white under his tattoos. “Funny,” he said quietly, “Ian didn’t think to mention that.”

Ian sighed, ignoring the eyes of his family on their quickly unfolding drama. They’d been fighting a lot lately, a lot more than they used to, and today had been shaping up to be better, damn it. Now he had to do damage control again instead of enjoying a quiet day in with his husband.

“We’ve talked about this, Mickey,” he started, a tad bit exasperated. It must have come through in his voice, because Mickey’s shoulders went up. “Trevor’s not a bad guy, and I’m not gonna avoid him if I see him around.”

Mickey released the counter to grab his coffee again, taking a long, scalding swallow. “Right,” he said finally, not looking at Ian. “Not a bad guy at all. Just wanted to leave your ass rotting in jail when you couldn’t be his poster boy anymore, that’s all.”

“Mickey…” Ian warned, but it didn’t stop him.

“Tell me, Ian,” Mickey mused, turning to face him with hard eyes. “How much of that thirteen percent belongs to him?”

Fuck. Not that again.

“Wait, what’s he talking about?” Debbie was the one to ask first, voice cutting through their palpable tension. She’d even stopped trying to force the dress over Franny’s head in the interim, allowing the girl to escape up the stairs unscathed. “What thirteen percent?”

“Oh yeah, he told me about that,” Lip butted in. “Said Mickey got all bent out of shape cause Ian still thinks about his exes, or something, right?”

Ian closed his eyes against the hurt in Mickey’s as his brother revealed that he knew about their squabble. Fuck his family right now, seriously.

“Not quite,” he gritted out, but when he opened his eyes again, Mickey had schooled his face back into disinterest.

“No, that’s just about it,” Mickey confirmed. “Got my nose out of joint because Ian, here,” he gestured at Ian with his mug, ignoring the hot coffee that splashed over the side, “said I only got eighty-seven percent of his heart.”

Someone whistled, low and long. Ian couldn’t tell who.

“It’s not that big a deal,” he insisted yet again. “My whole life is a fucking shrine to you, Mick. If my heart was a room, there’s be posters of you on every fucking wall.” He took a step closer, until Mickey’s mug pressed into his own chest, leaving a wet spot on his shirt.

“You really can’t let the others have a little space in that room? Not even in the bottom drawer of a dresser that nobody uses anyway?”

Mickey was still, and silent. Then he spun around and slammed his mug back down on the counter, shoved past Ian, and stormed off up the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Ian called after him.

“To clean out the goddamn drawers!”

It was quiet in Mickey’s wake, and then—

“Dude, that’s fucked up,” Carl said frankly, and Liam nodded in agreement, eyes wide.

“Did you really say that?” Debbie asked, sounding horrified, and before Ian could answer the back door slammed open.

“Morning neighbors!” Vee greeted as she came through, Kev on her heels. She was holding something, a dish covered in foil, and a carton of juice hung from Kev’s hand.

“We brought you guys some…” Vee trailed off when no one even looked at her, noticing the tension in the room.

“Uh,” she voiced, confused, “what did we miss?”

Carl answered, still looking at Ian in disbelief. “Ian told Mickey he keeps stuff from his exes in a drawer, so Mickey’s up there looking for it.”

“Oh, that’s cold man,” Kev breathed, and Ian exhaled.

“It was a metaphor,” he muttered, and Vee heard him.

“A metaphor for what?” she asked, curious.

“For the thirteen percent of Ian’s heart that belongs to other people,” Debbie revealed, and Vee set down her dish with a clatter.

“You said that to him?” she clarified, and at Ian’s reluctant nod, shook her head and turned to Kev.

“You ever say shit like that to me,” she said firmly, “I’ll cut off thirteen percent of your dick.”

—

A few long minutes later, after he had finally escaped his family’s inquisition about the state of his relationship, Ian made his way upstairs, alone.

When he got to their bedroom, Mickey wasn’t actually going through their things. He was just sitting on their bed, back to the wall, spinning his wedding ring round and round on his finger. Next to him, balanced on their folded blanket, sat the little box with the fancy ones they used in the ceremony just so they wouldn’t have to take theirs off.

Ian’s heart beat harder. That box had been sitting safe in the bottom drawer of their shared dresser.

The one that nobody used.

“Hey,” he said softly from the doorway. Mickey didn’t look up.

“You okay?” Ian asked, and that at least got a response.

“Do I look fucking okay to you?” Mickey returned, eyes on his knees.

He didn’t. Not really. He looked haggard, and upset, his hair spiky where restless fingers had combed through it. Ian couldn’t see his eyes, but he had a feeling they were rimmed in red.

Ian let himself into the room, sat opposite Mickey on the bed with his feet still firmly on the floor. He reached out to trace a finger over the rings in the box, and then the ring on Mickey’s finger.

Mickey let his own hand fall away when he did.

“You know that’s not how I meant it, right?” Ian asked, suddenly desperate to hear Mickey agree. He needed to know that Mickey understood, that just because he remembered his past, it didn’t mean he wasn’t dedicated to his future.

But Mickey just shrugged.

“Not a lot of ways you can mean it,” he said, and shit. Ian had really fucked up this time. “Either I have your whole heart or I don’t,” Mickey continued, “and I don’t. So,” he shrugged again, “whatever.”

Ian took a moment. A long one. He thought of Mickey’s reaction the first time he had said it, when he was mostly just teasing. The way he had been shocked to think that Ian still had fond thoughts for other men. And he thought of his family downstairs, each one more fucked up than the last, all in agreement over the severity of his error.

And to be honest, he still didn’t quite get the uproar. But maybe that was because none of them got his side, either.

“You’re right,” he began, “you don’t.”

Mickey tensed further, pulling away from him on the bed, but Ian wasn’t done.

“You have all the good bits, you know,” he continued. He went to rest a hand on Mickey’s chest, saw his stiffness, and pointed at his own instead.

“You have all four chambers,” he told him. “Atrium and ventricle. You keep my blood moving, keep it useful, keep me alive. And you have my valves,” he added, trailing a finger side to side to point to the right spots as he spoke. “Mitral and aorta, pulmonary and tricuspid.” He smiled. “You keep me going in the right direction.”

Mickey was softening, he could tell, the tension seeping from his limbs as Ian droned on. He kept going anyway.

“You have all my arteries, Mick,” he whispered. “You’re in all my veins. You said I was under your skin, once?” Ian laughed. “Well you’re under my skin, too. And in my muscles, and in my blood.”

“And the others, they’re like…” he hesitated, searched for the right words. Better words than he had used before. “They’re like cholesterol,” he settled on, “plaque. Or…like the scar tissue from a triple bypass, the parts that don’t work anymore.”

Mickey’s lips quirked, despite himself, and Ian counted it as a victory.

“You have a lot a heart surgeries, Gallagher?” he questioned softly, catching on.

Ian smile widened, and he reached out to take Mickey’s hand. This time, Mickey didn’t pull away.

“Maybe a few,” he admitted. “And maybe I’m better for it.”

He lifted Mickey’s hand to his lips, held it there.

“I don’t mind the broken bits,” he told his husband. “The pieces they left behind. Because you pushed through them every time, and made me healthy again.”

Mickey fidgeted, and nudged himself off the wall to settle closer to Ian’s side.

“Alright,” he allowed, “I get it.”

“Do you?” Ian asked earnestly. “Because I want you to, you know.” He dropped Mickey’s hand to hold his face instead, gently stroking a thumb over his cheek. “I want you to know that that thirteen percent, it doesn’t really matter. All that matters are the parts that are you.”

"I chose you, Mickey," he murmured. He reached out blindly for the spare rings in their box on the bed, worked one free. Slipped it onto Mickey's finger without looking away from his eyes. Mickey's hand clenched around it, around Ian's hand, and held tight.

"I married you," Ian added. "Because I love you with every real part of my heart, every little bit that works."

“All eighty-seven percent?” Mickey prods with a soft expression, leaning forward until his nose brushes Ian’s.

“All eighty-seven percent,” Ian confirmed, and kissed him.

#daily speedwrite #gw2021 #fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #fix-it #gallagher family #albeit briefly

[mirukostallbabygirl]

BNHA boys after passing No-Nut-November

Yeah. It’s what it sounds like. Prepare to have your backs blown out folks 😌🤚

Characters: deku, denki, Kirishima, Aizawa, Hawks, Mirio

All characters are 18+

Warnings: Cockwarming, Overstimulation, rough sex, phone sex

Deku ~ Izuku Midoriya

Dude was literally DYING all of November

Because now that he has a girlfriend why wouldn’t he have sex??

But you seemed excited and suspicious of his ability to do it, so— like a true hero— he took on the challenge

He didn’t realize how used to sex he already was, and he sometimes woke up to himself humping a pillow in his sleep (but shh he didn’t tell you about that)

The two of you were texting during the night of November 30

And you could feel the desperation in his texts

Seeing the minutes tick by... 12:30... 12:45... 12:5

It was maddening

He didn’t want to come on too strong, so he decided that he would rather FaceTime you, because he though it would be less awkward (and there aren’t receipts if you say no)

But you were one step ahead of him

You had your alarm set to go off at 12:00 AM December 1st

He was startled when the annoying chime blasted out of your phone, stuttering on what he was saying

So you cut him off, turning your screen to show the time and asking “hey baby, do you want to come over?”

This mans eyes SPARKLED LIKE A KID ISTG

He didn’t even reply. You just saw a shaky view of his room and the sound of shuffling clothes and shoes, then the click of a door lock

He showed up at your door a few minutes later, after having hung up without another word on his way there

You opened the door and there were lips on yours, strong arms gripping your waist

Then groping your tits and ass

He never goes insanely hard

But that was the roughest sex you two had ever had

It honestly made not being able to have sex with him worth it for the absolute monstrous fuck you guys had

And it was a LONG session

You thought about calling in sick from work to stay with him and see if you could make your torn-apart body go for another round

Denki Kaminari

He gets zappy when he’s horny (like— literal electricity)

And he’s horny a lot because you refuse to let him have sec with you, and even worse— he can’t even Jack off to the thought of you

He tried to get away with it a few times only for you to feel the change of static in the air and come to his bedroom

He DEFINITELY would not have made it through if you hadn’t held him accountable the whole time

And even though at those times you were helping, you weren’t making it easy for him otherwise

You’d wear the short skirts that he liked and purposefully bend over to grab things from the floor, flashing yourself to him

It was funny to see how red he got and then how hard he got— smirking when you caught a glimpse at the tent in his trousers

So on November 30, he had it all planned out

He picked out an outfit for you, and set up his room all elegant

And he asked you to come over to spend the night

You were excited

It’s not like the two of always had sex impromtu, but there was never this level of preparation

You came in around 11 for a late-late night dinner (because what’s a sleep schedule— neither of you knew, that was for sure) of boxed macaroni

His lack of cooking ability was endearing

After dinner, he handed you a bag to go change into

It had thigh high socks, thigh harnesses, and a black and gold lingerie set

You looked hot— you couldn’t lie

When you came out you saw that the clock read 11:57

And Denki turned around, turning a bright crimson

You teased him “you picked this out, silly, why are you getting so flustered?”

He pulled you down to straddle despite how red he got

The two of you kissed until the clock hit 12

And it wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t kissed all month, but it felt special when you’d be intimate for the first time in a while

He brought you to the bedroom and the two of you spent a whole 3 minutes being romantic before both of you were ravaging each other

It was hard to tell who missed sex more between the two of you

But you were both relieved it was over

Red Riot ~ Eijiro Kirishima

During all of November, he decided that whenever he was missing your body, he would train

And he did OH HOW he did

He was big and strong and he’d taken on extra hours to work on his hardening quirk, and had shown a lot of improvement

You suddenly had to cope with the fact that your boyfriend got EVEN HOTTER, and you weren’t having sex with him

You even gave in a few times, begging him to fuck you, but every time he denied, “that’s not very manly of me to fail the challenge” he would explain and then head out to the gym

It’s fair to say that it sucked for you

So when November was ending, you made a plan

He worked long hours at his agency, so he wouldn’t be back until it was almost 12, which (you being the night owl you are) has never been a problem

But it was today

So, here you are at his agency, rapping on his office door during his lunch break

He hugged you and pulled you inside of his office like he’s done every day you showed up at his office since you started dating

But you were horny and so was he and the tension was high between the two of you

No one wanted to make the first move, because that would be admitting defeat

So you walked to the side of his desk, his eyes following your ass, and bend down to grab his lunch from the left drawer

You hiked your skirt up enough so that he could see a flash of your panties

You weren’t going to make this last day easy on him, but you weren’t trying to make him lose either

But he was on you after that

Hands on your hips, cock pressed against your clothed ass

And you were so in

You both lost your stubbornness quickly when the lust grew too hard to handle

So you let him pull your panties to the side and start thrusting

God you missed this

And he was so much stronger now

You let out moans as he co tinued, not caring if anyone out in their cubicles heard

You were Red Riot’s and he was yours

You both came, multiple times

And when he relaxed back on his desk chair which you collapsed on his chest

You decided to make the final blow

“You realize you lost, right babe?”

And deep red eyes met yours with a seriousness rivaling that of some prestigious heroes (which was hardly eijiro— everyone loved him as a refreshing kind savior rather than the usual aloofness of heroes)

“I could keep going if you want to be a brat.”

Eraser Head ~ Shota Aizawa

He’s not a very sex-motivated guy

But he definitely liked it every once in a while— especially with you

His baby girl struggling to take him, writhing in pleasure, cumming 2,3,4 times

He loves it

And he decides that he’ll still get to see his baby get pleasure, and just not get any of his own

So most of the month, if you were in the same room as him, you had a vibrator buried deep in your cunt

It didn’t feel the same as him feeling you up, but it was hard to sit still or focus when he was indirectly doing such lewd things to you

So November was long for you

And not in a bad way, but you were ready for it to be over, and you could tell he was, too

He was near his wits end from not getting to unload into his little girl, and it reflected on his teaching

You wondered if his students could tell he was lashing out because of sexual frustration

The thought made you laugh

So he cancelled or denied any plans anyone made that night, and so did you

You spent the afternoon together, watching tv mindlessly as you sat on his cock

That was something you two had done a lot more— cockwarming

It was nice to be so close to him

And he argued that the challenge was that he couldn’t cum, not that he couldn’t have his dick in you

So you agreed

And now it was nearing time, and he started slowly thrusting into you, both of your heads turned to the clock as you counted down the seconds until you could both cum

And when the clock finally shone 12:00, it was over for you

Brutal thrusts from underneath you left you with a cream-filled pussy, and then again on your hands and knees against the couch, and on the kitchen counter, and the bed

He had to make up for all the time he wasn’t able to pleasure you himself

So you let yourself be completely destroyed by his cock multiple times

Your legs were t even working past your 3rd orgasm, so he’d just carry you to his new destination

Hawks ~ Takami Keigo

He loved you, but this was not a hard challenge for him

He hadn’t got laid for most of his teenage years

And the two of you did it only on occasion before you teased the idea and he said that he didn’t think you could do it— not have sex with him

So it was more like no-nut-November for you

But you wouldn’t let his teasing be confirmed

So you stood your ground

The two of you made it through the first week with fire in your eyes— encouraged by the want to win against the other

Even the second week was fine

Then you walked in on him fapping like a teenager in your bedroom, surrounded by a few of your sentimental stuffed animals from when you were a kid and a pair of dirty panties

You didn’t intrude

You just let him

And your fingers made their way to the waistband of your panties

You were egged on by his moans seeping through the wall and to your ears

Gorgeous, erotic, and effortless moans that could make you cum without touching yourself at all

But here you are, rubbing your clit and dipping your fingers into your puffy cunt as he jerked himself off on your bed

The two of you never mentioned this

Neither of you were going to admit that that could t even last 3 weeks

You weren’t even sure he saw you, but you sure saw him

And it didn’t happen again, as much as you wanted it to

The sex wasn’t life changing when he could do it again

The real reason you two were together was because you love the other, and that didn’t go away just because you couldn’t fuck

So the two of you were solidified in the shared opinion that you would be happy no matter what happens

And you spend the night bare against his chest, wings brought around your body in a protective shield

Togata Mirio

He made it through the month just fine, usually too busy training and working to have time for you two to have sex

Instead the two of you work together and cuddle at night

And it’s satisfying, but it’s not mind-blowing for either of you

You’d much rather be able to have sex when he has an off night

He actually has a business trip spanning from November 27-December 3, which was a painfully long time for you

You had gotten your hopes up to be able to be destroyed by him

Instead you two FaceTime every night

And he’s too shy to mention it, but once November has passed, he’s aching to get back to you

Aching to get his cock back buried deep in you

You start touching yourself on FaceTime the night before his flight back

He didn’t notice at first

But he saw your arm flexing as you rubbed tight circles on your clit while listening to his voice

“Whatcha doing there sweetie?”

He asked it all innocent but you know better

You slide the phone down to show your pussy dripping with need

You hear him mutter a soft “fuck” before you hear the sound of unzipping and clothing falling to the ground, keeping yourself in view for him while he shows his equally needy cock on the camera

It’s blushing red on the top, so ready for you you wish you had a teleportation quirk

But the two of you were relieved to be doing just this after so long

And after you both came on your fingers, he promised he would give it to you so good when he got back

And he did not disappoint

#🖌.headcannons #deku x reader #denki x reader #kirishima x reader #aizawa x reader #hawks x reader #mirio x reader #bnha smut #tw: cockwarming #tw: rough #tw: overstimulation #I wanted to make sure I got everything that could possibly be upsetting lol

[pitaparka]

sit down you’re rocking the boat

request: Could you do one where y/n is kie’s adopted sister & hangs around the pogues a lot? She takes a liking to jj. One day, they’re swimming at John b’s and she watches him get out of the water from afar. He catches her gaze. Kie tells her that she’s not being discreet. Later that night, she goes down to the dock to help jj clean up and he tells her that he saw her watching him. He asks why and they both confess they like each other. They kiss then it gets smuttyish. Thanks.

summary: you watch JJ emerge from the water like an atlantean prince and it makes you want to help him clean the boat, even if he doesn’t really need it.

pairings: jj maybank x female reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: suggestive content, making out, roaming hands

a/n: hey! Sorry i haven’t been posting in a hot minute, i’ve been doing a bunch of schoolwork since it’s the end of the year and all of my teachers love me so much :)))) i’m also signing up for some summer classes so i dont go batshit crazy, so i'm closing the outerbanks requests for awhile until i can catch up with them!! Thanks for understanding yall, i love you 3000

He caught your eye immediately, wading out from the water in just his swim trunks, hair dripping onto his shoulders as he cleared it from his face. He was ridiculously well built, by anyone’s standards, with broad shoulders and sculpted physique. 

You notice his eyes meet yours, and he smiles widely, waving like a dork. It makes you smile shyly back at him.

As you turned your attention back to Kie, you managed to catch the end of her conversation.

She looks at you expectedly.

“Wait, what?” You say, and Kie rolls her eyes, watching as JJ makes his way inside.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Yeah, the uh, the guy… and the show… he did the thing.”

She sighs in response and turns her attention to her buzzing phone.

“Dad?” You ask, leaning over her shoulder, and she nods.

“He wants us home before dark,” she clarifies, sending him a text back.

She places her phone face down on the towel, and squints suspiciously at you.

You notice immediately.

“What?” You ask, none the wiser.

“You’re not slick,” she says, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. You feel your face get hot.

“About what?” 

“Shut up,” she mumbles, flipping herself over to tan her back. You shake your head, but follow as well. She resumes the music that was playing, and you’re not totally sure, but you think on his way back, JJ was checking out your ass. 

YOUR feet make ripples in the puddles of cold water on the dock as you make your way to the end of it, where JJ stands in the boat, mop in hand, pouring something from a bottle into a bucket on the floor.

As you get closer, he takes note of your presence with a small smile, before sticking the mop into the mixture and swirling it around.

“Need any help?” You offered.

“No, I don’t think so,” he says nonchalantly.

“But you can stay if you want,” he says, taking it out and splashing it onto the deck.

“Y’know… keep me company,” he mutters, swabbing back and forth.

You nod even though he can’t see you.

The dock is quiet at night, but the birds by the water are still squawking. You can smell the cleaning products from the dock, and you sit down on the end of it. It’s too tall for your feet to reach the water, but you kick them anyway and gaze out toward the horizon.

“I saw you watchin’ me today,” he informs you, and you fidget, shifting your glance to the boat. 

“Hm?” You hum, and he keeps on scrubbing the deck.

“When I was coming out of the water. You were watching me.”

You don’t say anything. He picks his head up to look at you, hair flopping into his face. He fixes it gently.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Like, you were watching me,” he says, and you scoff.

“What?” He asks, and you stare back off into the distance.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question. He lets his head fall again and he keeps scrubbing the floor, dragging the soapy mop across the surface.

“I just noticed,” he says, and you feel your skin burn with acknowledgement. You’d either have to be more careful about it or stop watching him come out of the water. But you can’t help that when he turns around, you can see all the muscles in his back moving as he cleans the floor. You shouldn’t find it as hot as you do, but there are only so many glances you can steal.

“Why wear a bathing suit if you’re not gonna go in?” He asks suddenly.

“We were tanning.” You explain, glancing down at your skin. You were really only keeping Kie company because she was on her period, but JJ didn’t have to know.

JJ pouts like he’s thinking about something, leaning on the mop. It slips a little and he catches himself on the side of the boat. It makes you laugh.

“Oh you think that’s funny huh? You think me, almost falling in the water, is so funny—” he starts, dipping the mop back into the sudsy water before he kneels down, wringing it out with his hands.

You gaze at him, dumbfounded.

“Hilarious.” You inform, bracing your hands on the dock’s edge. 

He stands back up and takes the mop by the joint, where the head meets the stick. You watch with morbid curiosity, until he jerks the mop in your direction, soaking your t-shirt and bathing suit underneath.

You gasp and push yourself back, what was your slightly damp clothes are now soaked on one side from JJ’s brush.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” He gasps, eyes and smile wide.

He braces the end of the mop before he swings it at you again, and you yelp in surprise. 

He leans over the side of the boat, and with fast hands, grabs your wrist, and braces his foot on the dock, tugging you. You make a fast decision that just jumping into the boat with JJ was much better than slipping into it and cracking your head open, so you let him tug you forward. The mop falls from his other hand as he supports your forearm, but his feet squeak on the floor and he falls backward, taking you with him. 

With the fastest reflexes you’ve ever had in your life, you cup the back of his head and he falls onto his back, throwing his arm out to brace himself but knocking over the bucket in the process.

What would’ve been JJ’s head smashing onto the floor of the boat was braced by your hands, and it stings.

You both mutter a soft, “Ow…” at the same time, and it makes the two of you laugh.

You straddle JJ, and his eyebrows almost touch his hairline.

“You okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“That’s not how I thought this night would be going,” you say to him quietly, looking down at JJ underneath you.

“Well, I mean, you kinda saved my life there.” He jokes.

He chuckles, and you feel the water from the bucket run down your knees and shins. You bend back to see it running down the length of the boat. At least that was done.

You look back down at JJ and he’s not smiling anymore. He’s completely serious, and his eyes are flickering from your lips to your gaze. You move imperceptibly closer and JJ takes the hint, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you into him.

You brace yourself with your hands by his head, but he leans up into you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wraps his own around your waist.

His hands roam your body as he kisses you hard, flipping you over and laying you down on the wet floor of the boat. You gasp away from the kiss.

“Oh my god, I’m all wet!” You exclaim softly.

“You’re gonna be,” JJ threatens, and you laugh as his hands roam to the hem of your shirt.

You close your eyes and breathe heavily as JJ lifts your oversized t-shirt, kissing your stomach and pulling your wet bathing suit to the side. You pull your head up with incredible speed to watch him, but he moves lower, spreading your thighs and kissing the inside of them.

You squeak and writhe away from him.

“What?” He asks, alarmed. You push yourself up against the side of the boat.

“That tickles,” you murmur and you can see the mischief in his eyes before he does anything. He straddles you against the side of the boat and places each hand on the side of your face before kissing you again.

JJ hears the footsteps on the dock before you do.

You two scramble apart, and you grab the closest cloth in your proximity. JJ snags it out of your grip and you’re about to argue with him over it when Kie pops her face over the side of the boat.

“Dad is gonna have a stroke if we’re not back before sunset. You guys okay? Why are you all wet?”

“She fell in. I saved her.” JJ explains quickly, playing with the rag in his hands.

You roll your eyes at him and pull yourself up, stepping forward towards Kie as she extends a hand out to you.

“He got me—thank you—he got me all wet with the mop.” You say, and Kie accepts your explanation.

“Jerk,” she says pointedly, and he sticks his tongue out towards her.

“You better leave before you get in trouble. Daddy’s gonna give the two of ‘ya a spankin—”

“See you later JJ,” she says hurriedly walking down the pier. 

He winks at you as soon as Kie turns her back. He mimics a phone up to his ear with his hands and mouths the words, ‘call me’. You smile and turn away from him.

You catch up to her with a smile on your face.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank outerbanks #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #rudy pankow #jj maybank imagines #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow imagine #obx #obx imagine #obx x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #kie outer banks #kie obx

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!seonghwa (part 17)

word count: 7k

angst, slight fluff

(part 16) (series masterlist)

mingi was half right in his assumption that seonghwa was planning something for friday. because that nervous jittery feeling rushed right through you wednesday morning when he came in with a smirk on his face and asked if you had any plans this weekend.

"no, probably just sleep and watch tv. i started a new show," you inform him excitedly to which he responds with a small chuckle.

"yeah? well, do wanna come over friday and watch a movie instead? the guys are coming."

your eyes almost bulged out of your head until you heard that last part, pursing your lips to the side as you try to reign in any sort of rational self control.

"oh, thank you...i don't wanna intrude thou-"

"i want you to come so you're not intruding," he says softly, "and i think wooyoung and san will have an aneurism if you don't."

a small giggle leaves your mouth, shaking your head at the thought of the two boys. "well, we can't have that."

your eyes roam the soft look on his face, eyes bright but with an apprehensive twinge in them. "so you'll come?" he asks and the happy, hopeful tone in his voice makes you smile.

"yeah."

and that's how you ended up standing back in front of seonghwa's mansion of a house, hands folded behind your back as you rock on your feet nervously. you're praying to anyone who will listen above that everything goes smoothly, that your crushing guilt and insatiable pull to yeosang doesn't have you ruining the night.

because the library incident didn't help lessen the memory of the incident almost a week ago nor do your quick, heated gazes in the hallways or library when you see him tutoring.

the door flying open causes you to stumble back, an awkward chuckle leaving your mouth when seonghwa's eyes widen upon seeing you nearly fall down the stairs.

"did i scare you?" he asks softly and you squint your eyes at him playfully.

"no!"

"oh no?" he teases, advancing towards you to place a hand on your hip and pull you closer to him.

"no," you squeak, poking his chest lightly. "just taken aback by your commoner-like clothing."

even though there's nothing about him that looks ordinary, still looking like his handsome, elegant self in a white t-shirt that stretches over his fit torso and baggy gray sweatpants.

truthfully, you don't know how to feel about yourself right now. having your mind twinged with your intense yeosang moments but also feeling drawn to seonghwa. and now you need to spend the night with both of them when they affect you so strongly, when they make your heart and mind race with far too many thoughts and feelings.

a melodic laugh bubbles out of his mouth as he shakes his head at you, the soft amusement twinged in his eyes doing nothing to help the fluttering in your stomach.

"sorry it wasn't a matching-pajama set," he teases, moving to grab your hand and pulling you into his house. your cheeks flush at the memory, what feels like months ago when you creeped into his backyard and first saw him before blurting out your word vomit to him the night after that party.

"seonghwa?"

"y/n?"

"why aren't...you should change...i mean you don't have to but..." he watches you with a blank expression before the next part of your sentence tumbles out, "i liked the fancy pajamas i first met you in. with the stripes."

a loud abrupt laugh tumbles out of his mouth, his hand coming up to cover it as he cackles into his hand and a fervent blushes covers your face.

"stop laughing, oh my god!" your hands fly up to cover your flushed cheeks, "i didn't mean it like that i, just...you're in the same clothes as last night and-"

his big hands cover yours, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your palms as he looks down at you softly.

"you're cute, you know that?"

a strangled giggle leaves your mouth at the embarrassing memory, smacking him lightly as he guides you down the stairs to his basement - if you can even call it that. because what you associate as a dingy, dusty borderline scary room is something just as extravagant as the rest of his home.

a giant white sectional with extended cushions faces the biggest flat-screen tv you've ever seen, blankets and pillows sprawled out on the bottom. you giggle upon seeing hongjoong's head sticking out from one of the blankets, waving at you lazily through hooded eyes. your gaze filters over the rest of the couch, taking note that yeosang doesn't appear to be here yet.

you scan the rest of the basement, a fully stocked bar and kitchen catching your eye along with a popcorn machine that you'd see at the movie theater. you crane your head up at seonghwa, a teasing look on your face. "wow, that's fancy."

he meets your gaze with a smirk. "c'mon little one, were you expecting anything le-"

"don't be shy! put some more!" wooyoung's loud voice screeches and it rings in your ears like he's right next to you. you snap your head to see him sitting on the counter cross-legged, looming over a bowl of popcorn.

"no wooyoung!" san whines, "there's already too much salt! do you seriously want to-"

"hey, guys! look who i found!" seonghwa's voice interrupts, lifting your intertwined hands and the two boys whip their heads up before they barrel towards you screaming your name.

popcorn long forgotten, they excitedly tell you about the movies they've picked out. a nice marathon of comedy, horror and fantasy that has you writhing in your spot next to san a few moments later.

seonghwa prances over, popcorn in hand before he shimmies his way in next to you. "is it okay if sit here?" he mumbles causing you to nod shyly and he bites his lip to hide his smile.

"are we starting without yeosang?" hongjoong asks.

and seonghwa must mistake your tensing for fear opposed to....a different type of nervousness and excitement that's coursing through your veins because he eyes you before explaining he had said to start the movie and that he'll be here in an hour.

and it's about fifteen minutes in, lights dimmed and volume blaring as blankets cover the five of you that he whispers in your ear.

"you're good with yeosang, right?" seonghwa mumbles in your ear and the pace in which your heart starts to race is absolutely concerning.

"what do you mean?" your quiet voice chokes out.

"you tensed up before when i said his name," he says lowly, his arm wrapped around the back of the couch stretching as he moves slightly closer to you. "if he's still being a dick, i'll talk to him."

"no, it's okay," you say, probably far too quickly and nervously. because the last thing you want is them talking about you. "i just- i...i forgot he was coming, too."

your stomach knots when you stutter, your guilt-filled body and neurotic brain convincing you he's gonna see through your lies and demand to know just how okay things are with yeosang. demand to know the real reason why you barely said a word in the car back from the ski trip and why you've been more nervous around him than usual.

"okay," he says softly, like he's not second-guessing your answer at all before his face leans in. "let me know if you ever want me to."

i will never do that, you think.

"will do," you squeak out, ('another lie,' that mean part of your mind bites) swallowing the nervous lump in your throat and assuring him with a small smile of your own that he meets. and even only with the flickering lights from the tv, you see his soft gaze roam over your face before his hand reaches out to caresses your cheek slowly.

you hope he doesn't notice how your eyes bulge, how you swallow again as your own voice continues to scream at you. because you have no right to be leaning into his touch nor do you have the right to rest your head on his shoulder when he taps on it lightly as an invitation.

you can't even focus on the rest of the movie afterward, assuming it's funny from the laughs coming from san and wooyoung and the way seonghwa's shoulder will occasionally wobble underneath your head.

you can only think about how you shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be accepting comfort and affection from a person you clearly can't give your whole self to, who you're keeping a giant secret from and pretending as if everything's okay.

"he's literally obsessed with you, i don't know if i've ever seen him act like this."

wooyoung's words from last week ring through your head at that exact moment and it causes your stomach to twist even more.

you have to tell him.

and it's not even necessarily because you owe it him. he never officially asked you to be anything, you guys haven't even known each other that long.

but with the way he acts, the way he seems so taken and caring and...affectionate towards you, it doesn't seem right to hold it back. and because a part of you and yeosang feels this guilty, it's even more of an indication that you keeping it a secret is wrong.

but you know there's also a bigger part to this, that him and yeosang's friendship could be potentially in jeopardy if everyone's assumption that seonghwa does like you is true.

but it's not that you don't like him, you think you just might really like...

the sound of feet padding down the stairs catches your attention, your heart racing and palms sweating before you even see yeosang's face. and when you do, it only heightens your body's reaction.

because he just stands there observing the couch silently, his presence either still unknown or ignored by the other three (hongjoong had fallen asleep before seonghwa was able to press rent). and even in the dark, your eyes meet for a split second before you see him observe seonghwa's figure next to you.

"yeosang!" san screeches, wooyoung looking up and doing the same who's laid out by the boy's feet.

"hey guys," he says with an even tone, plopping down and nearly sitting on hongjoong's face. "did he even make it to the opening scene?"

"of course not," you hear seonghwa's deep voice say causing the boy to snort.

the room quickly falls silent again and you glue your eyes to the screen, laughing or grimacing when everyone else does. and you keep up appearances until the movie ends twenty minutes later, the dim lights suddenly flickering on as seonghwa taps the wall behind you twice.

you lift your head as your eyes move to the corner of the couch where you see hongjoong hasn't stirred before flickering to yeosang's. you find his gaze was already on you, expression unreadable but his jaw set and eyebrow raised. you try to remain stone-faced as well, ignoring the way your body feels inclined to be closer to him and how you can't seem to tear your hard gazes away from each other.

because it's something that just keeps happening. your gazes and stares and bodies working on their own accord, because it's strong enough to have such an impact over your words and actions. because it's almost overwhelming how every rational thought gets pushed aside the moment your eyes meet and bodies press against each other.

"y/n?" you hear seonghwa's voice ask and you jump slightly, quickly craning your neck to look at him.

"you good?" he asks lowly, eyes looking over your face before flickering to yeosang who's looking down at his phone.

"ye-yeah," you squeak out, "are we doing the horror now?"

"yes!" wooyoung says, clapping his hands eagerly and you giggle at how childlike it is.

"you act like you're not gonna be screaming to turn it off in ten minutes," you hear yeosang remark dryly.

"shut up!" the boy responds sassily before roughly grabbing the empty bowl from the middle of the couch. "new comers refill the bowl."

"bite me."

"you have too!" wooyoung whines.

"i'll do it," you say softly, taking the bowl from his grasp. "i have to pee, anyway."

you stumble around seonghwa clumsily, a small laugh leaving his mouth at your lack of grace causing you to squint your eyes at him in passing. you pad over to the machine, standing on your tippy toes to open the latch and fill the bowl with popcorn.

"be generous with the salt!" you hear wooyoung scream and you shake your head with a smile, leaving it on the table before disappearing into the bathroom. you grip the cold, marble countertop tightly, closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths.

you know yeosang will never agree to tell seonghwa, especially after his reaction to you telling just mingi and yunho. but you can't take the crushing guilt anymore, the almost constant feeling of dread and wrongdoing making you feel nauseous and queazy.

how does he not feel it too? how can he go on like normal, look at seonghwa and laugh with him when he's knowingly keeping something from him that could hurt him him? doesn't he have the right to know?

but it's not only yeosang's decision, it took both of you to do it. so even though seonghwa and yeosang are the closer of friends here, it was also something you did to and will take just as much responsibility for; you also have the right to get off your own guilt-ridden chest, no matter how selfish and unfair it is.

so it's with that, that you fake a pee, flush the toilet and run the faucet before ripping open the door. you pad over the kitchen to grab the bowl when you see yeosang standing at the counter pouring himself a glass of soda, his eyes flickering up to you before back down to his glass wordlessly.

you walk up to the counter and place your hands on the bowl, spinning it anxiously as you stare at him.

"why are you looking at me," he asks a few moments later, voice low and eyes not leaving the fizzling glass.

"i wanna tell him."

his head snaps up to you immediately, his face perplexed with narrowed eyes and a sneer.

"no."

"yeosang," you whine lowly.

"i already told you that can never hap-"

"it's killing me, yeosang. do you know how guilty i feel keeping this in me? like it's a dirty little secret."

"nothing good will come out of that besides fixing your own guilt," yeosang says coldly, his eyes matching his tone when he looks up at you. "so maybe you should clear that head of yours and stop making yourself so cozy on him in the meantime."

your eyes widen at the harshness in his time and words. "fuck you!" you whisper-yell at him, "maybe you should grow a conscious and just tell him what we-"

"why would we just randomly mention that, y/n?" yeosang growls before roughly opening the fridge and placing the bottle back. "it wouldn't make any sense now," he grumbles, still facing away from you.

"we could just say we have something to tell him and-"

"yeosang! y/n!" you hear wooyoung whine and you keep your glare on yeosang's back before reluctantly turning around. you see seonghwa's neck craned backward, curiously observing you and yeosang whispering hushly. "where's the popcorn! we're staring the movie."

"coming," yeosang says before you can mumble out "one second." you whip your head around to give him a dirty look and insist that he listens to you but find he's already halfway around the counter walking back to the couch.

when you plop back down in your seat with a huff, seonghwa taps the wall to dim the lights again and you're grateful when he doesn't say a word.

but your heart feels like it physically hurts, pulls in a hundred different directions and drops into your stomach when he places his hand on yours. you look over to see him smile softly at you, giving you a knowing, comforting look before he turns his head to the tv.

his gentle, slow strokes on your hand throughout the entire first half of the movie do nothing to help your guilt. it only heightens it, reminds you of how gentle and soft and sweet he is to you.

so that's why when you notice yeosang get up and close the bathroom door a few minutes later, you down the rest of your water and quietly inform seonghwa you're going to get more.

you linger in the kitchen for a few moments, taking your time to refill your glass and look around at the decor on the walls when you hear the door squeak open. and before he can walk off, you grab him by the sleeve and lead him off to the corner of the kitchen, where you're barely visible from the couch.

"you better not say it again," he hisses through his teeth.

you try for a nice approach first, looking up at him with pleading eyes and a soft, sweet tone in your voice.. "i just don't see why we can't-"

but he sees right through it, squinting his eyes at you and shaking his head. "you better fucking stop."

and the way he just so quickly dismisses you has irritation and anger flooding through your veins. because he's not even trying to listen and saw through your act in a second.

"you stop!" you shoot back, quickly letting your temper take over. "i know you feel just as guilty."

"no shit but i'm able to suppress it, y/n," he says to you, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at you. "why tell him that and just make him mad or upset?"

"because it doesn't feel right," you brokenly whisper, "it feels like we're sneaky around and indirectly lying to him. he doesn't deserve that."

you watch his eyes roam over you before he heavily sighs, leaning the side of his head against the wall. because of course he feels bad about it, he feels bad that it happened and that now he can't even say he regrets it; and it also doesn't help seeing you so upset and torn up about it.

but he's more scared of his friend's reaction, seeing how quickly and intensely he developed feelings for you. more scared of his friendship being tainted and strained because he had a moment of weakness that continue to be more frequent.

"we. can't."

his voice is gradually getting more dark and pissed off, irritated that you won't drop it and irritated by his ever present reaction to you.

"it's not your only decision, yeosang," you snap, "we both did it so if i wanna tell him, i feel like i should be able t-"

your back is against the wall before you can finish your sentence, your bodies just a few inches away from touching as he darkly looms over you. you have half the mind to push him away roughly, smack him in the chest for always cornering you and trying to intimidate you with his close proximity.

because it almost always works.

"i already told you we're not," he says, finality in his tone that would usually get you to give in and drop it. but now it's just serving to make your more angry.

"and i told you i want to," you snap, voice no longer a whisper but still low enough not to be heard by the others.

"y/n....i swear to god, i'm gonna-"

"what. what are you gonna do?" you spit harshly before a familiar scene with flickering lights of an elevator play in your head.

"i swear to god, y/n," he growls, backing you up until you hit one of the four walls.

"what, yeosang?" you spit, "i have the right to know. it just makes no sense why you would ask me something like that-"

"i suggest you watch yourself," he growls lowly, his hand roughly grabbing your jaw.

"i suggest you stop being a coward and fucking tell your best friend we kissed."

the bright lights in the kitchen turning on have your heart dropping in your chest, head frantically turning the side to see seonghwa blankly staring at the two of you.

because not only do the words you just uttered clearly prove you're caught, your position is no better. pressed up between the wall and his body, your face in his hand where you gazes were just boring into each other, how all the color has drained from both of you.

yeosang pushes himself away from you immediately, looking between you and seonghwa, jaw clenched as his wary eyes waver back and forth.

"what're you guys talking about?"

you swallow nervously, biting your lip as you look between him and yeosang. and that's how it is for the first few silent seconds, anxious and confused eyes bouncing off of each other.

"y/n?" his soft, strained voice suddenly utters and it's like that's all you need to hear before tears prick your eyes. because you knew this was bound to happen, you even wanted it to. but now you see you severely underestimated just how scary and intimidating it would be.

you try to speak up, his name getting caught in your throat and it causes his face to crumble. because you can barely look at him, can't even get words out and now he's starting to feel the validity of what he just heard.

"yeosang?" he utters next but his friend only looks at him with a pained expression, shaking his head slightly as he deeply says his name.

"one of you better start talking, now." and the way seonghwa falls into his scary, commanding side is causing your stomach to knot even more.

"i wanted to tell you," you squeak out nervously, your voice already quivering, "but he-"

"i didn't think it would be the appropriate time," yeosang says, shooting a glare your way. "and i also didn't want you to get upset."

but seonghwa can only shake his head, looking between the two of you in bewilderment. because this is so random, there was no indication the two of you even got along, let alone were gonna...

"so you guys...kissed?" he says, lips pressing together tightly after he says the word. you and yeosang look to each other warily, your eyes full of unshed tears while his are cold and guarded.

"answer me."

you both snap your heads when you hear his growl and nod, his jaw only tightening before a humorless laugh leaves his mouth. his eyes roam over your face and he hates that his heart starts to squeeze at the sight of tears in your eyes, that he wants to reach out and wipe them away.

"when?" he asks, looking directly at you.

"seonghwa, if you could just hear us o-"

"when, y/n."

your face crumbles at his uncharacteristic frigid tone towards you. "the last night of the ski trip," you mumble out.

he looks taken aback and it unnerves you that there could be a number of reasons for it. because he could be thinking you planned for it to happen and that's why you didn't go skiing with him. or reminding himself that just the night before, you had been kissing him. or like he's realizing that's why you've been acting so weird this week with him.

"but it wasn't planned, seonghwa, i swear," you get out quickly, "i-the elevator got stuck and we were fighting and screaming at each other and then it just...happened."

you hold each other's gaze for a tense few moments, your eyes pleading with him to understand while he looks at you with such distrust.

"we...we had just kissed the night before that, y/n," he says, jaw tightening as he looks at yeosang. "did you know that?"

yeosang can only stare at his friend with a dejected look on his face before he hesitantly nods.

"so you knew that," seonghwa says, his voice getting a pinch louder, "and knew that i..." his words break off as he moves closer to his friend who stands his ground. "why the fuck, yeosang, tell me."

"she already told you, it just happened," yeosang mumbles because what else can he say?

"so it was just a kiss? a mistake?" seonghwa asks lowly, looking his friend directly in the eyes.

"it..." yeosang begins, eyes flickering to you as you watch them both tearfully. your eyes widen slightly when you make eye contact, lip quivering nervously and he can't bring himself to say it was a mistake. because that would imply it was wrong and shouldn't have happened. and he can lie to himself all he wants that it shouldn't have happened but he can't lie to seonghwa anymore. "i didn't-we weren't...." he lets out a frustrated sigh, "i don't know, seonghwa."

"what the fuck do you mean you don't know?"

"i don't know, okay! we don't know how it happened or why it happened," his deep voice explains. "it just....did and now i've been trying to forget about it for your sake but-"

"but what?" seonghwa grunts out, cutting him off before he can continue

"i'm sorry," he says lowly, his eyes meeting his friends and the two of them don't look away from each other. yeosang's eyes pleading and apologetic while seonghwa looks like he's ready burn a hole into him.

"why are you sorry?" he grunts out.

but yeosang can only shake his head, his gaze flickering to you which causes seonghwa to grab his shirt and push him against the wall.

"don't fucking look at her," he growls, "why are you sorry? why can't you...stop thinking about it?"

you can only watch them talk with wide tearful eyes, wanting so badly to split things up and stop things before it gets ugly. but you find yourself trapped, unable to move as you watch seonghwa pin yeosang against the wall who finally mutters:

"the same reason you're so pissed right now."

and his confession is quickly followed by your loud gasp as you watch seonghwa's fist collide with yeosang's face.

"seonghwa!" you screech out, moving to the boy's and attempting to worm your way in between them. but it proves useless when both of them reach out and push you away from them, their hands connecting with the side of your arm.

you hear your own voice begging them to stop through your pounding ears, tears streaming down your face when you watch yeosang push the taller boy off of him after he gets punched a second time.

"seonghwa, stop, i know i fucked up but-"

"but what," the boy growls, advancing toward him again and pushing him back into the wall. "because as far as you knew and saw, you treated her like shit."

"and i always apologized to her," yeosang says, feeling the need to defend himself while trying to remain cordial. because he is the one in the wrong here. but it only causes seonghwa to let out another humorless laugh, tightening his hold on yeosang's shirt.

"and here i thought you paid for her because you felt bad," he growls at yeosang causing your mouth to drop open. did he just say yeosang had paid for you?

"i did," yeosang says through clenched teeth.

"did you feel bad when you kissed her then? some sort of fucked up, twisted apology?"

"wait, yeosang and y/n kissed?" wooyoung's loud voice booms before his eyes widen when he sees the scene playing out in front of him. yeosang's bloody nose and red face, his shirt in a harsh grip by seonghwa's hand.

"did you guys fucking know?" seonghwa harshly asks as he whips his head around. his eyes then land on you, tears on your cheeks as your teeth assault your lip. "did everyone fucking know but me?"

"of course not," you cry out, reluctantly making your way over to him when he shakes his head at you. you pause, looking at him and yeosang with the faint sound of wooyoung telling san to wake hongjoong.

"we thought not telling you would be better for everyone," yeosang tells him, "it wasn't meant to hurt you, seonghwa. we didn't mean for it to happen."

"but it did. it did fucking happen and neither of you seem to be able to say it shouldn't have or that it won't happen again."

yeosang's adams apple bobs nervously, your eyes meeting the floor as a quiet cry leaves your mouth. you're surprised when you feel san's presence next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulder comfortingly,

"i don't know what you want us to tell you besides sorry," yeosang says, "we've both felt so fucking guilty, you don't even-"

his words get cut off by seonghwa's fist ramming into his face again, wooyoung and a roused hongjoong rushing over to pull the boy off of him.

"you're an asshole, yeosang. i always knew it but i didn't think you were this bad," seonghwa spits, voice gruff and deep.

"really, seonghwa, you've known her for three fucking seconds," yeosang finally bites back and the two smaller boys tighten their hold on seonghwa's withering body.

"get off me," seonghwa growls at hongjoong who only shakes his head at him before turning back to yeosang.

"you should leave," the boy advises.

"hongjoong, i want to talk to him but-"

"yeah, let's talk," seonghwa yells, "talk about what a piece of shit best friend you are."

"seonghwa, what else do i have to-"

"leave!" a struggling hongjoong yelps, pushing seonghwa off to the other side of the basement.

you can only cry quietly into san who strokes your hair gently, mumbling comforting words into your ear. yeosang looks over at your trembling frame before switching to seonghwa who's sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. hongjoong is knelt down in front of him, speaking hushly when their gazes meet and the boy mouths "leave."

yeosang let's out a huff, throwing you one last look that you meet tearfully before he quickly walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs with one last mumble of "i'm sorry, hwa."

"what happened, y/n?" san asks quietly. you pull back and he frowns seeing your tear-stained face.

"i'm such a bad person, san," you say, voice shaking and wet, "what the fuck did i just-i didn't mean for this to-"

"relax," san says lowly, rubbing over your back soothingly. "take a few breaths and then just explain to me what happened."

so that's how you then find yourself confessing everything to san, everything from the beginning of the ski trip to your dates and kiss with seonghwa to your times with yeosang.

"one-one minute we were fighting and the next we were kissing and...seonghwa is so sweet and slow and nice and he's such a good person," you cry to san, "but it's...i don't know, it's just...it seems different with-"

you can't even get his name out, shaking your head as your face crumbles again. "i'm such a fucking who-"

"don't," san quickly says, voice commanding and strong.

"i am!" you squeak, "how could i do this to both of them? kiss them not even 24 hours apart? do you know how horrible that makes me?"

"you're just confused, y/n, you all are," san says lowly, "and everyone's too shocked and full of adrenaline right now to see it."

"but it isn't fair to-

the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut has you jumping in san's hold, head snapping to the side to see hongjoong making his way to you.

"how did you get here?" the boy asks you softly, though his eyes don't match.

"my mom dropped me," you tell him quietly, "hongjoong, i didn't mean to-"

"maybe you should call her to come get you."

"hongjoong, you don't have to-"

the dark look the boy throws san has the boy falling silent, sighing before looking over your face apologetically. your lips fold into one another so they don't tremble again, nodding your head before your gaze moves to the bathroom.

"can i just talk to him?"

hongjoong shrugs his shoulders, looking back at the door. "you could try," he mumbles out before walking back towards the couch.

"you should," san encourages sweetly, "i'll stay here, okay?"

you smile up at him gratefully, nodding your head before taking a deep breath and wiping your wet, tear-stained face. you knock on the door and hear his mumble of "what?" before you open it slightly and peak your head in.

"can i come in?" you ask quietly.

his head snaps to the side to look at you, his eyes clouding with shock, anger, surprise, even that underlying soft look you most definitely don't deserve right now.

but before he can answer, you hear the running of water as a bottle of peroxide rests on the sink next to him. you walk in hesitantly and close the door, making your way over to him.

you dab alcohol on a cotton ball before taking his hand in yours, hearing him sharply inhale and you think he's gonna whip his hand away and curse you out.

but because he's seonghwa, he doesn't. he just watches you clean his cut up hand, not even wincing at the stinging pain.

"seonghwa..."

"don't, y/n," he says and the pain that sounds clogged in his throat makes your tears resurface.

"i'm sorry," you squeak out, "i wanted to tell you all night but-"

"why," he asks, eyes boring into yours and he just watches the tears build up behind them. "why did you kiss him?"

"i told you seonghwa, it just happened," you squeak out. "do you think i ever had any intention after how he treated me."

"that's why i'm so confused, y/n," he mutters out, "and we had...we had kissed just the night before."

"i know," you cry out, "but it wasn't-it was-"

"did you not...like it?" he asks before a humorless laugh leaves his mouth, "jesus christ, i sound like a fucking idiot."

"you don't, seonghwa, it wasn't you," you insist, "sometimes i don't even think you're real, because everything about you is perfect, that kiss included."

"then what the hell was it?" he asks, voice raising a tad higher, "why?"

"i don't know," you squeak out because you're not about to tell him it lacked the passion you're apparently so drawn to. how you seem to prefer being yelled at and thrown against a wall like some sort of disturbed person.

"if you had to kiss one of us again, who would it be?" he finds himself asking and your face pales because you're getting a strange sense of deja vu.

"if you had to kiss someone," yeosang says lowly in your ear, "would it be me or seonghwa?"

"i...i don't- seonghwa, i-"

you watch as instant regret covers his face, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head side to side.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have asked that," he grunts out.

your wide, glossy eyes roam over his face and you swallow the lump in your throat. because you don't know what to say and you can't even give him an answer as he looks at you expectantly, like he thinks you might disregard his last statement and blurt out that it's him.

but you both know that's not the case, his sinking stomach and hurting heart watching you look at him with pain and sorrow in your teary eyes.

"you should go, okay?" seonghwa says suddenly, turning around as he starts fumbling with the sink and cabinets. "i'll see you on monday."

"seonghwa, i'm sor-"

"it's okay, just go...please."

you wipe at the new tear trailing down your face, looking at him one last time as he leans over the sink. you sigh before turning around and opening the door to leave the bathroom, shutting it lightly before padding over to san to say goodbye.

he walks back in the the nurse to see you had fallen asleep, hands tucked under your cheek with a peaceful, soft look on your face. he smiles to himself, quietly walking over and placing your bag at the foot of the bed. he roams your slumbering face with a sickeningly soft expression, allowing himself to admire you looking so peaceful and content for a few moments.

and then before he turns to leave, he places a soft kiss on your forehead and lets his lips linger, mumbling, "i hope you say yes on friday," before walking quietly out of the room.

but because you didn't, because tonight blew up in his face in the most unexpected way and he didn't get to ask you on a first official date, he dials up the number he so happily called on tuesday to cancel a dinner reservation for two.

san walks you out of seonghwa's house five minutes later, giving you his number and telling you to text him when you get home safely. because in hopes to clear your head, you're gonna walk home. even though the wind is biting and it's a few miles, you think you need it right now.

but you don't even make it down the block before a car pulls up next to you, tensing up as you look to the side before you relax at the familiar face.

"get in."

"i don't think that's a good-"

"can you please just get in."

his voice is just as drained and exhausted as you feel, letting out a sigh before opening the door. he takes off down the block once you're buckled in and drives off in the direction of your house, seemingly able to remember how seonghwa got there all those weeks ago.

it's silent for the first few minutes of the drive, his hand clenching and unclenching around the steering wheel as you bounce your leg nervously.

"now you see why i didn't wanna to tell him," is the first thing he says to break the silence.

"what, so we were just supposed to hide it from him forever?" you squeak out, "because sneaking around like liars obviously wouldn't have blown up in our face."

"if you just kept your mouth shut tonight, this wouldn't have happened," he growls and you let out a wet laugh, shaking your head at him.

"yeah, okay, this is my fucking fault!" you yelp, "you're right, sorry."

he lets out a sigh as the atmosphere starts to grown tense and he shakes his head wordlessly, gripping the steering wheel again. you're a few blocks away from your house when he suddenly pulls over, your head snapping to look at him with pinched eyebrows.

"this isn't my hou-"

"we both just have to agree that it'll never happen again."

you turn your head to see him looking at you intently, eyes roaming your questioning, confused face.

"is that what you want?"

the words tumble out of your mouth before your brain can even register them. his face falls slightly, eyes moving to your lips before he lets out a scoff and tears his gaze away.

"does it really matter what i want? it didn't matter when i said i didn't wanna tell him."

your eyebrows furrow together as your mouth drops open, an annoyed groan filling the car.

"you're unbelievable," you spit out, "i don't even know why i bother trying to talk to you."

your hand falls to unbuckle the seatbelt, his hand wrapping around your wrist when you have it  halfway off your body.

"stop."

"no," you snap, ripping your hand from his hold and moving the strap completely off you. "thanks for the ride but i'm gonna walk the rest of the way."

"oh jesus christ, stop being annoying," he groans out with a roll of his eyes.

your face flames with anger, your hands itching with the need to smack him and he suppresses a smirk when your hands clench into fists.

"you're just mean, yeosang! sometimes i feel like you're okay and i'm..i don't know, getting somewhere with you?" you say, moving your hands animatedly as your eyes move to look outside the window. "but then you're just such a fucking dick and i really feel like-"

a squeak leaves your mouth before it's quickly covered my his, your lips meeting in a kiss as your body is pulled halfway over the middle console. you make a surprised noise against his lips before you fall into the familiar pattern of kissing him. and it's something you definitely shouldn't be doing after the night you guys just had, shouldn't be relishing in the way your lips move in synch and how his hand snakes its way into your hair.

your hand moves to his chest to steady yourself and he pulls you closer, quickly slipping his tongue into your mouth and you hate that a content little moan slips past your lips. because it only seems to egg him on more, has him tightening his hand in your hair and moving you closer over the console before you both pull away in need of air.

you look at each other with red lips and heaving chests, the sinking feeling completely overpowered by the pleasure and desire coursing through both of you.

"what do you think?" his deep voice grunts out breathlessly, "is that what i want?"

(part 18)

#seonghwa #yeosang #ateez #seonghwa angst #yeosang angst #seonghwa fluff #yeosang fluff #ateez fic #ateez moodboard #seonghwa moodboard #seonghwa fic

[rhetoricalrogue]

31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 3

Prompt: Mirror Words: 1,338 Rating: G, with mild descriptions of burn scars, shirtlessness Characters: Cameron Buchanan, Penelope Fisher Summary: Cam’s dislike of mirrors is three decades old. Note: I will take any opportunity to use Michiel Huisman as a FC, and Cameron’s the only one for UC that has one so far, purely because he came to mind first. For the @31daysofwayhaven event

Cameron Buchanan disliked full-length mirrors, especially when he was coming out of the shower.  Normally hotel or safehouse mirrors would fog with the amount of hot water he used, but Facility mirrors were treated to remain clear.  It was a perk that most people liked, but then again, most people weren’t covered in burns that ran across their bodies from the backs of their shoulders all the way down to their calves.  Some places were light and barely noticeable save for some discoloration or texture changes, but other areas were heavily roped in scars, like the line at his hip that went down the side of his thigh.

It happened over thirty years ago: one minute he’d been happily helping haul in a day’s catch, in the middle of delivering the punchline to a joke and the next he was rolling on the dock, writhing in agony and feeling as if he were being burned alive.

Cameron had fallen in love, not only with the remote, sleepy fishing village off the coast of Scotland, but with a woman who had made it her home.  No one other than she knew that he was a selkie, a shapeshifter capable of changing from man to seal, and when they’d married, he’d entrusted both his secret and his beloved sealskin to her for safekeeping. 

He never dreamed that the love of his life, enraged at a crime he hadn’t committed, would have cruelly thrown his skin into the fireplace, fully knowing it was an extension of his body.

It didn’t take long for the older, more superstitious fisherman to put two and two together when deep, angry burning blisters had formed on Cam’s skin almost as if by magic.  By the time one of them had barged into the home he shared with his wife, the damage had been done.  What was left of the skin they managed to pull from the fire and extinguish was beyond healing or repair.

It was later found out that envious of the newlywed’s happiness, some of the women in town had started a false rumor that he had been unfaithful, and his wife had believed the lie.  Instead of coming to him to talk things through to hear his side, she had acted in a jealous rage. 

Cam also quickly found out that as remote as the village was, it wasn’t immune to newspaper clippings and gossip amongst humans who believed in the existence of the supernatural. The headline Selkie Man, Burned Alive! quickly caught the attention of the Agency, who had approached him while he was still recovering from the worst of the burns in the village’s clinic.  The decision to join had been easy: the Agency had skilled medical technicians and healers on hand to tend to the wounds that were slow to heal - Cam was classified as Tier 8 for healing especially, and normally healed from injuries quickly, but he always figured that the burning of his sealskin had severed the magical tie between his two forms had been too great of a strain to properly heal from - and they promised to take him far, far away from the woman who had betrayed him.

He still had what was left of his sealskin, safely entrusted to the Agency and locked away in their vaults.  Every few years he’d go down to unlock the small safe he’d been assigned and hold it, willing (some years praying) for any magic that flowed in his veins to restore what had been burnt away.  Some years he swore he saw the tiniest of repairs, other years he felt as if he were holding onto false hope.  The Agency had offered to use his own cells to try to replicate and replace what had been lost, but he’d declined, not even knowing if that was even possible in his human form.  

Looking out to the sea trapped in one shape was hard enough. Holding onto a hope that one day he’d be able to change form once again was something too painful to cling to.

“Cam?” He started at the sound of Penelope’s voice outside the ensuite bathroom door.  As his unit’s commanding agent, he had the luxury of a private bath, and he was grateful for it. 

“Just a minute!”  Quickly pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he rubbed a towel over his hair and draped it over his shoulders before exiting with a puff of steam.  

“I can come back,” Penny said, jerking her thumb at the door.  Nudity was never an issue with shapeshifters, but it didn’t stop her from looking down and turning slightly to the side to give him some privacy, even if he was only shirtless. 

He waved her off.  “Nonsense.  Anything wrong?”

“No, just wanted to talk with you about the upcoming mission we’re being sent on.  See what your thoughts were.”

Cam’s heart sank.  Ah.  Secretly, he’d hoped that Penny had come to his rooms to purely spend time together.  They worked well as a unit, he in charge of their team as well as any research, she his second-in-command and combat specialist.  She was fiercely loyal, a brilliant tactician, and a good person to have on your side, in a fight or not. Unit Charlie was unbeaten in drinking contests among agents who could get drunk, mostly due to the pair of them teaming up.

She was also incredibly beautiful and his heart did funny things in his chest whenever she smiled. Like his sealskin, he’d locked that part of himself away for safekeeping, not allowing himself the hope to ever openly love again, not after facing such a betrayal.  Being burned - both literally and figuratively - once had been a painful enough lesson to learn.  He wasn’t about to risk a decades-old friendship with the one woman he trusted among all others to have his back on and off the field purely because he was enchanted by the way light bounced off her pale platinum-colored hair, turning it nearly moonbeam silver or how her eyes sparkled like sapphires when she laughed at one of his jokes.

“What a coincidence,” he said, shaking himself out of what could never happen and focusing on the here and now.  “I was going to get with you on that later on, but we can do that now, if you’d like.”  He opened his dresser drawer for a t-shirt, but tensed as one of the particularly nasty scars at his back started to give him a twinge.

“Is it bad today?” she asked, her voice soft.

He shrugged, lifting his better shoulder up.  “Comes and goes.  I’ve gotten used to it.”  He tensed for entirely different reasons when he felt her fingers, cool and gentle, press against where it ached the most.

“If you don’t care for it now, you’re going to regret it later,” she said.  “May I?  We can talk while I work.”

He didn’t even pause to think, just nodded. Oh Penelope, he thought, sitting at the edge of the bed and feeling the mattress dip as she did the same, her touch firm as she massaged circles into his muscles, his back slowly relaxing under her fingers.  Why couldn’t I have met you years before? He knew, had he had met her before, that he would have easily entrusted her with his sealskin.  Leaning backwards, his eyes slipped closed as she moved to a tense spot at the back of his neck.  He also knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would have kept it safe for him.

Then he sighed and focused on mission planning.  Just like staring out to sea and knowing that he’d never swim its depths the way he once had, it was no use holding out hope that one day Penelope would feel the same way about him as he did for her.  And just as the remnants of his ruined skin were locked away, it was best that he kept those feelings for her hidden, locked and safe within his chest.

#31daysofwayhaven #my writing #Unit Charlie #cameron buchanan #penelope fisher #pining? in MY writing? It's more likely than you think!

[bluesakura007]

A Case of an Ailment - TF2 Medic x OC

Summary: When the Hacker is suffering from hellish cramps and pains, Medic is brought to help - however, what they first need to get around in order to treat her is her phobia of needles.

Warnings: Only the use of syringes for medical purposes, but apart from that it’s just pure fluff.  💕

The Hacker was laid out on the top of her bed, slightly curled up. Valeria Weatherford never expected this pain she was experiencing to take place - it was nothing more than an unforeseen event as a result - although she had to admit to herself that she should’ve at least had an idea this would happen. After all, earlier that very same day she’d experienced a tiny twinge of a significantly more dull version of this current sensation, during which it had shown itself on her facial expression and consequently Sniper had enquired as to whether she was alright. ‘You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten something, mate’, was the advice that this Australian had given her, and it had worked,  until now, that is. But she’d decided to not go to the man who was responsible for her medical care, as well as that of the other mercs; the reason for this was because she reached the conclusion that everyone had, for lack of a better term, a bit of a funny tum-tum every now and then, so therefore she should stop being a baby and just wait for it to pass. And yet here she was, at roughly about 9:40 PM, writhing around on her bed thanks to the dull, ‘weird’ pain from several hours earlier having escalated to a very sharp and throbbing one which had fully spread throughout her abdomen by now. The time in between the two had only been a temporary reprieve. To put it simply, what she was experiencing right now was pure and utter hell. “What do you want us to do?” Another of the mercs and the only other female one, the Secretary, asked in concern as she and Scout watched their teammate and friend groan weakly every ten seconds while she slithered in place. They’d been walking down the corridor outside Hacker’s room an estimate of a couple of minutes ago when they’d heard her groaning and came in to see what was the matter. “Do you want us to get you anything to help?” “Yeah.” Valeria managed to answer in between a mixture of her cringing and her trying to slow down her breaths as an unsuccessful attempt at dumbing down the pain; her dark brown-red shoulder length hair had become slightly more messy in the last few minutes, and she felt like her temperature was marginally raised right now, making the situation even worse. And then, choosing to go ahead with the plan of action that she’d decided to not use earlier, she added, “Two things: get Medic, and get him quickly!”   “Should one of us stay with you here in the meantime?” “No, I’ll be alright alone for a minute or two.” She gave another answer to Francoise. With that, Scout informed her that they’d be back in a minute, and then the pair were off like a shot, making their way out of the room and down the corridor towards the Medic’s infirmary as quickly as possible. Finding no better alternative at this moment in time, Hacker clasped both of her hands over her stomach and tried to gently give it a self massage, and as expected, this was only about 4% effective. “Is zere anysing else I should know?” “She was sayin’ she felt hot, and I think she looked like she was having’ these cramps earlier, a few hours ago.” Replied Scout, him and Secretary now walking in lockstep back towards Hacker’s room on either side of their fellow merc whose presence she’d requested. “I see. Vell zen, it’s good zat you two came to tell me, or else her recovery vould be much more of a slow process.” Jeremy and Francoise would be outright lying if they claimed that Medic’s seriousness didn’t surprise them - usually, when it came to other patients, he would appear excited at the prospect of putting his medical tools to use and his outward behaviour would be described as giddy, but somehow, the incident he was faced with at this moment was making his behaviour instead appear to be that of calmness. It was a rarity that they’d been unfamiliar with until Valeria joined the team. Within another few seconds, meanwhile, Hacker herself finally managed to find at least some relief when the door to her room opened from the outside, and in stepped the doctor. Help had arrived. She rolled over onto her right, having previously been facing the wall next to her bed on her left, in order to look in the direction of the door a few feet in front of her with her head still laid down on the mattress. “Evening, Josef.” She and some of the other mercs sometimes liked to address him by his real name. “Good evening, Frau Hacker.” He returned the greeting at the same time as walking up next to her and temporarily kneeling down so that he could get the tools he needed, which he’d brought with him, together; he put them out of his hands and onto the floor, gathering them together appropriately whilst Secretary closed the door again behind them. “Scout told me zat you vere having zis same problem earlier, but to a much smaller degree. Vhy didn’t you come to see me vhen it happened?” He turned his head to look at her. “It was only by a tiny smidgen at that point in time... so I thought I could just ride it out. I thought that I shouldn’t... need to rely on medication for every little problem like that. It was gone again for a while.” She needed to pause for a couple of moments so as to allow her intervals of cringing. “Ja, but as ve can all see, it made a rather nasty return, so zis just goes to show zat when you’re unwell, you need to come to me, even if it is just ‘by a tiny smidgen’.” Medic said to her in a fractionally scolding manner. “If left untreated, zat smidgen could lead to somezhing bigger, like zis.” “Sorry...” “It’s alright, just always remember to come and see me vhen zhese zings happen, ja?” By now he’d assembled the main component of the method he was going to use for treating her: a thin metal pole. “Okay.” She nodded her head, using her free hand that wasn’t clasped over her abdomen to sweep some stray strands of her hair out of her face, at the same time as wondering to herself what it was that he was planning on doing. Muttering to himself about nothing in particular, the Medic then reached inside one of his coat’s pockets and removed his pair of red gloves, proceeding to pull them onto his hands and feeling pleasurable chills run down his spine when their loud snapping noise was heard a couple of seconds later; Francoise and Jeremy were also wondering what his plan of action was by this point, as the only medical tool they were able to see him carrying a few seconds ago was the parts of the pole, and they were additionally thinking, ‘What type of treatment for this sort of problem needs his gloves to be used?’ The rest was obviously inside the white briefcase he’d been holding that was now on the floor. Their mental queries were soon answered, though, when he opened up the briefcase, and all three of the others could see that inside it was a long, thin plastic wire, a bag currently containing a clear fluid, and an item strongly resembling a small syringe. “This was a bad idea.” They weren’t looking at her, so they couldn’t see her do so, but the other 3 heard Valeria make this comment to herself next to them, and she seemed to have regained some motivation to move, because they did turn their heads to see what was happening when she abruptly pulled herself off of her bed, landing on the floor and creating a noise in the process. The floor was made of wood, and she instantly wished that she’d stayed, because it was cold - she could feel the coldness thanks to its surface making direct contact with her torso’s skin that wasn’t covered up by her crop top. As quickly as she could, she still felt like she couldn’t get up so she tried to pull herself along the floor on her way to where the door was, whilst moving still made the pain intensify and made her keep cringing. Eventually, however, she admitted defeat when she was about halfway across the room, feeling even more tired and groggy now than she did a minute ago, and she rolled onto her back and weakly stared up at the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. In this time, Josef had barely moved at all and neither had Scout or Secretary, because there’d been a very good reason for them to not be rushing to catch her. “You okay, Val?” Enquired Scout. “No...” She was then back in the same position on the floor: curled up with one hand on her stomach. “Why can’t you just give me a pill or something like that, Medic?” Josef, remembering that she had trypanophobia and that this was most likely the reason behind what had just happened, got up from where he’d been kneeling and approached her. “Because my IV treatment is a much quicker method; a pill vould take half an hour or a whole hour to put itself into effect, because it needs to travel through zhe digestive tract first and be broken down before zhe liver releases its remnants into zhe bloodstream, but as implied in its name, an intravenous drip takes a shortcut directly to zhe veins and zhe bloodstream vizhout needing to go through zhe process of being broken down.” He stood over her as he said this making himself look like a mostly dark silhouette from her perspective courtesy of the ceiling’s lightbulb, but after he’d finished speaking, he knelt down towards her so that their faces were now only about a foot away from each other. “I chose zis option because I thought you’d vant a more immediate solution.” “I do, I do, it’s just I wish that quicker solution didn’t have to involve things prodding through my skin.” She shook her head and shuddered at the thought of it. Making sure to do it carefully, Medic reached his arms out and used them to pick Valeria up off the floor, during which she groaned again almost silently to herself, and he hoisted her up into a position where her head was over his shoulder and her legs were dangling loosely in front of his chest. “I know, Hacker. I have no intention on forcing you into anysing zat you don’t vant to do, but I’m afraid it’s either zis or sit through zhe pain for anozher hour.” He responded to her in a tone that was dominated by understanding and a gentleness that Scout and Secretary both found to be another occurrence they’d never seen from him before, prompting them to be surprised once again while Josef knelt down again, this time slightly but not fully, so that he could safely sling her off of his shoulder and back onto her bed after he’d walked back up to it. “I... alright then, I suppose I’ll do it...” Hacker chose to swallow her phobia and ride it out, this objective potentially being more successful this time. He nodded in acknowledgement. “Zhank you. A person’s phobia is a difficult thing for zhem to get around, so I think it’s good of you to try and do zhat.” He displayed a small, brief smile as a way to show that he was proud before he turned back around towards his briefcase on the floor. Jeremy and Francoise, during this, both sat down a few feet away in the computer chair and the regular chair in the vicinity of Valeria’s ‘gaming den’ in the corner of the room, watching Medic pull out the liquid-filled plastic bag from the briefcase in one hand and then the thin wire in the other. His patient herself observed what he was doing, her fear currently being one that made the feeling in her stomach feel somewhat more sickening, but it didn’t become more serious until she watched him use the same hand he was utilising for holding the wire also grasp hold of the syringe. Her eyes had grown wider and for a moment she could’ve sworn she could feel her breath catching in her throat, along with her heartbeat racing and with it ringing in her ears. She was completely fine around doctors in general, it was just when they pulled out these dreaded tools that shoved medicines directly into her blood when she experienced the previously described reaction. Oh my god, oh blimey... She watched him hang up the bag on the pole next to her bed and then attach one end of the wire to the bottom of the bag, allowing the fluid to flow through it and to the other end, which was currently closed. Now that this was done, he lifted up the needle to attach it to this other end of the wire, prompting Hacker to instinctively pull her legs in closer to herself because of it being nearer than it was a moment ago. “It’s alright, Val.” Secretary reassured her friend when she witnessed her do this. “Francoise is right, you know.” Added Medic in agreement, neither of these two sentences being completely heard as a result of her accelerated heart rate pounding through her ears. He attached the plunger end, which was open, onto the loose end of the wire, and now the fluid from the bag had pushed itself into the syringe as well. There was a chair next to her bed, as well, so the German pulled this up underneath him and used it to sit on as he brought the needle closer to her bed. “Could you give me your arm please?” She decided that her right arm was closer to him, so she slowly, tentatively, reached this one out, with a small tear each materialising in both of her eyes. With his empty hand, the left one, he grabbed hold of her forearm - she experienced some chills there as well as down her back when she felt that his glove was rubbery and cold, but soothingly so after the split second in which its coldness took her by surprise - in a manner that was mostly gentle. “Hey, look who’s here!” Scout got everyone’s attention, except for Medic’s because of him wanting to focus on what he was doing, and the former seemed to be pointing to the corner of the room opposite him and Francoise; what appeared to be a white dove with some bloodstains populating its feathers poked its head out from behind a pile of books and computer manuals there, emitting a small cooing noise as it looked directly at the pair. “Archimedes!” Hacker, realising that he must’ve been following Medic down the corridor a minute ago and gotten into the room unnoticed before the door was shut again, exclaimed in surprise upon hearing the ‘coo’. Medic also reached his own realisation due to his loyal pet seemingly providing a distraction: it was now or never, and therefore he used his other hand, while she wasn’t looking, to jab the needle into the underside of her right forearm. This made her attention return in an instant as she gasped from the sharp sting there, looking at it with her eyes wide again. “You did it! It’s okay, zhe hard part’s over now.” He told her, the smile returning to his features. “Vell done, Valeria.” However, before she could respond, she noticed straight away that for some reason, she suddenly felt more drowsiness than she did before, her eyelids momentarily closing themselves by a few degrees - a change that had to be connected with the drip that the vein inside her arm had just been connected to. “What exactly... did... you put in that IV, Medic...?” “Zhe main fluid inside zhe bag is ibuprofen in liquid form, which I enhanced a vhile ago to be more effective and vith zhat being vhy it’s clear in colour, but a few minutes ago I also added a small handful of my anaesthetic supply into it as an extra ingredient, so zhat it could help you to sleep better, as well.” He gave his reply at the same time as wrapping a thin bandage he’d removed from one of his coat’s pockets around the area of her wrist where the needle was located, so as to make it more secure. “We saw ‘im putting some other liquid into the bag.” Added Scout in confirmation of his answer. “Well, I’ve got to hand it to you, I actually think I like it.” Another thing she noticed was that the pain in her stomach had begun to gradually wash away, piece by piece, after the IV needle had been inserted, and it was being replaced at the same speed with a pleasantly warm wave spreading throughout all of the veins in her body. She’d regained the motivation to move as a result, so she uncurled her body and moved into a position where she was laid out flat on top of her bed’s duvet. “You do look a little bit less pale.” Agreed Secretary, with Scout also nodding his head - whilst his methods, from what she’d seen, were what you’d call ‘unusual’ more often than not, one thing she’d learned was to never underestimate how well he could get the job done. “You’ll start to feel a little bit doolally in a few minutes.” Medic told the shorter-haired one of the females. Whilst he informed her of this, he remembered his left hand was still very near to her right forearm, and he decided to make an attempt at using a technique from the field of medicine that he’d heard of before: holding it next to where the drip was, and moving his thumb slowly and gently, as if he were using it to rub her arm. From what he’d read about this technique, it was a method for doctors to non-verbally let their patient know that they were still there. “Define ‘doolally’ in this case.” She said as a request for clarification. “The type of anaesthetic zhat I put in zhe intravenous bag is a moderate sedative, so you’ll feel as if you’re intoxicated and your speech vill be slurred, but it’s nozhing to be vorried about; zat’s normal for zis level of sedation.” Sure enough, it was about ten minutes or so later when Valeria, who’d now gotten under the duvet and was laid with most of her body underneath it and her head on the pillow, was smiling inanely to herself and gazing up at the ceiling. “How d’you feel?” Jeremy asked his friend, him and Secretary having moved their chairs closer to her bed a couple of minutes ago. Hacker turned her head to the right to look at him, as the pair were sat next to Medic, and her grin grew wider. “The liquid ibuprofen really worked, and that anaesthetic that’s in it’s making me feel good...~” She let out a small chuckle to no one in particular, right before a certain bloodstained dove flapped its way over to her bed through the air and landed to her left, on her pillow. “Hellew.” In response to this, Archimedes ‘coo’ed once again and tilted his head, making her laugh. “You were the perfect diversion earlier, weren’t you?” Secretary addressed the avian creature with her own smile, both at how cute the birb was and at how effective his presence had been in taking Hacker’s mind off of what took place a few minutes ago. “We should probably go now; it’s gettin’ late.” Said Scout, before looking back at Valeria and emitting a small chuckle. “And it looks like Val’s done for the night, too.” She appeared to currently be sound asleep, both of her arms still outside of the duvet while the rest of her body was underneath, with her mouth slightly open. “That must be the sedative.” Commented Francoise in the same manner. “I take it she’ll be okay in the morning?” “Ja, zhe enhanced ibuprofen inside her veins vill have been maintained long enough for its lasting effect to do its job. And she’ll be a little bit tired to start vith but zhe anaesthetic vill feel rejuvenating to her.” Josef replied. “Like coffee?” The female who was still awake also asked. “Precisely.” He nodded his head. “I’ll stay vith her just for anozher minute so zhat I can make sure she’s comfortable, and then I’ll come back here in zhe morning to help her remove zhe drip.” “See you, Doc.” Scout bade him goodnight as he got up from where he was sitting and then, after he’d looked back at his sleeping friend one last time, he and Secretary walked out of the room, closing the door behind them. “So, when are we gonna tell her?” As soon as the door was shut, she addressed Francoise. “Let’s not just yet; let’s see how long it takes her to work it out herself.” She smiled in mostly suppressed laughter. “Although mind you, Medic will probably be a pensioner by the time he gets round to admitting it himself.” “Yeah.” Jeremy joined in with this same type of laughter. “It’s kinda amazing how Val hasn’t noticed something this obvious yet.” As they began to walk away, en route back to their own rooms, he glanced over his shoulder at the door’s window, where he could still see Medic sat next to Hacker’s bed and making sure that the IV wire was straight so that there was absolutely no chance of it getting tangled in the night, doing all this while smiling serenely. “Mornin’ all.” Sniper addressed his fellow mercs about ten hours later as he walked downstairs into the briefing room, rubbing one of his eyes. “Hi Snipes.” Returned Scout, letting out a yawn at the same time as momentarily stretching his arms out behind him. “Did any of you hear the rumour that’s floating around?” Spy, in the middle of lighting one of his cigarettes and placing it into his mouth, asked in his usual clipped voice. As always, the purr of his French accent sent a shiver down Secretary’s neck and the middle of her back. “What rumour’s that?” Queried Engineer. He’d been sat on one side of the room for the last few minutes, in a chair with one leg over the other while playing a couple of quiet notes on his guitar. “From what I’ve heard, apparently last night Medic spent the entire night sleeping in Hacker’s room, right next to her bed.” Replied the masked figure with a tiny chuckle lacing the smile that had just appeared. “What.” Francoise, in curiosity, instantly snapped her head into the direction of the male who’d just spoken. “Demoman claimed a few minutes ago that when he was walking down one of the upstairs corridors late at night, he happened to catch a glimpse through the door’s window of both of them asleep, with him having his head on the top of her bed and with the rest of his body slumped over a chair.” “It’s true, I swear I saw it!” The Scotsman himself confirmed from his own chair a few feet away, and as expected, he was holding a still full cider bottle that he was hoping to open in the next few seconds. “And I also saw the lassie having something attached to her arm, I think it was connected to a bag filled up with some kind o’ liquid.” “One of Doctor’s experimental treatments, maybe...?” Heavy thought out loud. “It could be something new he’s been working on, yes.” Nodded Spy in agreement. “Val told me yesterday evenin’ that she had bellyache, and she looked dreadful as well, so Medic must’ve been tryin’ to help her with that.” Said Sniper. Scout, sat adjacent to the brunette, turned his head and gave her a knowing look about the rumour they’d just been told about, simultaneously trying and partly failing to suppress his own chuckles. “‘I’ll only stay with her for another minute’ he said, ‘I’ll come back in the morning’ he said! Can we go upstairs and tell her now? Pleeease? I bet even the other guys here think it’s obvious, too!” “Not yet, not yet! Sssssshhhh!” Secretary placed a finger over her lips and quietly laughed to herself. Josef, having only awoken roughly thirty seconds ago, was spending some of his time wiping the sand from the corners of his eyes and readjusting his glasses, which had gone slightly askew in the night. After he was done, he took a moment to allow his pupils to adjust to the darkness in the room except for gentle sunlight streaming in through the window on the door and through the white curtains in front of the window placed to the right of the bed, and he put himself back up into a proper seated position in his chair. His red rubber gloves were still covering his hands, his lab coat was still being worn by the rest of his body and, in addition, it seemed that Archimedes, too, was peacefully sleeping at the bottom of the bed. It was a little bit after this same moment when Medic could faintly see Valeria make some tiny movements as she began to stir, starting with her head as she still felt as if her eyelids were heavy and she yawned to herself before, slowly and piece by piece, she managed to roll over onto her right side. It was still mostly dark, but she could partially see the intravenous syringe still attached to her right arm; for a split second she felt a surge of panic, before she remembered the events of the previous night and that she didn’t have to go through the process of it being plunged through her skin again. Her eyes, still resisting the strong urge to drop back off into the land of sleep, flicked upwards when another thing she remembered was that there’d been someone else with her during these events. Medic, delicately placing one of his gloved hands onto her right forearm and making that chill residing in her spine make a reappearance, smiled in the same manner while the light through the curtains touched the left hand side of his glasses’ frames. “Guten morgen, Frau Hacker.” Archimedes emitted a little ‘coo’ as he woke up as well and tilted his head by a few degrees.

#tf2 #medic #tf2 medic #team fortress 2 #tf2 x oc #team fortress 2 x oc #medic x oc #tf2 medic x oc #fluff #comfort

[devilbat]

Kitchen Confidential

@zombiebunny97 requested 17, 42, 21, 38 with Tom. I hope you like it.

17. It’s just a blind date! What’s the worst that could happen?” “I could literally die”

21 Your lips are getting really close to mine.”

38 Your face is heating up, is it something I said?

42 I desperately want to take you out for dinner and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me.”

Warning: sexual innuendo, and fluff.

“It’s just a blind date! What’s the worst that could happen?” Your boss Chef Hiddleston chuckled. After hearing you bitch about you friends setting you up on some date with a guy you’ve never meet. You had become quite comfortable around Tom in the kitchen. After all you were his sous chef. And the late nights and early morning you both spent, had formed a bond with the handsome British chef.

Sure in the beginning you both had been at each other throats. He was arrogant when he first stepped in taking the place you had hope to get. But it fell to the owners nephew. It’s not like you didn’t get the promotion as sous chef. But it wasn’t what you wanted. You knew that kitchen like the back of your hand. Everyone respected you. Then he showed up. The first day you met him you wanted to slap that smug extremely sexy face of his. He was sex on legs. His deep accent could do a number on you if he said the the right words.

“I could literally die.” You huffed. Sure it was easy for him. He just look at a girl and she came on the spot. You were average and worked more then needed. That’s what he liked about you after the first six months, he realized how much of an asset you were. That was when he started to flirt with you. Though you only thought he was being nice. After 2 years and him sleeping with every girl that worked at the restaurant. The two of you had odd friendship. Sure it didn’t stop him from trying to get into your pants. But you weren’t that type of girl. You wanted romance not Wham Bam Thank you mama.

“Your not going to die.” Tom rolled his eyes. “Besides your meeting him here tonight. So if anything goes wrong just get me. But I think it will be fine maybe you get lucky and that little quim of your will finally get a good pounding, god knows you need it.” Tom smirked and you scoffed at the man. After two year you picked up on his British terms. Smacking him hard in the chest.

“Hey asshole. My sex life is none of your concern.” Oh if he wasn’t so damn hot you may have filed sexual harassment on him.

“My concern is that your so damn uptight, and grumpy. You know if you’d just let me take you, just for a few rounds.” Tom wiggled his eyebrow.

“Oh please like You could have me.” You laughed. “Let alone satisfy me.” You waved your hand at him, going back to your prep. Before you knew it Tom was in your space, his lean body pressed against your backside. Making you drop the knife on the cutting board. Dipping his head down, lips ghosting near your ear.

“Oh I can have you any way I want you.” He hummed. Making your breath hitch. “I can have you withering beneath me begging me for more.” His voice dropped low and deep. Pulled away slightly. Looking at your heated face. “Mmm darling, Your face is heating up, is it something I said?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No it’s not. It’s just from the ovens.” You stumbled at your poor attempt at showing him that he was not affecting you. He hummed before bumping his hip against you, walking away. “Oh look at that there I’ve ran out of Carrots. I’ll-I’ll be in the walk-in.” Rushing off into the giant refrigeration unit. He chuckled, shaking his head. With a pleased look on his face.

Letting the huge door close behind you. You rested along one of the tall racks inside the cold room. With a sighed, you were happy that it was only you and him this early. No other employees, they wouldn’t be around for another hour. You closed your eyes. Trying to calm yourself down. Why was he acting like this. You thought, never once hearing the door open. It wasn’t until there was another presence was in front of you. Your eyes popped opens seeing Tom covered chest. You looked up to see a big old smirk plastered along his lips.

“I needed carrots.” He shrugged. As he pulled the box of carrots out, which were directly behind you. Pulling them out they managed to push you against Toms chest. Holding the box with both his hands, which caused you to be trapped, between him and the carrots that pressed you against him. Wicked smirk, and a dark chuckle left his lips before lifting the carrot over your head and walking out.

Later that night. And four black dresses later. You sat in the corner of the restaurant. Waiting for you date to arrive. It had been thirty minutes and still he was a no show. Maybe you could just go back to work or just call it a night, knowing that you would never hear the end of it if you went to the back. You looked at your phone one last time. Not noticing that someone had sat down across from you. When you looked up. Tom sat in front of you. Wearing a blue button dress shirt, black tailored slacks. His hair was styled back not the normal mess you always see. You gaped at the man. You thought he was hot on a normal day. But dear god in hell he was sexier then hell. Your leg that had been crossed over the other fell, you felt his long legs brush against yours under the table.

“Y/n, you look ravishing.” Tom cooed. He had never seen you in a dress. Let alone all dolled up. To him you were beautiful on any given day. But tonight you looked stunning.

“Tom, you know I don’t need to be rescued.” You sighed as you went to slide out of your chair. Only for Tom to grab your hand.

“I know you don’t and I’m sorry I’m late. I was waiting for Fernando to cover for me.” He smiled genuine not his normal cocky smirk. You went to say something but nothing came out. “And before you start the question. Yes, I’m your date, I’ve known for awhile. And in fact it was when you were complaining last week about your friends setting you up, that’s when I figured it out.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You huffed. Not sure what to think.

���Well for starts you wouldn’t of agreed to this date and to see the look on your face when you found out it was me.” He stated half smiling.

“Ugh, Tom we really shouldn’t. This isn’t funny really. I-I don’t want a one night. That is what I would get with you.” You sighed trying to leave but Tom had yet to let go of your hand.

“I know that darling, and I wouldn’t want just one night with you. Haven’t you realize I haven’t seen anyone in months.” His thumb started to rub circles along your knuckles. You went to say something but he stopped you. “Please at least have dinner with me, you and I both know you haven’t eaten all day. And I’m starving.”

With a sigh you agreed. Knowing he was right. He always made sure you took a break to eat something while working. Tom was surprisingly a gentleman. As the conversation flowed and dinner was done. Time seemed to fly by and soon the restaurant was closing. Tom told you thing you never known about. Tom never once made his normal passes at you. He even walked you to your car. You leaned against it as you were still in the middle of him telling you a rather funny story that had happened when he was playing rugby.

“Your lips are getting really close to mine.” You whispered as you realize he was getting closer to you. His hands were resting on either side of you on the car. He smiled.

“So they are.” He mumbled. “Y/n, I’m not going to lie. I desperately want to take you out for dinner and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me.” You gasped at his words but was soon to be silence by his lips on yours. Your hand found their way to his side grabbing ahold of the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Well, we all ready had dinner. And it seems that we’ve been dancing around this for awhile now. So..” Mumbling, you bit your lip as his eyes opened to look into yours he was a bit shocked at what he was hearing.

Permanent tags: @kitkatkl @lokilvrr @instantnoodlese @drakesfiance @meyoko10 @jackheart180 @miraclesoflove @wolfcore227 @mr-hiddlestons-pet @madleiine @teageowen @scorpionchild81 @redlipsinkorea

Tom/Loki Tag’s: @theoneanna @graveyard-groupie @silverquartx @moonfaery @kcd15 @moonlightprime @youveseen--thebutcher @shockwavee @sabine-leo @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms @vethrvolnir @darkprincessloki92 @archy3001 @chaoticwithpurpose @paanchu786

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom x reader #tom hiddleston x you #chef tom

[mrswalkerwritesagain]

Can’t Wait - Jaime x MC

Book: Wishful Thinking Genres: Fluff, Romance Rating: PG Pairings: Jaime Lewis x Samantha Lane Word Count: ~1200

Samantha manages to wait until very nearly 8:00 a.m. before giving into the temptation to call Jaime the morning after their kiss. No, it was more than a kiss, she thinks to herself and in her bathroom mirror, she watches a blush color her cheeks as she remembers laying under the stars with Jaime the night before. No, definitely not just a kiss, that had been full-on making out complete with heavy petting and writhing against each other like they were teenagers again. Not that they’d ever done anything like that as teenagers. 

“Who knew Jaime could kiss like that?” she muses out loud dreamily to Jinx and Opie. Jinx blinks slowly at her from her spot on the windowsill and Sam hears the little calico think, Aren’t you supposed to be gone by now? I have a catnip heist that was supposed to start five minutes ago. Opie barks happily and his thoughts come through like bright sunshine into Sam’s mind - Kisses? Did you say kisses? I’ll give you kisses, Mommy! 

Sam giggles and ruffles Opie’s ears, bending to allow him give her a flurry of licks on her cheek. She straightens and presses call on Jaime’s number, flicking on the speakerphone, and setting the phone on the vanity as she fixes the makeup that Opie has smudged. 

“Good morning, Northbridge News Lead Anchor Samantha Lane,” Jaime picks up after just a couple rings. “To what do I owe the honor of this call?”

“Well, Carpenter/Electrician/All-Around Amazing Craftsman Jaime Lewis,” Sam teases back, “I am calling ask you some very probing questions about our...rendezvous last night.” 

“Oooh, rendezvous. Sounds way fancier than frenchin’ our way to first base.” 

“Oh god, Jaime, no, no, no,” Sam laughs and hears Jaime doing the same on the other end of the line.  

“You said you had some probing questions for me?” Jaime asks and in the background Sam hears a car door slam. He must be at work already. The thought reminds her that she really does need to get going and Sam picks her phone up and carries it with her as she packs up her oversized bag, tossing in her heels and her notes on the stories they’re working on today.

“I do, indeed, Mr. Lewis,” Sam wiggles her foot into her favorite sneakers for the walk to work. “Namely...when can we do that again? Because I have to tell you that was a damn good kiss and I’m not sure I can wait very long to lay another one on you.” 

“Funny you should mention that,” Jaime chuckles and a half second later there’s a musical series of knocks on her front door. Sam’s breath catches with excitement and she quickly hobbles with one shoe on to the door, yanking it open. 

“I couldn’t wait either,” Jaime gives Sam a flirtatious smile that sends sparks of electricity through her whole body. She’s always thought Jaime was handsome and wonderful, but she’d been unprepared for just how incredible it would be to be the focus of his romantic attention. He ducks his head as she goes up on her tiptoes and their lips meet in a soft kiss. It’s sweet and gentle, but Sam finds herself hungry for more than that and wraps her arms around Jaime’s shoulders and urges him closer. Jaime smiles a little against her lips deepens the kiss. Through a bit of a fog she hears him think, God, you’re incredible...even more than I imagined you would be. I can’t believe I’m finally kissing you. He wraps one arm around her waist pulls Sam flush against his body. She sighs happily when Jaime eventually slows down to lays a line of sweet kiss up her cheek and give her a tight hug. He starts to pull away, but Sam holds him tighter. 

“Oh, no, you have to hold me for a while. I always thought weak in the knees was a figure of speech, but damn if you didn’t just prove it’s real.” 

Jaime blushes a little, but there’s a proud glint in his eyes. Sam can just barely make out a thought that flits through his mind, Just you wait, Sam. I’m going to make more than your knees weak sometime... And then suddenly she’s the one blushing, ducking her head and fighting back a giddy smile. 

“If I don’t let you go for at least a second, how will I give you your coffee?” Jaime nods toward the table next to her front door, which is still hanging open, and Sam sees a drinks carrier with two iced coffees and a pastry bag. 

“You brought me coffee?” Sam gives him a quick peck on the cheek and then rushes over to pick up the pastry bag, peeking inside. “And a chocolate croissant from Le Fou’s? You are setting the bar very high for yourself, boyfriend....friend who is a boy....who is more than a friend....” 

Sam babbles and trails off. She swallows hard, focusing solely on the flaky pastry in the bag. She can’t believe she called him her boyfriend. What was she thinking? They’ve kissed twice now! She even didn’t know their first date was a date until halfway through it! Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god.

“Sam, stop panicking,” Jaime tucks a finger under her chin and gently brings her face up to meet his eyes. They’re kind and warm just like always, but with a new tenderness in them.

“How do you know I’m panicking?” she chokes out. 

“I don’t need to read minds to know what you’re thinking,” he smiles gently. “After all these years, I can read you. And I would be incredibly happy to be your boyfriend, if that’s what you want.” 

“Is that what you want?” she asks nervously. Things are moving very fast, but she’s not scared, not exactly. She just doesn’t want to mistake a moment of passion for something if it’s not anything more than that...a moment. 

Jaime doesn’t answer out loud, but gently cradles her face in his work-roughened hands and closes his eyes as he leans his forehead down to rest against hers. She hears his thoughts clear as day with honesty shining in every word. 

I meant what I said last night. I love you, Samantha.

His emotions mingle with his thoughts and Sam gasps softly as they wash over her - affection, friendship, love, and lust all swirling together in a powerful wave that brings tears to her eyes. 

“Boyfriend, it is then,” she whispers and Jaime opens his eyes and smiles at her, giving her soft kiss. 

“You should get going,” he tells her, tucking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “You don’t want to be late for your big day, Ms. Lane.” 

“Oh, shit,” Sam’s eyes widen and she frantically darts around the living room, pulling on her shoes and collecting her bag, her coffee, and her croissant. She hears Jaime laughing at her, but doesn’t let that slow her down. She shouts over her shoulder as she starts running out the door and down the stairs, “Could you take Opie out for a walk? I didn’t get a chance to! Oh, and lock up before you leave?” 

Sam almost stumbles in her hurry as she bursts out of her building and onto the sidewalk. 

“Sam!” 

She cranes her head to look up at her apartment window where Jaime is leaning out with a wide grin. 

“Dinner and date number two tonight?” he calls and she beams up at him. 

“Definitely! Can’t wait!” 

#jaime x mc #Jaime Lewis x Samantha Lane #wishful thinking #playchoices fanfiction #mrswalkerwrites fanfiction

[bee-a-wolf]

Feral Creatures

Finally got around to writing a Ratbag/Talion oneshot! You can read it on Ao3, or under the cut.

Talion sat up against a rock, dozing shallowly. His campfire had burned down to embers. He would have preferred to sleep through the night, but dusk found him too close to an uruk stronghold, and a patrol stumbling across his unconscious body was too likely to chance. He’d only risked a campfire in the lee of a tall cliff, where the smoke would be hidden.

A nearby scuffling jolted Talion awake. His hand dropped to the hilt of his blade, and he searched for the source of the noise.

Yellow eyes watched him from just outside the fire’s light.

“Who goes there?” Talion demanded.

“Hey, Ranger,” someone rasped from the darkness. “Funny coincidence running into you, eh?”

Talion closed the distance and pressed his blade against the uruk’s throat before he recognized the voice. Ratbag swallowed hard, raising his hands in surrender.

“Just me! Just your old friend Ratbag.”

“Ratbag,” Talion scowled, hilting his blade. “This would be a strange coincidence indeed, if I believed that.”

“I’m offended, Ranger,” Ratbag said reproachfully. “I’d never lie to you. Never! But, we-ell, maybe I was hoping our paths would cross.”

Fully awake now, Talion began to notice things he’d overlooked. Ratbag always hunched when he stood, but now he bent nearly double, clutching his abdomen. Black blood glistened in the firelight.

“Let me see,” Talion said.

“On second thought? It’s nothing.” Ratbag’s complexion seemed more waxy than usual, though it was difficult to tell with orcs. “Take more’n a flesh wound to put Ratbag down for good.”

Talion grabbed the uruk’s wrists - shockingly thin wrists, Talion noticed, his fingers wrapping all the way around easily - and pulled his arms outward, revealing a deep slash running from Ratbag’s right shoulder down to his left hip. His chestplate hung lose from his shoulders, snapped in half. Black blood pulsed steadily from the gash.

“Flesh wound? You’ve been gutted like a fish!”

“Ah, this little scratch? I can barely feel it,” Ratbag insisted, but yelped and writhed in Talion’s grip when the ranger prodded testingly at the slash.

“How did this happen?”

“You know how politics are.” Ratbag spat angrily in the dirt. “Warchief Gubu thought I would make a better caragor toy than a captain.”

“Uruk politics sound quite different than those of men.”

“So, of course, I’m not going to stick around and wait for those backstabbers to smell blood in the water. Just have to lay low for awhile, ‘til I sort myself out.”

“And bleed to death, most likely. How were you planning to bandage this wound?”

“Well...”

“Let me guess. This is where I come in?”

With a strange splitting sensation, Celebrimbor stepped out of Talion’s body. The spectral blue elf crossed his arms and scowled at Talion.

“We’ve wasted enough time on this one.”

Talion looked critically at Ratbag. While the orc’s advice had led Talion to his first victory against an uruk captain, he’d achieved many more successes since, without any more help. And while Ratbag had been more helpful and less attempted-murder-y than most uruks Talion had met, he was still an uruk. A foul, conniving creature, a minion of the Black Hand.

And yet…

“You remind me of something,” Talion mused. “Or someone. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“While you try and figure that out, I’ll just go bleed out beside those rocks, shall I?”

Talion sighed. “Undress to the waist, orc.”

Ratbag’s eyes shot wide. “What?”

“Your armor is beyond useless. It’s in the way. I need to have a better look at your injuries.”

“Right. ‘course.” Ratbag shrugged off the remains of his armor, unclamped the collar of jutting bone from around his shoulders and dropped it on the ground.

First, Talion nursed the fire. When it burned bright enough to see by, he inspected Ratbag’s wound and discovered the slash wasn’t as deep as he’d first thought. The black blood was deceptive, when Talion’s experience lay in gauging the injuries of red blooded men.

“Nothing vital is damaged,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

“Bad news for old Gubu, then,” Ratbag said, grinning. The grin twisted into a grimace as Talion swabbed the wound with an alcohol soaked rag. “Argh!”

“Stop squirming,” Talion ordered.

He could see Ratbag trying hard to obey the command. The uruk stood with his narrow shoulders squared and chest stuck out. His face was drawn, tight with pain.

When Talion touched the stinging rag to the slash again, Ratbag only gave the slightest cringe. He scrunched his eyes shut while Talion finished cleaning the wound.

Talion realized that this was the longest, closest look he’d ever gotten at an orc. Most of the time, his view was masked by a flurry of blades and bows, and afterward, his opponents were carved deep by mortal wounds. Certainly Talion never lingered long enough to inspect them.

But while he wrapped a bandage around and around Ratbag’s torso, he was struck by how few physical differences there were between uruk hai and men. Even the orc’s nipples were strangely ordinary, albeit pierced by twin metal hoops, the sight of which made Talion glance away quickly. By firelight, green skin might have been merely olive. Ratbag’s jutting ribs and hitching chest seemed more pitiable than off-putting.

“There,” Talion said, almost softly. He cleared his throat and added, more harshly, “You’re done.”

“Thank you, Ranger.” Ratbag glanced away. “I owe you.”

“Many times over, yes.” A smile crept into the corner’s of Talions lips.

“Oy, don’t you worry about that. Ratbag pays back what he owes. Speaking of payback...I need to visit to a particular warchief and his pets.”

Ratbag started to turn away, but Talion caught him by the arm.

“Not tonight. Probably not for awhile.”

“Eh? You said I was fine!”

“Well, you’re not dying,” Talion said, bemused. “But you’re hardly in fighting form. Rest for the night, at least, and I’ll help you get your revenge in the morning.”

“Really?” Ratbag asked suspiciously. “You mean it?”

“Of course. You owe me so many debts, what difference does one more make?” Talion prodded the campfire. “If you’d like to repay me, perhaps you could start by keeping watch tonight.”

“Sure thing, Ranger. You go ahead and get your beauty sleep.”

Celebrimbor, who had been watching the scene with undisguised contempt, finally spoke up. “You can't be serious! You would trust this...feral creature- with your life?”

“Even if a patrol does ambush me while I sleep, I’m sure we can regain the upper-hand,” Talion said. Then looking at Ratbag, added- “And, I’ll know who to blame.”

“No ambushes,” Ratbag said. “You can count on Ratbag.”

“Do as you wish,” Celebrimbor snapped. “But I won’t hear any moaning when your ‘friend’ inevitably betrays you.”

But the next morning found Ratbag still standing vigil - or at least, sitting vigil - on the outskirts of camp. In the morning sunlight, Talion could see dark bags of exhaustion under the orc’s eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Ratbag grunted. “Just bored out of my skull.”

“I meant your injuries. Are you in pain?”

“Oh! No, no, that’s all right.” Ratbag yawned widely, showing off an impressive array of jagged teeth.

“Sleep,” Talion ordered. “I’ll take a turn at watch.”

“You’ll watch? Watch for what?”

“Other uruks. You don’t seem very popular among your own kind.”

“That’s not- I’m not some kind of outcast, nothing like that,” Ratbag snapped. “Uruk hai aren’t so soft as men, with all sort of...mercy, and kindness.” Saying the words ‘mercy’ and ‘kindness’ in tones more commonly used for ‘foul stench’ or ‘oozing pustules’.

“Alright,” Talion conceded, laughing. “Then I’ll just mind my own business over there for awhile, shall I? And if any unfriendly looking uruks should approach, I may shout, for my own benefit, loud enough for anyone sleeping nearby to hear.”

“I mean, if that’s what you want.” Ratbag yawned and slumped back against the rocks. He’d passed out within a minute.

True to his word, Talion remained close by for the next few hours while Ratbag slept. He snuck occasional glances at his unlikely ally. Asleep, Ratbag looked even more fragile than usual. Talion wondered at the orc’s comparatively small stature. Did Uruk hai birth litters, and if so, could he be a runt?

Ratbag slept in a loose curl, without bedroll or blanket. Talion briefly considered laying his own cloak over the orc’s huddled figure, but shook off the thought. He could only imagine what Celebrimbor would say about that.

“You stayed,” Ratbag said to Talion after waking, vague wonderment in his voice.

“I told you I would.” Talion unsheathed his sword. “And now, to deal with your warlord.”

An hour later found Talion deep in the uruk stronghold, battling against wave after wave of enemy orcs- but not the warchief. Warchief Gubu was nowhere in sight.

“You said he would be here!” Talion shouted to be heard over the clash of swords.

“And you ought to know by now, I’m not privy to that kind of information!” Ratbag called back.

“There are too many to fight.”

“Right, okay! Hang on.”

Rolling aside to avoid a volley of arrows, Talion landed in a crouch just in time to see Ratbag slip away behind the a nearby parapet.

Talion couldn’t help the dagger of disappointment that slipped between his ribs, just as he stuck a very real dagger into an uruk’s chest and pinned him to the ground.

I did warn you, Celebrimbor’s voice wheedled in the back of Talion’s mind.

An uruk twice the size of Ratbag stepped up and swung an ax toward Talion’s head. He barely raised his sword in time to block. The force of the blow knocked his blade aside, and he awkwardly ducked another uruk’s flail.

“Is this really the time for I-told-you-so’s?” he muttered.

Suddenly, a caragor thundered around the corner and leaped upon the nearest uruk, savagely tearing with long, sharp fangs. A ripple of surprise and fear went through the other uruks as two more of the massive beasts followed the first, muscles rippling beneath pale fur.

From the direction where the caragors had appeared, a skinny orc came running along the wall.

While panic and rampaging caragors tore through the enemy ranks, Talion vaulted up onto a crate and scaled the wall. Crouching to avoid being spotted, he made his way quickly toward where he saw Ratbag heading.

They met up in the shadow of a tower.

“I found him,” Ratbag said hurriedly. “Gubu. That maggot breeding son of a tark... ah, no offence, of course.”

“Of course,” Talion said dryly.

“How’d you like my escape plan, by the way?”

“The caragors,” Talion realized. “It was you who released them.”

“You can thank me later. We’ve gotta catch up to Gubu the Grotesque before he can slip away again.”

Choosing not to remark that Ratbag seemed to be the one who escaped when he and the warchief last met up, Talion followed Ratbag out the other side of the tower. They moved in the shadows until Warchief Gubu and his bodyguards came into sight.

“There he is,” Ratbag hissed, unnecessarily. The warchief’s band was easy to spot- a massive orc with an imperious looking battle-axe, bookended by two slightly less massive uruks wearing the same style of armor.

The leading Uruk’s face looked like ground meat, riddled with squirming white worms.

“Maggot breeding son of a tark,” Talion muttered. “I see that the maggot part was based in truth.”

“Disgusting, innit?” Ratbag shuddered. “I mean, he’s got to hear that all the time. But when I innocently mention that his face makes me wanna puke my guts out-”

“You did what? No wonder he tried to feed you to his pets. For such a puny orc, you’re too mouthy by far.”

“That’s what people keep telling me,” Ratbag agreed. “Now, are we going to kill this bastard, or what?”

Talion leaped down on the first bodyguard by surprise, killing him instantly with a blade plunged into his spine. The other fled in terror, leaving the warchief alone.

“Gravewalker! I’d hoped I would get to face you before my flesh is consumed,” Gubu gloated.

Despite the size of the warchief’s great-axe, he handled the weapon with surprising deftness, spinning the handle to block all of Talion’s blows. Focused intently on getting past Gubu’s defenses, Talion didn’t hear the other uruk come up from behind.

“Ranger, look out!” Ratbag shouted.

Talion whirled around to see an uruk bearing down with a hammer raised high, and slashed his attacker across the middle. The uruk fell backward off the platform with a surprised gurgle.

“Ratbag,” Warchief Gubu chortled. “I should have known.”

“That I would be back to cut your disgusting throat?” Ratbag snarled.

“Hah!” the warchief said. “I meant, I knew you’d bring someone stronger to fight your battles for you. You pathetic, cowardly piece of- arrrghkk!”

Warchief Gubu’s severed head rolled across the platform and came to a stop beneath Ratbag’s boot.

“Excellent teamwork,” Ratbag said.

Talion shook the blood off his sword before sheathing it. “How so?”

“I keep him talking, you cut off his head. Oldest trick in the book.”

“Hmm.” Talon watched as Ratbag went to work eagerly sawing off the warchief's ear with a dull-looking dagger. “You did warn me about the one sneaking up from behind. For that, I owe you.”

Ratbag waved a dismissive hand. “Like you said, Ranger. What’s one more?”

A few nights later, while crouched beside his campfire, Talion heard familiar footsteps behind him. He didn’t bother to turn around as the uruk approached.

Something dropped into the snow beside him. Talion looked down and found himself eye to eye with an enormous dead rat. He looked up at Ratbag, one eyebrow raised.

“Dinner,” Ratbag said, by way of explanation. He slid down to sit near the fire, arms wrapped around his bent knees.

Talion picked up his dagger and began to skin the rat, working the blade’s tip in between membrane and meat.

“What are you doing?” Celebrimbor asked, suddenly materialized across the fire from Talion.

“Cooking.”

“You know that you no longer need to eat to sustain yourself. Or sleep, for that matter. These are unnecessary distractions.” Though Celebrimbor seemed to be talking about physiological distractions, his eyes flicked to Ratbag, who was now watching Talion curiously.

“Unnecessary, perhaps,” Talion admitted, jamming his knife all the way through the skinned rat from neck to tail. He held the skewer over the flames and turned it slowly. “But our reflexes dull after too many days without rest. You know this to be true.”

“But eating!” the wraith insisted. “What possible reason could you have for choking down this vile carcass?”

Talion wasn’t sure, exactly. But he said; “It would be rude not to.”

“Rude to who? The orc?” Celebrimbor barked a condescending laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Who are you talking to?” Ratbag asked.

“It would be difficult to explain.”

“Oh, I get it. You know, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I had an imaginary friend, too, back I was a whelp.” Ratbag scratched his head. “Maybe even a wee bit longer.”

“An imaginary…no. Celebrimbor is not imaginary, and I would scarcely consider him a friend.”

“Why, Talion,” Celebrimbor said. “You wound me.”

“Whatever you say, Ranger,” Ratbag said, and tore into the lump of charred rat that Talion had just handed him. Through a mouthful of meat, he added- “But I’m not gonna judge. Your secrets are safe with Ratbag.”

Celebrimbor grimaced at Ratbag’s smacking, chewing sounds, and his chin shiny with grease. Before ghosting out of the physical plane, he remarked;

“Talion, you mustn’t feed the strays, or they’ll never leave you alone.”

Talion only picked at his food, while Ratbag practically inhaled the rest of the meal. Afterward, Ratbag sat back with a satisfied groan and proceeded to suck the grease off each finger individually. With his thumb still in his mouth, he noticed Talion staring.

“What?” Ratbag demanded.

Talion blinked. “Ah?”

“What’re you looking at?”

“I was just...wondering about your injuries. How are they healing?”

“Not bad. Itches a bit under the armor on hot days, but it don’t hurt at all.”

“I’d better take a look. Make certain that you’re healing properly.”

“Oh, is that the reason?” Ratbag said. Despite the skepticism in his voice, he was already unbuckling his armor.

“What are you implying?” Talion said, a warning edge in his tone.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just rambling. You know Ratbag, always mouthing off about something.”

The orc scooted closer to Talion, within arm’s reach. He lounged back with his weight supported on his hands, so Talion could get a clear look at the long stretch of his torso.

True to Ratbag’s word, the wound was healing quickly. A ragged band of new skin ran down the length of his body. Talion lightly touched the injury and felt swelling, puffy edges along the scar, but nothing to be concerned with. Just the natural effects of healing.

As his fingers ghosted across the skin, Ratbag shivered.

“Did I hurt you?” Talion asked.

“No,” Ratbag replied, his voice a quiet rasp. He cleared his throat. “Ah, so? How’s it look?”

“You’re not dying.”

“Well, there’s a relief. Hard to enjoy a promotion to warchief when you’re dead.”

Talion returned his gaze to the fire, with Ratbag sitting companionably beside him. The orc picked his teeth with a rat bone, making no move to return to his old position or to redress.

A few minutes later, Talion broke the silence.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

Ratbag raised an eyebrow. “How personal?”

“Your piercings. I noticed them when I was tending to your injuries. What is their purpose? And why there, of all places?”

Ratbag looked down at his chest. “What, these?” He flicked one of the metal loops.

Talion nodded. “Are they ceremonial?”

“No, no. They’re for...you know. It feels good.”

“Really?” Talion looked bemused. “I can’t imagine it feeling good to be skewered in such a sensitive place.”

Ratbag wheezed a laugh. “Don’t like getting skewered in your sensitive places, eh? Each to his own. Sorry, what were we…? Right. Of course, these didn’t feel so great at first. But after they healed up, sure. Especially when someone tugs on them a bit.”

Talion pointedly avoided Ratbag’s gaze, his face feeling warmer than the fire could account for. “I don’t know why I asked.”

“I got other piercings, if you’re still curious. Wanna see?” Ratbag tugged at the hem of his pants.

“No, thank you, no,” Talion said hurriedly.

“Suit yourself.”

A short time after that, Ratbag excused himself with a stretch and yawn. Talion half expected him to curl up near the fire and go to sleep. Instead, Ratbag squirmed into his armor and left, footsteps retreating into the night.

Talion was disturbed by his own feelings of disappointment. Had he wanted Ratbag to stay? Perhaps Celebrimbor was right to warn him away from the orc. The last thing he needed was this strange, unhealthy attachment.

Over the next weeks, Talion ran into Ratbag many more times; which is to say, Ratbag would appear, slinking along behind Talion to loot the corpses of uruks he’d slain, or strut up to his campfire to proudly gift the ranger with some dead thing or other.

On one night, Talion had just begun to set up camp when Ratbag showed up.

“Hey, Ranger! Don’t bother with that. Come on, follow me.”

In the back of Talion’s mind, Celebrimbor groaned. I suppose we’ll be obeying this orc’s commands?

“Where are you leading me?” Talion demanded.

Ratbag shushed him with a finger to his lips. “Keep your voice down!”

“This had better not be a trap, orc,” Talion said, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Or it will go very poorly for you.”

“Still don’t trust me, huh? After all we’ve been through together?”

When Talion didn’t reply, Ratbag sighed.

“It’s just a small camp, one of my patrols. I don’t like these particular whingers. So I was thinking, you’d go in, do your thing-” Ratbag demonstrated with a finger drawn across the throat. “-and then you won't have to make camp tonight. It’ll be all done up for us.”

As they grew closer, Talion could hear gruff voices raised in drunken celebration.

“Your pet tells the truth,” Celebrimbor said, his wraith form suddenly walking alongside Talion. “I sense no more than four orcs.”

“He is not my pet,” Talion said.

Ratbag looked back at him with an eyebrow raised. “Wassat?”

Talion didn’t answer, and Ratbag didn’t press further. They were nearing the camp. The voices of the orcs grew louder.

Ratbag’s plan went off just as predicted. Crouching in the long grass, Talion silently dispatched the first orc who went off to relieve himself, followed by another who came to see what was taking so long.

Talion sighted the two remaining orcs with his bow and put an arrow through the neck of the larger orc. When his friend turned to see what he meant by ‘gurgle gurgle’, Talion shot the last orc through the eye. He slumped over dead.

Ratbag scurried into the campsite. He stepped hard on the neck of a dead uruk, snarled something in black speech and spit on the corpse’s face.

“Friend of yours?” Talion asked.

“He’s nobody,” Ratbag said darkly, his tone discouraging further questions.

After investigating the campsite further, Ratbag discovered a nearly full keg of grog and poured two mugs full to frothing over the sides. He thrust one at Talion, who hesitantly took the proffered drink.

Talion sniffed at it. “Smells like piss.”

“Tastes like piss, too. But it’ll get you off your ass faster than anything else.”

Ratbag downed his mug in a few long pulls. It took Talion significantly longer just to choke down the first swig of foul liquid.

“What are you doing?” Celebrimbor asked. “Or do you even know? Honestly, you humans are inscrutable.”

Talion scowled. “My family is dead. I am barred from joining them by the stuck-up wraith who shares my body, and I spend all day, every day, slogging through blighted lands and uruk hai corpses.” Talon tilted back his mug, draining it to the dregs before he had to take a breath. “I’d say I’m overdue for a drink.”

“Cheers to that,” Ratbag said.

Talion wasn’t even sure if alcohol could affect him, anymore. Over the next hour he learned that he could, in fact, still get drunk.

“Your, your, uh…” Talion slurred, struggling to stay aboard his train of thought. “Your piercings.”

“You’re on about that again?”

“No, not those. The other, the uh, face ones. And your ears. They look a bit…” Talion gesture wildly. “...nice.”

Ratbag glanced suspiciously at Talion from the corner of his eye. “Thanks?”

“You know, when I was a young man, I had considered a piercing myself.”

“Seriously?”

Talion chuckled. “Seriously. My best mate had a hoop, just here,” he said, pointing to the fleshy part of the lobe. “It looked quite handsome.”

“That’d look great on you,” Ratbag said, sloshing his fourth overfull mug of grog in Talion’s direction.

“You think?” Talon rubbed the spot between his fingers, trying to picture it.

“Hey! Let me pierce your ear. I’ll use your dagger- mine’s not so sharp, y’know, wear and tear- and I’ll just poke a liiiiiitle hole, and you can get a hoop, just like your old mate’s.”

“I don’t know.”

“Ah, c’mon! You know you want to.”

Talion hesitated. Really, what did he have to lose? He had no family to impress, no mates to tease him if it wound up looking silly. And it was hard to think critically through the haze of alcohol.

“Do it.”

Ratbag’s face split in a wide grin.

Talion drew his dagger and, after a beat of reluctance, held it out to Ratbag.

Celebrimbor raged like a storm around them.

“You are behaving like an UTTER FOOL!”

Ratbag received the dagger with ceremonial care. He sidled closer, almost straddling Talion’s lap.

“It would serve you right if this orc were to drive your own dagger through your neck!” Celebrimbor howled.

“This one?” Ratbag asked, fingering Talion’s earlobe.

“Yes.”

“NO!” Celebrimbor shouted.

Ratbag lined up the dagger, pressing the tip lightly against the skin.

“Imbecile!”

Talion closed his eyes.

A brief stab of pain blossomed in his ear, just where he’d instructed Ratbag to peirce. His eyelids fluttered open.

“Does it hurt?” Ratbag asked in a rusty croak. His cheeks were a darker, muddy hue, which Talion dimly recognised as a blush.

“No.” Talion reached up to his ear. He felt wetness and inspected his fingers. They glistened red in the firelight.

“Sorry. Might’a pressed too hard. You’ve got a little…just there.”

Ratbag leaned forward. Before Talion could register his intent, the orc was licking away the blood. His tongue dragged slowly over the newly pierced flesh, blowing hot breath into the shell of his ear.

Talion shoved him away. “What are you doing?”

“I thought…” Ratbag snarled and shook this head. “You have some real issues, Ranger.”

“Me?” Talion asked indignantly. “You just licked me!”

“Are you telling me that tarks don’t use their tongues for nothing besides running their mouths? ‘cos if that’s the case, when you screw, it must be extremely loud and unsatisfying!”

Before Talion’s grog-addled brain could process that statement, Ratbag tossed his dagger back to him and stormed away.

Talion sat alone and prodded at the slightly sore hole in his ear. He realized, with a measure of confusion and shame, that he was painfully aroused, and all he could think about was the phantom pressure of a certain orc on his lap, and of Ratbag’s mouth, wet and hot against his skin.

A few days later, on a cruelly cold night night that froze his breath into fog, Talion slept beneath his cloak. He awoke to sounds of movement in his campsite and reached automatically for his blade. When he spotted the two amber eyes staring out of the darkness, Talion groaned and withdrew his hand.

“Ratbag.”

“Ranger.” Ratbag hesitated, then came closer to crouch beside Talion. “Can I...?”

At first, Talion didn’t know what the orc wanted. Then he noticed how Ratbag was shivering, hugging himself against the cold.

Talion lifted the edge of his cloak. “Come on, then,” he urged impatiently.

Ratbag scuttled under the cloak, and Talion let it fall down to cover them both. Again, he was struck with that sensation of familiarity, almost deja-vu, but couldn’t place what he was reminded of.

Ratbag wriggled closer, and Talion didn’t stop him.

He scarcely dared to breathe.

Ratbag might have been cold out in the snow, but under Talion’s cloak, he was warm. A warm body nearly pressed up against his. When Ratbag rolled over to face away from Talion, he wriggled backward, fitting neatly against the curve of the ranger’s body.

Talion didn’t tell him to move.

He carefully averted his gaze from the nape of Ratbag’s neck, where his hair had fallen aside. Away from the delicate whorls of his skin, the steady rise and fall of shoulder blades jutting out above the hem of the cloak.

Maybe the orc would sleep too deeply to notice the firmness pressed up between them. Talion tried to convince himself that was what he wanted.

He couldn’t. In spite of attempts to will his gaze away, it lingered on the surprisingly delicate curve of Ratbag’s ear just inches from his face. He couldn’t help a flicker of hope that the orc would feel the arousal that his nearness caused in Talion, and that he would reciprocate.

Talion braced himself for Celebrimbor’s admonition. It never came. Could the wraith have remained asleep? That the elf’s consciousness might be preoccupied elsewhere seemed too good to be true.

Slowly, his fingers trembling for reasons besides the cold, Talion rested his knuckles lightly against the curve of Ratbag’s neck.

The orc sighed and shifted slightly. Still asleep?

It wouldn’t be the first time Talion had these feelings for another male. Before Loreth, he’d had other lovers, both men and women. But never an orc. He wasn’t sure if any man had ever lain with uruk hai. It was unequivocally wrong, and yet...

Talion stroked Ratbag’s shoulder, tracing a whorl with his thumb.

“Ranger?” Ratbag said in a sleep-slurred voice.

Talion tried to retract his hand, but Ratbag caught it. The orc lightly pressed a kiss against Talion’s knuckles.

The gesture sent a lighting strike of arousal through Talion, followed by a thunderous rumble of tenderness that made him feel weak. Hesitantly, Talion bowed his head to close the inches between them.

Ratbag’s pulse quickened beneath the ranger’s lips.

“Is this okay?” Talion murmured against his skin, not understanding why he did. He’d never asked an orc permission for anything before. But this was different.

This wasn’t just any orc. Ratbag was his orc.

Ratbag hummed his consent, and Talion wrapped an arm around his waist, hand sliding up to play with nipple rings that had so fixed his attention. He was rewarded by Ratbag’s sharp intake of breath and his body arching back against Talion’s.

Flat palm traveling downward, across prominent ribs and concave stomach, then further, slipping beneath the hem of Ratbag’s pants. Talion explored the orc’s other piercings by touch, lightly nudging each metal stud in turn. Ratbag whined, bucking into Talion’s hand.

Suddenly, Celebrimbor appeared a few feet away. He stood this his back turned to Talion.

“I suppose you’ll say you are overdue for this, as well?”

Talion said nothing.

“And I see little point in appealing to your sense of morality, shame, or common sense, as you obviously have none. So…” Celebrimbor sighed. “I’ll just take a walk, shall I?”

The wraith walked away, fading with every step until he’d vanished completely.

Talion wondered where the elf had gone. Their essential tether must have remained intact, or else Talion would have perished, so he couldn’t have gone far. But Talion was relieved to have this privacy, and grateful that Celebrimbor had gone without argument.

He returned his attention to the orc in his arms, who squirmed impatiently against him. Languorously stroking up and down Ratbag’s length, Talion pressed his own clothed erection against the orc’s rear.

“You can breed me,” Ratbag said, glancing over his shoulder. “If you want. I, for one, don’t mind being skewered in my sensitive places.”

“Foul-mouthed orc,” Talion said, grinning in spite of himself..

“Filthy tark.”

With elbows hooked beneath skinny knees, concealed beneath Talion’s cloak draped over his shoulders, they screwed until the outside world was eclipsed by pleasure, everything silent except for their mingled grunts and heavy breathing. Drops of sweat melted divots into the snow.

Ratbag’s arms slid around Talion’s shoulders, fingernails clawing at his back. Talion barely felt the sting.

Afterward, they lay in a tangle beneath the cloak, sweat chilling quickly in the winter air. Ratbag’s gaze lingered on Talion’s ear, the one he’d put a hole in just a few night before.

“You gotta put something it it,” he said, tugging the lobe gently. “Or it’ll close up.”

“I don’t have anything,” Talion said. He didn’t mention the other reason; that after he’d sobered up, the whole idea seemed ridiculous.

Ratbag fussed with his own ear for a moment. When he took his hand away, Talion realized he’d removed one of his earrings. Ratbag prodded the steel through the tiny hole in Talion’s ear and pinched the hoop to bend it shut.

“There,” he said. “Now you don’t look like a silly git with too many holes in him.”

“How do I look?”

Ratbag studied him critically. “Dead sexy. For a tark, anyway.”

“And you are the least repulsive orc I’ve ever met,” Talion said, and tugged Ratbag’s ear teasingly.

His touch lingered there, fingers tracing along cartilage, across the hole without it’s ring, until he came to a notch. An old injury healed to a ragged edge.

All of a sudden, he remembered.

“I know who you remind me of.” Talion said.

“Yeah?”

“I used to have this cat. Actually, he was a stray. The mangiest, most flea-bitten tom you’ve ever seen. Just a little scrap of a thing, nothing but scars and ribs, with a mean streak a mile long.”

“Ah, so it’s a flattering comparison,” Ratbag said dryly.

“You don’t understand. I loved that wretched creature. And I think he loved me, in his own way. He would always sneak into the house to leave presents for me. Dead birds and rats, you know. Sort of like you do. And he would crawl into my bed, much to my wife’s displeasure.”

Talion smiled distantly at the memory. “That little bastard scratched everyone, except for me.”

He shifted slightly, and winced. His shoulders and back burned where the fabric rubbed against them. Talion remembered Ratbag’s sharp nails digging into skin.

“I see that you have no such scruples,” Talion added.

Ratbag laughed unapologetically and wriggled closer, bumping his head under Talion’s chin. Talion folded him into his arms.

He felt himself growing drowsy in their warm hollow beneath his cloak, despite the cacophony of Ratbag’s snores. Dimly, he thought about how he’d been wrong before. Ratbag wasn’t his orc. Ratbag belonged to no-one, just like the stray tom in his old life. Maybe he would saunter off tomorrow and never return, or get himself killed by picking fights with the wrong enemies out in a dangerous world, where Talion couldn’t always be around to protect him.

Ratbag didn’t belong to him, nor did he belong to Ratbag. But tonight, he had chosen Talion to curl up beside, sharing the warmth of his small, wiry body.

And that was enough.

#shadow of war #shadow of mordor #ratbag/talion #ratbag the coward #fanfiction #beeawolfwrites

[laketaj24]

Nirvana: M’Baku (AU)

A/N: hey y’all! Here’s my first M’Baku fic!! Let me know what you think! I’ll tag some regulars!! I hope you enjoy!! Read my other works HERE!!! (BP Masterlist)

Happiness was still her laughter. And it really didn’t matter that M’Baku had someone when he was not feeling great he still called her.

“What you want?” She groaned answering the phone.

“What you doing?”

“Trying to get in these three miles before work.” Christa breathes hard into the phone and then pauses. Her labored breathing is the only thing on the line for a moment.

“Damn Christa, you need a inhaler?”

She tries not to laugh still panting lightly in his ear. “No, I’m good what’s wrong with your wining ass?”

“Wining, take that back?”

“I ain’t. What you want?”

“Man, how about they gave this other dude a promotion off of my damn project. Here I am slaving and working my ass off and I can’t even get a promotion.”

“Well, you might next time big baby.”

“Whatever, what time you gotta work?”

“It’s a special conference meeting, like two.”

“Come through, I got something I wanna show you.”

Christa pauses their relationship had been weird ever since he got engaged. This new chick didn’t respect their ten years and more friendship. All she saw was Christa thick hips and fat ass every time she came around. M’Baku didn’t seem to care, he wasn’t changing who he loved for her. “Aight, your girl there?”

“She got her own place Chris. What you got against her anyway?

“Nothing, I’m not tryna disrespect her, you know? But I got one more mile and I’ll be over. Make me some breakfast!”

“Uh shit.”

“M’Baku!”

“I’ll see what I can whip up.” He groans. “You always hungry man.”

He didn’t cook. He placed the bowl of Chocolate Lucky Charms on the plate and added her a small carton of milk with the Silver dome over it. She arrived fifteen minutes later locking her doors and checking her left and right. He laughed watching her skip from the window. This woman was always on ten and he loved it. The only time he’d seen her down was when her grandma died and now she even looked at that differently. She never knocked opening his front door like she lived there.

“Wipe them kicks off.” He said pointing at her feet as she entered.

“I was damn.” She wasn’t, but she wiped her feet off leaving the fresh grass on his welcome rug. “I don’t smell anything cooking.” She gripes pulling a chair up to his lavish display of food. She lifts the silver hood from the plate revealing the lucky charms. “What the hell?”

“Man you asked for food! Stop complaining. Eat your Lucky Charms.”

“What you been up to besides crying about your job?”

“I deserved the position, but other than that not shit.” M’Baku sat across from her smiling as she started to chomp down on the cereal. Christa kept her eyes locked on the little floating colored marshmallows. He done something for her and she wasn’t sure how she felt. She looks up at him smiling and placed her spoon down. “Why you stop eating?”

“Because you’re watching me eat.” Her face heats as she admires his large muscular arms and his thick fingers.

“I got this joke. I don’t want you to spit out your food.”

“Cause it’s that funny?”

“More than.” He crosses his arms leaning back in the bar stool. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Aight, you remind me of them Chocolate Lucky Charms.”

Christa shakes her head almost at the brink of laughter. “Why?”

“Because your Black. Magical and delicious.” He laughs, his voice booming through the apartment. And he was one of the people that took everyone with him when he laughed be that a corny joke or a good one.

Christa braces for a while but when his little snickered is partnered with the way he tosses his head back she breaks and joins him. “You’re so crazy, I swear. That laffy taffy ass joke.”

“That joke was great.” He breathes pouring himself some cereal.

“But how you know how I taste?” She shouldn’t have asked the question but the days of having a filter with him had passed.

He shrugs. “Looking like you do, you couldn’t taste any differently.” M’Baku bites his lip trying to hide the fact that the tension in the room had gone from zero to one hundred in a second.

She places her bowl in the sink and rests her hands against the counter. “So, What you call me over here for? I know it wasn’t for no cereal.”

“You just brighten my day. I can’t have you over for that reason alone?”

Christa shakes her head. “I gotta work. So thank you for the cereal. You’ve opened my eyes to the world of lucky charms.” She chuckles.

M’Baku turns towards her dragging his eyes up her body. Admiring every curve and small roll with a smug smile then finally reaching her dark eyes. They’d met when they both were young and never would have guessed their friendship would have lasted for this long. She was the only person that unintentionally made him doubt if his love was real for his fiancé. Love is supposed to be comfortable and overwhelming, a craving that only that one person could feel. He stands up in front of her.

Her voice wakes him from his trance. “What are you staring at?” She laughs once more.

“Have fun at your little meeting.”

Her small fingers wrap around his wrist pulling him over to her. “Why’d you call me over here?”

He doesn’t answer with words. He lifts her petite body from the ground placing her on the high bar so she could be closer to his face. M’Baku leans into her placing a chaste kiss on her forehead then moving down to her nose and finally his lips touch hers. His heart pounds ringing through his head as her soft lips crash into his with a eagerness that needn’t to be explained.

Christa’s legs wrap around his waist pulling him close. She couldn’t remember the last time her heart beat, it was scary yet the most exhilarating thing she’d ever done. She draped her arms him taking a moment to admire those brown eyes. Everything that has happened between the two of them was to get to this moment. The petty fights, the constant codependent conversations and the way they loved one another. Just to get here. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know.” But he does scooping her from the counter and making his way through his apartment. He tosses her playfully on the bed removing his shirt. He pulls at her leg removing her pants with help from her as she uses her feet to squirm out of them. He climbs on the bed lifting her up to him with one hand while spreading her legs with his other. He slaps her thighs and then rushes his fingers up her folds. Christa’s hops raise from his embrace and he pulls her back down sliding his fingers into her wet heat. She gasps and then settles back down as he starts a tantalizing pace. M’Baku watches her with his lips partially parted, adoring the way she snaps her head shut as he goes deeper and then drags his finger back out and to push it back and go deeper. He circles his thumb over her clit adding more pressure. She’s slick and as she reaches her orgasm all he can picture is her coming around him and writhing like she was just now. He allows her to ride out her high with her eyes shut and hands gripping the pillow, then he crawls over her pushing her legs flat to the bed. “The next time you come I want those eyes on me.” He says smirking.

Next time. She feels the thick head of his dick prodding at her entrance. Swiping up and down teasing her clit then back at the entrance. She was ready, or so she thought. M’Baku inches into her, trying to brace himself for how tight she was around him. Once all the way inside her he allowed her to get used to him and then he started. He pulled out of her and slammed back in over and over. Each time he strokes her g-spot with his tip. “Open those eyes Christa.” He pants rocking into her hilt deep and then back out. She tried to open her eyes but each time he thrusted into her it grew harder to not liquify underneath him. He pushed her legs further into the mattress allowing him to get deeper.

“Damn.” She said feeling all of her nerves well inside of her until they broke free in an explosion of ecstasy. She clawed her fingers into his back taking them down in her cry of pleasure. M’Baku grunts going deeper, harder and faster than before. He’d told her to open her eyes but his was closed as he rested his head in her shoulders gripping her with both arms and pounding into her until he couldn’t anymore. He pulls out of her leaving a trail of white cum on her stomach and down her leg.

They both pant laying one another, their eyes both locked on the ceiling. Christa starts to laugh shaking her head while trying to grasp what had happened. M’Baku turned to her with a smile realizing that happiness was still her laughter for him.

Tagging:  @wilddrabble@readsalot73@kimistry27@sparklemichele@titty-teetee @amour-quinn@captstefanbrandt@valynsia @byzantium-glytch@suz-123@earthsmightiestasses@harleycativy@sunnyfortomorrow@sincerelysinister@pebblesz892@ceridwenofwales@ivarsshieldmadien@bang-kim-bap@samwinchxtr @scumyeol @erisjade @purple-apricots @ceridwenofwales @raindrop-dewdrop

#black panther #mbaku #m'baku imagine #laketaj24 #Laketaj writes #woc fanfic #poc fanfic #m'baku x oc

[oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall]

I just had a dream with Thomas in it. It was...interesting. It’s not NSFW or anything. Tagging @thatsthat24 because why the hell not. It might amuse him too.

But...WARNING: this might upset you if you’re vegan, vegetarian, or afraid of snakes. Read at your own risk.

So, I’m friends with Thomas, and we’re at his parents’ house for dinner. Thomas and I are sitting next to each other at the head of the table, and his dad is to my left. There are two younger kids there too, a girl and a boy, like 8-10 years old. Younger siblings? (Even though I know in real life he doesn’t have really young siblings and no sisters). Or maybe cousins or something? So anyway, his mom puts some side dishes on the table and tells us to start with those because the main dish is still not ready but will take just a couple more minutes. So we’re eating and chatting and having a good time, and then his mom comes back, like, “okay, sorry that took so long!” And sets down a serving dish with a huge snake on it, completely whole, and all its scales and eyes and everything still in tact. I’m really surprised, and a little weirded out, and I look at Thomas and he smiles and shrugs a little, not phased in the slightest.

**This is where you may want to stop reading if you’re really upset by animal cruelty- I’m sooo sorry but I was dreaming and I don’t know why my brain came up with this next part**

So Thomas’ dad takes the plate and starts cutting it up, putting the pieces onto another serving dish, but as soon as he cuts into it, it starts writhing around. My mouth drops open. “Is it...still alive?” I whisper to Thomas.

Thomas shrugs. “My mom cooked it, so it’s not raw, but somehow it’s still moving, kind of like...well, I know I shouldn’t make this comparison at the dinner table...but y’know when you kill a bug but it still moves for a moment after that? I think it’s like that. Maybe.”

So his dad continues cutting chunks of it, and I just watch, not wanting to be rude, but also not thrilled with the idea of eating a snake. His mom goes back into the kitchen for a moment, and his dad is distracted with slicing up the snake, so I turn to Thomas and kind of nuzzle my forehead against his shoulder in an “ahh I don’t know what to do” kind of way. (If that even makes sense, because it totally did in my dream, but now that I’m writing it out, I’m not sure it does). Thomas puts his hand on my shoulder and I lift my head a bit.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to,” he whispers. 

I look at his mom, who’s still in the kitchen, before turning back to Thomas and whispering, “I don’t want to offend your mom!!”

“You won’t; it’s a weird dinner to make with a guest over who isn’t used to it. It actually tastes pretty good, once you get past the look of it, but I don’t want to make you eat it if you don’t want to.”

I look at the snake, which is now mostly carved up (Thomas’ dad left its head behind, thankfully). I bite my lip, debating on what to do. Thomas’ dad sets down his carving knife. “Alright, let’s dig in!”

I still hesitate, and Thomas’ mom comes back in. She had taken off her apron. She sits down, and takes the serving dish of snake into her hands, about to serve it to us, when suddenly she gets up and walks back into the kitchen.

“What did she forget this time?” I say under my breath. Thomas just chuckles next to me. 

Thomas’ mom comes back a second later, holding a large plate of spaghetti and meatballs. I blink in confusion. 

She sets it down on the table, and as if on cue, Thomas, his parents, and those two kids (who really didn’t need to be in my dream because they contributed absolutely nothing to this plot) all start laughing.

“You actually...thought we were going to...eat snake for dinner!” Thomas said between laughs. “I’m so sorry, but...your face...when you saw...the snake!”

Yeah, REAL funny, Sanders.

-----

Yep, that’s my brain, ladies and gentlemen. (and non-binary pals!)

Funny that of all animals, it was a SNAKE. You know. Deceit. And now that I’m writing this, I would say that Deceit had nothing to do with my dream but seeing as this whole thing was an elaborate prank on me...hmm.

#Thomas Sanders #Thomas Sanders dream #tw: animal cruelty #not too graphic though #tw: snakes

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Option C- When in Doubt

I’m not really sure who to blame for this, @harriestyles514, anons, still @the-well-rested-one, my rich fantasy life.... Anyway, always good to keep your options open.

In the month that has passed since I last saw (sucked off) Harry Styles, I haven't thought about him. Nope, not at all, not in the shower, not in my bed late at night or early in the morning, and definitely not in bathroom stalls at the label I work at. Never have I ever had to bite my lip to keep quiet while someone has walked into said bathroom while I had my hand down my so trendy I could barf mom jeans.

It's been a long thirty days.

When my infinitely cooler bestie convinces me we should go to the party we are walking into she does not mention his name. I told her, in detail so explicit she said it stressed her out, how it went down the other night, and I think that is why she made the decision to be a devious little B.

It's as we are walking into another giant house, this one with no suit beclad attorney, that she not so casually lets slip, "I heard Styles is supposed to be here tonight."

I stop dead and turn, figurative tail stuck between my trembling legs. Her hands wrap around my waist and she forcibly drags me back from the threshold. I was so close, I could smell the lantanas, and even those rancid little flower globs smelled as sweet as freedom. "What are you doing Elle, don't you wanna see him?"

"No!" I quickly interrupt whatever diatribe she was about to give me about running away from any situation where I'm not sure of victory.

"Ellie-bellie, you totally want to see him: I can tell by all the little mental vacations you've been taking to his bedroom."

"I never saw his bedroom." I remind.

"Fine, his countertop, whatever, it's a rumor anyway. He's kinda a flake I heard."

That makes sense, I exhale and hope, but I'm not sure which I'm wishing for:his presence or absence.

When he walks in two hours later and I'm two, ok four, drinks deep, I realize it was the former.

He looks really good, a little ridiculous in his Gucci shirt. They often make ugly things .Hehas a knack for the whole being more attractive than the sum of its parts. Just look at his face, his body, the parts are good, maybe slightly above average, but the total is devastating.

Before I can stop myself, avert my gaze, he catches me. His eyes widen, then narrow as a smile overtakes his faces. Holy dimples, Batman. My breath has already shallowed and I take my eyes off of him so violently that I jerk my head. I'm sure I looked like a marionette on strings. I vow to myself that I'm not going to let my eyes wander to the side of the room that I know he is on, but they do. He's watching me when I break my word and he smirks this time. It does funny things to my insides. He nods his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. The silent question is posed and I have to decide whether to actually talk to the man who I've had so many exchanges with in my head, many non verbal, or really tuck that tail up my ass and run. It's at this point that Lanie, who's no longer my favorite person, nudges me. Great, she's watched this exchange.

"Go, talk to him."

I kick my feet at the ground, turning my toes in like a  tantrumming toddler, "I don't want to talk to him."

"Ffft, whatever. You keep staring at him, someone would notice if they weren't all doing it too. The difference is that he is looking at you as well. It's your duty to tap that booty and report back to us pleabs!"

"Stahhhp, he's a person! He may not even be interested in me like that again"

She interrupts before I can go further down the well of that line of thought. "Remember how you chose to give him head, but you wound up laid out in his kitchen anyway?" She must have tried a new eyebrow thing, they look different today, I think while I watch them dance on her forehead. Stop dissociating.

"Yes...."

"Also, he's been tracking you all night. He just tried to catch your eye, again, look up." Against my better judgement, I do it, and his eyes look like jade when mine slide to them. He motions again, and I find myself in his tractor beam. I think maybe he is Borg. Nah, he's too nice. Head in the game El, I watch him turn down a corridor and follow. I get pulled by big hands I've tried to forget into a room. I yelp, but bite my lip to stop the sound from being too loud. My face is at his shoulder and his face is in my neck. It's way more intimate them our assignation warrants. Like we were lovers, not a hook up.

"Hiiiii," he breathes into my ear. He sounds happy. I pull back and know it's a mistake. I let my hands drop, so they won't wander, but he does not. Harry grasps my waist, thumbs tracing the tops is my hip bones and tips of his fingers meeting at my sacrum.

There is not enough oxygen in here.

The breathy hi that slips from my mouth would be inaudible if we were not close enough to share air.

"What's up?" I croak and know that he'd see the bloom in my cheeks he'd teased me bout if the lighting was better. He's smirking kindly and I know that he can feel my nerves. Between that and the arousal I'm basically vibrating.

"Not much, M ready to get out of here. Want to come with me?"

I'm always completely surprised by his directness, how not smooth he is. No finesse at all. He doesn't need it, with the charm and the dimple and the face. I guess we met at a sex party, it's not like I'm gonna be his girl. Oh, but if I was his girl....

"Yeah....I think I'd like  an actual tour of your house. The kitchen was beautiful, by the way, I may have chosen a different countertop," my tongue is firmly in my cheek and he guffaws. It's somewhere between a snort and a sneeze and it makes me laugh too.

He shakes with laughter and then shakes his head to clear it. His fingers are still caressing the small of my back and I'm proud that I'm not a puddle on the floor. My panties, poor things, are not so fortunate as the floor.

"Next time I buy a house I'll send you pictures for approval," he brows quirk, "let's see how you like my bed, hm?"

I nod and he explains the plan. He puts his address, which I've remembered, into my uber app and tells me to head out in 20 minutes. They are the longest of my life and the two nails I'm currently biting are getting shorter by the second, his backs gonna look like he hooked up with a sloth.

Raphael arrives to drive me and receives a 5 star because he tells me a wild story about the last time he picked up at this house, effectively saving my other nails from their compatriots fate.  I'm nervous walking up, my knuckles white after I've rung the bell, holding my own hands. The nerves quiet a bit when he answers the door.

"C'mere," he murmurs and pulls me in. I figure that's word go, but instead, he clasps me close in another octopus hug and kisses my forehead. It's sweet, endearing, and confusing. "Want a glass of wine?"

My face must be made of glass because he chuckles.

"Clearly wasn't much of a gentlemen last time," he's taken my hands apart and dragged me to the kitchen. My face is hot as I look at the counter and he follows my gaze before pulling me into him. His hand finds my hip, the other my hair. "Elle? Are you going to talk tonight cuz..."

"You remember my name?"

I'm not sure what my face looks like, but he his forehead is scrunched and mouth agape. "Of course I remember your name, Jesus, what do you take me for?"

At this I finally chuckle and raise a brow delicately. When he giggles I wiggle my brows around and he sniffles and lays his head against mine.

"Um, if the offer still stands, I'll take that glass," I hear myself say and I'm sad when he detaches. He takes off his blazer as he goes though, and throws it on the counter top, where I lay. I hum the song I'm reminded of under my breath. I see his head shake. "What?"

"Hate to disappoint love, but I don't have a brass bed."

The red wine is warm through the goblet he hands me. I put it on the counter instead of to my lips. "Prove it?"

I must be a comedian, he's laughing again, but he's pulling me passed a living room with minimal furniture, but maximum art, and up stairs.

The bed isn't brass. It's king size, with a padded headboard, footboard too. My head thanks him, but I'm sad there is no place to attach ties. Not that we are going there tonight, or ever.

Harry's pressed up against me and his trousers do less than his jeans did for his modesty. His fingers have found the buttons on my top. I had left it mostly undone, a hint of bra but not so much as to offend my own modesty. Two buttons, three, and his hand, which covered most of my stomach to secure me to the counter when I writhed, is in the lacy cup of my bra. His mouth has found my neck. The tips of his tongue and teeth make indents on the column of skin before him, and I laze my head to the side before I pull my heavy right hand up. It feels like I'm swimming through water, but I'm glad I'm not, cuz the zing when my hand finds his skin would mean electrocution. I tickle under the blade of his jaw and tilt down to catch his busy lips with my own.

The callouses on his fingers are welcome against my nipples and I tell him so.

"Yeah?" He smiles and pushes me forward. I catch myself on my left hand, he's kept my right, pulling my blouse off. He pulls my left arm back without releasing my right, and I'm perched in an agreeable position if his hum of approval is anything. He grips both hands in one of his massive paws and reaches around to undo my bottoms. His fingers slip down to my nub after he's undone them, and he slides my slippery clit between the webbing of his pointer and middle finger. "Can you feel the callouses still?" He says as the rough tips of those fingers massage the muscles around my entrance. I'm squirming and nodding. Yes slips over my lips and seems to have a few extra s's.

He pulls me up then and releases my hands. I'm still bound however. His free hand has snaked across my middle, back into my bra and he's still strumming a tune on my quim. I feel his smile, a true cheshire grin, against my neck. Harry has nudged my hair aside and begins his affections for that piece of anatomy anew. His fingers have not quit and I'm trapped, ensnared between those crisscrossed arms of his. Since I cannot wriggle, though I feel as trapped as a fish on a hook, I'm more vocal than I can ever remember being. Words tumble, praises bubble, and my syntax is undone.

I'm undone, and we've barely begun. I squeeze down on the fingers my body is desperately trying to draw in and his name echoes off the walls of his room. When I'm aware again, the little pecks on my cheek juxtapose the wet fingers entering my mouth. I suck them clean to a chorus of "good girl." And he's on his knees pulling down my pants.

I'm naked, and he's fully clothed, again. I'm not sure how I get myself into these positions.

The position he seems to want me in is below him. My companion reverses my position and gives me one kiss, the first to my mouth this evening, at least in our new venue, and pushes me down. I reach to pull Harry upon me. I think of all my sense memories from last time, the saddest I'm to have missed is his weight on top of mine. But, he stays upright and pulls his shirt over head. I'm excited I may see him naked, and the moonlight washes his skin white so his tattoos look like a puppet show against a blank wall. I watch the siren swim to the ship and have a moments fear for the sailors aboard. The illusion is shattered when he bends and the canvas flexes as he quits his pants.

He juts out from his stomach and runs a hand over himself, once, twice. I miss the feel, the taste of love, against my lips and move to sit up. I'm pushed back to parallel. All his laughter is gone, and the look in his eye renews the clench his fingers just effected. I rub my thighs together.

"Elle, open your legs," his voice is husky and my limbs obey without my mind's control. They seem to have a new master. My knees meet the mattress as far from each other as possible and I wonder what picture he sees against my blank skin.

Harry runs his fingers up between my labia before bringing them to his lips. He watches me watch him lick them between those lips. I think they have been foremost in my mind. What I see when I touch myself. I'm transparent.

"Did you think about me?" He comes down on top of me and I hope the white wash of the lighting hides my blush. I'm wrong, I know, when he smiles and smooths his wet fingers over my cheek. I nod, he smiles. It's so sweet, except his long body is naked against my own, and I can feel him softly rutting against my upper thigh. His lips find their way between mine, and his tongue meets my own.

When my hips lift against his own, he moves on to my neck, down over my collarbones, leaving a nick to remember him by. My nipples are pushed together and share the cavern of his mouth. I assume he intends to continue his journey south, but I'm beyond four and have moved onto five play.

"No, no,no," I murmur and he looks up, slightly stricken.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, please, c'mere, inside me," I get all the words out and he understands.

"Just a minute," and he's off me, I don't like it, but I hear a drawer open and shut, looking up to see him rolling a skin on. One stroke, two. "Put me in," He says, and once again my body listens.

I line him up, and lift my hips. It's been some time and though the fluted head slips in, the flared lip of his tip, recently exposed, provides resistance. I whine. "Shhh, take it easy," He guides and pushes passed my ring of muscle an  inch. The audible pop is echoed by our matching exhales. He slides in another inch and pulls out. I'm full and on the edge of discomfort, I breathe. Focus on that in and out instead until his hips meet mine after he's worked his way in. Once there, he catches my eye. "Ok?"

"Yeah," I want to ask him to move, the pressure of his presence inside me, against my cervix, requires relief. Instead I flex.

"Ughhh, careful Elle," he warns, but pulls back a bit while continuing his break.

"Are you counting to ten?" I joke now that I'm able.

"European capitals, actually" he explains.

We both chuckle and the clench must be welcome this time, because he pulls my knees off their place on the mattress and wraps them around his hips and flexes his ass. It pushes him deep again and I mewl. That line between pleasure and pain I've been flirting with had become an infatuation as he moves into me over and over. My thighs grip him and i lift myself to wave my hips onto his dick. When that's not enough, I sit and he picks me up. My feet plant on his thick quadriceps and I rise and fall along his length until he catches my hips and shakes his head. He pulls me off and I'm face down on the bed while he pulls my hips back. His tongue circles my hood, and his fingers find their way in, I'm rocking back onto both until I make a sound I've never even made in a solo session. It's good, but brief. I hum my content and pull myself to the head of the bed.

His own impending orgasm postponed, and mine accomplished, he fits himself behind me, pushing my top thigh up until my knee meets my shoulder and we both watch as he wets the head of his cock with saliva and fits himself back in where I'm soaking. His name comes out again while I watch him take me, and he pulls my face back to kiss me while the strokes are calm and sure.

The kissing stops and he secures my knee over his shoulder and his hand to my pelvis to keep me in place. I feel like I need to brace myself based on the look in his eyes as he kisses my forehead.

"Ready? Harder?"He asks

I nod again, and am thankful that he has braced me and that the head board is padded when he pushes in rougher. The power and speed increase until I'm gasping and he's groaning "oh my God!"

It's brutal and beautiful and I'm crying out. He buries his face in my neck and groans, pulsing into the condom between us.

By the time I catch my breath, I realize how sweaty I am, how achy I am. This ride home is going to reek and tomorrow I have no idea how I'll explain the marks, or the limp. I hope Harry is not asleep, as he is still inside me, though that situation should remedy itself, but safe sex rules require some action.

"Harry," I nudge, "Harry," kissing his equally sweaty forehead, "The condom."

At this point I'm wrapped into strong arms, "Sleep," He murmurs and I swear he's already out.

I wriggle out from under him effectively limiting my risk as it unjoins us. "Nope."

He groans and gets up like a 100 year old man to make his way to the bathroom. I follow him in and slide into the enclosed toilet. We dance around each other at the door a few minutes later, until he basically picks me up and sets me out of his way, "Move, woman."

I start to slip on my clothes, and he catches me. "What're you doing?" He's rubbing his eyes like a little boy. Cute, fucker.

"Um, gonna call an uber. Thanks?"

"Thanks?" He looks more awake now, "Are you thanking me for a fuck?"

"Yes?"

"That a question?"

"No." I'm laughing, this is the most awkward, ever.

"Look," He sits on the bed where I've just completed pulling up my pants. "The way I see it you have three options-" He ticks them off on his fingers, "Option-A you can call that uber and we leave this at two perfect nights. Option-B you take a shower," he leans over and dramatically sniffs me,  "You need it, look and smell freshly fucked," I slap his face lightly, "And sneak out later. Option -C, you shower, with me, give me a cuddle, and in the morning we talk. I have a proposition for you.."

"Another one?" I interrupt.

"Rude!" He claps his hand over my giggling mouth. "Now as I was saying, When in doubt, always pick C."

#Harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #the dilemma #option c

[icyxmischief]

Thor: Ragnarok Review

The strength: the brothers’ chemistry. The weakness: tonal disjunctions and choppy pacing.  Overall rating: B/B+.  I was both disappointed in ways that I expected to be, and pleased in ways that I didn’t.   If you are a Loki fan, see this movie.  If you are a Thor fan, see this movie. If you are a Loki’s Resistance member or someone who has suffered from family bullying, abuse, or neglect, maybe be careful about seeing this movie.  It could trigger.  

See under the read-more for a breakdown. 

--Before I say another thing: I am SO PROUD of Loki.  Even though he is STILL LOKI, who deceives, changes, and shifts convictions, he also REPEATEDLY, thanklessly and without recognition tried to save Thor’s ass, both when Thor was first forced to be a “contender,” and when he arrived on a giant ship that boarded the Asgardians safely from a Surtur-burned Asgard, AND when he risked his life to release Surtur at Thor’s request.  Loki, who is not a hero, still did heroic things. And the tension between his trickery and his capacity for goodness remains.  And that delights me.  

--The recurring motif of Thor and Loki and Loki casting a doppleganger/illusion, the idea of him “being there” and “not really being there,” is wonderful, and is indexical on a deeper level of Loki’s willingness to let down barriers against trust, out of love for Thor.  More on that Later.  

--The only thing that I miss about Loki’s characterization is his ferocity.  He seemed a little TOO benign in this installment.  It’s subtle but Loki is vicious and I missed the viciousness.  The only time we catch a glimpse of it is when he’s talking to Bruce (which is a brilliant moment).  

--I DESPISE that we were never given an explanation for Loki’s “death” or how he could “fake it” so profoundly well.  I also feel like it might have been nice for someone to recognize that what he did, whether he faked his death and ran off to take the throne or not, was still done out of love for his brother. 

--The entire Dr. Strange scene was pointless advertisement for another MCU character, done I am convinced because Dr. Strange did hideously in the box office and needed a signal boost, and was implausible given Loki’s lifetime of training in sorcery.  Given that Loki fell to his attempted death of suicide in the  first film, it is insensitive and unnecessarily cruel to make him “fall for thirty minutes.”   The worst part is that it interrupted the narrative flow and took time away from Odin’s death scene.  

--I’m on the fence about Hela being Thor and Loki’s older sister.  It drastically alters the sibling dynamic. This may be something I just still need to get used to as I’m fresh from the movie.  I wanted to see more of a thing pushed where Thor realizes that Loki, UNLIKE Hela, is still invested in the welfare of their family and home.   --I am surprised and ultimately pleased at Odin’s gentler, more redeemable characterization.  I am pleased that Frigga talked to Odin through the separation between Valhalla and earth and obviously got through to him about a number of things.  I am pleased that Odin called BOTH Thor and Loki his “sons” (which obviously had a positive effect on Loki) and said he loved them and failed them, finally owned up to his culpability in the family’s messed up dynamic.  And I loved that he went to Norway and that Norway is probably where “New Asgard” will be.  At the same time, I feel like it was too little, too late.  Did he really have to be so rigid and machinating through his whole life and leave both his sons so scarred?  So it’s bittersweet. 

--Odin to Loki: “Your mother would be proud.” :’)  --Thor losing an eye was shocking, but I ultimately like it, and hope that it implies that he will follow in Odin’s footsteps but with greater compassion.   --Heimdall also finally won me over in this installment, rescuing and caring for the Asgardians after Hela took over.  

--I do not agree with or understand why Loki was portrayed as a glory hounding lazy monarch.  It’s antithetical to the fastidiously hard working obsessive character we’ve seen before. Yes, the big statue was funny, and yes, the play was (mostly) funny, but I cringed a little bit at how OOC it was, just to provide a joke.  I was also disappointed, though I knew I would be, that Thor and Loki’s reunion was rushed and made funny.  At the same time I loved how Thor was perceptive to Loki’s deceits; in an odd way it shows how close they are. More on that later.  --Also, a thing about the play that rubbed me the wrong way was the part where Loki’s written or sanctioned it so that the Odin actor openly discusses his real racial heritage???? Because he’s???? A very private person, and used to be utterly ashamed of that part of his identity???? And I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m GLAD he’s evidently learning to move past his internalized racism, but it also seems like a huge jump in four years????? And also not something to joke about in the first place?????  --Which leads me to the humor for which this film has been praised. I both agree and disagree.  The humor was largely effective, but in parts, felt like an unnecessary strain on a scene that should be serious.  For instance, things that brought the epic characters down to a relatable level, like Thor hitting himself with the ball he threw against Hulk’s wall, or Hulk’s disappointment at not being allowed to kill Surtur, or Valkyrie being so drunk that she fell off her hovercraft, were hilarious and great.   --My main complaint is that there were too many flashy fancy action sequences, which make for a fun movie, but crowd out potential scenes to show character background and development.  All the scenes we got with Thor and Loki were solid gold, and yet they went by at 30 second to 2 minute intervals and I was left thinking “wait? what? it’s over already???? come back!”  --Hela was a badass with so much potential but her characterization was extremely flat.  We were shown that she was ambitious and iconoclastic, but we got no window into what made her that way, or the nature of her relationship with Odin.  And I attribute that flaw to the issue above.  --Same goes for Valkyrie. Wonderful potential. Adore her.  Also think she’d be better shipped with Bruce than Thor but that’s neither here nor there.  But I wanted more than Loki’s magical mind-reading flashback of her last battle with Hela to see what sort of person she’d been and could be.   --Bruce’s scenes were touching and enjoyable. I’ve always loved Bruce and his self-sacrificial act of Hulking out again during the battle with Fenrir was deeply moving. --I love Jeff Goldblum, he was delightful, and his portrayal of the Grandmaster was a salient and much needed satire on political leaders who are really greedy glorified entertainers (read: Donald Trump) but I also felt like he was over-utilized at the expense of other characters, and, again, for the sake of humor, when both jokes and action sequences were already well covered.   --I found it contemptible that Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun were killed so quickly and unceremoniously--again, to cram in more flashy action sequences.  That was jarring and sad, even though I know it fulfills the events in the comics. Skurge’s death was made more meaningful than theirs and that felt wrong. Also, why was Sif missing???? 

--I love the notion that “home is not a place but a people.”  Personally, I really needed to hear that.  

Now to the most controversial issue: Thor and Loki’s relationship: I believe that Thor was frequently unfair to Loki and did not recognize how his own hasty words and actions precipitated Loki’s now hardwired bad habit of dodging and double-crossing.  When he blamed Loki for Odin’s death and Asgard’s fall into disarray, that was unfair.  Let’s not even go into how Odin’s parenting directly contributed to Loki’s depression, caustic jealousy, and instability.  Beyond that, Loki did not kill Odin or even make him uncomfortable; he left him in an old folks’ home with a benign memory loss spell. And he sure as fuck did nothing to release Hela; Odin was dying already because IT WAS TIME FOR RAGNAROK, NO MATTER WHAT, AS THOR HIMSELF LATER REALIZES. LOKI DID NOT PRECIPITATE RAGNAROK.   And that Thor never acknowledges this later is poor writing.   The fact that Loki reaches out verbally to comfort Thor in that moment, when a storm is brewing, and Thor responds with that overblown accusation, is also kind of awful.  

Later, when Thor is trapped in the room with the other warriors, and Loki appears in doppleganger form, and Thor throws objects through him while he’s telling him that he put a wager on him, and to be careful, and survive so that eventually the two of them can assassinate the Grandmaster and get out, that whole scene is a nice touch.  

You already all know what I think of the elevator/lift scene and “Get Help.”  It’s painful but it also shows that for centuries these two have worked together and know each other inside and out.  Same goes for the anecdote of Loki turning Thor into a frog and the anecdote of eight year old Loki turning into a snake and Thor picking it up and Loki surprising him with a knife lol.  

The very worst moment for me was indeed when Thor used the shocking implant on Loki.  It wasn’t even that Thor did it, because yeah, Loki was gonna sell him back to the Grandmaster (though I doubt Loki thought Thor would live out his life and die on Sakar).  What bothered me was HOW LONG he left him lying there writhing in EXCRUCIATING AGONY.  I also found it ironic that Thor is preaching on about how Loki “could be better but doesn’t want to change” (though it’s true, I admit!) when Thor literally could say the same words verbatim to and about himself. :/  And the way he was taunting Loki, it was....very cold and ooc for Thor.  

It’s important to note how Loki tried to bring attention to other people so they could empathize with his situation.  He isn’t even asking people to feel sorry for him, he JUST WANTS THEM TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE UNFAIR ODDS.  From “feels bad to be lied to, doesn’t it?” to “THAT’S what it’s LIKE!” about the Hulk smashing. 

I teared up and laughed happily when Thor conducted all his lightning into blasting Hela off the balcony of the palace, and Loki looked up mid battle and smiled with such knowing pride. I DIED!!! In that moment!!!! <3 BROTHERS!!! 

Also, note that Thor says “You’re late!” to Loki, which implies that even though he slowed Loki down on Sakar, he never expected Loki not to eventually join and help him.  Loki does NOT deny it, he simply says, with a bit of fussy concern and amusement, “You’re missing an eye!” 

You can argue that their relationship is salvaged later, and certainly by the end of the film, they are in a better place than they’ve been since before the first Thor movie.  The only thing that bothers me is that Thor seems to take that for granted, as the way it always should have been, without acknowledging how far they’ve come, or how often Loki has tried to meet Thor halfway without compromising his own agency/selfhood.  

However the whole movie was worth it for me for a scene in the last five minutes.  “I’m here.”  What more do I need to say about that wonderful moment? When throughout the film and all the implied earlier films a major point of their friction has been Loki’s absence, his evasion, his two-faced deceit, and instead, here, he chooses to make himself vulnerable, to be honest, to be present, in order to comfort his big brother.   <3  The hug DOES happen, guys. It’s just off-camera.  :’)  

#thor: ragnarok #ragnarok #thor #loki #loki meta #meta #ragnarok spoilers