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ghoulgirlwrites · 3 years ago

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Oh Baby, Let Me In

Pairing: Frank Iero x Reader

Era: Bullets

Requested by: Anon

Word Count: ~2400

Summary/Request: if your requests are still open, would you be able to write a frank iero x reader fic in bullets era and the reader is gerard and mikeys little sister and frank likes her but doesn't want gerard and mikey to find out bc they'd get really mad?? (I hope that makes sense lol)

A/N: So sorry you had to wait so long for this, I hope it’s worth the wait! I got a little carried away with this, but I’m really proud of it. Enjoy!

You’d just gotten home from your last class of the day, when your older brother, Mikey, ambushed you.

“You’re coming to band practice later today, right?” He asked.

He and your other brother, Gerard, had started a band called My Chemical Romance with their friend Ray. You thought it was kinda cool, but you didn’t want to give your dorky older brothers too much credit.

“Why? I know what you guys sound like,” you whined.

“Well, we’re adding a guitarist, this really cool guy who does stuff Ray can’t do!” Mikey said.

You sighed. “Alright, fine, I’ll go.”

They’d been renting a practice space a few minutes from your house, so after dinner, you all headed there. Ray was already there, talking to…a really cute guy?

The cute guy in question turned fully towards you when he heard you and your brothers come in. His bright hazel eyes locked onto you and his jaw dropped slightly. You self-consciously tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Frank, this is our sister, Y/N. Y/N, this is our new guitarist, Frank,” Gerard said, gesturing between the two of you.

Frank broke out of his apparent stupor to take your hand in his, shaking it lightly.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said.

“You too, Frank,” you said.

“Alright, if you’re done mooning at my sister, can we get started?” Mikey asked, causing you and Frank to blush.

Frank nodded and went over to where a guitar sat in a stand. He picked up the guitar, slinging it around his neck.

Throughout the entire practice, you couldn’t keep your eyes off Frank and it seemed like the same was true for him. He kept his eyes on you pretty much the whole time, even spacing out when someone spoke to him.

When band practice ended, Frank bounced over to you, a grin on his face. “What did you think?”

“You were awesome,” you said. Your cheeks burned as you wondered whether he was asking what you thought about the band as a whole. “I mean…you make my brothers’ band sound halfway decent.” Nice save.

His grin widened, the corners of his hazel eyes crinkling. “Thanks! I think I’m a little less nervous now than when I first auditioned.”

You nodded. “That’s good.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re my good luck charm,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You blushed. “Maybe.”

“Maybe you’ll just have to come to all our practices and gigs so I don’t suck,” he said.

“You won’t suck,” I said.

He tilted his head to the side. “Will you come anyway?”

“Sure, Frank,” you said.

“Y/N, come on, it’s time to go,” Mikey called.

“I gotta go, they’re my ride home,” you said.

“Kay. Bye, Y/N.” He waved at you.

“Bye, Frank,” you said, returning his wave over your shoulder as you walked away.

You climbed into the backseat of Gerard’s car, which was strewn with art supplies.

“Frank seems nice,” you said.

“He is. But stay away from him,” Gerard said, staring at you through the rearview mirror.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You guys wanted me to meet him so badly, but now you want me to stay away from him? Makes sense.”

“We didn’t think you guys would hit it off,” Mikey said.

“Guys, I’m not twelve, I’m an adult, I’m allowed to flirt with a cute guy if I want to,” you said.

“Yeah, you guys flirt, then date, then he breaks your heart, we break his nose, and then we’re back to looking for a rhythm guitarist,” Gerard deadpanned.

“Well, lucky for you, none of that’s going to happen,” you said.

“If he asks you out, will you say yes?” Gerard asked.

“We just met!”

“Will you?” Mikey probed.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Well, don’t,” Gerard said.

You groaned, hitting your head against the headrest behind you. There was no getting through to those two. You loved your brothers, really, you did. But they were way too overprotective, especially when it came to you and their friends. It was like they didn’t trust you to hold your own or something. But you’d prove them wrong. If Frank was interested in you, you decided to go for it, and there was nothing Gerard or Mikey could do about it.

A week later, MyChem had their first gig with Frank as a member. You’d been to another of their practices, in which Frank flirted with you again, but he was more cautious, as if he too had gotten scolded by your brothers and didn’t want to risk anything. But you couldn’t deny that the forbidden nature of whatever had sprung up between you and Frank made it all the more exciting.

“You nervous?” You asked Frank as he and the others prepared to go onstage.

He grinned. “Not with you here.”

Gerard cleared his throat loudly and you rolled your eyes at him.

The band played an incredible show. You couldn’t take your eyes off of Frank, the way he put everything into his performance. Afterwards, you were hanging out with them outside the venue. It had been warm outside when you’d left the house, so you hadn’t thought to bring a jacket and were now regretting it.

“I’m cold!” You whined.

“Well damn, Y/N, I don’t control the weather,” Mikey said.

“Here, take my jacket,” Frank said softly, shrugging out of his dark blue jean jacket. You’d been admiring it earlier, noticing it was covered in pins. He draped the jacket around your shoulders and you gratefully shoved your hands into the sleeves, ignoring the looks Gerard and Mikey were giving you. The jacket smelled like smoke and coffee.

“I like your tattoo,” you said, brushing your fingers against the anchor above his right elbow. His skin erupted in tiny goosebumps beneath your fingertips.

He bit his lip, looking down at your hand as his cheeks turned red. “Thanks. I’m planning on getting a Black Flag symbol soon. I really like them.”

You felt your eyes light up. “Me too!”

He grinned and looked down again. That was when you noticed that your hand was still on his arm. Worse, Mikey and Gerard had noticed and didn’t look happy. You hastily brought your hand back down to your side, blushing just as red as Frank.

A few days later, Gerard and Mikey had dragged you to another band practice, although you were more than happy to tag along this time since it meant you got to see Frank, even though it also meant Gerard and Mikey would be watching you like hawks.

Once again, you were captivated watching Frank play his heart out. It also seemed like he couldn’t keep his eyes off you either. Sometimes you’d catch his gaze, making you both blush and look away momentarily.

After practice was over, everyone was standing around talking. Frank headed towards you, grinning. He brushed past you and you felt his hand near your hip, slipping something into your jacket pocket. You looked up at him and he winked, putting one finger to his lips, which were still curled up in a mischievous smile. He turned to talk to Ray, who was standing a few feet away from you.

You glanced around to make sure Gerard and Mikey weren’t watching, since you weren’t quite sure what Frank had put in your pocket and you had no idea how they’d react if they saw it. Thankfully, they were busy talking to their drummer, so you carefully extracted the object from your pocket.

It was a cassette tape with a note taped to it.

Dear Y/N,

I made you this tape because I really like you, but I knew I couldn’t say anything because Gerard and Mikey are already on me about it, so this is a close substitute. Some of these are songs I know we both like, some are songs I think you’ll enjoy, and some are my own songs that I may or may not have written with you in mind. I hope you like everything!

XOFrnk

You read the track listing he’d written out, finding songs from Thursday, Misfits, and Black Flag, among others. Then there were two songs listed that you weren’t familiar with: All I Want Is Nothing and She’s the Prettiest Girl At the Party and She Can Prove It With a Solid Right Hook. You figured those were the songs Frank had written and it made your heart flutter that he felt comfortable enough to share them with you. You slipped the tape back into your pocket, smiling to yourself, and began counting down the minutes until you could go home and listen to the tape.

Later that night, you put the tape on and lay in your bed while you listened to it, smiling at Frank’s choices. He’d been right, you did like the songs he’d picked with you in mind. Then you got to the songs he’d written. You couldn’t help but nod along, smiling so hard that your cheeks ached a little. You couldn’t believe how sweet his songs were, but you could, because he was a sweet boy. And of course, you knew you liked him too. As the final notes of She’s the Prettiest Girl faded out, leaving you in silence, you resolved to do something to show Frank that his feelings were returned. Who cared what Gerard and Mikey had to say?

The band had another gig, so of course, you went along. You could tell Gerard and Mikey were a little suspicious of you, since you didn’t used to be this enthusiastic about the band, but you were past the point of caring. You were also excited because you had a plan to tell Frankie how you felt about him and tonight, you were going to set that plan in motion.

As you all packed into the van to travel to the venue, you slipped Frank a note, much like he’d slipped you the tape. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, but you just smiled and shook your head. The note read, “Don’t go into the venue right away when we get there. I have something to tell you. XO Y/N.” You hoped he’d read it before it was too late and would wait outside for you.

When the van arrived at the club where the gig was at, the others all piled out of the van to help the crew bring in equipment. You pretended to be looking for something in the backpack you’d brought with you and you heard Frank assuring the others he’d be right there, he just needed a smoke. Thankfully, none of the others decided to join him and soon, it was just the two of you.

You hopped out of the van and stood in front of Frank, who was sitting on the hood. Now that you were alone with him, his piercing hazel eyes on you, you were at a loss for words.

Frank sighed. “Look, Y/N, if you’re about to say you don’t see me that way, or that we should just be friends, or something like that, can you just get it over with? This is killing me.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you took a deep breath and crushed your lips to his. He froze for a moment, clearly stunned, but then he returned the kiss, snaking his arms around your waist. You noticed immediately how well the two of you fit together.

Gerard’s voice broke through the haze of the moment. “Hey guys, I was just wondering--what the fuck?!”

You and Frank jolted apart as if electrocuted and immediately turned towards Gerard. One of Frank’s hands still lingered on your hip and you could feel him shaking. You grabbed his hand and held it in yours.

“Frank, what the fuck?” Gerard asked.

“I’m sorry, I--”

Gerard cut him off, his face growing red. “I specifically told you not to go there.”

“I didn’t--” Frank began, but Gerard cut him off again.

“She’s my sister!”

Frank squeezed your hand. “Yes, and she’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever met.” You glanced at Frank, noticing the fiery look in his eyes.

“She’s also standing right here,” you said.

Frank glanced at you, his eyes wide in fear, as if afraid that he’d overstepped.

You sighed. “Frank, go inside. I’ll handle this.”

He frowned at you, not moving.

“Go!” You said, letting go of his hand.

He glanced between you and Gerard for a moment, a stricken look on his face. But then he seemed to decide it was better to let you deal with Gerard and reluctantly went inside. You and Gerard both watched him go. Once you could no longer see Frank, you turned to Gerard.

“Listen, I really like him and I know he really likes me, but he didn’t wanna act on it because he was afraid of what you’d do to him. Please, just let me have this,” you said.

Gerard sighed, looking down at the ground for a moment, then back up at you. “You’ll let us know if we need to kick his ass?”

You snorted. “I don’t think you could even if I asked, but sure.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Shall we go in and tell Frank he gets to live another day?” You asked.

“Sure,” he said and the two of you went into the club.

You went over to where Ray, Mikey, and Frank were waiting. Frank still looked terrified for his life but you went over to him and took his hand. Mikey glared at the two of you, but you shook your head, glaring back.

“Frank?” Gerard asked.

Frank gulped. “If you’re going to beat me up, can I at least have a ten second head start?”

Gerard chuckled. “I’m not gonna beat you up, it’s fine.”

Mikey raised his eyebrows at Gerard.

“Really?” Mikey and Frank asked in unison.

“Yes, really. I guess if Y/N’s gonna date someone, it may as well be someone we already like,” Gerard said.

“Wait, date?” Ray asked, looking between you, Frank, Gerard, and Mikey. “Jeez, no one tells me anything!”

“Thanks, guys,” Frank said, looking much more relaxed.

“C’mere,” you said, pulling him into you. He eagerly leaned in to kiss you, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Okay, throwing up now!” Mikey said.

You ignored him, as everything around you melted away. All you knew was Frank’s arms around you and his lips on yours. And that’s exactly how you wanted it.

#Frank Iero #frank iero fanfic #frank iero imagine #frank iero x reader #my chemical romance #MyChem #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance x reader #my chemical romance imagine #mychem x reader #mcr #mcr x reader

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caravelmp3 · 3 years ago

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UNDER THE CANYON MOON

pairing: josh kiszka x female!reader warning(s): mostly fluff, just brief mentions of alcohol and sex word(s): 2k note: hi hi hi !! this is just a little something i wrote up the last couple of days with the inspiration of light my love, canyon moon by harry styles, and the interview where josh talked about road-tripping the u.s. last summer <3 i don’t write one shots often but let me know what you all think bc i might shuffle some more out soon lol. hope you all enjoy !! :)

The Los Angeles sun was hot, beating down onto the city basking in its late-summer hues. You parked your car on the street in Silver Lake and carried a bag of food and drink tray to the door of a recording studio, more than prepared to be swarmed by hungry boys who had been cooped up in the studio since five a.m. on the dot that morning. They had a breakthrough the night before with a new song, and after getting home and going to bed for a few hours, the creative juices started flowing again and they were back in the booth.

A windchime on the door sang as you pulled the door open and walked inside, greeting their manager who was at a table by the door.

“The boys here?”

“Down the hall,” he nodded, pointing a finger in the direction of the hallway. “They’re more rowdy than usual so be prepared,”

You laughed and turned down the hall, walking towards the studio. The walls were decorated with memorabilia of rock and roll greats and record plaques, and among them, you spotted a picture of the four boys with their Grammy award. It seemed like time had passed so quickly. They won the award for the first album and they were already working on their third, shooting them further into stardom.

“Coffee’s here!” You shouted in a really bad New England accent when you noticed the recording light was flipped off above the door.

You stepped into the room to a chorus of cheers and “thank god you're here”’s that made you laugh while sitting the food and drinks down on the table and they all rushed over. You handed out the specific orders and pointed to which drinks was theirs when they got handsy and tried to grab everything from her out of both excitement and some desperation for caffeine.

“Our savior,” Jake said, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders to give them a gentle shake before taking the coffee you were holding out to him, and then you handed Danny’s to him, too.

“Just the coffee girl here,”

“Well, you’re a little bit more than that,” Josh said, walking over to the table to grab his full cup.

You pressed a hand against the table, leaning over to him. “Just a little?”

“A little bit,” he shot you a wink before swiftly pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You were more than just a “little more” than the coffee girl, you were typically their designated drunk driver, the one who took all of their candid photos, the mediator in times of need, and well, the girlfriend of the lead singer, too.

Everyone in the studio took their food and drinks and scattered among the seating area in a break from recording. Instead of one tiny room with all of them cramped together, they had a wide open space with booths for the different instruments and bean bag chairs and big comfy, velvet sofas, and there was dim lighting with deep toned rugs that gave off the vibe of a more relaxed feel rather than the fluorescent-light, tiled-floor feeling that made them feel rushed and confined by rules they didn’t set themselves.

You liked the studio, too, and often took naps on the sofa while listening to them play instruments individually in the recording booths and while they were writing. One night they had found you at two a.m., bundled up with a blanket on the bean bag chair after they spent the night writing in the front room on the piano, but it wasn’t the first time as you often napped in their Nashville recording offices, too.

“You guys been busy today?” You asked jokingly while lowering onto the sofa armrest, receiving nothing but glares shot in your direction. “Okay, okay, touchy subject,”

With a mouthful of bread, Sam pointed to Josh, “Josh finished a song, didn’t you?” He was grinning.

You hummed in joy and surprise, grabbing Josh’s knee as he sat next to you. “Really?”

It had been a rough few days for all of them as they tried to shuffle out a few more additions to the new album. It felt incomplete with something missing, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on what it was exactly, so they attempted to bring back and revamp old songs, write and record new ones, but nothing seemed to stick, until now.

“Yeah, wanted to wait and show you later, but someone can’t keep his trap shut.” Josh said, pretending to be serious before cracking a smile and taking a sip of his coffee. “Just wanted it to be a surprise,”

“Well it can still be a surprise, I’m surprised now,” you said. “Can I hear it? Or read what you got?”

Josh nodded and stood, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him. There was a little recording room fit with a piano inside, his writing journal placed on the music stand where he had scribbled notes and keys and melodies in pen. He picked it up and handed it to you.

“Nothing seemed to click until last night, when I started putting it together.” He said.

“Is that why you wouldn’t tell me what it was when you all got back to the house?”

Josh shrugged, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, yeah, I wanted it to be special when you first heard it.”

You sat the coffee cup down onto the floor while lowering into the small chair in the corner, holding the journal like it was the most delicate piece of art in the world. In silence, while Josh watched on anxiously, you read the words he had splayed across the blank page.

Can you light my love? Flames glowing bright as the sun Deeper than oceans you run Watch as our world has begun

Your mind is a stream of colors Extending beyond our sky A land of infinite wonders A billion lightyears from here now

You felt your throat tighten, tears tempted your eyes.

It was a love song.

“Josh-”

“Oh god you hate it don’t you, you dread it, despise it,”

“Oh shut up, I’m in tears right now, you know I love it.” You looked up at him with a smile and a sniffle.

His words across the page were sloppy, some cursive, written in different pens of different colors, some lines crossed and scribbled out, others underlined.

“Your mind is something I will never fully understand.” You told him as he sat down on the chair next to you. “How the fuck did you come up with this-”

“I was thinking about our trip out here, the week we spent driving out and all of the stuff we did… and how I think I fell more in love with you.” His voice softened.

You reached out, placing your arm on his shoulder, fingers playing with his curls. “I can’t put it into words how much I love it, how much I love you,” you said, “and you make me sound so lovely when in reality I know I was a pain in the ass that entire trip.”

“Yeah, but my pain in the ass,” he kissed the inside of your arm.

Two weeks before the boys left Nashville to head to Los Angeles, Josh called you at midnight with an idea in mind – the two of you renting a camper to drive out to L.A., falling into all of the tourist traps along the way and stopping in random small towns to sleep while exploring the in between, which would definitely beat the boring four-hour flight. And you, half asleep and across the country, agreed.

It would be fun. Right?

And it was. Every time someone asked how it went, you called it “the most magical week of my life.”

While the others waited behind for their flights the next week, you and Josh set off from Nashville, heading west with only the destination in mind and a trusty map in hand. Everything else just came to you both.

The first stop was three hours in the trip, in Memphis. You and Josh roamed Graceland on Elvis Presley Boulevard and had lunch near Sun Studio before taking in the mementos and relics at the Blues Hall of Fame where Josh talked your ear off, rattling off more details about each band and singer than was on the info-cards on the wall.

Then it was two hours to Little Rock, falling asleep in the back of the camper after a take-out dinner outside of a random supermarket. Sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of a parking lot, you held Josh’s hand under a blanket and watched the pink sunrise over the hills, and then it was back on the road again.

From Oklahoma City to Amarillo, you fiddled with the map when Josh got lost after a wrong turn in a small town where he insisted on seeing the giant 66-foot LED soda bottle sculpture, and in the middle of northern Texas, he made it up to you by cooking your favorite dinner. You thanked him in a quiet whisper as you crawled into the bed with him that night, sliding under the covers where he greeted you with warm hands and kisses against your neck that made you squeal with the tickle of his mustache and he grinned against your lips.

Josh got to choose the music all the way through New Mexico – Neil Young and Crazy Horse to John Denver’s Thank God I’m A Country Boy, and you were only able to squeeze in Joan Baez every hour when you stopped to stretch your legs on the side of the road, belting the words to him while he laughed at your voice cracks.

And after you both pitched the tent in the Petrified Forest in Arizona, Josh hummed the tune to some new song while you two sat under the midnight stars in the canyon with a roaring fire, his arm around you, his sweatshirt draped over your shoulders. When he tried to start telling you a scary story after you heard a weird noise outside the tent, you blindly hit him in the dark and accidentally hit his nose, causing you both to burst into laughter after the initial panic left. He laughed loudly into your shoulder as you held his face in shock, catching the scent of your lavender lotion, and his body relaxed when the laughter died down, feeling so at peace in his life with you there.

It was the tail end of the trip, but the excitement hadn’t died down yet. After showers in the camper in the middle-of-nowhere-Arizona and five hours west, you and Josh found a bar outside of Las Vegas that resembled Coyote Ugly, so you both had a round of tequila sodas and margaritas before walking around the small town that evening and sleeping off the tipsy-headaches in the air conditioning. On top of the covers, you looked at Josh napping in the sunshine, cheeks flushed red, curls poofy from the wind, and you felt your heart grow in your chest before falling asleep next to him.

And then came Los Angeles, the final stop, the dreaded one. But you and Josh didn’t tell anyone that either of you were sad to be back with them in L.A. when they asked, and instead, you two smiled and hugged everyone after piling out of the camper in the drive-way of the Silver Lake house.

Cleaning out the camper, tossing cheesy novelty t-shirts at each other and laughing at how many socks you two managed to lose along the way and how many bug bites were added, watching the developed clips Josh had filmed of scenes in the desert and you asleep in the passenger seat, you both were nostalgic about a trip that just ended.

It was so easy, so freeing to just be together on the road, with only the destination in mind. It revealed a part of them that the other didn’t see often, like your tendencies to get your lefts and rights mixed up while giving directions, and Josh’s equally awful sense of direction didn’t exactly pair with the fact that he was a maniac while driving in the first place.

But those parts were just added to the long list of why you and him loved each other in the first place. So you became the designated driver after Amarillo and Josh stuck to telling you “left or right” for the rest of the time. It was a compromise, another reason why you two worked so well together.

It was a form of love in itself.

“We’ll have to drive all the way back to Nashville then, so you can write more songs about me.” You teased.

Josh rolled his eyes but cracked into a grin a second later. “Let’s not get too carried away,” but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t always mentally reliving the night under the canyon moon.

#gvf imagine #greta van fleet imagine #gvf #gvf one shot #greta van fleet one shot #gvf fanfic #greta van fleet fanfic #josh kiszka imagine #josh kiszka one shot #josh kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet

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edna-skiffens · 4 years ago

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The Best Medicine

Summary: You are in the hospital, but you can never sleep in hospitals. Good thing you have a very attractive night shift nurse who is willing to help out.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: hospitals, light med talk, bad medical writing, fluff

A/N: Please ignore the plot holes or the fact that this isn’t the most realistic and also I know this isn’t how discharge works at the hospital.. It’s called fiction for a reason, darling. Also, I left the reason the reader is in the hospital open ended bc some of us may have medical conditions/reasons that we can attach to this, but if not I tried to keep it vague enough on purpose so that you can imagine whatever. Also if you like Nurse!Tom and have requests for him lmk bc i’m happy to write for him.

Toss and turn. Toss and turn. The routine was getting old. This was your third night in the hospital and sleep just wasn’t coming to you.

Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. Maybe it was the constant symphony of sounds and people passing in the hallway. Maybe it was because you weren’t at home in your own bed.

Maybe it was just because you were in the hospital.

You couldn’t be sure. What you were sure of is that you weren’t falling asleep anytime soon.

Feeling another presence in the room, you looked from the ceiling to the doorway where you saw Tom, one of the night shift nurses, standing cautiously.

“I didn’t wake you did I?” He asked as he eased his way inside.

“Nope.”

“So no sleep again, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Sorry darling. Let’s go ahead and get these vitals over with.” He took your blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature and wrote it down in your chart. Putting the clipboard back on its hook at the end of the bed, he looked up at your tired face. “Okay. So now about that sleep. What do you think will help?”

“Not being in the hospital.”

He chuckled lightly while walking back towards your bedside.

“I know. You hate it here. You’ve made that very clear and I try not to take too much offense to it.” You let out a slight laugh and held back the fact that he was the best part of this whole experience. He almost made it worth it. “I’m sorry we can’t give you any sleeping medication. Do you think it’ll help if I talk to you?”

“You mean tell me bedtime stories?” You couldn’t help but tease him at the adorable suggestion, though it sent a swarm of butterflies off in your stomach.

“I was thinking more like bore you ‘till you fell asleep. But whatever works.”

“You’re the nurse. If you think it’ll help.” You both sat there smirking at each other for a moment. Something unspoken floating in the air between you two.

“Well, I need to finish my round of vitals first. I’ll come check on you when I’m done and if you’re still up we’ll see about those stories.”

“I’ll be here.”

About fifteen or twenty minutes later you heard a light tap on your door followed by “Still awake?”

“Always.”

“You up for a chat?” Tom asked as he made his way to the stool then rolled slightly closer to your bed.

“Got nothing better to do.” You teased again.

“Okay. Well you should probably lay down.”

“Oh. It’s going to be that kind of story, huh?” His laugh was so beautiful and you were happy you were the cause of it.

“No.” He corrected in between laughs “The goal is to get you to sleep. So sitting up won’t help.”

“Right. Right.”

“Well.. anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”

“Why did you choose to become a nurse?”

“Ahhh. Good question. So I actually went to an art school.” You couldn’t help the brief expression of surprise that crossed your face. “I know. Shocking. I did training specifically in dance and gymnastics and I loved it.”

“Wait, so what happened?” You asked, turning on your side to face him more comfortably.

“Well one day we were rehearsing for a show and I fell. Ruined my knee. Had to do physical therapy for months. I tried to get back into it, but it just wasn’t the same. However, through that process I learned a lot about medicine and the health side of things. It really turned me on to it. And when my Plan A got a bit messed up I thought ‘hey, this could work’. So far it’s treated me pretty well.”

You smiled at Tom, admiring his passion for his career and the determination he had to keep pushing after his accident. You enjoyed hearing him talk about it too. If you didn’t know any better you would say it was helping you relax.

“My story that boring?”

“Obviously.”

“Your sarcasm has no end.”

“Oh… goodness.. you thought that was sarcasm?”

Tom only laughed and shook his head the way he often did with you.

You may just have been his patient and he may have just been your nurse, but you both bonded. He kept you company and gave you comfort. In return, you kept him entertained during the quiet night shifts.

“I’m not going to sleep. I'm just resting my eyes. But still listening.” You told him as you nestled further into the hospital bed, trying to find a position that would make it comfortable.

“Okay, darling.” He grinned at you.

“Tell me more. What kind of-” You had to stop to yawn, “What kind of art stuff did you do?”

“Oh. Well, I was in a few musicals. I really enjoyed dancing. I did ballet ever since I was young and I love the control I have over my body. The tricks I can do with gymnastics or the turns and leaps. I mean I can’t do them to that level anymore, but I try to stay active.” He glanced up and noticed you hadn’t moved, “Are you still with me?”

“Mhm.” You barely respond.

“Okay. Well it was a performing arts school so we really were trained in many areas. We had classes in acting, singing, dancing, all of it. It was a lot of fun and I met my best friends there.”

Tom began telling stories about his time at school. Before he knew it, he lost himself and track of time. He looked back at you, quiet and still.

“Y/N?” You were finally asleep. “Goodnight, darling.” He whispered as he gently made his exit.

Because Tom worked the night shift, you never saw him when you woke in the morning. Instead, Tanya, a sweet nurse that felt like a big sister, or Linda, Nurse Ratched in the flesh, came in for morning vitals and meds.

You counted down the days until your release. Life in the hospital was pretty uneventful with the limit on visitors and limited activity. There’s only so many sitcoms one can take in a given timespan. The only thing that you really looked forward to each night was when Tom clocked in.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Tom.” You would smile at each other.

“How are we feeling today?”

“Better. Ready to get out of here.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you are feeling better and still ready to jailbreak.” He smiled while writing something down on your chart. “They should be bringing up your dinner tray soon and then I’ll bring by your evening meds after that.”

“Okay.”

“If you need me you know what to do.” He called to you before walking out the door.

You were disappointed when Shelley brought your evening meds by later. She was a nice enough nurse. She just wasn’t Tom.

You’d grown accustomed to mainly having him as your nurse during the evening shift. At first you weren’t sure if it was coincidence or on purpose, but after a few nights of staying up and talking, you grew closer to him. You saw less of the other nursing staff and more of Tom.

You tried not to build anything up in your head. You were sure everything he was doing was in his job description and a part of being a good nurse.

He would sneak you extra pudding cups from the cafeteria and bring you an extra heated blanket because you could never stay warm. If you needed a new IV, he held your hand to ease the anxiety. He kept you company and made you feel less alone in such a sterile and intimidating place. And when he noticed you had trouble sleeping he chose to sit with you to help you fall asleep. You couldn’t help the butterflies that built in your stomach.

It became a sort of routine. He checked on you during evening vitals, even if someone else was doing them, and you were always still awake. He would then come and sit with you and chat for a bit, telling you different stories until you eventually fell asleep.

Some nights when you were extra restless he would help you walk the halls.

“The doctors have to see you’re stable enough before you can be discharged. Plus, maybe it’ll tire you out.” He suggested.

He would help get your IV pole ready so you could walk with it. He helped you into your slippers and eased you out of bed after passing you your robe.

Walking the hall slowly, Tom knew he had to remain professional, yet he found a few excuses to graze his hand across your back to ‘steady you’ when you turned corners or he thought you were looking tired.

“It might take me a while to get back to my usual jogs in the park, huh?” You laughed in spite of yourself.

“You’ll get there. Baby steps.” He encouraged, as you turned around the Nurse’s Station. You missed the faces the other night shift nurses were giving you both, but Tom was sure to subtly flick them off. “So, do you like running?” He asked as you headed back towards your room.

Throughout your late nights together, he told you of his three younger brothers and his dog named Tessa. You spoke about what you would do when you were out of hospital. He talked about his friends and flatmates and the adventures they had. He told you many stories, but each morning when you woke up he was clocked out and the day shift nurses were there.

Tonight was your last night. You’re set to be discharged tomorrow and while you are ecstatic to go home, you’re going to miss one thing about this place.

“I bet you’re too excited to sleep tonight. I don’t know if my stories will even help.” Tom said as he sat down next to you.

You smiled up to him sweetly.

“What are you looking forward to the most once you get out of here?”

“Sleeping in my own bed.”

“Well that’s no surprise.” Tom laughed, a contagious sound making you giggle as well. “Isn’t there anything you’ll miss about this place?”

“Yeah.” He smiled “There’s one thing.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

“The pudding cups.”

“Ahh the pudding cups of course.” You giggled while fiddling with the IV line.

“They just don’t taste the same in the outside world.”

His smile grew wider as you giggled.

“No, but really. As much as I give this place grief and say I’m ready to get out of here - which I am,” You gave him a pointed look to which he held his hands up in mock surrender, fully believing you, “it hasn’t been too terribly awful I guess.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad we could make your stay not too terribly awful.. I guess.” He teased. “Do you have anything exciting to look forward to once you’re a free woman?”

“Nothing huge planned, really. The doctors did say to take it easy.”

“That’d be wise.”

“Yeah. I’ll just lay low for a while. My sister said she may try to come visit me though so that would be nice.”

“Oh that would be nice. She’s your older sister right?”

“Right. She moved away last year to be closer to her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Do you like him?”

“Sorry?”

“This boyfriend. Do you like him?”

“He’s alright, I suppose. He makes her happy.” Tom nodded along.

“And do you have a boyfriend that makes you happy?”

“N-No. No I don’t. Not at the moment.” You began fiddling with the IV cord again.

“No boyfriend or not a boyfriend that makes you happy?” He asked.

“Neither.”

“Well that’s a shame.” If the heart monitor was connected you would’ve been screwed. “I just mean someone needs to look after you once you get home. I hope this sister comes through for a visit. You’ve got to take it easy.”

“Oh I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be.” He smiled.

“How has your shift been tonight? Busy?” You asked, fighting back a yawn.

“A bit busier than usual. There was a slight emergency earlier which is why Shelley handed out meds tonight. Sorry I didn’t come around.”

“It’s alright. I know you have other patients.”

“Yeah, but none like you.” You were sure he said that to all of his patients. After all, you’ve heard similar lines ever since you went to the pediatrician as a child. But it still gave you butterflies.

“Are you getting sleepy?”

“A little. But it’s okay.” He gave you a pointed look but continued to talk anyway. “It’s the last night. One final request for storytime. Make it a good one.”

You thought for a moment before asking your question.

“Do you ever wish that life turned out differently? That you never had your accident and you could’ve followed your dreams to be a dancer?” You asked while turning on your side and getting more comfortable.

“Sometimes. At least, I used to. But I think I’ve accepted it now. And I really can’t see myself doing anything but this.” You nodded taking in his answer “I look at it this way. If it wasn’t for my injury then I never would’ve changed my career path and found my love for medicine. I never would have made so many of the friends I’ve made or the memories I’ve made. I never would have met you.” He finishes with a sweet smile.

“That’s a very positive way of looking at it.” You told him. “Be honest, are you a therapist during the day?” He laughed out loud.

“No. I’m not. I guess I’m a big believer in ‘everything happens for a reason’.” You nodded while covering a yawn.

“So I’ve been curious to ask you,” He began, “Do you usually have this much trouble sleeping? Because you can get help for that you know?” You smiled at him.

“What? I thought a night nurse talking to you was the cure?” Tom smirked and shook his head. “I’m kidding. No, I normally don’t. It’s just the stiff sheets and hospital sounds I think.”

“Darn hospital.” He rolled his eyes and joked. “So this time tomorrow you’ll be sound asleep in your own bed then?”

You knew it was meant to be a happy statement, but you were a little sad at the thought of not having any more late night chats with Tom.

“Yes. Thank God.” You forced a smile.

You felt another yawn coming and tried to hold it back. It was already past the usual time that you fell asleep.

Tom could tell you were exhausted so he launched into a story from nursing school, hoping to lull you to sleep.

You yawned your way through listening, trying to soak up every last moment with Tom. In the morning he wouldn’t be here. You’d leave and likely never see him again.

When he finished, your eyes were half open and he wondered how you were still awake. Or maybe why.

“Why are you fighting it? The point is to sleep. Give in.” He told you gently after another yawn.

You looked up at him, half asleep and rubbing your eyes, not finding the confidence to tell him the true reason you were trying to stay awake.

“I’m happy right now.”

He smiled down at you.

“I am too. But you need your sleep, darling.” You weren’t sure what to say and you didn’t have much energy left in you anyway. “How about this. I’ve probably been in here too long as it is. Let me go check in at the Nurse’s Station and then I’ll come back and check on you soon and see if you’re still awake okay?”

The thought that he was leaving gave you a sad feeling in your stomach. You tried to remind yourself that he was just your nurse. Nothing more.

“Okay.” You smiled at him, sleepily, while settling further into the bed.

He stood up and instead of walking towards the door he walked closer to you. He grabbed the thin, white hospital blanket and pulled it closer around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He whispered before he walked to the door.

“Tom?” You called out just before he opened it. He turned around with an expectant look, “Thanks for everything.”

Even though the room was dim you could see his smile.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember much after that. You don’t know if Tom came back to check on you. You just remember falling asleep with a smile on your face.

When you woke up the following morning it felt like any other morning in the hospital.

The hallways were much louder. Beeps, chatter, and phones were constant. The lights were brighter.

But you were quickly reminded that it wasn’t any other morning. You were going home today.

The door creaked open and Tanya, one of your regular daytime nurses, poked her head in.

“Oh good you’re up.” She made her way inside and over to the gloves. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. Thanks.” She gave you a smile, something hidden behind it.

“I’m sure.” She said quietly to herself. You gave her a questioning look. “Oh I just mean I’m sure you’re excited to get out of here.”

You nodded as she took your vitals one last time.

“Everything looks good. What do you say about getting this IV out?”

“I say that sounds amazing.”

She took it out and bandaged up your arm while informing you of how the morning would go.

“Dr. McCoy is making rounds now then he’ll be by soon to go over your discharge. You can get dressed whenever you’re ready. If you need help, buzz me. You’ll still have a breakfast tray come, but you don’t have to eat it.” She gave you a wink while taking off her gloves.

“Thanks Tanya.”

“Of course, sweetie. And in case I don’t see you before you go, you’ve been a wonderful patient. Take care of yourself.” You smiled at her as she left you to change into some leggings and a sweatshirt.

You were packing your remaining things into your bag when your doctor walked in.

“Y/N! How are we doing today?”

“We’re doing great because we’re going home.” You smiled while taking a seat to rest for a few minutes.

“I know you’re excited.” He laughed before explaining the conditions of your discharge. You had medicines to take, a follow up appointment, and strict instructions to rest for the next few weeks. After signing some forms he left you with a stack of papers. “Is someone coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah my neighbor should be here within an hour.”

“Sounds good. Don’t hesitate to call us or come back in if you have any trouble or questions.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

A few minutes after he left a nurse brought in your breakfast tray. There wasn’t much of a point for it but since your discharge wasn’t technically until 10:30 am you were still a patient during breakfast.

You took the pudding cup that you requested with every meal off the tray before sliding it away. Smiling to yourself, you tucked it away in your bag. All you had left to do was wait for 10:30.

Tanya came in to check on you again and told you to buzz the Nurse’s Station when you knew your ride was here. At 10:27 you had a text from your neighbor that they were out front in the pickup zone. So you hit the call button.

“Yes?” Linda, the scariest dayshift nurse, answered.

“Um hi. Tanya told me to buzz in when my ride was here so I could go down.”

“Okay we’ll be right in.”

Not even a minute later you heard your door open. Expecting to see Tanya or maybe even Linda you looked up.

An audible gasp left your lips when Tom stood in your doorway with a wheelchair.

“I hear someone needs a ride?” He smiled as he made his way closer to the bed.

“Tom. What are you still doing here?”

“I pulled a double.” You wanted to ask why, but decided against it. You were still in a little bit of shock from seeing him again. “If you’d rather I can go get Linda to walk you down?” He pointed back towards your door.

“No! No.. I’m just surprised s’all.”

“Well come on. I thought you’d be running out of this place once the clock hit 10:30.” Glancing up you saw it was now 10:34. Your neighbor is probably tired of waiting already.

You grabbed your discharge papers and reached for your bag when you heard, “I got it.” Smiling at him, you sat down in the wheelchair. Tom placed the bag around his shoulder and kicked the brakes off the chair. “Ready?” You nodded up at him.

He rolled you out of the room that felt so small for a final time. You passed the Nurse’s Station and waved bye to the staff. He turned by the elevators and when you looked up at him in question, he read your mind. Looked down at you he said, “We’re taking the staff elevators.”

When you made it there he hit the button, turning you around and backing you in once the doors opened. He hit the button for the Lobby and leaned up against the wall of the elevator, briefly glancing at you, as you rode down together.

“Well you made it. You’re a free woman.” He smiled shyly.

“Yippee.” He met your eyes for a moment before looking back to the floor. The dynamics felt different. It wasn’t like your late night talks together.

“Listen, Y/N.” Tom began as he stood up from the wall and faced you. He was about to continue when the elevator ding cut him off, signaling you had reached your destination.

Maybe that was what was different. You had reached your destination.

You had a fun time talking with Tom and entertaining each other when you were both up late at night. He was fun to get to know and you enjoyed having someone care for you. He was easy to banter with and certainly easy on the eyes. But your time at the hospital was up. You knew it would be eventually. You wanted it to be.

Tom was a nurse. He was just doing his job. He was helping take care of you. He was being nice. He was trying to make your stay more comfortable. There was nothing to read into.

Your time being his patient was up and your time with him was up.

You tried to remain realistic, but the sadness still crept up as he rolled you closer to the door.

Once outside, you saw your neighbor exit the car and wave you over. Tom steered in the direction and slowed before rolling to a stop and hitting the brake locks on the wheels.

“Hi, I’m Taylor.”

“Tom.” They shook hands as Tom passed off your bag for Taylor to put in the backseat.

“I’m sorry for the circumstances, but it really has been a pleasure having you as a patient and getting to know you, Y/N.” Tom admitted as he walked around to face you. He grabbed the papers from your lap. “Take care of yourself, okay?” You had shared many smiles with Tom, but this one felt sadder.

“I will. Thank you for everything, Tom. I mean it.” You reached up and squeezed his hand. He gave you a light squeeze back while smiling down at you. Taylor returned from the backseat of the car and Tom turned to them.

“These are her important papers about follow up appointments, medications, what to do at home, all of that so please make sure she doesn’t lose any of them.” He emphasized the point.

“Got it. Thanks.” Taylor held onto the stack while Tom turned back to you.

“If I can’t handle a few papers on my own, then maybe I shouldn’t be going home yet, Tom.” You laughed.

“I know, I just wanted to make sure they made it home with you.” He walked closer. “You ready to get in?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. He helped you up, supporting you just as a precaution. Once seated, you took a moment to catch your breath as you pulled the seatbelt down. He met your hand, taking it from you to buckle you in.

“You good?”

You nodded with a smile, “Just a little tired. No biggie.”

He looked you over before returning your smile, though his didn’t quite reach his eyes, “If you need us, call us. Otherwise go home and rest.”

This was it. This was goodbye.

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

He shut the door. He walked back to the wheelchair, released the brake locks and headed inside. He looked back only when your car was driving away.

“Here’s those papers that are so important.” Taylor handed you the stack after they got in.

“Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling?”

“Better. Thanks.” You felt them looking at you as they joined traffic.

“You sure? You sound like you feel awful.”

You try to remind yourself to forget the sweet and attractive nurse and start moving forward.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay.” You decide to distract yourself by reading through your discharge paperwork, when something caught your eye. On top was a sticky note with the hospital’s letterhead. You were sure it wasn’t there before. Looking closer it read,

Y/N,

In case you need someone to talk to when you can’t sleep.

555-5555

P. S. I have a connection to some pretty good pudding cups too.

Tom

The smile that grew on your face was undeniable. All the feelings you suppressed came flooding in. He wasn’t just being nice. He actually liked you.

One thing you knew for sure was that even though you would be in your own bed tonight, you still would be up, talking to a very special nurse.

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missgeniality · 4 years ago

Text

A Work Of Art (m)

“In our life there is a single color, as on an artist’s palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.” - Marc Chagall

➺ Banner: The lovely @dee-ehn 💕

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

➺ Genre: PWP, Smut, Slightest Angst

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 7.3k

➺ Summary: You surprise Jimin with his Filter outfit; and then some.

➺ Warnings: tongues get tired in this fic, dom!jimin, we talk about spit, some biting, jimin loves praise, lingerie n stuff, nipple play, oral sex (m&f receiving), we talk more about spit, some bondage is involved, degrading names, blindfolds, spanking (maybe too much, don’t look @ me), light choking, light face-fucking, cum eating, we talk even more about spit, hickeys galore, some edging?, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids, not even for Jimin)

➺ Author’s Note: (repost bc tags, you know how it is) huge s/o to @ilikemesometaetaes for making time to beta read this monstrosity 💜 thank youuuu! Also thanks to @honeiibeehobi, @kithtaehyung for helping me with the many many details & @ppersonnafor hyping up this idea or else it would have never seen the light of day ;_; lol i will come back to edit this cuz this didnt let me focus on my paper due tonight so if you see a spelling mistake or tense error umm no you didnt 👀

do let me know your thoughts!! the smallest feedback goes a long way! 💛💛

This is the first part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

Y/N: soooooo, I did a thing. JM: is the dishwasher flooding our kitchen again? Y/N: -_- i’ll give you two more guesses. JM: oh no. you picked up a dog from the street again. Y/N: come onn!! JM: y/n, last time you picked one up, HE HAD AN OWNER Y/N: you’re down to your last try, or else i’m taking this off. JM: … JM: so its something you have on? 😏 Y/N: pic_210124.jpg JM: holy shit JM: wait wait fuck JM: keep the door unlocked.

“You like?”

The bob in his Adam’s apple wordlessly conveys the answer you’re looking for.

A crisp, white, button down shirt, tucked into black trousers, topped off with a panama hat that matches your top half is the view Jimin comes home to. Your dress pays homage to Jimin’s Filter outfit - actually, the exact one - the one that showcased his immaculate dance moves, the one that exposes his delicious collarbones, the one that brings the irresistible urge to bite your way up his neck - the one he eventually rids.

If you had to pick a color, he is a flustered orange, bright and blushing, turned on by the indecent implication of your very decent outfit.

You’re on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the swell of your ass. Landing on the pads of your feet, you take a few steps towards the man with the unhinged jaw.

“Babe.” a mellow croak - Jimin can’t get a whole sentence out without saliva pooling and obstructing his speech. “You, in my clothes… fuck.”

Chuckling at his very obvious loss of words, you give him a twirl, allowing him to fully soak in your outfit.

“Was waiting for you.”

Three long strides and you were in his arms, a pair of lips desperate to invade your space and claim you. An Angel on your shoulder tells you to give in; after all, this is the end result - what you both want.

However, the Devil on the other side, no no no. It wants you to make him suffer. To get revenge for all the times you were taken control of. It remembers all the days he turned you on with shoot photographs and all the nights he brought you to the brink only to stop you from tipping over with a cocky smirk and a cheeky wink.

The Devil was created from the moments when you thought you would actually erupt, begging for release, only to be shoved aside with a single growl of ‘don’t you fucking dare.’

Your desire to please him effectively silenced the Devil and kept it at bay. But no more. All those times built up and gave your Devil the power to force its way against your will to restrain it, causing it to rise to the surface.

You will have the upper hand.

So you push him away, keeping him at an arm’s length for your safety to have him on his toes. Forlorn eyes meet your steely ones, and you physically stop yourself from giving in to his puppy gaze - those eyes can turn icy and sultry when nailing you into the bed like his rent depended on it.

“Sit there. I have a-” You turn to switch on some music, “-small present for you.”

“If the small present isn’t me folding you in half and fucking you till sunrise,” He sits with visible reluctance, irises slowly transforming into magma orbs, “I don’t want it.”

“Well, we’ll see… Depends on how you behave.”

On a normal day, this comment would have lit your ass on fire, pronto.

Today isn’t a normal day at all.

You stride on, every noiseless step you take leaving a wreckage of nerves behind, ignoring the smoldering gaze he has locked on you- you are unsure whether he is deciding your punishment or simply admiring how his clothes fit on your body.

You stand on the side, drinking him in.

From your viewpoint, this is ridiculous. Those cursed jeans, vacuumed onto his thighs, ensure your eyes don’t miss a single ridge. His legs are spread out, beckoning you to have a seat, and the Angel once again begs for some reprieve. He knows what he’s doing; knows you inside and out- knows you couldn’t miss a chance to ride him like this. The wicked smirk flashing back at you is confirmation.

But you stymy that thought at its root. Walking behind, you wrap your arms around him to faintly buss his cheek.

“Sooo I was watching Filter…”

Jimin hums against your feeble touch. He wants more. The soft wind of your breath routing through his jeweled ear sends a wave of goosebumps down his spine. From behind, you run your hands over his sinewy biceps, taut in restraint - holding themselves back against the suffering you are putting him through.

“You do know how fucking hot you looked, right?” You playfully let your tongue toy with the hanging ornament, the briefest of flicks causing Jimin’s shoulders to push back, trying to connect with your bosom.

With a crooked finger under his jaw, you bring him to meet your eyes- eyes that are adorned with layered shadows of deep maroons, a variety of colors blending into your skin tone, eyelashes piqued up and ready to reach the clouds.

“So pretty…” He whispers out as you place your hat on its rightful throne - Jimin’s head.

A lone digit traces the lines of art you etched for him, appreciating every single stroke you put in to make a memorable time. Warm merigold rays bloom in your chest in response to his gaze, with him looking at you like you invented the sky. Pupils are dilated, and the only reason you can see each other is because of the practically nonexistent distance between you.

His eyes pick up on your tapering resolve to keep him in line. A light quiver of need passing your lips as you hopelessly vie for dominance is what most likely gives you away.

Grabbing you by the neck, he pulls you into a deep kiss, plunging his tongue into you with reckless abandon like he was a nomad all this while and your mouth has finally claimed him home. Your neck strains at the awkward angle and surely even his is hurting, but the pressure of his hand is unrelenting.

His tongue searches and searches, desperately looking for a part in you he has not yet explored. You’d think the years of togetherness would have diminished this fiery attraction but no, he comes onto you like he has a mission to prove - to validate his love for you, to plead you to be his. You would happily accept this shower of affection, returning it with due interest.

With great difficulty you part, a string of spit still connecting your lips because he has not let you move far enough. “Uh-uh. Be good.” You pout a little, breaking character.

“You’re here. In my clothes. A walking dream. How the fuck am I to be good?” He pulls you back in to continue what you cut short but you break the line of spit and his intention with a hand wedged between your faces.

“I asked you a question, Mister.” Back on your cocky nature, you graze your lips against oh-so-lightly, barely giving him anything to feel, but the tingling on his skin shows he can feel it all.

The adoration moves into a competition, “You tell me, sweetness - how did I look?”

It’s always the praise. He loves it when you struggle to tell him his dick was crafted by the heavens when you’re choking on it, but he still makes you do it. You stutter and stumble your words when his lips smack against your cunt, devouvering and digging for the treasure of your cum, but he forces you to tell him. When you sit on his dick, your brain has no sense of diction or direction, only chasing the high at his mercy, but he makes you scream it out loud, letting everyone beyond the pearly gates know, between moans and wails, that only he can break you down this way.

“This shirt, sweetie.” Your nose trails the path between his collar and the ends of his hair, basking in the sweet vanilla scent, “You’re all covered. Why, pray tell,” You dig your teeth into the point where his shoulder meets his neck, “does this sole patch of skin turn me on so bad?”

He sucks in an inhale through his clenched teeth, his stunning visage devoid of any virtue. His head is thrown back, hat toppling over in the movement and giving you a larger canvas to mark, an opportunity you happily grasp. The mellifluous tones he is producing is recorded in your mind for lonelier nights to come.

“And the red suit? Fuck, your corseted waist?” At the corner of your eye you see his fingers clenching into a fist, your lush voice making it harder and harder for him to breathe.

You slowly stride forward, painfully slow, letting him notice every single muscle of your body curving to his unspoken command, undoing one button at a time until your torso is revealed- and shows the true purpose of your scarlet eye makeup.

A deep burgundy camisole, ribbed at the waist to accentuate the way your hips flow has Jimin salivating to no end. The strappy number, with carmine ribbons flowing into your yet to be removed bottom half- a deed Jimin intends on rectifying very, very soon- calls to him sinfully. The lingerie twists and ties in incomprehensible ways, but the amount of cleavage it gives you is ungodly.

If they weren’t already, Jimin’s eyes are now wide open.

Time comes to a standstill as he checks out your whole figure, taking in every embroidered pattern on the lingerie and every embellishment on your breasts. Before, you were already a five-star meal, but now? An emperor’s feast.

The little flower right on top of your nipple has Jimin’s attention. His thumb comes up to trace the bedecked rose, following the stitched line of stem that takes him to the peak, then drawing over petal by petal. Each time he reaches close to your hardened nub, he abstains from crossing over it, making your nipple hardens imperceptibly under the presentiment of any relief and the disappointment when nothing arrives. His other hand, sitting on your waist, coaxes you to straddle him while he plays gardner on your bust.

“Jimin…” Your nipple, finally finding solace under his thumb, is not faring too well under the attention. Your plan of teasing him is slipping through your fingers like sand.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” His finger is now tracing the seams of your lingerie cups, admiring the way they frame your ample bosom. Things are progressing too slow for your liking, and you come clean with your ignoble intentions.

“Please, I just want to suck you off.”

A wad of spit lands directly into your cleavage, followed by two thick fingers penetrating the lubed entrance.

“Nope.” His fingers continue to shallowly fuck your cleavage. Neither of you are being touched in the erogenous zone, but why does it feel so good? Your valley is inundated with his dribble, coating your ensemble and shifting shades to a deep cerise. Every pump of his nimble fingers between your breasts is like a promise of what your pussy is going to go through. Will he fuck you hard and fast with your voice echoing across the room, making every neighbor privy of your sexual escapedes? Will he be slow and gentle, penetrate you with utmost care, soft gasps and whines only sounded to the two of you? You can never guess.

In the aphrodisiac moment, you forgot that you were supposed to take charge.

“Please, please, please! I did so much,” You take the guilt route. If Jimin was anything, he was a just and fair man. “Can’t I get that much?”

Jimin’s gaze has not left your wet cleavage. A flit of his eye makes contact with yours and goes back to the fucking - that is enough language for you to understand his needs. You bend low, and spit out a fat glob onto your chest to add to the mess he has already made. The groan that leaves him is ungodly, and he licks the spit you unloaded onto yourself, spreading it all over your expensive wear. He slurps like you released sweetened water to a parched traveller, your bosom holding all the sweetness to itself.

Gathering your thoughts is more difficult than you could ever imagine. The cloth over your nipples is completely soaked, bitten into and sticking to your skin thanks to the vacuum Jimin pulled on them. Your back has had a workout, every vertebrae bent to its maximum possibility. Chiropractors are so last year, you just have your boyfriend ravish your breasts.

“Once I’m done, you can do whatever you want.”

All of your five brain cells had to be put in action to form that sentence. The moment the words left your lips, the pressure your breasts were on had been released, but you could still feel lips against you, stretching into a snarky smirk.

“Whatever?” His grip on your waist tightens, seating you more firmly onto his taut thighs.

Whatever. That stupidly amazing word.

“Saying ‘whatever’ always lands you in trouble. Have you forgotten?” His damp lips are tracing your collarbones, nibbles whenever he felt appropriate. How does he expect you to form a damned sentence like this, the Devil on your shoulder indignantly asks. The Angel on the other has gone back in time to fetch memories filed under the term ‘whatever’, strictly saved for your quality alone-time.

The first time you told him to do ‘whatever he wants’ was fairly early into your relationship. Sex was as vanilla as the ice cream tastebud-less people liked, and none of you ever pushed it too far. A happy, drunken night with a loose-lipped confession from him.

“God, the things I want to do to you…” he had muffled into your hair, maybe not even intended for your ears to pick up.

A cheeky giggle had bubbled out of your tipsy self. “Like what, tie me up?”

If Jimin then were a color, he was a pantone pink. Blushed cheeks from the alcohol and the realization that you had caught him, airbrushed with a depth you weren’t able to put in place that early in the relationship. Wide-eyed horror was shown in its place, possibly exaggerated to add to the denial he had landed himself in.

“No no, of course, I don’t mean it like that, what ar-”

“Why not?”

The animal that awoke after confirming with you fifteen times was a force to be reckoned with. Your bra had turned into rope, wrists bound behind as he roughly squished your helpless cheeks.

“You will tell me when to stop, right?” His tongue peeked lightly, brushing your top lip, taking the perspiration away.

“Uhmf-yufh!”

“God, you’re gonna regret this baby.”

But it was exactly the opposite. You got the railing of a lifetime, heard the filthiest words that could leave the lips of such a courteous man - a side you had not expected at all. You couldn’t possibly recollect every single move he made, but what you can recollect with excruciating detail is every feeling you felt that night. It was filled with lust, with revelations of the new ways your body could bend, a night of puppetry where Jimin played you like the master your body craved. The following day was Jimin taking care of you, big puppy eyes wondering whether he took it too far. In his daze of letting go of control, he couldn’t take in your lidded stare, heaving with satisfaction - so you made sure he could witness them when he took you the next time that morning.

The other time the wretched word was mentioned was during an argument. You’re not jealous of Jimin on stage - it’s his career and you were one of the girls offering one of their kidneys to be able to catch a glimpse of him.

But your workspace? That’s where you draw the line.

She was a random worker. Some third-floor low-lying soul. You were eighth-floor premium material (the floors didn’t decide shit, but no one can tell you what skyscraper semantics you can craft in your brain). A lifeless party that even Jimin’s colorful locks couldn’t color up.

This random worker was very enamored by Jimin (as she should, the man is a whole nine-course meal). Supportive fans are not what get you jealous either.

But the limit is when placed her scrawny fingers on Jimin’s hand, drawing the glass in his grip to her lips and took a sip from it. If her lashes were fanned they could blow a man away (which is probably more than what her puny mouth could possibly do). The fume exiting your ears could have been in bright red for all you care, because every office member had been rightfully annoyed.

The whole car ride back was filled with your drunken blabbers about the different ways you could skin her. The actual victim beside you was not making a nearly big enough deal out of it, intending to let you get rid of your temper.

“She fucking knew!” Your normally clean disposition had taken its leave after the fuming temper took real estate in your brain, and you aimlessly threw your heel at some corner of the house - hungover self shall have to deal with this angry mess you’ve made. Wait, you’re an angry mess too.. “The gall she had, I should jus-”

You march towards the door, in hopes of what, you don’t know. But if you didn’t take action you’ll probably explode. Any action, just anything. You never find out though, because a strong arm slithered around your waist and halted your expedition.

“Calm down, feisty. Where are you going now?” His soothing voice, punctuated with a mocking chuckle almost quelled the fire in you. Almost.

But you’re not done being an idiot.

“To go find her for you. You’d fuck the living daylights out of her, right?”

The loudest silence you have ever encountered. Jimin’s grip on your waist tightened to the point where it could have hurt. Like he was trying to push every iota of that thought out of your body. From behind, you can hear a deep breath dragging, and somewhere in your irate head you knew you had struck a nerve, a bad one. Jimin is forced to expel any anger bubbling in him, trying to use reason with an unreasonable recipient.

“Princess, you don’t actually think I’d do that right?”

“I don’t know!” Your misplaced anger had reached the rooftops. Jimin had done nothing wrong here except try to calm an increasingly livid girlfriend. “Maybe you’d love that. Her itty-bitty waist, that whore’s outfit she had on. You call me a whore right? Maybe she’s more worthy of you!”

“Y/N.”

The timbre of his voice had completely changed. The breathy, airy aura had completely departed from your name he had just called. The lack of nicknames raised some hair at the nape of your neck, but you’re a stubborn one.

“Ugh, I don’t care.”

You tried to walk back to your room, head still reeling in a palace of inferno, burning everything that dares to intrude your path - but somehow, you had been pushed to a wall, and the eyes of the man you loved had turned feral.

If Jimin was a color, he was green - igniting with fury, anger repressed in dark shadows that never made the light of the day until pushed - but you pushed all right. And now released from its shackles, it has surrounded you and slammed you against the wall - and you have nowhere to go.

“You’re my whore. Is that a complaint from my stupid, stupid whore?”

The only joint you’re free to move is your neck, and your gratuitous self decided to rebel with whatever degree of freedom you have. Turning your face away to not meet his seething eyes, you continue your rebel-without-a-cause tantrum.

“Whatever.” you carped out.

Again, with that stupid word, you had signed your fate for the night.

Usually, you can express your feelings. Be it pain or pleasure (sometimes the two packed in one), you could wail it out to the heavens and respite would follow.

Usually, you can see the torments laid out on you. Jimin’s lithe body performing every obscene spell he invoked is a treat for your eyes. He treats your body like an artisan, using any medium to paint his art on you.

But that day, you were stripped of them both, and made to realize what a privilege they were.

Mouth stuffed with your bunched up panties, eyes blinded by his tie of the evening, you could only rely on the sensors on your skin to somehow predict what was going to be done to you. And you failed. Every single time. Every thwack fell on a new area. Every teasing touch tickled you at a new place. Nothing could begin to prepare you for his next move and you couldn’t keep up with his tameless pace.

He made you beg through the makeshift gag, beg to let you come, then beg to stop coming, beg for every orifice of yours to be filled by his seed and then beg to get cleaned by him. With the first rays of morning sunlight, language was an illusion, time was an out-of-reach concept, and all you knew was the worshipping of last night.

Whatever is a word. Whatever is mean. Whatever is filthy. Whatever is nailing you into the bed and rendering you immobile for the entire day. Whatever may just be a word to anyone, but to you it is what has you losing sense of reality, giving in to a phantasm of your wildest dreams.

A wet tap on your cheek brings you back from you imagining the past - the fingers that were fucking your cleavage are squishing your cheeks, bringing your attention back from all your dirty memories to the present - to create another memory to add to your folder.

If Jimin is a color, he is the darkest of all blacks. This is where everything pious comes to meet its sordid end. His sultry gaze is reading your eyes, searching for where you got lost, which shared memories of passed time made you melt into the puddle that you are right now.

“I said, don’t you remember? ‘Whatever’?”

Let’s see. You don’t have work tomorrow. You don’t have any commitments. You don’t have to meet anyone.

So there is no reason for you to be able to move.

“Hmmmmn, I don’t seem to recall - you could remind me.”

Dark, dark chuckles from such a cherubic face. You flounder off his lap to shuck your (his) pants away, revealing the matching maroon garter belt set. The whole outfit is an ode to Jimin’s mid performance transformation, the one that made many people’s hearts skip a quick beat. His slim, cinched waist, the flared pants flowing down his frame were one for the books, and you’d like to think your rendition has its place too.

Giving him a quick spin, you attempt to get down to business - but Jimin pulls you back on his lap. Without the pants, you can feel it - his hard, thick cock straining against the tough jean fabric and still making its presence known.

“Tell me more, baby. What did you like?”

The man was a sucker for your praise.

You were a sucker for the whole man.

But the sucking will probably have to wait.

“I loved your expressions. You’re so sexy on stage, fuck. Going around and giving bedroom eyes to the world.”

His hand gripping you ass gives it a quick pinch, but voice just let out a lazy hum to get you to continue.

“The choreography,”, your whisper is strained, “you dance like you fuck baby. So sensual, so sexy.”

You lick a stripe up his neck, from his artistic collarbones to the back of his ear, the sensitive spot that makes him hiss is arousal. You stay there, wanting to whisper the next few lines. The world didn’t need to know your thirst for this.

“You know my favorite part?”

“Oh, tell me.” His voice is hitting lower and lower in pitch, much like it’s hitting you lower and lower in your body.

You place the hand framing his face on his neck - the same one you want to cover in blooms of purple and red, lightly squeezing, letting him preen under the pressure. The tightness has Jimin’s head falling back on the headrest, and you can feel his pulse hastening to accommodate for the lacking oxygen in his stream.

Letting go of his throat, and pleased to see the lightest indentation on his beautiful pale skin, you snake your hands downward.

“Na, na, na,” Inching slowly towards your end goal, you whisper the tune into his ear, “na na na, na, na na”, covering every part with an indulgent languish, “pick your filter”.

Your hand finally reaches its destination - you grab his bulge and squeeze the hardness, making Jimin buck his hips against your palm.

“Namaneul damabwa.”

It’s a low whisper from his lips, but even in the gravelly sound you can hear how melodious he is, how the song rolls off of his tongue and was made for his vocal color. The whisper is laced with lust, with want, with desire, all the feelings you portrayed for him in his performance.

That, and in life in general.

You shuffle and sit to the side, simultaneously unbuttoning his jeans to get him some relief for the ache he had going on. Finally, you acquiesce and free his dick from its cages.

Every time you see him is a wonder to you. Hard, ridged, the right amount of veins to stimulate the walls of your cunt. Head leaking from the eons of teasing you’ve been doing, right from the text you sent to seconds ago. You bend down to clean him up, tasting the saltiness of his seed that has coated the head. Jimin’s lips are facing the brunt of your deeds - his teeth have found near permanent residence in its plushness, digging deep to keep from moaning too early, from giving you the pleasure. He is going to make you work.

Well, you must get to work.

Slowly, slowly, you dip your head in further, sucking lightly with each move, tongue tracing every vein on his dick. As you move your head back up, Jimin’s hand pushes into your back, making it arch further, and then you go down on his dick. His finger lightly follows the curve of your back, from your upper back all the way to the band of your lace panties.

Hooking a finger underneath the lace fabric of your panty that had disappeared in between your mounds of flesh, he pulls at it - hard. Your throat revolts against the intrusion as you gag, and the fabric presses into your clit. The concentrated abrasion turns into pleasure - he uses it to arch your back further, and bring your ass closer so that he can-

Smack!

The spank sends you forward and you choke on his dick further, throat giving in to his hardness.

“So good for me baby. Look at that ass.” He grabs one cheek, bubbled with the way your panties are now, squeezing and testing the firmness of your glutes.

Your plans of torturing him are shot; the Devil on your shoulder is strangely mute. Awakening the brat, you slip a hand under and toy with his balls, pulling back to provide your throat some recess. Your saliva mixed with his precum is an gushing mess, glistening on his balls and now coating your palms as you play with light squeezes - the existing stiffness caused by your teasing arousal mixed with your playful fingers make Jimin buck into your mouth, releasing a delicious groan in the process.

A second spank is a warning, either you increase your pace or reap some serious consequences. You consider the consequences; they are very compelling. You could end with delicious marks of ownership from this delicious man. But he deserves the best suck of his life, and you’re going to do just that.

Hollowing your mouth, you go further down, till his head is poking an uninvaded point in your throat, and Jimin lets out a surprising note. A groan, no, a roar, but a tinge of whine mixed in it, like the pleasure is too much for him.

You continue to swallow around, hand pumping the length you couldn’t take in, interlarded with swipes on his tight balls, leaving Jimin to be a heaving mess. Your ass is not faring better, bearing the brunt of his replies. You’re positive his fingerprints are imprinted on your asscheek, and one sit on his phone can unlock it. The line of your panties is drenched with your sopping wetness and lodged between the lips.

“God, I’m so close baby, just a little more.”

You would fervently nod in acceptance to whatever demand he places; in this position, he could ask you for the world and you would have it at his disposal. But what stops you are his ringed fingers lodged in your hair, pushing you in further, determined to spill deep in your throat, to the point where you don’t even have to swallow to get everything down.

“Fuck, such a good girl for me.” Jimin appraises how deep he is going, how your throat is accommodating him and quivering around his length. Bunching your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, he stops them from obstructing his vision - the view of you struggling to take him in, toiling to keep the need to breathe at bay while you tend to his needs, worshipping his dick like its the last meal you’ll ever get - your desperate adulation takes him over the brink.

Jimin erupts into your mouth; an ungodly amount at that. It is the hardest he’s come in a while, and given your lifestyle, that’s saying something. Even a cum-hungry whore like you can’t possibly swallow that much in one go, and you are forced to let the globs dribble down his now-softening member. The two of you are heaving, catching a breath - completely different circumstances but the same result.

The way you’re looking at him right now; his dick is already twitching to go for a second lap. Dilated pupils staring back, like you were at the receiving end of the orgasm - you are staring at him like he hung every star in the sky. Strings of cum are leaking out of the corners of your lips, ones he really wants to lap up with his tongue. Instead, you daintily dab it away - as innocent as pecking stray drops of ice cream off your mouth.

You look at him with teasing eyes. “Want a taste baby?”

Running your tongue along the mess you (or he) made, you gather the remnant cum that didn’t go into you, and instead flooded his groin. Straddling back onto his lap, you go in for a kiss but stop halfway.

Jimin is looking, waiting with lust hungry eyes. Slightly pained by the pause, he whines.

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

From a height, you let his cum and your spit drop into his mouth, a groan of satisfaction emanating as Jimin’s tongue accepts it with great delight. He tastes his juices, they somehow feel sweeter coming from your mouth. He pushes the glob you dropped on his tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting every taste bud bathe in relish. When he’s sucked all flavor out of the globule he swallows it. On opening his eyes and landing back from heaven to earth, he sees you admiring his adam’s apple, the way it bobbed when he swallowed your offering.

Jimin’s eyes trace your current state; you look beautiful. The strappy red lingerie wet from Jimin’s treatment perfectly showcases your peaked nipples, ready for another round of torture. His shirt, through all this has managed to stay hanging on your shoulders. The curves of your sinful waist accentuated by the ribbons of the wear, like roads down a windy path, every ribbon vanishing into their destination, between your curvaceous thighs.

Slipping his fingers under the band, he decides he has not played with the lingerie enough, tugging it up once again - a sharp inhale and you’re moving along with it, upward to balance between the point of pain and pleasure. Jimin makes sure you don’t tip in favor of one. Grabbing you by the neck, Jimin harshly pulls you down into a deep kiss.

He’s done waiting, done watching you take the reins. His tongue tells you that you now can only react to his doings. Deepening the kiss, you let your mind walk places. Back to his performance, his stage presence, the aura he exudes when he is in his element. His sinful body melding to the flow of the beat, like the music was made to his movement - his piercing gaze that could leave an insentient camera with blushed cheeks - but a sharp bite pulls you right back to the present to remind you that this is also Jimin in his complete element. Pillowy lips, incandescent with every brush, sucked and nipped with fervor. But it still didn’t satisfy. It wasn’t nearly enough. Starved, you wanted to scream at every imperceptible air pocket between the two of you - as if you knew in your soul they were guilty of keeping you away.

Jimin pulls away, and his words shut you down before the whine leaves you.

“About that ‘whatever’…” his sinister eyes are a window to his brain churning something unimaginable to close the night - sinister in uppercase. Make it bold. Underline that shit. That’s him.

In the bat of an eye, you are face down on the sofa - Jimin’s rock hard thighs are straddling you, making sure you can handle his weight. In all the coarseness, he takes care of the smallest of things. An untimely smile creeps up on your face at the thought, the tender show of affection amidst the rough push and pull affecting your immersion, but you can’t say you don’t like it.

Feeling a rough jerk on your shoulder, you try to look back, just in time to receive Jimin’s ravenous gaze; he looks at you like he will eat you alive, and by the end of the night you plan on having just that. Pulling back your now-unbuttoned shirt and bunching its ends, he anchors you to the position of his choice by tying your hands behind.

Smelling a line up your neck all the way up to your hair, he briefly pauses to ask “Okay?”

Your tiny nod is enough for Jimin to carry on with whatever godless plan he has chalked out for you.

“I hope you had your fun. Because I’m not going easy on you.”

Light banter could cause no trouble. Atleast, not more than you already have. “When have you ever?”

Flashbacks of the blossoming days of your relationship flicker in Jimin’s mind, their fugacious presence a telling sign of how long it has been. Looking downward, he can only thank his alcohol-induced blabbering of that night as that is the reason he can enjoy the view he has right now.

“Maybe I should take it easy?” His tongue flits across your neck, too soft for your liking, torturous like his liking.

His fingers are playing with the straps and your now exposed upper back. It’s always been a favorite place of his. The whole expanse looks resplendent when he is done tasting you. Maroon and purple florets on your beautiful, glowing skin. And then you purposely wear dresses to show it all off, to show who your heart belongs to. He loves that about you.

You gyrate lightly, snapping him out of his daze, begging him to take you hard and fast. “Jimin, please.” a low drawl leaves you as you try to not slobber all over the cushion.

Jimin shifts lower to straddle your thighs. Snaking his hand between your legs, he finds your clit and plays with it, every press releasing a different sound from different depths of your throat. A particularly low grunt appears when he slips two fingers into your channel with smooth ease, and pushes you up from the inside.

“Ass up for me.”

His fingers stay lodged inside as you raise your hips to obey him, pulling you up further and further till he is satisfied with your position. God, your pussy looks wrecked. With every pump of his fingers you gush our more liquid, and Jimin gathers the escaping drops on this tongue.

“So perfect for me, this hole.” You can feel the cold metal of his rings drawing circles inside you as he prepares you to take his cock. His tongue, drawing completely different characters is too slow for your liking - he seems to be more satisfied in drinking your cum dripping from his fingers instead of paying attention to your throbbing clit. Seconds go by, several hinting moans of dissatisfaction go by, but the Devil on your shoulder seems to have returned and is asking for more. A hip raise, that’s all. His tongue will be right where you want.

What you got instead was a sharp bite on your already battered ass - Devil, hey, where did you go? “Behave.” He grunts against your pussy, and a fresh wave of arousal escapes you with a third finger making its way in. “Don’t like it? Too,” Smack! “Fucking.” Smack! “Bad.”

The last spank hit you hard, leaving your cunt soaked to the core. He is trying to get a rise out of you, and you are falling for it. Your smarting skin is at its breaking point, but let’s not pretend like you don’t want this either.

“Baby please, I’m so close.” You’re close to tears with how long you’ve been this turned on. Maybe Jimin will have a change of heart seeing you like this.

“Don’t.”

Well maybe not.

He’s using your hole like playdough - for his fancy, with no end goal in sight. He doesn’t seem to want you to come anytime soon and it is bothering you to no end. The tightening coil in your belly is almost painful at this point - but he doesn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon.

“You taste so sweet baby, almost don’t want to let you come, so you keep dripping like this.”

His fingers curl into you to hit that spot, and God, you’re seeing stars right now. Curling up your fists into a ball and trying to keep the threatening tsunami at bay, you jerk into his mouth and continue to sway to the tune his fingers play inside you. If desperation had a poster girl, they could take your photo right now.

“If you let me come I -ohhh- I will- I will give you more.” Your words are broken, every push into your cunt halting your flow of speech.

A split second later you are empty. He’s pulled away from you, and you think the finger-fucking torture you were going through was almost better than this. Your walls flutter in empty anguish.

“Better keep your promise then.” Finally, you hear Jimin shuffling behind, but your muscles feel too alive and too dead at the same time. At crossroads, you are unable to get yourself to move, to twist or turn and witness the glory of him, the scrunch of his features, the grit of his pronounced jaw, his lips heaving a sigh as he pushes his girthy self into your leaking hole.

Jimin’s forehead is lined with sweat, jaws hurting from the tight clench he had trying to not nut into you too soon. Now they revolt in pain, ready to pass on their trouble to his dick and release into you the moment he fits himself in. But he held off; he had plans for you - long plans.

As he slowly pulls himself out, you can’t help but mewl at the pleasure your walls are feeling, with every ridge of his cock pressing all the right spots inside you, the snug fit when he’s pulled out all the way only leaving the head inside you. Then, you can’t help but yell, expressing a mixture of anguish and pleasure when his hips snap to push into you in one swoop, hitting deep inside you. With your ass high up in the air, his balls smack your engorged bud, sending shockwaves throughout your body and clenching the hold you have on his dick.

“Fuck baby, you feel fucking tight. You’re so close?” Jimin’s voice is strained as well; the lack of mocking in his tone tells you he is close as well.

“Ki-Kiss me, please.” The voice that leaves you is so foreign, so unknown. The fucked out woman speaking in your stance has no spatial or temporal comprehension. You don’t even realize how you are put on your back, now a lucky witness to Jimin’s nimble figure pushing back into you as he leaned over to slot his lips on yours.

The kiss was explicit, it was rough, it would put to any kiss you’ve shared before to shame. Deep in throes of pleasure, his mouth is chasing yours. Your hands are still bound; a light fight against the restrain tells you you don’t have a chance. Instead, you suck his plush lip in, swiping your tongue across his cherry petals that are rushing with blood because of you. Dormant volcanoes across the world could erupt with the blaze of your merging lips, it is scorching hot.

If Jimin is a color, he is a rich wine - deep and passionate. He puts his one hundred percent into whatever he does, be it skilled singing, adept dancing or simply fervent kissing. He gives it his all.

Jimin’s skillful hips move in every way he wishes - and your pussy is thankful for that. Rolling in deep, he tests the stretch of your walls, before pistoning into you with zeroed-in precision, sole focus to get you to come with him. The effort he was putting in could be seen in his abs - they have tightened with exertion, and with a light sheen on sweat, look absolutely delectable.

Letting your hands roam, you bring Jimin’s face into your neck where you can hear every single breath, every hiss, every groan - that you could record and keep in your memory. With one hand tugging his tresses, and the other hand drawing paths on his back with your nails, you hear the sounds you want to. Jimin sharply bites your ear, and the shockwaves of pleasure send you tipping.

There’s layers to the pleasure you are experiencing right now, your orgasm hitting you in ebbs and flows. Right when you think you can finally return back to ground, the high tide pulls you back into the water for another stream of pleasure. It feels like eternity when you finally hit the land, and even then the loose sand makes you falter, threatens to send you back into the ocean.

Jimin’s pace is faltering, and he spills soon after. Hot, heavy breaths tickle under your ear, as both of you feel the sheer intensity of the orgasm. Him on you, your hearts are aligned, and you can feel the beats fighting each other for dominance until they soften down.

Ripples of energy flow out of the both of you, elevating the temperature around the two of you. If you didn’t have your eyes closed you’d say literal rolls of steam are emanating from the way you both are heaving. You slowly regain your senses, twitching hands trying to remember what it is that hands even do.

A shiver runs through your spine when you hear a grunt so close to your ear, only to realize Jimin is in the same position as you are in. Even without looking, you can guess what his expression is. Void of any edge, the softness of his facial features must have made their return, with crinkled eyes and a light frown on his beautiful pouty lips, he probably looks like an innocent caricature of the man that stood behind you moments ago. Letting your palm rest on his head, you beckon him to get up.

If Jimin is a color, he is the pinkness best portrayed by his puffy cheeks at this moment. A childlike glow, a guileless visage. He looks at you with such adoration, like you are the only desire in his world, and everything else can be damned.

You don’t want to break this silence but you cheekily add, “You didn’t even get me naked. Like this a bit too much eh?”

Dark clouds mar the pink and turn it into a deep, sultry carmine - the shift in his color noticeably brings your temperature down by a few degrees.

“Cute. You think I’m done with you.”

He is the whole palette, and you can pick your filter.

Thank you for making it to the end! Let me know what you think! And you can find more of my writing at my masterlist here!

#bangtansorciere #bangtanhq #bangtancentralstation #ficswithluv #bangtaninn #bts smut #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #bangtanuniversity

857 notes · View notes

jeongvision · 4 years ago

Note

AAAAAAAHHHHHHH HAPPY 1K FOLLOWERS EMILY! my smol bean, my favourite virgo, my es to my paña, may i request a museum!au with jaehyun and "it was a honest mistake" LOVE YOU TO THE MOON AND BACK UWUWUWUWUWUWUWUWUWU

pairing. frat boy! jeong jaehyun ✗ fem! reader

genre. fluff, humor, enemies to lovers au, college au, museum au, non idol au

warnings. cursing, maybe some bickering, mentions of violence, all the good stuff we see in e2l! au’s ohoho (also not proofread bc i’m knocked up on meds rn but wbk)

author’s note. THE ES TO MY PAÑA I CAN’T WITH YOU ASJFKGJA BUT I LOVE YOU BBY!! this request has been inspired from a post i saw in a fb group hehe hope you like it bc it’s a DREAM to have

School trips are always a hit or miss: you either find it the best thing to happen in your school year or find it the most boring trip you’ve ever been. For your art history class, the professor made it an effort to allow all the students enrolled in the course to visit a nearby museum for an graded assignment.

Requirements to get full marks on this said assignment are as follows:

You must attend to the museum with your assigned partner at the same time to receive credit. Dates on your admission ticket with be used as proof.

You must act at least TWO scenes from any artwork mediums (canvas, sculpture, video, etc.) and take picture for submission as proof that you have done so.

Just adding in a partner was just a sprinkle on top of your dessert, but it can’t be that bad, right? Wrong, because your partner is none other than Jung Jaehyun, the annoying frat kid that always arrives ten minutes later into lecture with either a hoodie draped over his head or a black baseball cap, sometimes without any books or a backpack in possession.

It’s wonder how the professor manages to tolerate him and his unruly behavior, because you certainly can’t stand the fact you’re standing within a few feet away from him for this stupid assignment.

If there weren’t any bystanders nearby and cameras pointing at you from all angles in the museum, you would’ve sucker punched him in his throat the moment you saw him walk through the entrance with his black shirt and tan cargo pants with his hair tucked in his black baseball cap. But you’re a good person and you would like to pass the class very much, so you hold yourself back from doing so.

You’ll think about it later when you’re outside of the museum premises, you know?

It’s been over an hour since you have arrived at the museum, and you can feel your patience running thin. As you two continue to circulate inside the museum, all you can hear from Jaehyun’s mouth are groans and sighs. It ticked you off to know that yes, it’s a pain of an ass to go out of your way for an assignment, but he is not willing to participate in the matter any time soon.

You abruptly stop in your tracks and turn to face him, stopping Jaehyun in his tracks too. You pointed a finger against his chest.

“Okay, look here, asshole,” you spat. “I’m so fucking sick of you not caring about anything in this world just because you think that you’re some hot shot that can get away with anything with your attractive looks.” Your patience has long been thinned out for this man, and you couldn’t stop your words from holding back, each words vehemently attacking the person before you. “I want to get this assignment done with just as much as you do, so can you for once use that fucking single brain cell of yours and just cooperate with me for once, or so god help me, the security is gonna be called on us after I push you over to that replica statue of David we passed earlier.”

You wasted no time in hearing his refutes or seeing his reaction and turned around in search for the nearest artwork that you could use for your assignment. Behind you, Jaehyun trails behind in silence, but instead of the bored expression he always spotted, there was an amused smirk on his face. Never once has he seen you so riled up before, so he was curious to see more sides of you than he’d see in his class when he wasn’t paying attention.

You turned around the corner and found a replica painting by Pierre-Auguste Renoir, an oil on canvas called Dance in the Country. You rolled your eyes. At this point, you could care less if the two re-enactments you had to do depicted any sorts of intimate relationship, you just wanted to go home and sleep. Grabbing your phone out of your pocket, you opened your camera app. After asking the nearest stranger to take a picture for you, you call out to Jaehyun.

“So are you just going to stand there or what?” you sarcastically remarked. You could see a smirk forming on his lips for whatever reason it may be, but shrugged it off. He maneuvers over to where you stood in front of the grand painting.

“Out of all the paintings, you chose this one?” he asked.

You sighed. “Not now, Jung. Let’s just finish this, please?”

He nods but the smirk on his face never wipes away, ticking you off a little more. Suppressing your annoyance for the latter, you went into position in placing one of your hands on his shoulder while he cautiously wraps one arm around your waist. With both of your free hands, you two interlocked fingers, just a shy away from reproducing the painting.

The only thing that set you two apart is the gap between both of your faces, showing an awkward distance that left everyone at unease.

The stranger that held your phone looks away from the camera app. “I think you two should move in a little closer to each other. It’ll look nice.”

Clearing his throat, he nears closer to your face, closing in on you. You start feeling yourself getting hotter, feverish almost, from the close intimacy you’re experiencing from someone you barely know about.

The stranger counts down.

“One..”

You could smell his minty breath and intoxicating cologne reeling you in, putting you in a daze-like trance as you look into his eyes.

“Two..”

No longer does he have his infamous smirk on his face, but is instead replaced with one of his sweet smiles you rarely see in the halls, one that you only see whenever he is with his group of friends.

“Three!”

A different stranger walks behind Jaehyun, bumping their shoulders into Jaehyun’s figure that sends him stumbling over you. It all happened in a blur, from the sound of the click of your camera to the ‘woah’ of Jaehyun’s lips to the sudden contact of his lips against your own.

Yes, you have indeed read that correctly — you just fucking kissed Jaehyun, the last person you would last see yourself kissing.

You pushed him off of him, your face flushed with shock and embarrassment. “W-What the hell was that, Jung!?” you stammered.

He held his hands out in front of him. “I swear, y/n, it was a honest mistake!”

You roll your eyes to mask your growing embarrassment. “Yeah, okay then. Accident, my ass.”

The stranger that took your photo walks back to the two of you and smiled, handing back your phone. “Other than that person that walked into your boyfriend just now, the photo came out great!” He examines both of your expressions, Jaehyun’s ears and neck turning red like no tomorrow with you refusing to make eye contact with him, too perplexed of what just occurred now. The stranger raises an eyebrow. “Do... Do you guys want me to take another picture or anything?”

Both you and Jaehyun are quick to answer.

“No, we’re good!”

jeongvision’s milestone event!

#jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fluff #nct #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x oc #jung jaehyun #jeong jaehyun

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cherryyharryy · 4 years ago

Note

i have an idea for a request (it’s totally ok if you don’t want to do it) like an angst-> fluff where one of harry’s songs accidentally gets leaked bc of y/n like she has something on a flash drive and the song is on another and they get mixed up and obviously he’s really mad at y/n and they have a fight he’s super snappy with her but something happens to her like she gets into a really big accidental or something and he forgives her bc he cares about her more tha the leaked song

WC: 2.7k

***

Damage control wasn’t even an option.

Y/n sat there, staring at Harry’s laptop, numb to everything except the blaring desire to go back in time just two minutes. Two minutes is all she would need to undo possibly the biggest screwup of her life.

And the worst part is that this mistake ultimately doesn’t affect her. At least not in comparison to how it will affect Harry. And his band. And his team. Basically everyone involved with his career.

Her mind is equally begging for her to shut down and come up with a plan—an excuse—something, Is there anyway this wasn’t my fault?

She checks the time, her heart sinking to her stomach when she realizes Harry and his team will be back any minute. Any minute and she’s done for.

They’ve only been together for five months, officially. She’s still new to most everyone. She’s that girl Harry’s dating.

“I told you he played in that movie.” Jeff’s voice echoes outside the studio. Y/n closes the laptop and prays for strength.

“I have him confused with someone else.” Harry bustles through the door, a small crowd of people filing in behind him, back to the spots they left an hour ago. “Hey darling,” he greets, “finish your paper?”

Y/n’s frozen, morbidly wishing he had found out about his song leaking on his own so she wouldn’t have to tell him. “Uh, almost.”

He kisses the top of her head and hands her a cup of frozen yogurt. “Your favorite.”

“Thanks.” She sets it on the table she’s sat at while Harry pulls up a chair beside her. “Aren’t you guys still working?”

He waves in the direction of his band, “Mitch’s gotta fix his guitar.” He snickers, and slides his laptop out from under y/n’s hands. “Had a bit of an accident in the car.”

Y/n’s head tingles with what must be nerve damage, her place in this world, her place in this room, decreasing in value as Harry opens his computer.

“It’s gonna melt.” He nods to her yogurt.

“I’m not hungry.”

He furrows his brow. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” She looks around the room, everyone busy getting back to work, light chatter passing among them. “Uh, actually, I uh, I have to tell you something.” Y/n tries to swallow the lump in her throat with no luck.

“Okay…” He shuts the laptop and gives her his full attention.

“Okay, um—”

“What the fuck!?” The room freezes as everyone turns toward Jeff. “Harry someone’s got a hold of your song!”

Harry scrambles to his manager, complete shock on his face as they both stare down at Jeff’s phone. “Fuck.” They start to play a video, the sound of a girl screaming, with Harry’s unconsented voice playing in the background, fills the room. “How the hell did this happen?” He’s gritting through his teeth, neck red, veins bulging in his hands as he rips the phone out of Jeff’s hand. “HOW? Someone answer me!”

Y/N considers keeping quiet. Playing innocent. What good will it do to confess anyway? It’s not like it’ll undo what she’s done.

Sarah chimes in from across the room, “It looks like it happened half an hour ago. That’s when this video I’m looking at was posted.”

Y/n’s staring down at her lap, holding her head up with her fingers pressed into her temples when Harry slings himself back into the chair next to her.

“All that work, all that fucking work,” he nearly growls, “for some cunt to spread my unfinished song around for a buck.”

Y/n peers up to the room, a completely different picture compared to five minutes ago. Now there’s talk of lawyers and pressing charges while everyone shuffles around. Jeff slams the door as he steps out with his phone to his ear, and y/n knows she can’t claim denial, it’ll only make things worse.

“Uh, Harry?”

“What is it?” He doesn’t look at her, eyes glaring at his phone while another video plays of a group of people reacting to his song. “Glad they fucking like it.”

“Harry?”

“What, y/n?”

She shrinks under his gaze, mouth dry as she forces her confession out. “I uh, this is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll do anything—I know I can’t fix it—but...”

Harry’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing in on her as a morbid silence forms a little bubble around them. “Go on,” he whispers with grit, “finish what you were gonna say.”

She stutters, desperately trying to figure him out. “I’m just sorry. It was an accident.”

“An accident? How did you even manage to do this?”

“I—”

“Do you have any idea what this accident means, y/n?”

She reluctantly shakes her head no.

“How the fuck did you do this?”

“I—I don’t know...I was taking a break from my paper, and, I don’t know Harry.” She’s in tears now, warm and salty as they spill down her cheeks. Her mouth wobbles around another apology, but no sounds make it out.

“Fix it.”

“What?”

He stands up, yanking his laptop off the table, pausing to glare at her one last time. “I said, to fix it.” With that he storms across the room, slinging the door open just as Jeff reenters.

“Harry, your attorney—”

“Forget it.” He turns around and points his phone towards y/n silently sobbing in the corner. “She’s gonna handle it.” He takes one step out into the hall and stops, spinning on his heels to face the studio. “Don’t speak to me until you do.”

Mitch’s guitar that was fixed and propped against the wall, crashes to the floor when Harry slams the door.

Chatter passes around the room one more time, only now everyone seems to be in agreeance—that girl never should have been allowed in the studio, and maybe, Harry should break up with her.

***

Early morning rain fell outside Harry’s apartment. It was still dark, street lamps burning through the fog in the city below. His home fills with coffee as he pours his fifth cup; the prior four never offering more than a few sips before he had abandoned them somewhere, the counter, mantle, bookshelf, because he can’t talk without his hands.

Y/n sits on his couch. It’s velvet and pink and too big for one person. She hated it the first time he invited her over. If he breaks up with her, she’s going to tell him how ugly it is.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.” She’s exhausted. She hadn’t hesitated to drive over when he finally responded to one of her hundreds of texts in the week since the mishap. But now she regrets it. They’ve been going in circles with the same argument for the past four hours. She’s convinced he invited her over just to be mean. She sighs, rubbing her temples. “I said I was sorry. You know that I’m sorry. And you know that I never, ever in a million years, would have done something like this on purpose.”

“I’m allowed to be angry with you. I have every right to be.”

“Do you, though?” She straightens up on his ugly couch and looks at him leaning against the doorframe that leads into the kitchen. “Aren’t you a little tired of hating me? God Harry, everyone else in the whole world has moved on except you.”

“It’s not everyone else’s song, is it? It’s not everyone else’s months and months of hard work. It’s not everyone else’s unfinished art? Nobody else is having to deal with a girlfriend that is so careless, so thoughtless, that she actually managed to leak my song!”

“Stop raising your voice at me!”

“You had no business snooping around my computer anyway! I told you you could work on your fucking paper, not to go prying around my personal shit!”

“You know what,” she scoffs, shooting up off the couch, “this argument is so pointless. You didn’t want me here so we could talk. You just wanted to torture me because you’re mad that people don’t love your stupid song.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

She brushes his shoulder as she passes by him, and a drip of his coffee spills onto his hand. He curses, and follows her into the kitchen where he lays his final cup down on the island.

“You’re being a baby because people aren’t fawning over you like they usually do.” She shrugs and slings her bag over her shoulder. “It’s not your best song, Harry.”

The veins in his neck strain against his flaming skin. His cheeks are sucked in, and if he bites down on the skin any harder he’ll puncture his face. “Get the fuck out.”

“I was already leaving, dumb ass.” She strides by him once more, practically feeling the heat steaming off his body. When she gets to the front door, she pauses with her hand on the knob. “Your couch is hideous, by the way. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to buy shitty looking stuff.”

When she slams the door behind her, the apartment shakes, and cold coffee spills from each cup.

***

It’s nearing five a.m. when y/n backs out of the complex. Her wipers race across the windshield, but do nothing against the downpour wreaking havoc in the city. She does her best to stay on what she assumes is her side of the road, swerving to the right each time headlights blind her.

“Shit.” Nothing is open, and she can’t even see where it would be safe to pull over to let the rain pass. But her home isn’t that far, and traffic isn’t too bad.

She comes to a stop at a red light, only to realize she missed a left turn she should’ve made a minute ago. “Damn it. Fucking hell.”

As soon as the light turns green, she spins the wheel to make a U-turn, and if it hadn’t been for the rain, and her own clouded mind, and Harry’s voice echoing in her ears, she might have seen the truck who didn’t even try to avoid her.

***

It’s the headache from hell that wakes her up. And it’s the sterile smell of hospital that jogs her memory. And it’s a nurse not much older than y/n that says something about you’re lucky to be alive.

She’s poked and prodded and asked a thousand questions before her IV is adjusted and a pill to ease one of the many pains scratching her body is handed to her in a small plastic cup. A police officer repeats half of this process, and somewhere in the mess of her reality, she learns that the other driver was sending a text to his wife when he plowed into her car. He’s at home and she’s here. Lucky to be alive.

She made calls to her mom and friends, and even managed to type out a decent email to her professors for her upcoming absence in class.

When she automatically pulled up Harry’s name on her phone, the last text he sent, the one inviting her over so he could make her more miserable than she already was, sat there in all its taunting glory.

What is she even supposed to say? Hey, I know you hate my existence right now, but I’m lying here in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around my head. It’d be cool if you stopped by.

It’s not long before the sun pops up and reminds y/n of just how early it is. The clouds part, and it’s like it had never even rained, like it had never even been dark for hours, and if she closes her eyes, y/n can pretend that the past week hadn’t even happened.

***

“How are you feeling today?” The nurse checks y/n’s IV, humming after her question.

“Just sore. Ready to get out of here.”

“We’ve started the paperwork, so shouldn’t be too long. Who’s coming to get you?”

Y/n blinks, feeling stupid she hadn’t thought this far ahead. She doesn’t even have a car anymore. The nurse looks over the computer monitor, waiting for a response.

“Uh, my friend.”

“Awesome. Dr. Kirby has to come check on you one last time before you leave. I’ll go see if he can stop by now, if you want to let your friend know.”

As soon as the nurse is out the door, y/n scrambles to turn her phone back on, and once it is, her lock screen is filled with missed calls and unanswered texts.

She’ll respond later; gives her something to do in the car to occupy her in front of Harry.

She can’t call him. Harry’s not a monster, although the past week doesn’t exactly prove her case, but she knows he wouldn’t refuse to come get her. If anything, he’ll be annoyed she didn’t tell him about the accident sooner. But she’s too emotional to deal with hearing his voice.

She types out a text recounting her last 24 hours, along with the name of the hospital. He immediately reads it, and a moment later he’s trying to call.

To: Harry

I’m too tired to talk rn

She lies. And it works.

From: Harry

I’ll be there as fast as i can

***

“Baby?”

Y/n cracks her eyes open, irritated she never quite fell asleep. Confused as to why Harry’s calling her baby. Angry that she cares. And the next words out of his mouth are ones she’d been predicting.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve dropped everything. You’ve been here all alone, shit. Are you okay? What hurts?”

He’s hovering over her, fidgeting, unsure if he can touch her.

“I’m fine now. Just sore. And tired.”

“Fuck I can’t believe this, I—”

“The doctor already said I can go. I’m not allowed to walk out on my own, so, you need to let the nurse know you’re here. She’ll take me down in a wheelchair.”

“Baby I’m so sorry-”

“No, Harry. You would still be busy hating my guts right now—”

“Hate you? I don’t hate you?”

“Well you did a great job this week making me feel otherwise.”

Harry sighs, gripping the bed frame and dropping his chin to his chest. When he looks back up he has tears brimming his eyes. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracks. “I know I’ve been an ass this week. I—you were right. I took out my anger from no one lovin’ the song on you.”

“Well it’s not no one. A lot of people did. And it’s unfinished anyway. You wouldn’t enjoy a meal if it was only cooked halfway.”

He nods, but y/n knows he’s only accepting her words because of the situation.

“You mean so much more to me than a leaked song. I’m sorry I treated you like shit. And that I—I made you think I hated you. You have every right to hate me.”

“You annoy the hell out of me, but I don’t hate you.”

His lips twitch, but a few tears slide down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She takes his hand off the rail and smoothes her thumb across his knuckles. “You can make it up to me by getting me out of here.”

“I can do that.” He kisses the top of her head and hits the remote to call for the nurse.

“You can really kiss me, y’know. I’m not gonna break.”

He’s hesitant, but slowly lowers his head to press his lips to hers. He’s timid, and his lips are still damp from tears, but it’s more relieving than either of them would ever admit.

The nurse ends their moment when she pops in the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. “Hi, you must be y/n’s friend.”

“Friend?” He peers down at y/n, suggestion lacing the word. “Care to explain?”

“Not really, I’m so tired.”

“Mhm.” He clicks his tongue, supporting her arm as she swings her legs off the bed. Once she’s standing and steady, he tucks her hair behind her ear and bends down so his mouth can graze her lobe. “Since we’re just friends, I guess you’ll have to sleep on my ugly couch.”

#requests #requested #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #cherryyharryy

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4stars-uswnt · 4 years ago

Text

Home Is Wherever I’m With You [Christen Press x Reader]

requested by anon: Hey, there just want to drop of this prompt in case you feel like writing it. Reader got home after a few months being away from CP because of the quarantine, maybe a moment of CP confronting R that she’s jealous of R’s teammate that got to lockdown together. Thanks.

A/N: after a week break (for the election and other stresses of life) (and technically i haven’t written in like three weeks bc of life and school), we’re BACK! hope y’all like this one :) and as always, feedback is more than welcome!! anyways, back to your regularly scheduled programming...

“Hey, baby, I’m home,” you call out, as you enter the LA apartment you shared with your girlfriend, closing the door behind you, “fucking finally.” You mumble under your breath, as you drop your bags onto the floor.

“(Y/N)!” Christen runs from the bedroom upon hearing your voice, but before she can crash into you for a long-awaited hug, you put up your hands to stop her.

“Woah, Chris,” you almost falter at the sight of her pout, “I just got off a plane and came from the airport. I need to shower and get all these yucky germs off me.” You smell your shirt and make a face to exaggerate your point.

“But I missed you.” Christen pouts, and you give her a sympathetic smile.

“I missed you too, babe, but I just wanna be extra safe. Can’t have you getting sick or anything like that.” You wink, as you make your way to the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Blowing her a kiss, you disappear down the hallway.

Christen sinks down into the couch, letting out a frustrated groan. If the forward was being honest with herself, she more than missed you; she was jealous. Although she knew that you loved her and only her and the two of you had been dating for almost two years, Christen couldn’t help the green-eyed monster from taking over when she constantly saw you on Sofia Huerta’s instagram.

The past two months, you had to quarantine in Seattle and stay in your apartment that you shared with Sofia during the season, while waiting for COVID to settle down enough for you to travel. During that time, you and Sofia spent a lot of time together, doing anything to keep you entertained.

Unfortunately for you, Sofia had often posted on her Instagram story photos and videos of your activities, whether it be a movie night or a bike around Discovery Park, leading to a very annoyed Christen Press.

It wasn’t that Christen was jealous in the sense that she thought there was something going on between you and the midfielder, more so that she was jealous that it was Sofia that got to spend time doing all that fun stuff with you rather than her.

Too caught up in her thoughts, Christen didn’t notice you plop down next to her. “You there?”

“Hmm,” she turns to face you, “yeah, yeah, just got lost in thought.”

“Well, now that I’m all clean,” you smirk, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively, as you move to straddle your girlfriend, “I thought we could make up for some lost time.”

“I like the sound of that.” Christen leans in closer to connect your lips.

—————

The next morning, after a long uneventful night, you woke up in your own bed next to your girlfriend for the first time in months. Turning over, you smile and admire the sleeping woman next to you. Wanting to do something somewhat romantic, you silently slip out of bed, careful not to wake your girlfriend, and head to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

As you were fixing up some coffee and healthy yogurt, oats, and chia seeds (or whatever healthy stuff your girlfriend puts in her breakfast), Christen was groggily waking up. Rolling over, she reaches out to the other side of the bed, expecting to find your warm body, only to be disappointed with cold sheets. Christen rubs her eyes and sits up, but before she could call out to you, you enter the bedroom, carrying a tray with two bowls and a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You smile, leaning down to give your girlfriend a peck. “Brought you some breakfast in bed.”

“Thanks, babe.” Christen’s heart melted, as she looks to see what you made. “Aw, and you even made my favorite.”

“Yup.” You playfully boast and wink. “Your favorite for my favorite.”

Your girlfriend can’t help but giggle at your cheesiness. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it, love.”

Right as you go to take a bite, Christen grabs your wrist. “Wait.”

“Whatttttt?” You whine like a child.

“Lemme take a photo.” She explains gently, ignoring your antics.

You roll your eyes, as she takes a photo of your bowls and posts it to her Instagram story:

The two of you spend the rest of the morning in bed, eating breakfast, giggling, catching up, and just enjoying each other’s much missed presence.

—————

Later that afternoon, as the two of you were doing your separate tasks, Christen preoccupied with re-inc and you with your article for the tribune, you finish typing your thought and shut your laptop. You get up from the sofa and approach your girlfriend, who’s sitting at the kitchen counter, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your chin on her shoulder.

“You almost done?”

“Almost.” Christen hums, smiling slightly, as you kiss her shoulder and then her neck, making your way up to her cheek.

“I’m bored.”

Christen finishes writing her email and then turns around to face you. “Well, what do you wanna do?”

“You’re done?” You ask, feeling slightly guilty from pulling her away from her work, knowing she had more to do.

“I can be, if you offer up a better alternative.” Christen teases.

“Oh, I definitely have something better to offer.” You smirk and bring her in for a deep kiss. You immediately swipe your tongue on her bottom lip, asking for an entrance, which the green-eyed woman grants. Your mouths move in a perfect harmony, like a well-rehearsed dance. As you kiss down her throat, Christen lets out a sigh.

“Yeah,” she breaths, “this is definitely better.”

“Yeah?” You mumble into her neck.

“Mhmm.”

“Well then,” you pull your head out of the crook of her neck, “you’re just gonna have to wait till later because I found this Bob Ross tutorial that we’re gonna do.” You exclaim giddily, and you give Christen’s nose a quick kiss.

“Really, (Y/N)?” She calls out after you, as you go to get the supplies, slightly riled up. But when you come back, balancing canvases in one hand and paints and brushes in the other, Christen completely forgets about her frustration, as she sees your enthusiastic smile.

“C’mon, Chris.” You nod your head for her to follow you into the dining area. “And bring some wine too!”

Christen laughs, shaking her head, but grabs a bottle of rosé and two glasses.

“So what scene are we painting?”

“‘Island in the Wilderness.’” You scroll through YouTube until clicking on the video.

“Sounds hard.” Christen states hesitantly, as she pours some wine for the both of you.

“Eh, it probably is, but that’s the fun of it.” You shrug, thanking her, as she hands you your glass.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

While you’re setting up the canvases on easels and open up the necessary paints, Christen quickly pulls out her phone to take a picture of the set up, once again adding it to her story:

“Ready?” You turn to your girlfriend, about to start the video. Christen nods and picks up one of the brushes.

About 10 minutes into the tutorial, you lean back into your chair, frustrated by the difficulty of the painting.

“Ugh! This is so hard.” You set your brush down, replacing it with your glass of wine. “How does Bob make it look so easy? Mine looks nothing like his, or even yours.” Pouting, you gesture to Christen’s piece, which unfairly looks quite similar to the video’s.

Your girlfriend just chuckles at you, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, hoping to placate you. “(Y/N/N), yours is looking great.”

“You have to say that. You’re my girlfriend.” You huff jokingly.

Christen ignores you and continues to watch Bob paint some trees just by flicking his brush back and forth.

Having given up on your own painting, you sit back and watch your girlfriend gracefully paint. You soon become bored, Bob Ross’s soothing voice almost putting you to sleep, so you grab one of your brushes. Reaching out, you poke Christen’s cheek, dotting blue paint across the side of her face.

Her jaw drops, and she turns to face you, as you have to stifle your laughter.

“You did not just do that.” She glares at you, readying her own brush, and before you know it, you have a stripe of green paint down your nose.

You raise your eyebrows at your girlfriend and then narrow your eyes. “Oh, it is so on.” You reach out in front of you and dip your hands in paint, and you see Christen out of the corner of your eye doing the same.

Before she could prepare herself, you’re smearing paint up and down her arms.

“Hey!” Christen shouts. “That’s not fair. I wasn’t ready.”

“All is fair in love and war.” You cheekily smirk.

“Alright, if you wanna play that way…” Christen trails off, as she cups your cheeks with her painted hands, squishing them together, effectively rubbing paint all over your face. “There you go, love.”

“That’s it. You are so getting it.” You wipe your mouth, where some paint had gotten.

Christen squeals and goes to run away, causing you to chase after her. Catching up to her, which is no easy task, fortunately for you, the forward had been wearing socks, you wrap your arms around her waist and pick her up. You nuzzle your nose in the crook of her neck, effectively spreading the paint.

“(Y/N), my clothes!” Your girlfriend exclaims in between laughs.

“It’ll wash out. And if not, I’m pretty sure you have like at least ten other shirts just like that.” You set the other woman back down on the floor, and she turns to wrap her arms around your neck.

“I love you, (Y/N).” She says with a giant grin on her face.

“I love you too, Christen.” You rubs your nose against hers, snorting when you see paint end up on her nose. “You’re more beautiful than any art piece.”

Christen giggles and brings you in for a sweet kiss. Pulling away, she backs away from you, slowly turning around to head to down the hallway.

“I think I could use a shower now.” Christen reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head. Looking over her shoulder, she throws you a wink, as she unclips her bra. “You coming?”

Your eyes widen at the sight of the smooth skin of your girlfriend’s back. Shaking your head, you knock yourself out of your stupor and eagerly follow Christen into the bathroom, almost tripping on your own two feet.

—————

About twenty minutes later, the two of you are clean, having gotten rid of nearly all the paint off your bodies. As you’re going to get dressed, you notice Christen changing into a pair of sweat shorts.

“Babe, you might wanna change into something a little warmer.”

“What? Why?” Christen furrows her eyebrows, tilting her head in confusion. “What’s wrong with my shorts?”

“You mean besides the fact that they’re mine?” You tease, earning a blush from your girlfriend. “We’re going out.” You tell her succinctly.

“What? Where?”

“It’s a surprise.” You pull on a pair of loose jeans and slip on a warm sweater.

“Well, will you at least tell me what to wear?” Christen prods.

“Wear some layers. It might get cold.” You give her a quick kiss before heading into the kitchen to prepare your surprise, leaving your girlfriend absolutely clueless and struggling to pick out some clothes.

While Christen was fussing over her outfit, you quickly put together some fruit, and some cheese and crackers into a picnic basket, along with the bottle of rosé, two glasses, and a blanket. Scanning the apartment, you quickly thought of what else you needed. You snatch two of the pillows from the couch and stuff them in another bag.

'What else? Is that everything?’ You think to yourself. ‘Flowers, definitely need some flowers!’

You grab the basket and the bag with the pillows and head to the front door. “Chris, I’m gonna go pick up the mail!” While that was only partly true, as the mail had definitely been sitting in your box all day, you were also gonna go put these bags in your car and pick some flowers on the way out.

“Okay, thanks, babe!” She yells back from the bedroom. With that, you kick the door shut behind you and head down to the garage.

After having picking some flowers from the shared garden at the front of your apartment building, putting everything in the trunk, and grabbing the mail, you reenter your apartment.

“What took so long?” Christen asks with no malice in her voice.

You look up from the mail, and your breath hitches. Your girlfriend was wearing a simple outfit, a pair of light-washed jeans and a sherpa quarter zip, and her curly hair was in a half-up-half-down bun. While it may be simple, her beauty never failed to take your breath away.

“(Y/N)?” She pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you shake your head, “I ran into Jerry, and he wanted to know, and I quote, ‘where the hell’ I’ve been.”

Christen chuckles. “Of course he did.”

Jerry was the doorman and was very excited when he found at that Christen Press and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) would be living in the building, as he was a huge fan of women’s soccer.

“So, you ready?” You reach out to take your girlfriend’s hand.

“Yup.” She squeezes your hand. “You still not gonna tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.” You quip. “You’ll just have to be patient, my love.”

“Fine.” Christen pouts, and you kiss her cheek, wiping the frown off her face.

—————

It was about a fifteen minute drive to the beach from your apartment, and when Christen recognized the familiar route, she piped up.

“We’re going to the beach?”

“Mhmm.” You hum. “You’re too smart for your own good, Press.”

“That’s what happens when you go to Stanford.” Christen teases, knowing your distain towards the school, you yourself having gone to Cal.

“Whatever.” You mumble under your breath, earning a small giggle from the other woman.

You park the car and race around to open Christen’s door for her. “M’lady.” You say with a fake posh British accent, as you hold your hand out for her to take.

“Why thank you.” She blushes, responding with her own accent.

As you open the trunk and pull out the things for your picnic, Christen’s eyes soften and feels her whole body flush with a warmth she could only describe as love.

“(Y/N/N),” she gasps, “what is all of this for?”

Closing the trunk, you give her a goofy grin. “What? I have to have a reason to spoil my girlfriend and take her on a romantic picnic on the beach?”

“I mean— no.” Christen’s cheeks tint pink.

“That’s what I thought.” You throw her a wink. “Now, c’mon, this food won’t eat itself!”

The two of you make your way down onto the beach, finding the perfect spot where there weren’t very many people. After you finish setting up the blanket and pillows and unpack the picnic basket, Christen snaps a photo of the serene setting, as the sun is almost setting.

“Chris, come join me!” You wave over your girlfriend, who notices that you’re now sitting on the blanket, snacking on some grapes.

The forward slips off her shoes and takes a seat next to you, sinking her toes in the sand.

“This is amazing, (Y/N).” Christen intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand. “Thank you for this, and this entire day really. I don’t know what I did to deserve it.”

“Just being you, Chris. You deserve the world.” You smile softly. “Annnddd, I figured since we’ve been apart for so long, this was the least I could do.”

“Well, thank you, again.”

You lean in to give her a sweet kiss. “Anytime, babe.” And Christen could tell by your voice, and just from knowing you, that you truly did mean any time, that you would do anything for her because she would do anything for you.

Watching the sunset, the two of you snack on the food and sip on the wine you’d brought, conversing about plans for the holidays and the upcoming Olympics.

At the break of your conversations, as you sit in silence, watching the waves crash and the last rays of sun reflect across the water, you feel your phone buzz. Checking the screen, you see it’s a text from Megan, and you chuckle in amusement but also in confusion.

“Chris, do you know why Pinoe texted me saying: ‘Thanks for making me look bad with all your romantic gestures. Now Sue is badgering me, asking why I never do stuff like that for her.’?”

“Um, I have no idea.” Christen looks down, suddenly finding the sand incredibly interesting.

“Hmm, okay.” You eye your girlfriend suspiciously, as you text your teammate back, asking her what she’s talking about. Seconds later, you get a response telling you to check Christen’s Instagram story. Opening the app, you click on your girlfriend’s posts and notice she’s documented the activities throughout your day, from breakfast in bed to painting Bob Ross to your romantic picnic.

Looking up from your phone, you turn to Christen and see she’s still fiddling with the grains of sand.

“Chris?” You gently coax. “Is this what Pinoe was talking about?”

She nods, feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” you grab her hands, guiding her to look at you, “I’m not mad at you, baby, not at all.”

You weren’t angry or upset with her for posting those pictures, as your relationship wasn’t a secret to anybody, but you knew this wasn’t like Christen at all. You knew your girlfriend was a very private person, not one to post or flaunt your relationship on social media, and you respected her decisions and boundaries, being a somewhat conserved person as well.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.” You continue, gently brushing a loose hair out of her face. “What brought this on?”

Christen murmurs something under her breath.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.”

She takes a deep breath and repeats herself. “I wanted to show everyone that you’re mine. I know it’s stupid, but I was a jealous of Sofia and how you two got to spend so much time together. And I know that you would never ever cheat on me, I know that, (Y/N), but it just sucked that I couldn’t be with you for the past two months, so I just wanted to show people that—“

You bring your girlfriend’s face closer to yours and kiss her, cutting off her rambling. Leaning your forehead against hers, you look deeply into her eyes.

“I love you, Christen. And being away from you for these past two months absolutely sucked because you’re my home, Chris, as cheesy as that sounds it’s true. I’m sorry if I did anything to make you feel like I was ignoring you by spending time with Sofia. I love you and only you.”

Christen shakes her head. “No, (Y/N), you didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I was just frustrated by this whole pandemic and not being able to spend time with you.”

“Me too, Chris, me too.” You pepper her face with kisses, causing her to throw her head back giggling.

“And I’m sorry if me posting stuff from our day made you uncomfortable.” Christen apologizes sincerely, before nudging you with a slight smirk on her face. “I just wanted to show off my amazing romantic girlfriend to the world.”

You let out a hearty laugh. “I don’t mind being shown off, babe, not at all.”

“Good, because I plan on doing it for a long time. You’re stuck with me.” She sticks out her tongue at you, earning a fond smile.

“Lucky me.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #christen press x reader #christen press imagine #christen press imagines #uswnt #christen press

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kurosukii · 3 years ago

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Jul he was def written by a Horny watt pad user cause the shit he would say to me and the stunts he would pull were things I had never imagined

yes he does have some dentist friends if anyone is interested but they’re not dilfs sadly:(

he Did brazy stuff like that all the time completely uncalled for his son would stay with his sister because he felt he needed more of an authority female presence in his sons life so when his son was gone for a weekend we would go crazy. I don’t think there is a surface or area in his home outside of his sons room that we didn’t do something nasty on

on top of his insane breeding kink this man had the libido and stamina to keep up w freshly dirty me who had a million scenarios in my head after he unlocked that side i didn’t know existed

but funny story of how I met his sister and to this day when I see her I get embarrassed

so he had told her abt me obvI but she didn’t know abt the age difference just that he had met someone who worked at a grocery store he frequented and we were going on dates. so flash foreward his son is out the house (also this was b4 we were comfy enough to try n fuck in his place of business the timeline of events will never make sense)

We were cuddling and watching a movie in the living room and I started to get h word and im telling u this man never wore an outfit that wouldn’t provoke me to take his pants off so ofc he was shirtless and wearing light grey sweatpants material shorts… yk whats gonna happen were halfway thru an episode of a show and I lay my head in his lap n I’m just nuzzling against his dick bcs I’m a shy bitch who didn’t want to directly ask for it

n eventually he pauses the show n is like “is there something you want?“ n I look up at him w pls fuck me eyes so he moves me to be sitting on his lap but more so straddling his thigh, at this point he can’t hide his semi n just starts kissing me w the most passion

at this point in our relationship I was focusing on learning how to suck his dick, which was a struggle for me w breathing but I loved doing it, i start kissing his neck and grinding against him and he goes to put his hand in my pants n i shuffle back a little he goes “don’t be shy now you already started something”

i just blurt out “can you fuck my mouth” BITCH(if ur okay w me calling you bitch) if someone could have literal hearts in their eyes he had them, that look is still stuck in my memory like it’s priceless art

somehow I can’t remember the sequence of events but I’m on my knees in front of the couch and he let me start off on my own just to see how far I could go, as I said he is vv thick so it usually cause some pain in the corners of my lips but I keep going and he rested his hand on the back of my head “you’re doing so well bunny” (again w the side notes he called me bunny so much his son thought it was my name for a solid two weeks) he got the nickname from that hot freaks song, anyways started pushing my head down just a little until I was nose to his pelvis gagging all over him and he just starts laughing, so ofc i pull off and get pouty so he apologizes for laughing staring “it’s just cute seeing you struggle“

so we start back n atp he is standing up fully naked I’m also Fully naked just hips a thrusting the most lewd noises coming front my throat as he breaks my fuckin uvula and he like I said is very vocal so u can only imagine the noises this man was saying

at this point I start struggling to breathe I’m tearing up and he is being so cocky abt it and asking so many questions knowing i can’t answer

again dialogue

*SPIT COATED BALLS SLAPPING MY FACE NOISES*

“you like being on your knees for me huh?” “I think you look extra good like this, just want me to fuck your mouth till u can’t speak”

“mmhm or would you like it better if I made you scream till you lost your voice”

and as he got closer

“that’s right just take it“

“doing so good baby throats so tight(started rubbing the column of my throat) can you feel me all the way down there“

now at this point I’m a literal mess

and we hear his front door slam and immediately both ducked down on the floor and his sister comes in saying his name Bcs where the fuck r u at ur cars here

and we both look at eachother w the “oh shit, oh fuck” look so he just gets up on the couch and peeks his head over and she’s standing between the living room and hallway and is like ??? Look on her face and he just starts shouting “don’t come over here I’m fully naked give me a minute please“ and doubles over laughing and I could hear her yell to the kids “go play outside for a minute“

she walks out of view and we sprint to his bedroom and I’m so embarrassed at this point we get dressed in a flash and I’m destroyed and he just doesn’t tell me makeup smeared my lip clearly look like I’ve been sucking dick and he just walks us out and introduces me to her, she didn’t say anything out the way but I knew she knew Bcs the look she gave me when she first saw me

its sad this isnt top 10 embarrassing things to happen to me

also sorry this is so long I send these as I remember the moments -🐶

yooooo this story was an entire rollercoaster ,,,, all i can say is holy shit 🧿_🧿

#MAN i had to read this a lot to comprehend everything ....#ALL I CAN SAY IS THAT YOU’RE Y/N #DAS IT #LAWDDDDDDD #🐶.anon #✨.jul answers #tw dilf #tw degradation #tw face fucking

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rouiyan · 4 years ago

Text

𝘚𝘛𝘙𝘈𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛 𝘖𝘍𝘍 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘍𝘐𝘌𝘓𝘋 [ 𝘭.𝘥𝘩 ]

synopsis: we’re all sprinting towards one thing or another. the players to the ball, mark to his class, and haechan right to you.

✧ soccer player!haechan x (fem.) reader + best friend!mark ✧ high school au, best friends to loverz, inspired by heather (conan gray)

✧ genres : some fluff, some angst, some pining what’s new ✧ word count : 2.3k ✧ disclaimer : swearing

✧ author’s note — wrote this in ap stats, probably should have been paying attention instead bc i can't figure out how to do the hw for the life of me.

"did you see y/n today?"

haechan thinks, by the sound of the voice, that it's mark who's speaking. he pulls the rest of the sweatshirt past his head, "no, did you?" haechan's grabbing for his socks, he swears he stuffed them in the front pocket of his backpack. "that's why i'm asking, idiot. she told me she would be here today." a tongue of frustration juts out from haechan's mouth, he hopes it just looks like he's agitated about his missing socks and not the fact that you always tell mark those things, always mark and never him.

haechan is out of the locker room in seconds, sneakers slipped on without socks. he's adjusting the hood of the sweatshirt, tucking his locks under the material, when he sees you lingering by the bleachers. you smile sheepishly when you see the boy coming from the locker rooms, "somehow, i thought it started at four and i thought i got here early but your coach told me you guys just finished." haechan can't help but laugh, so that's why you weren't here, "and we won, too. did he tell you that?"

he's by your side now, seated, though his feet are planted on the ground while yours are swinging back and forth, "he did tell me that, congratulations haechan, wish i could've seen you score today." haechan tucks a lip under his teeth, now's not the time for him to be so obvious, not when it's just you and him. he thinks that yet, his stares linger on you for a little longer than normal, his fingers are fiddling with the ridges of the bleachers, and his cheeks host the brightest hue of cherry red.

"hey, y/n, where were you today?" haechan's nose scrunches at an emerging mark, he really thought he could have the moment with you. mark approaches and sits on the other side of you. captain mark lee, haechan notes with shrewd annoyance, is wearing your sweater, his favorite of yours, the one with the worn polyester fabric that's pilling all over but still holds warmth snuggly. the one that haechan's been wanting to wear since day one.

mark swings his legs as well and haechan watches as you point it out, giggling now that mark is trying to swing in sync to your own pace. "wanna come over? my mom's been asking you to come over for dinner," marks eyes are on you, haechan can see that much, but he also misses the way your own eyes shift to himself. and what haechan doesn't see, mark does, and his lip twitches into a knowing smile, "haechan, you should come too, my mom misses you."

the boy himself is already in over his head and passing up the offer is the only way he sees to escape the despair that comes with being a third wheel, "no thanks, i have a shit ton of homework to do today." your hum in response is mixed with an undertone of a sigh, one that haechan is too sidetracked to notice. he takes his leave, "well, i'll see you two tomorrow i guess."

you and mark sit in silence for the minutes after his leave, mark sneaking small glances at your ever-changing expression, an open book to all your thoughts. "next time, y/n, next time."

well shit, maybe mark wasn't as clueless as you pegged him to be.

in agitation, mark shoves the last of his books into his backpack, class is about to start soon and if he doesn't get going now, well then he might as well give up his perfect attendance, no tardy record. haechan leans against the locker next to his own, a seemingly bored expression on display to hide the inner rumblings of his thoughts.

"so how was dinner last night, did you guys miss me?" haechan's trying to come off as nonchalant, he hates it when he has to pry just to satiate his curiosities. mark shuts his locker, swinging his backpack across one shoulder, "uh, dinner didn't happen and no, i didn't miss you but i bet y/n did." haechan's left in confusion on all fronts, "what do you mean it didn't happen? why would she miss me- wait, why did you not miss me?"

"well y/n said she was busy all of a sudden, something like that. as for-" the bells rings, signaling the end of passing period, and effectively cutting off the answers to all of haechan's worries. marks eyes widen and before he can even catch the boy by his arms, to shake and spill the words out of him, he's already sprinting down the emptying halls.

haechan sighs. he should be sprinting too but he's already late, might as well walk. the campus grounds are vast and he decides to take a stroll outside, the much longer way to his physics class. haechan is passing a few classes on his left, all of them filled with the chatter of students before a teacher begins their lectures, but there's one class that catches his eye. the window into the ceramics class reveals a clear view of you, eyebrows furrowed and trying to shape a little figure on the table before you. you've told him many times before that ceramics was your least enjoyed of all your courses, that you had taken it simply because you needed an art credit and while that might've been the reason you'd signed up, haechan can tell by the way you handle the little mold of clay, that you had stayed for much different reasons.

he thinks to tease you of it later but it's then during lunch where he stops himself because before he even so much as reaches the table your group frequents, there you are, showing the little figurine to mark, eyes glistening with pride and joy. "i think i did quite well this time, i even got praised." as haechan comes close, he sees the clay figure in full clarity for what it is, an ambiguous sitting shape with a heart cradled in its lap, lumpy in certain spots but emanating in the care and thoughtfulness with which it was made.

haechan slides into the seat across from you. "look," you sound softly to him, holding out the little figure in both your hands, "do you like it?" haechan swallows thickly when he looks up from your hands to your eyes, he sees the way they light up, he hopes. wordlessly, he nods, a small smiles tugs at his lips. he likes it, he really does so he questions, "what inspired you to make it?" it's in the way that you immediately eye mark, and the way that mark immediately hides his oncoming giggle, that haechan relinquishes his hopes.

mark walks you to class after your lunch break that day, he's a grade higher but a thousand times dumber, you think. "are you insane? why would you laugh at that specific moment?" in between small giggles, mark does his best to provide a reply, "you should've just told him that he was the one that inspired you." smacking his elbow, you purse your lips, "but then he'd know!"

the older boy stops walking for a second and you're five steps ahead when you notice. you turn. "what now, mark?" he holds a mischievous glint in his eyes, "he'd know what?" now his eyebrows are making little squiggly lines by his hairline and you take a few steps back to drag him by the arm. flushing, you whisper, figuring he already knew as much, "he'd know i like him."

if mark is considered your best friend and potential crush, then what about him? possibly also a best friend, though he could only hope you would talk to him a bit more, spend a bit more time with him, make more conversation with him during breaks. potential crush was for sure out of the picture right? the way you look at mark, the way you share you everything with mark, objects and secrets and everything in between, haechan isn't sure he can say the same for himself. he texts mark anyways. tell y/n ur busy, something bout soccer.

haechan's out the door a minute and a half before the bell rings, his teacher yelling at him to come back. he doesn't give a shit. mark always walks you home, he always does and haechan is so fucking fed up with it because he himself lives closer to you so why should he get to walk you home.

he arrives at the door to your last class just as the bell signals the end of the school day. there's only enough time for three deep breaths, panting breaths, before the door to your classroom is propped open and students begin filing out.

"y/n, over here!" he calls. your eyes widen at the sound of his voice and you turn to it, a smile already lifting the corners of your mouth. you're walking side by side with him, and haechan starts leading in the direction of your locker, despite needing to go to his own. "i can walk you home today." you turn your head to him, "what do you mean? i usually walk with-"

"mark, i know," he says it with a disclosed derision, "he's busy, had to go talk to coach or something, i don't know. but i can walk you, plus my house is just two streets down, remember?" he watches in anticipation as you retrieve your phone from your bag. his eyes do their best to peer over and he sees your lockscreen light with a notification from mark. "oh, yeah he said he's busy with soccer stuff." haechan's lip quirk in victory, his plan unfolding itself into perfection.

"can we go to my locker first though? i need to get some stuff, and we're on the way." he nods as if it wasn't in his intention to head in this direction and for that reason. he merely disregards the need to go to his locker. who cares if he has to bring a whole ass chemistry textbook home if he gets to go home with you.

it isn't until he's at your front steps that he musters up the courage. you're in the middle of keying in the pin numbers to your door pad when he speaks up, "hey y/n?" you give a hum in response, messing up the last two digits after hearing him voice your name. you abandon your attempts, turning to look at the questioning boy. "would you like to come watch my match next week?"

you take a step down so that you're two above from where he's standing, now the same height as him. frowning, "of course. i'm going to see you and mar-"

it seems that haechan really doesn't want to hear that name come from your mouth today because he interrupts you yet again, "yeah, but i'm asking if you'd want to come to watch me." your lips part and shut in search of what to say. haechan nudges a little further, "i want you to come watch me play, would you want to?"

you release a breath, biting down a smile, you manage a nod within all your flusteredness. your voice, a bare peep, "i want to," gives haechan all the courage he needs to grab one of your hands to give it a little squeeze before muttering a, "see you," and taking his leave. haechan's turning the corner out of your driveway when he sneaks a glance before the fence blocks his view of you. his heart hurls at the sight of you, still on your front steps, face buried in your hands. even from all the way here, the bright red flush of your cheeks can be seen through your fingers.

no one knows why that one boy on the field is scoring goals left and right. no one knows except you and him. from the moment haechan saw you on the bleachers, the other team was done for. it isn't even about impressing you anymore, it's not about making you proud. it's not a crush, it's these stupid feelings that never go away, never fade with time, or any amount of effort, at least, not in the knowledge that you are equally his as he is yours. it's not a crush, it's the sickening feeling in his gut when he sees you with someone other than himself, with mark, when he sees that sweater on mark instead of himself. it's not a crush, it's the way he feels the need to be with you all the damn time, the lingering feelings from whenever you leave his side that tell him that moments spent without you would be so much better if you were just there. haechan moves on the field with full conviction that it's not just a crush, it's love.

and so as the last whistle of the game blows, their team securing the win with haechan's last goal, he runs, no sprints, straight off the field to where you're seated in the stands. he brushes past all the people with hushed apologies and it's only when he's right in front of you does he realize how frenzied he likely seemed. he doesn't mind for more than a second though, because you've stood up and laced your arms around his shoulders, fingers on the back of his neck. he embraces you back and the kiss he gives to your cheek is something that just feels so natural and close to home. his forehead is on yours when he asks, his voice a bare minimum, "y/n, will you be my girlfriend?"

it isn't you that answers, rather it's a mark lee with a loud, "FUCK YEAH."

✧ end note — hey anon babe who requested this. apologies for making it fem. reader, i know you didn't specify. if you would like me to reupload with gender neutral reader, then send an ask and i'll be more than happy to. ♡

#nct #nct haechan #nct haechan fics #nct scenarios #nct fics #haechan x reader #haechanxreader #haechan x y/n #haechan fluff #haechan angst #haechan imagine #haechan fic #requested #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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mooifyourecows · 4 years ago

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hi moo!! I am also in distress bc of stress :/ just came here to say that ur posts throughout the day give me life. tell me more about ur stories! idc which one. u choose. it’ll make me happy either way :)

hey there anon, i woke up in the middle of the night, immediately stressed myself out (ayy solidarity), and haven’t slept since so let’s talk about ‘Force of Impact!’ 🤙

Okay so ‘Force of Impact’ is actually one of the first original stories I began in this era. (we don’t talk about Moo’s previous eras of writing okay shhhh just move on)

So let’s start with the characters of this story and some basic info on each of them:

Conrad Savage (main)- 24 years old, half Korean/half Jamaican, born in Boston, professional MMA fighter (injured)

Nash Boone (main)- 20 years old, Caucasian, unemployed, student

Peyton Baines (side)- 18 years old, Caucasian, student

Layla Love (side)- 18 years old, African American, student

Milos Love (side)- 30 years old, African American, big brother of Layla, professional MMA fighter

Cassie Leigh (side)- 34 years old, Caucasian, police officer

Mani Najafi (side)- 69 (nice) years old, Pakistani American, retired vale tudo fighter

Lane Gage (side)(derogatory)- 28 years old, Puerto Rican, Professional MMA fighter

+others

Also, here is the Playlist for this story in case you’re interested. I really like this playlist because I used a lot of Nick Murphy and he just VIBES HARD with the mood of the story, especially Conrad as a character in general (i can’t listen to Dangerous or Believe (Me) by Nick Murphy without thinking about this story and hnnnnnnn help):

Force of Impact Playlist

Alrighty, alrighty

So, the story begins with Conrad moving to a new house in a different state... right across the alley to his old coach, Mani, in hopes of convincing him to coach him again. Mani had been Conrad’s old high school wrestling coach who also trained him in other various martial arts outside of school and is basically the sole guy that got Conrad into the UFC world. He retired from coaching when Conrad turned twenty and earned his first Championship middleweight win, making him the youngest champion since the establishment of weight classes. 👀 Mani was like “wow, i trained the youngest champion, time to retire before things go downhill”

But nuh uh, like Conrad was gonna let him go that easily. He held his title for the next three years and then suffered his first loss against Lane Gage in a fight where he also injured his shoulder. The injury put him outta professional matches for the next year and he now thinks he’s ready for a comeback. But he blames his injury on his previous coach and wants Mani back because the old coot was like... aggressively about that personal upkeep/health stuff and always made sure Conrad wasn’t overexerting himself and yada yada

Alright so Conrad moves into the house literally right across the alley from Mani and is like “be my coach” and Mani is like “no” and Conrad is like “be my coach please” and Mani is like “no” and Conrad is like “be my coach or i’ll never ever leave you alone ever again” and Mani is like “ugh fine.”

But who lives right next door to Conrad’s new house? That’s right.

Nash.

Soooooo, Nash is a twenty year old guy who just so happens to still be in high school for personal, tragic backstory reasons. He’s got ADHD and has a problem with getting REALLY INTO something, swearing it’s something he’s gonna do for the rest of his life, maybe as a career, but then completely drops it a week or two later. That’s just his thing. He comes home like “I’ve decided I will be a professional baseball player” and then quits the team two weeks into the season. Then he throws all his money at painting supplies like “I’m the next da Vinky, just watch” and they wind up growing mold and dust in the corner of his room after just a few failed attempts.

Nash is a quitter. He knows he’s a quitter. Everyone does. Nobody really expects much from him at this point. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.

First thing Conrad notices about living next door to the Boones is that they’re fuckin LOUD. Right from the get go, Nash is yelling and his dad is yelling back and doors are slammimg and glass is breaking and holy shit Conrad is like “should i call the cops?”

But it’s fine, it’s okay, that’s just how they communicate. Seems pretty toxic but hey who is he to judge? He hasn’t spoken to his parents in years so he’s not really in a position to judge other people’s familial relationships, is he?

Anyway, Nash and Conrad bond pretty quickly. They’ve got really similar personalities, even if they express them differently. Nash is loud and unabashed and Conrad is lazy and relaxed but they are both mentally and emotionally immature and overly passionate. They’re both well-intentioned but flub the landing more than stick it.

So Conrad begins training with Mani and Nash insists on watching/participating because why not, he’s interested and has nothing better to do anyway.

Thus begins Conrad’s journey into getting back into shape in order to redeem himself after his humiliating loss to Lane.

But it’s not easy.

Like, not at all.

Because on top of having the shoulder injury that threatens to come back at the first sign of strain, Conrad is also like, kinda, really, depressed.

He tries to hide it. Like ahaha ain’t nothin’ to see here, buddy boyyy, just a sexy man growing a beard and drinking lukewarm beer in his back yard at ten a.m. like sexy men sometimes do hahaha...

Turns out, the shoulder injury did more than kick him outta the fighting world for over a year. It also reminded him that he’s a high school drop-out who has dedicated his entire life to a career he’ll be too old for by the time he’s in his thirties to early forties. And then what? What next?

Nothing. There’s nothing next. Because since Conrad first started fighting, that’s been the only thing he’s cared about. Fighting and winning and fighting some more. It doesn’t matter that he’s just 24 years old, got his whole life ahead of him. Fighting is his life and he doesn’t know how to do anything else. The thought of giving it up terrifies the shit out of him.

So while Conrad is training, doing well, getting fit, feeling great, everything is awesome.

But at the slightest hitch... it’s time to spiral.

Mani is careful not to let Conrad push himself too hard and aggravate his injury but the idiot is a little desperate to get back into the game. He can’t help it. If he’s going to make it back to that level of prestige he held for three years, he needs to start winning. He needs to get people talking about him again. It’s the only way to make it up in the ranks. That’s how the UFC works. You need connections, you need a record, you need to win and garner people’s favor to even qualify. Since he’s been out for over a year, he has to prove that he’s still worthy. Granted, he was a popular fighter before his break. Fans loved him, his fights were entertaining, and he was good.

Honestly, he’d probably make it back in, easy peasy, without too much effort. But he wants to be extra certain. So he starts accepting fights against rookie fighters trying to make a name for themselves.

It’s just to get him used to it again, he swears.

On average, UFC fighters only do a small handful of fights a year. But Conrad is like lol nah I can do more than that.

So dude just starts winnin’ left and right. Look at him go. Good as new. It’s like he was never injured. People start noticing. He’s being talked about again. Everyone is excited for his comeback.

He gets confident and accepts a fight against Milos Love, a trans man who has been makin’ waves in the MMA world.

Aaaaaaand Conrad gets his ass kicked. Damn. He forgot how it felt to lose. Sucks man. But it’s alright. Because even though he lost, the fight was a good one and everyone is buzzing about both Conrad and Milos. They would loooove to see a rematch one day.

So Conrad has pretty much secured himself a spot in the UFC again.

Sweet. Things are going so well.

So well.

Until...

Welp. One day in training, Conrad injures himself.

Fuck.

He’s so frustrated and pissed at himself that he goes to a club and gets drunk. Nash goes with him to try and keep him out of trouble but Conrad refuses to listen to reason. He blows up at Nash, calls him a child who needs to keep his nose out of adult business. They cause enough of a scene that Nash gets kicked out of the club. Instead of going home though, he sits on the curb and waits, stewing in his anger, swearing to really give Conrad a piece of his mind when he finally comes out.

Well, all that planning goes out the window when Conrad does finally stumble out onto the sidewalk, drunk, in pain, crying. Nash sets his anger aside and helps get Conrad home. He gets him inside and into bed and just as he’s about to leave, Conrad apologizes. “You’re not a child. Sorry. I’m sorry. You’re more of a man than I am.”

Because see... this is a sore subject for our buddy Nash.

He’s stuck in between, after all.

And there’s some tragic reasoning for this.

First of all, when Nash was in the first grade, his ADHD was misdiagnosed as being “not emotionally prepared for second grade” and he was held back. Okay, no big deal. Whatever, right? He didn’t mind being a little bit older than his peers. He was immature, after all. He had fits of anger and got into fistfights on the regular, even though he’s weak and always got his ass handed to him. It was fine though. He bounces back quick.

Then, in the summer of what should have been his senior year of high school, Nash and his little sister were staying with their grandparents for a few weeks. One day, he argued with his grandparents and decided to stay behind as they took his younger sister to the zoo. Unfortunately, on the way there, there was an accident on the bridge and their car was sent over the side and into the river. None of them survived the accident.

Due to the traumatizing nature of the accident and the events surrounding the accident, Nash was plagued with survivor’s guilt and had to miss the first several months of his senior year of high school. He decided to take the entire year off instead of try to make up for the lost semester, thus making him twenty years old and not yet graduated from high school.

Nash now feels torn between adulthood and childhood. He’s still treated like a child by his teachers and the other “adultier” adults he faces because he’s still in high school. But he’s also treated as more of an adult than his classmates. Not to mention he’s had to “grow up” following his little sister’s death in order to be there for his parents, who did not take the loss well at all. In a way, he had to be their caretaker over the year following the accident, all while still being infantilized by pretty much everyone else.

He’s in between. Not quite an adult but so much more than a child. He doesn’t know what he wants or needs. Ideally, he wants to erase the past few years, go back, have a do-over to do it right, without the trauma and growing up too fast. But he can’t do that so all he asks is to be recognized as the adult he is and respected as adults expect to be respected.

“Just drop out then. Get a job.” is what he’s been told, over and over again by adults he calls out for treating him like a child. “don’t be playing a child’s game if you don’t want to be seen as a child”

But he perseveres. Nash is a quitter, but he can’t bring himself to quit this. He wants to finish high school, no matter how long it takes him. If for no other reason than to prove it to those stupid adults that look down on him that he’s not stupid, he’s not pitiful, he can do it, so shut the fuck up.

Conrad is different though. He’s not like other adults. From the beginning, there was solidarity and understanding between them. Conrad never treated him like he was some naïve little kid who doesn’t know anything about life. But he didn’t treat him like an old, jaded adult either. He was just... Nash. A guy he had a lot in common with. Who he enjoyed hanging out with. Who he respected as someone also in his twenties, just 4 years younger than him, facing his own, important troubles.

So hearing Conrad call him a child hurts more than when other people say it.

He hates it way more.

Especially when his feelings for him start budding romantic. He doesn’t want to be seen as a kid by the guy he wants to kiss, man. That sucks.

When Conrad calls him a child, he thinks, “ah man maybe i don’t have a chance with him like at all.”

And that sucks. It triggers his defense mechanism of alienating people before they can disappoint him first. Following that night, Nash tries to separate himself from Conrad a little bit, even though he apologized and took it back.

Still.

Damage was done, homie.

So Nash decides to be a prick. Says some shit to piss Conrad off. But Conrad sees straight through him. He can feel the insincerity. And he refuses to take the bait.

Stupid hot bastard.

Well fine. Nash will continue to be his friend. But he won’t expect anything more than that. It won’t happen anyway so-

And yet.

It’s inevitable, ain’t it? They’re better together. Do not separate.

Anyway, through their relationship, they develop as humans, of course. Nash finds passion for something he considers worth sticking with. Conrad finds the relief of letting go of something he used to think was the only thing that mattered.

There are twists and turns, obviously. Nothing good comes easy.

And the other side characters have their own little journeys.

Milos falls in love with Cassie and works to woo her. Peyton challenges her personal view of feminism after growing close with Layla, who represents everything Peyton’s internalized misogyny rejects. Mani finds joy in coaching again and realizes it doesn’t matter what note his career ends on if it never ends in the first place. Lane gets his ass kicked. Maybe more than once. Nash’s parents take steps to moving past the mourning they had been holding tight to over the past year and a half after the death of their daughter and are able to support Nash the way he deserves.

Etc. etc.

Obviously there’s more story stuff I’m leaving out for the sake of not giving it ALL away... but that’s the gist of the story!

Okay okay okay okay I dunno how good this explanation actually is but ehhh don’t mind me, I’m tired but drank coffee so I’m up for the day now.

Hope you like the synopsis, Babe! Thanks for your interest 🖤 I kinda wanna go make Conrad and Nash on artbreeder now 🤔

#force of impact

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asterekmess · 4 years ago

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S3A - E9

The last episode took me Hours to get through with all my notes, let’s hope this one doesn’t hurt my fingers so bad.

My fingers hurt too much to come up with a clever pun so Read More:

Thoughts:

This is a dumb first bullet point, but I love Tara’s hair. It looks like it’s braided or something, then in a bun at the back? I like it.

What exactly was the reasoning for her walking into the school alone like this? Let alone going That far into it? If it’s a 911 call that she’s so nervous about she has her hand on her gun, then shouldn’t there be more than one officer??

ALSO, that seems like Very Bad routine procedure? You got a 911 call (but we get no explanation as to what it was FOR) and the first thing you say when you see someone is “Why are you here?” shouldn’t you be asking “Who made the 911 call?” And then you tell them to leave, and to tell anyone Else they see to leave. When they could easily SEE the person you’re wanting to aim a gun at and TELL them to leave because there’s a cop in the school.

So I’m torn between Julia being just that sick and wanting to terrify each of her sacrifices (which...she talks about them like she’s Genuinely sad she had to kill them, but it was necessary to save the world, so that doesn’t sit right with me?) or fear being a Necessary part of the ritual, like, that the sacrifices Couldn’t be willing?

Honestly, Lyds, that’s so smart and reasonable. “I had to have the weird blackout to get here. YOU get to go find the body.”

What was the point of the staging in the shower room if she was gonna get thrown onto the sign?? Why move her at all?

ALSO if this is supposed to be a threefold death, then didn’t she do it wrong? She killed Tara by strangulating her, but didn’t do the head bash or the throat until after she’d moved her body, for some reason??? Don’t they need to happen like..near the same time?

No to mention that there wouldn’t be much blood bc her throat was slit After death, so the blood wasn’t pumping. Even laying her down wouldn’t render a large amount. But they’re going for horror, so...i guess i’ll let it pass.

Why does it feel like Julia is going after people close to STiles specifically? First Heather, now Tara? And then his Dad? That’s a weird coincidence when she’s got the entire town to choose from.

Also, sheriff, i love you, but ‘they’re not going to get away with killing one of our own.” is a REALLY fucked up line. Police getting pissed ONLY when other Police are the ones killed is SO FUCKED UP. Logistically, police are FAR more likely to get killed than citizens are, aren’t they? They’re the ones that’re supposed to be running into danger? Like, Soldiers don’t Only get pissed when other soldiers are killed, right? It’s literally like...your job to be in potentially fatal situations? that’s not even my point! My point is that your line implies that law enforcement was Half-assing it before a cop got killed. half a dozen people have died, so Beacon Hills should be Swarming with cops, but for some reason the big guns don’t come in until a cop dies? Your phrasing sucks, Noah. Were you gonna let them get away with it if they killed everybody BUT the cops? I’m being sarcastic on that last bit, btw.

I’ll admit, it’s nice to get some actual SUNSHINE in CALIFORNIA

Is Chris letting Allison stay home because she saw a dead body? FOr as long as she wants? I’m so confused, she’s seen Much worse things, shouldn’t it like raise an alarm that she’s choosing NOW to stay home?

Your badassery is tainted by the fact that you’re wearing a dress and fishnets, Allison. If you’re gonna go hunting put on some pants. or shorts AT LEAST. that’s just not Practical.

I love how blatant a lie Stiles is telling Julia in class. “do you play?” “No, my father does” when we Know he plays, and besides if his dad plays then stiles MUSt because that’s a two person thing most of the time? But no, he doesn’t want Julia to know Shit about him.

the loyalty of Lydia not going near Aiden after learning he killed Boyd is SO refreshing. I TOLD you, if she knew Aiden was a murderer she’d never have gotten with him in the first place.

NOt Derek. CORA. MY BABE BONDS FAST. (I mean, she was locked in a bank vault with him for however long)

FIrst off, I love Stiles losing his shit. Second, the acting here is so sub-par, and it looks like a writer’s mistake. okay, so, in acting, interruption is an ART. You have to let someone say enough to get their line across, but INterrupt them before they can finish in a way that looks natural. And you have to make sure not to come in late or you get an awkward pause (this is more common with newbies bc experience actors don’t stop their line, they keep it going until you figure it out.) So like The line is ...And shove it up your freaking--” Now, Scott needs to interrupt without being late, otherwise, unless Stiles Continues the line, he’ll pause after saying ‘freaking’ and it’ll be noticeable. here, the way scott interrupts him feels So Wrong, in part because he let’s Stiles get so far into his threat.

Also, I’m fucking pissed that Scott is downplaying how angry Stiles is. “okay, we get it.” is just...a garbage way to respond to a friend who’s hurting and clearly on edge, thinking Ethan is threatening him.

Exactly How do you “Know” Ethan didn’t want to kill Boyd? You weren’t there, fuckface.

Is this set after school? They’re shouting their heads off and no one’s coming? Even Stiles was shouting about wolfsbane.

THAT IS NOT HOW ACTUAL WOLF PACKS WORK YOU FUCKER. THAT’S A GARBAGE MYTH.

Hearing Cora’s little gasp as her head hit the wall hurt my heart.

Normally I’d be pissed about the girl standing back and not doing anything, but Lydia would be ripped apart and I do not blame her for shouting from the sideline.

I don’t understand what the hell is going on with the Chris stuff. Like, I guess he’s supposed to be looking into it on his own, but that still doesn’t explain where he got the information on this very specific ritual.

But I do understand Allison’s hesitance to outright ask her father what the fuck he’s doing, since last time that happened she was taken to a chained up derek in an underground tunnel system. Finding out her family are monsters is kind of her entire life, unfortunately.

Honestly, fuck yes. Cora go off. Though, I’m sad that no one is mentioning Erica, like At All. You realize she ALSO died at the hands of the ALphas, right? why does no one mention her when they talk about getting revenge?

I...am not talking about this scene.

I gotta say that I enjoy the fact that Allison called Stiles. That’s just...that’s p cool. BUT while it’s cute that her contact picture is from her conversation with Stiles in s2, it’s weird bc it’s a screenshot of the show, and we know that Stiles wasn’t taking pictures at that moment. But the effort is sweet!

I will say that it’s interesting that Cora doesn’t fight Stiles about helping him with his dad. She just finished yelling at Scott, Lydia, and presumably Stiles, and she’s clearly unhappy with literally everyone but Derek, but she’s been very humoring of Stiles. In every scene together, even when she’s snarking at him, she’s not an Asshole.

This conversation with Morrell makes...no sense. Scott literally said in the last episode that good liars wouldn’t have jumping heartbeats when they lied. Then he immediately went to ask Morrell if she was the killer and believed her (even though she’s sketchy as fuck) just because her heart didn’t jump. Wtf?

“But if I kill someone, I can’t be a True Alpha, right?” WHO SAID THAT EVER? WHO TOLD YOU THAT? SINCE WHEN? WTF?

I don’t know if it was intentional (maybe they mention it, but i haven’t gotten that far) but technically having this history teacher disappear leaves an empty class for Kira’s dad to fill when she shows up. Which is neat.

I will forever be angry that Aiden is touching Lydia here. He shouldn’t be near her. And that’s not even me being cranky! She IS PISSED AT HIM. She was avoiding him before today and even then the only reason she went near him was to act as a distraction.

Also, again, I am amazed at Cora’s PATIENCE with Stiles here. Seriously, they’ve clearly been there for a while as Stiles tries to find the words, but Cora didn’t just get pissed stand up and say “I’m a werewolf. People are dying. Help.” She continued to wait for him to talk.

When does stiles rearrange his room? I swear in the beginning of this season it was still in the previous formation with the corner bed sticking out and the desk under the window. Now the desk is facing a totally different direction and his bed’s up against the wall. It’s great, but like, when does it happen? Isn’t this literally the second time we’ve seen his room the whole season?

that’s such a weird text. “Mr Westover Missing” like I don’t know if it’s from Lydia or Scott, but you’re allowed to add some detail? Your keystrokes aren’t limited and there are no government agencies watching your texts for information.

Oh, poor Cora. I honestly wasn’t expecting to bond with her so quickly when I first saw her, but there’s something about getting to see characters being calm that really helps me vibe with them? Like, when they’re nothing but Fight Fight Fight it’s hard to actually relate in any way, but when you actually get to see them talk or relax, then you worry about that being taken away from them.

However much I hate Isaac and everyone else Constantly saying “But I want Scott here. We should ask Scott, blah blah blah” I will say that it’s getting REALLY annoying that Allison’s entire personality is “I”m going to run in with almost zero backup bc I want to be powerful and strong, but then I have to be saved bc I refused to ask for help in the first place.”

Wtf do you mean ‘i’m not that good at this yet’ Isaac? You’ve been a werewolf for literally like 5 months, only like two months less than Scott, and you were LIVING with a born werewolf for that ENTIRE time.

Chris you were shooting at nothing for like two-thirds of that time. That was an empty room. ALSO, if you’ve been there the whole time, why did you wait until he was dead to come out shooting?

Chris yells “help Him” and you go run to stand next to his body without bothering to pull him off the cord around his neck? You realize he might not be completely dead right? Or is his throat already cut?

Also, I wanna note, it was daylight when Cora passed out. Now it’s dark! He went to the ER with her and STAYED with her. I get that people say STiles is kind of callous, but he Constantly goes out of his way for near strangers, and I don’t think that should be overlooked.

No youfcking wouldn’t have Chris, you had tons of time while they were using the garrotte and you just stood there. They came in just before the kill was done, and except for Tara Julia has been leaving people’s bodies where they fall so she wouldn’t left right after. You were NOT ‘this’ close.

Yeah, yeah, and you’re both fucking guilty of being incapable of conversation. Chris you are the adult here, fucking act like it. You had a million chances to confront your daughter and you didn’t. Apparently that’s a habit she picked up from you.

What are they talking about, Scott healing himself?? He was thrown back, he wasn’t injured. I literally just went back and rewatched that scene. He falls backward and he’s completely fine. Stiles, there are so many better instances you could point to. For example, things that actually Happened.

That line is never gonna not hurt.

Stop touching Danny. Stop being near Danny. You are a literal serial killer, get your hands off him. GOD. your brother literally said he would murder danny if he saw you with him anymore, why are you putting him in danger? FUck you.

.....okay, lydia’s speech was meaningful until she fucking turned it into scott worship. Why couldn’t you have stopped at letting her say “maybe I’ll find them before it happens” Why couldn’t it be about HER for once? Why did you have to make it about how everyone thinks sunshine comes out Scott’s ass even though he’s literally not done a single thing to warrant it. He hasn’t Saved Anyone. He hasn’t done Anything to warrant all this trust. Lydia wasn’t there when he made Derek kill Gerard. SHE was the one to save Jackson. And Scott was the one who had to be saved BOTH when Allison had to stitch him up and when Stiles had to go after him in the gasoline. Jackson is the one who saved Lydia when Peter went after her. Scott Didn’t save deaton, that was Noah. He wasn’t the one who killed Peter, that was a combination of Stiles and Jackson’s molotovs and Derek’s claws. Scott wasn’t even the one to protect Lydia when Derek and the pack went after her, that was Stiles, Allison, and Jackson. SHe had no idea that Scott was even THERE until she ran out of the house. Scott didn’t stop Matt, that was Allison’s family scaring him off and then Gerard killing him. THe only possible thing that could count was him saving the two little kids while Boyd and Cora were running around in the woods, and Lydia doesn’t even KNOW about that. Scott has canonically done NOTHING worth all this faith and ‘leader’ nonsense.

were...were they hinting at a Scott/Lydia relationship before they brought Kira in? Holding hands isn’t really a friend thing...?

That....is the softest most broken little ‘hey’ that I’ve ever heard and I’m Instantly on the verge of tears, holy shit.

Derek, honey, what do you mean ‘not again’? You’ve never left Cora, unless you count moving to New York with Laura and Cora was in South America! This line would make so much more sense if they’d given us Any idea what happened to Cora after the fire.

Normally, i’d be annoyed that Melissa is just ignoring the laws about paperwork. I’d even be annoyed that she did it for the Sheriff. BUT, Melissa is in the know about the supernatural and she KNOWS that the murders are supernatural. I’m sorry but Supernatural needs trump human laws. Melissa is totally a boss for this.

EYYYY actual druid (specifically magician druids) thing they got right (though i’m not sure it was on purpose). Magician Druids were Very Well Known for their nature magic. For causing storms and droughts and high winds and fog. The building storm around the school is like, Peak magician magic.

God, it really....it really grinds my gears watching Isaac’s progression toward the most abuse he can find. You notice how, in season 2 when Derek was attacking the Betas on the regular and doing awful shit like breaking Isaac’s hands, Isaac was loyal as Fuck to him? (right up until randomly going to Scott to decide whether to leave town) Then, this season, we start off with Derek being pretty fucking gentle, there’s no indication that he’s been continuing the abuse. Isaac questions his command and Derek’s response is ‘do you trust me?’ to which Isaac easily says yes. In fact, Isaac asks Derek to be the one to hurt him for the memory seeking thing, and Derek refuses because he wants to do what’s Safer for Isaac.Then he throws the glass and Isaac bails bc it’s a direct reminder of what his dad did. Only he goes to Scott, who was incredibly violent toward him in the previous season. (And who we know will be violent toward him in the future as well) But the only time he lists away from Scott, is to go after Allison, who Tackled him to the ground and held a knife to his throat, and whose father inherently hates werewolves and is a constant danger to him. Yet he never goes in the direction of people who Haven’t hurt him. He could go to Deaton, who’d taught him the pain-drain thing and was nothing but kind to him in that short time. He could’ve gone to Boyd after Derek’s lashing out, his pack member, who would never hurt him. Hell, he hates Stiles’ guts, but he could still have gone to him. Stiles was the one to help Derek free him from Jail after all, and he’s not wanted anymore so Noah wouldn’t have anything against him. Stiles may have threatened Isaac to keep him from hurting Lydia, but he never personally laid a hand on him. But he went to Scott. Someone who’s beaten him bloody multiple times.

So, really focusing on the details here, but on Julia’s death record, her ‘jane doe’ occupation is listed as “Child” Oh, and apparently there was Froth present on the body.

Okay, so I think I understand what they’re saying. The reason Julia lived after getting to the hospital was because the birds sacrificed themselves and their life force kept her holding on. Now, either this was a spontaneous thing, and the birds did it For her. Or she Made them, because we know she doesn’t need to Be There to control weird shit. She could’ve set it up before she left the Nemeton or passed out or whatever. My confusion is. If that’s the explanation for the bird suicides, then what the Fuck happened on the first day when all the birds came crashing through the window?? There was no reason for that to happen. She was totally fine! And doing it to frighten people doesn’t make sense because she set off the radars of everything supernatural in town. (And Stiles.)

This kind of mass mind-control is kind of insane and makes the situation with Derek just That much more awful. I am so sickened.

Now, on the subject of the chanting, I assume it’s part of the ritual since it’s present at the deaths so much. The question is, where did Julia Get it? THOUGHTS: This chant isn’t present at any of the virgin kills. It’s not there with Heather, and while we don’t see the boy at the pool’s abduction/death, Emily Also didn’t hear it during her hallucination. What if it’s part of the virgin sacrifice perk? Like, Julia could Only Use it after killing the virgins, because it’s got some kind of mind-control thing about it?

Wh--why didn’t Julia tape her arms down before she woke up? Why make the garrotte before ensuring her victim couldn’t Punch her in the face??

I thought you JUST said she wasn’t going to be a sacrifice?

Still confused. You didn’t sacrifice Lydia, so that doesn’t count as the third philo, but then the teacher who died onstage wasn’t a threefold death, or the hanging thing, they just got their throat cut and they were poisoned. So....what? Was that supposed to count as your sacrifice?

Nobody TOUCHES Noah, who managed to be the only fucking cop on tv i’ve ever seen follow sensible procedure which is to shoot them in the fucking leg when they walk toward you menacingly, rather than threatening to shoot them in the head and doing nothing.

Final Thoughts:

There was a lot in this episode that didn’t make sense. It’s very clearly an amping up for the finale thing, but it’s annoying that after all this time they’ve essentially made the Alpha pack a time waster. The whole thing with getting Derek in the pack is relatively meaningless now that there’s a Darach going after the Alphas. I dunno, feels kinda off.

Anyway, onward.

#personal #TeenWolf-Rewatch #anti-Scott McCall

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elsanna-shenanigans · 4 years ago

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February Contest Submission #14: Valentine Vesuvius

words: ca. 4700 setting: mAU with accidental time travel lemon: no cw: homelessness

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

I turned to look at Elsa in confusion. Wasn’t this museum date her idea? She looked mischievous, her left eyebrow arched.

I opened my mouth. Shut it. Opened it. I glanced at the other families gathered in a loose arc around the museum tour guide who was currently droning on about some old emperor or another.

“Hell yeah,” I whispered.

Moments later we were giggling as we ran through a deserted hallway like school girls skipping class. Never mind that we were two adults in our upper-twenties who chose as well as paid to be at the museum.

We rounded a corner and found ourselves suddenly immersed in a dim room void of people, filled instead with spotlights on old pottery from Ancient Rome or something. Elsa spun to face me and took my hands in hers. I dragged my gaze from a vase depicting a mountain with people at its base, and met Elsa’s eyes.

“I’m so lucky to have you as my wife,” she said, gently squeezing my hands.

“I’m the lucky one,” any more words would have been cut off as Elsa cupped my face and kissed me.

She pulled away slightly and rubbed her thumb in a soft circle on my cheek. “Anna…”

My eyes were still closed from the intimate sensation, but I blinked them open. Why did she sound so sad? “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked.

She took a deep, slow breath and let it out in a shaky sigh.

“I just… I want kids so bad, Anna.”

My heart broke. I nodded. “I know, Els. I do too.”

“I thought this tour would be a fun valentines date. I just didn’t expect there to be so many families. So many kids. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand to be around them another second.” She shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

We had been trying everything we could the past couple of years, but the IVF wasn’t working and every adoption had fallen through. It was all getting so expensive, and even more frustrating.

I rubbed her arm. “Why is it so easy for straight people to accidentally create life, but when a couple of lesbians want kids it costs twenty thousand dollars and two left kidneys?”

“It’s not fair,” Elsa sighed.

“It’s not,” I said. “But hey,” I touched her chin, lifting her head up from its sad slouch. “We’re strong as fuck. We’re not going to give up.”

Elsa nodded.

“And until we do become parents,” I continued, “we are still perfect, and whole, and completely the best family I could ever imagine. Just the two of us.”

She smiled. “You’re right, Anna. With you by my side, there’s nothing else I could ever need. I hope I’ve never made you feel like you aren’t enough. You’re my everything; so much more than I deserve.” Pulling me close, she started sounding more like herself again.

“Don’t be silly,” I kissed Elsa quickly. “You deserve everything good in the world.” Another kiss. “And I love you.” Another. “So much.”

The last kiss was deepened by way of Elsa’s grip on the back of my neck. She took my lower lip between her teeth and flicked the tip of her tongue across it playfully, sending a shiver up my spine and heat shooting down my stomach.

I gasped as Elsa grabbed my waist and kissed my neck while she walked us toward a wall. Throwing my head back, I was relying on her to guide us. I couldn’t function when she was sucking on my neck, my pulse point like — that, ah! Jesus!

“Oops.”

I barely registered that my back hit something wobbly, but the last thing I heard was the unmistakeable sound of pottery crashing on the floor. I felt a flash of cold air run over my skin and then - nothing.

————————————-

When I came to, the first thing I felt was a piercing headache. I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet and I wished I could close them. Gripping my skull, I rolled around in the darkness behind my eyelids, wishing the high pitched shriek in my ears would fade. Then I noticed the bumpy texture digging into my back. Uhh… Why did the museum floor feel like it was made of rocky ground?

Perhaps more pressing: why was the rocky ground …trembling?

I stopped moving altogether and sure enough, the ground I was laying on was shaking. I cracked my eyes open only to be blinded by bright sky. This was definitely not the museum exhibit. Blinking rapidly, my eyes started to adjust to the light even as my headache pounded and begged me to close them, or better yet, knock myself back out.

While I waited for my vision to make sense, I scrambled to get my feet under me. This was easier said than done, the way the ground wouldn’t stop moving beneath my legs. Finally I was at least on all fours and stable enough to look around.

“Jesus Christ.” Was that a motherfucking volcano? I arched my neck to see the top of the mountain I was extremely close to. Pluming dark clouds surrounded its peak. What the hell happened to me?

I whipped my head around, swaying from the dizzy fit the motion sent me into. I was in sort of a vast, empty field of rocky, grassy terrain. There looked to be a bustling town just down the hill. No one else was around, except —

“Elsa!” I shrieked. I scrambled to my right, getting to my feet as I gained momentum. Rocks kept shifting under my bare feet and I tripped a couple of times before I reached where she was laying. I fell to my knees by her side, and rolled her onto her back.

“Elsa?” I tapped her cheek with my palm, patting it several times. “Els! Wake up!”

She groaned.

Relief washed over me. I kept nudging her until she came to. She groaned again. “Ugh… my head.”

“Shh, I know, it sucks.” I said, more to myself than to her, as I pulled her head into my lap. “Wait. Are you wearing a fucking toga?” I looked down at myself. “Am I wearing a fucking toga?!”

We were both wearing cream colored fabric gathered at the shoulders and the waist. As if being at the base of a volcano wasn’t enough of a wake up call, for some reason the wardrobe change was what pushed me over the edge. It felt like my throat was closing up as I started struggling to breathe. My lungs couldn’t fill; I took breaths faster and faster, but too shallow to help. Perfect time for a panic attack, Anna.

Slow down. I closed my eyes, gripping Elsa tightly to me. Breathe in.

I felt the fabric under my fingers, it was thick but soft. Breathe out.

I heard birds chirping their alarms in the distance, wind sweeping past, and small rocks settling into new places all around me. Breathe in.

I smelled… fresh, salty air, tainted by something like smoke or dust. Breathe out.

“Hey lady! Is she dead?”

My eyes snapped open. There was a young girl, about eight years old approaching us from down the hill. She held a basket and wore a similar tunic, but hers had been through a lot. It was tattered and dirty. The words she spoke were so strange - I understood them in my head but at the same time, they sounded… foreign to my ears.

I cleared my throat. “No, she’s just waking up,” I responded. My own words had the same strange quality to them when I spoke to the girl.

“Oh. Who are you? My name is Cassia.” She had dark hair chopped unevenly at her shoulders.

“What a pretty name!” I said, a million thoughts racing through my head. “I’m Anna, and this is my… this is Elsa.” I didn’t know where, or when, we were so I didn’t want to get us into any unnecessary trouble. “Where are your parents?”

“I don’t have any. I was just gathering some berries when the ground shook again. Did you do it?” She squinted at me suspiciously.

So there are earthquakes here often. “No, of course not,” I laughed, hopefully convincingly, even though I had never felt less like laughing. “Elsa and I are traveling from afar, but …we got lost and hit our heads when the earth shook. Can you tell us where we are, exactly?”

Cassia gave me a strange look. “This is Pompeii, silly. What other city is at the bottom of the volcano?”

Pompeii?

….Holy fucking Vesuvius…

———————————————————

Once Elsa was fully conscious and aware of our situation, we decided to take Cassia up on her offer to show us to her home, which turned out to be more of a fort in the outskirts of town. It was about midday and the kid was generous enough to let us hang out in her home while she went back out to keep foraging, now that the tremors had slowed down enough.

We sat on the dirt floor after Cassia left, both staring off into the distance, in shock. How the fuck did this happen?

“So…” Elsa began.

“We’re in fucking Pompeii!” I exclaimed.

“What the fuck!” Elsa said.

And then we laughed, because, honestly, what else could we do at that point? We laughed uncontrollably. We laughed at our clothes. We laughed at the earthquake, at the damn volcano, at the funny way all of the words sounded.

When we couldn’t laugh anymore, I fell into Elsa’s torso and we sat, half snuggled up on the dirt floor of this impoverished orphan’s dwelling place.

“What year do you think it is?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Elsa said. “Does it matter?”

“I mean,” I glanced at her sideways, “I sure hope it’s not 79 AD.”

“Is that when it happened? How do you even know that?”

“I told you I always liked that section of art history.”

“Hmm,” Elsa sighed. “Well how do we even figure it out? We can’t just ask someone. Do they even use that system right now? Like the AD and BC stuff?”

I shrugged. “I almost don’t even need to be told though, you know? Just by the way that smoke looked above the volcano… I have a bad feeling.” Elsa looked concerned too. “Maybe we could ask around to find out if it usually does that when there’s an earthquake here. We could get a sense for how much we need to panic.”

“That’s a good idea. And if it’s the worst case scenario, then there’s the question of, do we worry about evacuating or do we figure out how to get us the fuck back home before this place is history?”

Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wish we had a clue how it happened. I don’t know how we’re getting back if we don’t know what sent us here in the first place.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “We should try to think back on everything that happened in those last few minutes we can remember.”

“Well, we were in that room with the… what was it? Pottery?”

“Mhmm,” I continued, “And you were kissing the life out of me until we bumped into something and it fell. Oh! I wonder if it was that vase I was looking at.”

“What vase?” Elsa asked.

I rubbed my head, “Think think think. Um, it was clay. It had people on it. Oh! And a mountain! A volcano! It had to be that vase. It must have been found in Pompeii, and when we broke it while we were making out, it sucked us into its original time. Or something like that.”

“Sure, that sounds about right for how today’s going,” Elsa said. “But then, why didn’t it come through with us? I didn’t see any clay fragments where we landed on that hill.”

“Me neither,” I frowned. “Or maybe it couldn’t come along because here in Pompeii it already exists! Maybe we just have to find where it is now and recreate what happened before.”

“There’s a thought…” Elsa said. “So we just have to search the entire city for a vase with a volcano and people on it.”

“That sounds fun! Can I help?”

Elsa and I both turned to the doorway, startled. How long had Cassia been standing there?

——————————————————————-

Too long. Cassia had been standing there too long, and she had as many questions for us as we had for her.

Before long she knew we were accidentally-time-traveling wives from almost two thousand years in the future and Pompeii was doomed; and we in turn knew it was indeed the 79th year, no the dark volcano clouds were not normal for an earthquake, and the entire city was already scrambling to evacuate. I had a terrible feeling that Elsa and I caused the earthquake through our rough landing, effectively dooming Pompeii. Also, Cassia was eight years old like I had guessed, had been living on her own since she was five and a half, and she wanted nothing more than to help us find the vase we needed.

“That’s really sweet of you,” I said, placing a hand on her arm, “But you have to promise that as soon as we find the right vase you’ll get yourself to safety.”

Cassia glanced to the side as she said, “Promise.”

I was a little concerned about the validity of that promise but decided I’d try again later. First we were off to a shop that sold souvenirs for all the rich vacationers that visited Pompeii.

It was a short walk until we made it into the more touristy, upscale part of the city. Here, everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. In and out of homes, carrying personal possessions, yelling for neighbors, yelling at the sky.

We almost lost sight of Cassia several times but we managed to follow her to the shop she talked about. We ducked under the arched doorway into the small space. It was dark, and seemed to be usually lit by candles like the lonely one over to the side that hadn’t been extinguished. Elsa went to retrieve it for us.

Using the single flame to see, we wandered around the space as a little pack, checking out all kinds of little trinkets made from stone and clay. Many were volcano-related, but it all seemed so small compared to the vase I remembered.

“Cassia,” I said, “Do you think this place has any vases that are… this big?” I motioned my hands around to describe the size.

“Oh. Why didn’t you say so? This place has nothing that big, but it could be…” she tilted her head in thought. “Oh, it’s probably Oaken’s! Duh.”

More winding through the chaotic streets behind Cassia. This walk actually went very fast, and before we knew it we had arrived at another shop. This one was bigger and well-lit inside. We all walked in. I immediately noticed that there were many vases of a familiar style and size, making my heart leap in hope.

“Not open for business or looting!” A voice called from deep in the shop.

“We just have a question!” I yelled back. “It’s urgent!”

“And we mean no harm!” Elsa added.

The man grumbled as he made his way to us, accompanied by the sound of sandals crunching on clay shards. Poor guy must have lost some of his pottery to the earthquake earlier.

“What’s the question?” A very large man appeared from behind a display wall. “Oh Cassia, dear. Why didn’t you say you were here?”

Cassia was standing half behind me. Was she suddenly shy or something?

I spoke up, “Cassia led us here. We think you can help us. We’re looking for a certain vase. We… saw it on a recent vacation but didn’t buy it, and then…”

“Then later we realized we lost a ring,’ Elsa chimed in. “We think it might’ve fallen in this vase.”

The pottery man sighed, “Well that’s a long shot, but what did the vase look like?”

“It was about yay-big, and it depicted the volcano with people underneath,” I explained excitedly.

He raised an eyebrow, “That’s about half the vases I make. You know this is a tourist town at the base of a volcano.”

I thought harder. There was a chip of color I could almost see in my memory. “Um, well, it might’ve had a sort of turquoise color by the rim?”

“Oh!” The man stood up straight. “In that case, I know the exact vase. Unfortunately I sold it about six months ago. Real rich family. Their vacation home is at this address,” he scribbled onto a small stone. “I don’t think they’ve been in town the last few months. With all the chaos out there, nobody would notice if you slipped in to look for the ring. Just make it quick.”

Soon we were walking again. When we entered an empty alley I spoke up, “Hey Cassia, why were you so quiet back there?”

She turned to face us while she kept walking, backwards, “Oaken is nice, but I have to act shy and sad around the people with money, so they’ll feel bad and give me food. I learned pretty fast that they don’t care about a mouthy troublemaker as much as a helpless little girl.”

Wow. I couldn’t imagine having to learn something that depressing as a homeless five year old. Cassia was a strong kid, and she somehow managed to seem happy and nonchalant about her struggles.

Elsa looked around at the quiet homes we were walking between. “Why are some parts of the city so calm while other ones are in chaos?”

Cassia shrugged. “Only the richest people will get to evacuate in time. The rest of us have learned to stay in our homes and hope we make it through whatever comes. There’s no point in panicking around the city because we would never make it onto a ferry anyway.”

The rest of our walk was completed in silence. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for this girl. I wished there was some way we could help her before we (hopefully) escaped the city ourselves. Judging by the look on Elsa’s face, her heart was breaking for Cassia, too. I met Elsa’s eyes and we shared a look. We definitely had to do something for the girl.

Suddenly we were standing in front of a grand structure made of stone. It was no little hut; more like an ancient mansion. This was somebody’s vacation home? Jeez! These people in 79 AD sure knew how to live lavishly.

“Looks like he was right,” Elsa said. “There’s no one around.”

“Wow!” Cassia was already walking through the front door. “Check this out! They have a river in their house!”

Elsa and I stepped inside and saw what the kid meant. There was a decorative skinny pool of calm water that stretched in a line from the front room of the house to somewhere beyond the next doorway. Pompeii style skylights illuminated the open space with the ashy, dreariness of the sky above.

We passed the minimalist entry room into the next space. Here, there was a staircase to the left, a gathering area, and more doorways.

“Hey Cassia, why don’t you head upstairs and see if there’s any vases up there while we finish looking down here?”

“Okay!” the girl was excited by her solo mission and took off up the stone steps.

Once she was gone, I rushed to Elsa. “Come ‘ere, baby,” I said as we hugged each other close.

She let out a sigh of relief. “I was gonna lose it if we didn’t get to talk soon. Alone.”

“I know,” I said. “This is a lot to go through without being able to actually talk.”

She nodded. “About Cassia…” I knew exactly where she was going.

“We have to take her with us,” I finished.

“She has nowhere to run. If she’s left here she’ll be dead by tomorrow night.”

“I know, Els.” I grabbed her hands. “You don’t have to convince me. It’s what we have to do.”

Elsa continued, “And I’m not saying that we have to adopt her or anything, but I just want her to be safe. Once we’re back we can find somewhere for her to—”

“We are fucking raising that child, Elsa.” I interrupted.

“Oh thank god,” she said, as I pulled her in close once more. “Do you think we should tell her?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“What if she doesn’t want to come? We’re running out of time, so maybe we shouldn’t give her the option if she might fight it,” she explained. “This is the only way she’ll be safe but if she doesn’t want to leave Pompeii, there’s no way we could make her.”

“Given that she’ll have to hold onto us while we kiss and break the vase…” I added.

“Or we grab her at the last second.”

“Right,” I said. “Either way, you have a point. We shouldn’t give her the option in case she would choose to stay.”

Elsa’s face suddenly went pale as she pointed behind me. I turned to see Cassia standing with her arms crossed.

“If you two wanna have a kid you’re going to have to learn how to talk quieter. It’s so easy to eavesdrop on you!”

My mouth was stuck open while I tried to form words.

“What did you hear?” Elsa asked in a low voice.

Cassia’s demeanor changed from snarky to… almost shy. “Um… Well, if it helps you to know, I’d really like to go with you. Away from here. Please.”

“Of course,” I stepped forward and wrapped her up in a big hug.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Elsa joined in. “And if you want, you never have to be lonely again.”

A soft voice came from the middle of the hug, “I’d like that.”

“Now let’s find that damn vase,” I said, pulling away from them.

“Language.” Elsa looked at me pointedly, with a glimmer in her eye.

Cassia laughed at Elsa. “I already know how to swear, weirdos.”

This kid was going to be an adventure.

——————————————-

A few minutes later, we found the vase in a bedroom. It was sitting on a side table near a window, which was actually just a square cut out of the wall. We were going to have to hurry with the way the sky was looking out there. I was not about to let us get buried in burning ash right after vowing to expand our family to include our new little Pompeii friend.

“Alrighty!” I said, clapping my hands together and rubbing my palms. “So… now what?”

“What did you do to get here?” Cassia said. “Kiss a bunch? Ew.”

Elsa cleared her throat. Yeah this was a little more awkward than I hoped.

“Um, yeah, so,” I began, “maybe you can stand right next to the vase here, Cass. And then Elsa and I will…” I glanced at my reddening wife, “do our thing, and when we bump into the vase, at the last second, you grab onto us.”

Cassia stared at me.

“Does that makes sense?” I asked. “We only have one shot at this.”

She blinked. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds easy. You just… you called me Cass.”

Shit. “Sorry, was that ok?” I grimaced.

“I like it,” she grinned. “I like it a lot.”

“Awesome!” Phew. I didn’t want to fuck things up with our kid before we even got home. “So, you stand right here and just ignore everything about what we’re doing except for where we are. Then grab us as soon as—”

“As soon as you hit the vase, yeah. Got it.” Cassia pushed us toward the doorway. “Go be gross.” Elsa and I stumbled over to the open entryway of the room. We ducked out of Cassia’s view for a moment.

We both leaned on the wall and took a second to breathe. I gazed over at Elsa. She had a lot of emotions running across her face; embarrassment, relief, worry. I took her hand, causing her to look at me. “Hey.” I said. “Whatever happens this time… we did everything in our power to fix things.”

“I know,” Elsa sighed. “There’s just so much to process. We probably caused the deaths of everybody here, but at least we could save one person - and that’s if this even works to send us all home, which if it doesn’t, means we’re all going to die the same fate, which maybe we deserve—!”

I cut her off with a kiss: short, but long enough to send my message. “Shhh babe. It won’t do any good to obsess over that right now. If we survive, we will absolutely be marching ourselves to therapy, but for right now, we gotta get in there and get our butts back home.”

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little as if some of the tension eased away.

“Now, you gonna kiss me or what?” I asked with a smirk.

——————————-

I flung my arm wildly about, searching for the bottle of Tylenol on my bedside table. Would that even be strong enough for the fierce pounding in my skull? Instead of my familiar nightstand, I felt cold linoleum floor. I blinked my eyes open. Dim yellow spotlights gave a soft glow in the dark space around me.

Oh.

It all came back, just like that. I rolled over and saw Elsa sprawled out next to me —why am I always the first to wake up?— and the small form of a girl just beyond her. Cassia! She was clothed in a very sensible t-shirt and leggings combo. Thank goodness she didn’t pop into the museum in her old tattered cloth.

It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed our little …blip, so I quickly slid my two girls across the floor to keep us out of view from the hallway. As I pulled Cassia by her wrists, I noticed the vase sitting on a podium, looking exactly as it had back in Pompeii. It had bright colors and no evidence that almost 2,000 years had passed, or that it had technically shattered twice. Huh. Isn’t that the weirdest thing?

I sat on the floor next to Elsa and Cass while they continued to sleep off their travels, and I wondered how the vase actually did what it did. Was it a magic vase? Did that guy Oaken know he made something so powerful? Did he make other enchanted pottery? Something told me I would never have the answers to those questions. I certainly wasn’t in any rush to go back and ask him. Nope, ancient time traveling wasn’t really my thing after all.

It wasn’t long before Elsa woke up, and Cassia wasn’t far behind. We probably should’ve prepared her a little for life in the 21st century, as the simple museum lightbulbs were freaking her out. Just you wait, little lady. You have no idea how much your world has changed!

Once we calmed her down a bit, Elsa and I held hands with Cass, and began walking out of the room that changed our lives. Well, we took a few steps anyway, before I halted.

“What’s that noise?” I asked. “That jangly noise?” It was coming from the kid. I raised my eyebrow at her.

Realization dawned on Cassia’s face as her hands found her pants pockets… and pulled out fistfuls of glittering jewelry. “Oops?” she said, nervously.

Elsa’s jaw dropped. “Did you take those from the mansion?”

“I found them upstairs,” Cassia said, looking down at her clean black tennis shoes. “It was all just laying there, and the world was ending.”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, not wanting her to think we were upset. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I wondered if those pieces of jewelry had ever been recovered from the archeological site. I could see the headlines now: Priceless Ancient Pompeii Artifacts Vanish from Museum! I chuckled to myself, shaking my head.

“Hmm?” Elsa prompted.

“Ah, nothing,” I said with a smile. Then I pointed to the red, glowing Exit sign above a nearby doorway. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

#elsanna #submission #february 2021 contest #prompt: ancient worlds #cw: homelessness

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cara-terra-pace · 4 years ago

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Rich Neighbors Au Part 3: Bye Bye Miss Parisian Pie

Part 1 Part 2 The Gabrieling Procrastination Art Rich Neighbors Vine Animatic

-Oh my watermelon kids

-they are finally in America!!!

-First stop: Trash City!

-oops sorry NYC, sorry, they just sound the same when I say them out loud so I get them confused sometimes :)

-(I’m kidding New Yorkers don’t kill me please)

-okay, okay, getting off topic.

-so they’re in New York

-they’re just kind of wandering and they end up running into the Elmos.

-Mari was almost pulled into a hug with one and Felix had to drag her out of the way, saving her from the creep

-they then immediately booked it to a restaurant, hoping that would give them a bit of a reprieve.

-Hard Rock Cafe was the one they picked, Nino’s choice, obviously.

-Marinette gushed over the mini milkshakes for like ten minutes.

-someone ended up recognizing them. They took a picture, posted it on twitter and now BOOM

-every single one of their fans and customers know exactly where they are.

-but ANYWAY

-they’re in nyc, why not go to a broadway show?

-Six. They go to see Six. Don’t @ me, I like six and I thought Marinette and Nino would both enjoy it

-Mari is LIVING for their outfits.

-Nino is also loving every minute.

-They’re in the front and Nino is basically grinning the whole show but during Heart of Stone you can see him tear up a bit.

-Felix actually enjoys it. He shoves all the thoughts of historical inaccuracies out of his head and mostly just listens to Mari ramble about the outfits.

-Adrien vibes with Seymour honestly. And Parr. And basically all the queens.

-Nathalie likes the show too, mostly because it’s a nice break for her and the songs are pretty catchy too

-for Mega Six, Mari is filming and all the queens look directly into her camera

-they also take it and dance on stage with her phone, filming everything

-Mari is about to faint. Doesn’t matter that she’s technically famous, she is DEAD

-they don’t see her face when they take and give back the phone so when she comes backstage afterwards with the gang, at first they just recognize her hair and see her as the girl who was filming the Mega Six

-then they see her face and the costume designer is trying so hard not to squeal, oblivious to the fact that she’s doing the exact same thing.

-Mari is absolutely gushing to them about how great the show was

-She tells Parr that her song was what kept her going in school, since she’s listened to the Broadway and West End soundtracks about a billion times. (Pretend like the broadway one is already out time is a construct with rich people)

-side note, they post the pictures and video and suddenly A BUNCH of Six fans are now following Mari and now Mari is designing outfits inspired by the queens because AH THE COSTUMES ARE GORGEOUS I COULD TALK ABOUT THEM FOR DAYS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

-fun fact, they are all wearing a “If Found, Please Return to Nathalie” shirt

-Felix is adorable and bought Mari some hair pins with watermelons because Watermelon Kids

-yes Nathalie has a shirt that says “I’m Nathalie”

-they actually did lose Adrien and these two girls were able to return him to Nathalie and they all took a pic with them and followed the two on Twitter

-they don’t know what else to do in New York, so they just make their way down to...

-New Jersey!

-Seaside Boardwalk!!

-they mostly stick to the arcades, Mari sticking to casino pier, and them getting fries and lemonade as a snack.

-they spend the night at the boardwalk, going on a few rides like Moby Dick, and Pirate’s Cove.

-they spend the night at a house of a friend of Tom Dupain’s and the next day, they go to the Ocean County mall because it was close to the house.

-Adrien complained a bit about going to “the least cool mall in the state” but stopped when he found a five below at the plaza.

-five below is his weakness.

-mall, fun, yada yada yada

-bath and body works is inside? Mari’s in heaven.

-Friendly’s for lunch! Ice cream all around my friends!

-that afternoon they go to laser tag and completely dominated.

-Twins on one team, Watermelon Kids on the other.

-for some reason (the reason is called because I said so) they decide to go down to another boardwalk further south.

-on the way they go to lobster house for lunch (lobster house is amazing I don’t even really like it for the food it’s just the VIBES. they are. immaculate.)

-they go to Wildwood and ohhh

-Nino and Adrien are living it up on the rides

-rollercoaster, log flume, submarine ride slash game thingy!

-they’re doing it all

-and Felix and Mari are being so cute and domestic winning each other things at the games

-and then the arcade, where Felix is hopeless at Skeeball and ends up slipping and Mari helps him up while trying not to laugh

-can I just say that I think Mari is probably really good at claw machines?

-she has some weird sort of luck when she’s playing and she’ll always end up winning a prize

-they spend the night at a cute little hotel and the next day they go mini golfing

-now this is where Felix for some reason shines

-Mari keeps losing her golf ball and having to go search for it

-Adrien and Nino are both mediocre at it.

-Adrien got a hole in one and he and Nino screamed and Nino picked him up and spun him around

-they also got ice cream at said mini golf place

-Khor’s is just...*chefs kiss*. They all got the orange and vanilla swirl because I said so and it’s a Khor’s classic

-Felix picks an Italian place for dinner that night. It’s called Little Italy and it’s pretty good.

-and, that’s a wrap for New Jersey! Next...

-alllll the way down to.... North Carolina!

-they spend only a day in North Carolina, but they do go to these caves.

-and also, this place with food that’s mainly made of... alligator?

-basically, it’s a rest day.

-Mari gets SUPER inspired and buys fabric to make a jacket inspired by the caves and honestly it’s gorgeous because she used not only the tan of the rocks, but the beautiful blues of the water.

-NATHALIE BREAK

-she’s so tired but she’s having so much fun with her boys!!!

-she actually feels pretty well rested a few days into the trip.

-Nathalie can’t help but fuss over the kids

-and coo at their cuteness when they do cute things

-She and Mari always share a room

-and the three boys share a room

-Nathalie helps Mari do complicated braids because she’s super good at those and Mari can only do a basic braid.

-next!

-South Carolina!

-specifically Charleston.

-ghost tout ghost tour ghost tour

-“and this is the building where a dude saw the ship that held all his crops sink. He then proceeded to-“

-it gets graphic in that moment and Marinette is having fun but also isn’t a fan of thinking of... uh, head not being on body???

-pirates!!! They go into this cave thingy and see piratey stuff, which is entertaining for everyone because it’s creepy in the cave, which Mari enjoys, PIRATES, which Adrino enjoys, and history for the grumpy Felix

-it’s quiet and everyone’s happy, which Nathalie is living for.

-they mostly just walk around looking at pretty things the next day

-rainbow row rainbow row

-Mari is so inspired that she buys a cheap sketchbook from target just so she can get all these ideas down

-she desperately wants to sew but she has to wait since they don’t have access to a sewing machine.

-so, they eat at a sandwich shop before hitting the road.

-they make a quick stop in Georgia, laugh at a sign that lists the marvel movies made in Georgia, then leave.

-(sorry Georgia. I’m sure you’re a very nice state but I’ve had limited interaction with the state besides passing through and sometimes stopping to eat lunch.)

-this is the thing they’re very excited for!!!

-Florida!

-specifically, Orlando

-that’s right, DISNEY WORLD.

-they are spending a whole week here.

-that’s right, 7 days of fun.

-day 1, animal kingdom because they get there in the afternoon and there isn’t as much they want to see in animal kingdom. They have loads of fun though and are planning on dropping by another day for the first half of the day.

-next day is Magic Kingdom

-they go on so many rides.

-small world is Adrien’s favorite ride, don’t @ me.

-Casey’s Corner is where they get lunch because Mari loves the aesthetic.

-MINNIE EARS ALL AROUND

-Marinette has a different one for every outfit

-Aristocats ears!!!

-she can’t explain why she loves it, she just DOES.

-for their last day (yeah this is out of order but who cares) they park hop, ending in magic kingdom and staying for the fireworks. Our favorite designer wears these lovely light up ears

-when they went to animal kingdom on the first day you KNOW Mari had some cute ears

-shh don’t tell the boys and Nathalie but Felix actually asked Mari to be his girlfriend when they were in Hollywood studios

-they walked off together, and sat on a bench somewhere sharing a snack

-our extra boy asked if she could be his girlfriend with matching beauty and the beast rings

-Mari said yes and she smiled soooo much.

-it’s kind of hard to explain everything so let’s just talk about the interesting stuff!!

-Marinette VIBES with the princesses oh my god

-TIANA INSPIRED OUTFIT PLEASE

-Disney is V fun but... sorry boys, it’s time for Marinette to get some sewing done! (Also I’m kind of bored of writing Disney this took several weeks bc I would write like a sentence a day lol)

-CALIFORNIA TIME

-they do go for one day in Disneyland but most of it’s spent going to get some inspiration for Mari.

-fabric stores fabric stores.

-that girl is sketching and coming up with ideas like her life DEPENDS ON IT

-inspiration explosion

-also some normal Knick knack shopping, so Mari gets some time away from staring down at her tablet and sketchbook.

-resting and just going to try all different sorts of normal, causal restaurants

-living the life

-also, Felix and Mari go on their first date. I say first date Very Loosely because it’s actually them sitting in Mari’s hotel room eating pizza and watching a movie and though they both consider it a date, they want to have a cute, cliche first date when they back home.

-Speaking of home...

-They are about to fly back to Paris when they get a message from Jess, one of the girls who found Adrien in NY.

-It was a message from her asking if she could check her latest tweet.

-it was a recording of Jess playing guitar, the song (an instrumental version of Miraculous but slightly modified) being wonderfully sweet. Aeon, the other girl, was also in the video, humming along to Jess. At the end, Jess dedicated the video the them and they both gushed about how nice they were in person and that both of them had waited until they had the arrangement ready before they posted it on social media.

-it thawed even Felix’s icy heart.

-and as they flew back to Paris, Nathalie couldn’t help but think of what a perfectly wonderful trip it had been. Minus... the accidents.

-But there’s no need to talk about that here.

-They reach Paris safe and sound, and Marinette takes a long, long nap right before she goes into creative mode and sews all the outfits she had sketched. Advantages of being rich, you know? You don’t have to worry about fabric price.

-While Mari was sewing, everyone else was also slowing down.

-And gearing up to go back to school

-*dramatic music*

-What will happen next? Even I have no idea!

.......

It’s almost like.... I exist??? Haha, but seriously, sorry for sort of going MIA??? I finally finished this, mostly by getting lazy towards the end. Yes, before you say it, I don’t hate NYC. It’s cool there, I just love making fun of it and the fact the special cam eout a few days ago is just pure irony. All of those links should work, so you can actually buy the Disney things I’m talking about! If they aren’t, please tell me so I can fix them. Next up is the Nathalie mentioned “Accidents”. That should take way less time because I’m going to go with the tried and true method of “Make stuff up and hope it makes sense”. I say should because you never know with me, I’m a mess ❤️❤️❤️

Tag list: @bigpicklebananatree @kris-pines04 @animegirlweeb @akana-sama @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @virgolioness @goblinwhoships @toastlover21 @buginetye

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