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charliedawn · 4 years ago

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Imagine being in a hate love relationship with Peter Hale

Warning : attempt of rape

You were on Peter duty..Again. Since Peter Hale was the man that everybody feared, it had been decided that you would be the one keeping an eye on the overly fool-of-himself werewolf with the power of your mighty patience. Scott and Stiles stop in front of Derek's loft and he jogs out to meet you.

" Thanks Y/N. I owe you one !"

He says with a grateful smile and you smile back.

" Big time. But come on, you three go hunt whatever creature you have to hunt and I'll stay to take care of Mr Smarty-pants up there !"

You say enthusiastically and they all smile apologetically at you, knowing how the two of you were not exactly on friendly terms.

" Be careful, okay ? And tell him that if he touches you, I'll kick his ass !"

Stiles says confidently, which makes you laugh.

" Don't worry, Stiles. If there is any problem, I'll call you guys immediately and plus, I have a way to take care of moody children.."

You tell him with a mysterious smile and Stiles nods understandingly.

" I know..Just, stay safe."

And with that last warning, they are all out of here. As soon as they are out of your sight, your smile leaves your face and you sigh loudly before turning towards the building and whisper to yourself.

" Welp..Here we go.."

As soon as you enter, you smell something burning and see the stove on fire. You run towards it and take a glass from the cupboard to fill it with water in order to stop the fire. When you're done, you are panting because of the effort and look murderously at Peter that is sitting calmly on the couch, as if nothing had happened.

You glare at him while he doesn't even raise his eyes from his book.

" Let me guess..You couldn't smell the smoke ?"

You ask annoyed and only then does he look up at you with a small mischievous smile.

" Aren't you supposed to be the one keeping me out of harm's way ? You are here to keep me from doing anything stupid, not the other way around..I create chaos and you're here to stop me. Do your job and stop whining."

You grit your teeths in anger before sitting on the couch, as far away from Peter as possible. You can't believe the nerve of this man that was ready to burn the entire flat only to prove a point !

" I don't know why you're so eager to unnerve me. Does it entertain you ? Would it kill you to be nice and helpful from time to time ?"

You ask while taking a nearby book and starting reading yourself, not really interested in his answer that you knew would not be anything but upsetting.

" I'm the spark that lits your fire, sweetheart..Try to let go sometimes, you would actually enjoy it. Why don't you try to be less of a killjoy ?"

You raise an eyebrow at that before returning to your book and replying nonchalantly.

" Have you ever considered, even for only a moment, that I simply don't like you ?"

He fakes being offended by putting his hand above his heart and widening his eyes dramatically at you.

" Oh darling ! Me who thought that you were about to ask my hand in marriage ?! How disappointing ?!"

You snort.

" Hard pass."

He sighs in false disappointment before taking his coat and walking towards the exit.

" And where do you think you're going ?"

You ask with an eyebrow arked in curiosity.

" Out."

He answers simply before opening the door. You sigh before taking your coat and running after him.

" Didn't Derek warn you that I am allowed to use silver bullets if you disobey me ?"

He scoffs before shrugging, not bothering waiting for you.

" I'm going to get a beer, not kill a bunch of innocent virgins.."

He winks at you cheekily before stepping inside the bar that was the nearest to the apartment. You role your eyes at his comment before entering the bar after him.

You look around and are amazed to see that the place wasn't as bad as you had previously thought. It had good background music and not a lot of customers, besides a couple of drunk friends who were talking in whispers at their table. However, Peter isn't visible and you sigh again before walking towards the counter to ask the bartender if he had any idea of where your irresponsible dog had run off to. You sit down and attract the attention of the bartender by raising your hand. He walks towards you and leans in to listen to your order.

" A soda, please."

He arks an eyebrow at you, nearly amused, before turning around and getting out what you asked.

" Are you sure you don't want anything else ? Anything stronger ?"

He says while eyeing your bottle of soda warily, as if it was an insult to his establishment for you to order such a drink. You smile, tempted beyond reason, but then remember that you had a werewolf to find.

" Sorry. Can't. I'm on the job. By the way, have you seen a man ? Sarcastic. Arrogant. Energic. Tall. Very annoying. Awfully blond. Seen him anywhere ?"

He looks suspiciously at you before asking in a slightly worried and even threatening voice.

" You're a cop ?"

You can't help but laugh bitterly at the question before replying.

" You could say that. But I am only responsible of one criminal, and the only crime he committed is to not have messed up my night, yet.."

He smirks when he understands the irony in your tone and was about to answer when someone puts his hand on your shoulder. You turn around to see a very smug Peter with a huge grin.

" Oh ! Look at that ! The overly confident puppy is finally back ! What ? Got lost on the way ?"

You ask sarcastically and he only humphs in response before sitting next to you, the grin not leaving his face.

" Why ? Missed me ?"

You scoff before taking a sip of your drink.

" As much as a needle in my heel..But, if Derek was to find out that I've let you out of your cage, he would have my head.."

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and makes you spill your drink a little over yourself.

" Aww..You do care ! My cold heart warms at the thought of the packs brat worrying about me !"

You groan in annoyance before biting his hand off. He hisses in pain before retrieving his hand and massaging it while glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. Just at that moment, the bartender comes back to get Peter's order and eyes Peter suspiciously before looking back at you with an inquisitive glance, asking discreetly if you needed an escape. You could have laughed if it wasn't so sad. Peter was such a nuisance that people were now wondering if he was the one bothering you, when in fact it was the opposite. However Peter, that had not missed the silent conversation, growls when the bartender gives him a warning side glance. But, not intimidated the nearest, Peter smirks a toothy grin at the bartender before showing his bitten hand.

" Careful. The brat bites. I've seen what it is capable of, first hand..literally. Don't worry, if you should be worried about anyone around here, it's everyone else besides her."

He cautioned and the bartenders eyes widen at the mark that would certainly have left a scar if he was a normal human being while you snicker in your corner. The bartender quickly runs towards his other customers at the far end of the bar, leaving you two in your sudden awkward solitude.

" Well..Isn't he a gentleman ? Thinking you need saving from me. Not even considering that I could be the abused one in this relationship ? How rude !"

You try to stifle a laugh. Unfortunately, he hears you and smirks proudly at his small victory.

" I'm not the psychopath that tried to murder a bunch of teenagers just because I wanted to become the big bad alpha.."

You taunt while giving him an amused side glance. He groans in annoyance as you make him remember his past and he gulps down his whiskey, an attempt to make him forget faster.

" Aren't you a delight ?! Playing unfair by spreading out the touchy subjects like that..No wonder Stiles rejected you. You would have chomped his lips off !"

You glare at him as he talks about Stiles before replying harshly.

" Says the man whose only date was Scott's mom, and that was to trap him ! You're so terrible that nobody could stand being with you more than 5 minutes without hating you ! I would tell you to go to hell, but it would be unfair on Satan !"

He chuckles at that last part and you take your drink in order to take a sip and calm your nerves, but grimace at the awful taste. You had asked for a soda, but it tasted more like salt with water..He cackles at your expression before whispering mockingly in your ear with false concern.

" Oh ! What ? Ain't sweet enough for you, sweetheart ?"

You only raise a very distinctive finger at him, warning him that one more word from him would result in extreme pain and look around the room to distract yourself from his presence..and from the fact that you were his entitled babysitter. Your eyes wander and finally settle on the nice bartender that winks at you when you meet his gaze. You blush slightly before smiling back at him. He wasn't bad-looking and everything would be better than bantering with the overly sarcastic and confident werewolf that couldn't seem to leave you be. You were about to stand up and walk towards the cute bartender when suddenly, a hand raises to lay on your shoulder and pin you down to your seat. You were about to complain and even yell at Peter when you hear him growl from deep withing him while he shoots a dirty glare at the poor young man. You frown in incomprehension and grit your teeths in annoyance, thinking it was one of his attention seeking gesture. You then take his hand and force him to let go of you to walk towards the exit. Here you go again, you couldn't even enjoy your night without having to take care of the sulky werewolf. You soon hear his footsteps behind you and when he is about to grab your arm, you turn around abruptly and glare at him with such seriousness that it freezes him on the spot.

" How about you and your insanity stay the heck away from me ?! I'm so tired of your bullshit, Peter ! Why can't you just leave me alone ?!"

At your harsh words, Peter's gaze hardens and he retracts his hand to only smirk at you and tilt his head a little bit to the side, as if he didn't understand the question.

" Oh darling..I would love to ! But, you see, it seems that me and my insanity are often required to solve your friend's little problems !"

Suddenly, unnerved beyond belief and having had more than enough of him, you feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes and yell at him, so loud that it surprises the werewolf himself.

" Leave me alone ! Why am I the only one who always has to handle you?! Why do you always ask Derek for me to keep you, even though you don't even like me ?! If I'm such a bother, why not just get rid of me ?!"

He doesn't seem to be able to find an answer and you don't even let him reply. You start running until you reach a small and dark alley. When you're sure you are far enough for the werewolf not to hear you cry, you crouch down and start sobbing. When you've spilt all of your frustration and sadness out, you wipe your face with your sleeve and stand up to get back home. However, when you are about to leave the alley-way, you see someone else blocking the exit. You first think that it's Peter, but the more you approach the individual, the more you have to admit that it doesn't look like Peter. You try to walk past him, but he brusquely grabs your arm and throws you to the ground. You want to get your phone out of your purse, but the man stomps on your hand and you scream in pain. The man takes you by the jaw and forces you to look up at him. His disgusting breath hitting your face, smelling of alcool and his evil smirk making you want to puke even more.

" Aren't ya a sweat ass ? Tell me, what does a young lady like yourself doing here by herself in the middle of the night, hmm ?"

You want to scream for help again, but another individual behind you puts his hand against your mouth to muffle your screams and you feel the familiar shape of a knife against your throat. When you know that there is nothing else you can do, you close your eyes and try to stop the new tears from leaving your eyes..You didn't want to cry for those men, they didn't deserve your tears..

" Now..You're going to be a good girl and let us take care of you, okay ?"

The one posted behind you whispers in your ear and you clench your jaw, your last thought going to Peter. You had been awful to him, even though you knew he wasn't a bad person..You had let out your frustration on him and you were now regretting it bitterly. You should have sticked to your job and stay with him. If you had, maybe you wouldn't be in your current situation. Reality hits you hard when you feel one of the men starting to open your blouse. When you thought that that was it, that you were going to be raped in that dirty alley-way and probably killed, you hear the hurried footsteps of someone running towards your location. You want to scream again, but the knife is raised once again against your throat.

" One peep and nobody will even find your body.."

You whimper and nod in understanding. The footsteps stop and you hold your breath.

" Sweetheart ? Are you there ?"

You hear the familiar voice of Peter and feel relieved to know that he is near. However, the man whispers instructions in your ear and you can't help but nod in agreement, knowing that he wouldn't hesitate to slice your throat if you were to disobey.

" You're going to tell him to go away, that you don't want him to come any closer..I know what he is and the knife is made of silver and has been dipped in wolfsbane for a while..Don't play smart or you'll lose more than your life.."

He uncovers your mouth and you respond in a shaky voice.

" G..Go away, Peter..I don't want you near me ! I hate you !"

You bit to your inner cheek, wondering if he would insist or know that something is wrong. You know that even if he was to guess that something is wrong, you couldn't afford to lose him as well..However, you hear him take a step towards you and sniff the air. He suddenly growls animalistically and his eyes light up in the dark.

" I can smell the stench of two putrid little humans that shouldn't be touching what isn't theirs.."

You start panicking, knowing that he could die if he was to step any closer and yell in a last attempt to protect him.

" Don't, Peter ! They've got wolfsbane ! Run !"

One of the men muzzles you again, but Peter doesn't step back. He gets his claws out and snarls.

" Alright boys. Let's rumble."

The two men stand up and face Peter that doesn't seem scared. He doesn't keep his eyes off them while they circle him. The man with the knife tries to attack him first, but Peter grabs his arm and tears it off from the rest of his body. The man screams in agony, but Peter slashes his throat before turning towards the other man that is shaking with terror.

" What ?! You are brave enough to attack a defenseless woman, but not enough to fight a werewolf ?!"

He roars and the man suddenly gets out a gun that he points at Peter. Before he could react, the man shoots and the bullet goes through his abdomen. Peter falls on his knees and the man runs away, leaving you and him behind. You force yourself to get up and crouch down in front him to see that the wound is not closing itself.

" Wolfsbane bullet.."

He affirms what you already suspected and you have to take deep breathes in order not to panic. You know what to do, you had seen Derek do it a thousand time already. You need to cauterize the wound. You close your eyes and try to calm yourself before trying to carry him back home. When you finally enter the building after a few grunts and moans of pain from the both of you, you lay Peter down on the couch and look around for something hot enough to burn the poison. Suddenly, your eyes fall on a blowtorch and when Peter understands what you were thinking about, he looks pitifully up at you.

" I have a very bad tolerance to pain."

He warns you, a warning that sounds more like a desperate plea for you to reconsider your plan..But you know that you don't have much time and address him a silent apology with your eyes before taking the handle of your purse and make him bite down on it.

" This is gonna hurt. Bad. But, I'm going to try to be as fast as I can, okay ?"

His nostrils flare in fear for the pain to come, but he nods in agreement and you take a big shaky breath before using the blowtorch. As soon as the fire gets in contact with his skin, Peter visibly whitens, his eyes flash blue and you can see his claws digging in the soft material of the couch. You don't know what to do to attenuate the pain, so you do the first thing that comes to mind to distract him..You kiss him. His eyes widen perceptibly at your action, but he doesn't hesitate before burying his hands in your hair and reciprocating the kiss, even though the handle of your purse forms some kind of barrier between you and him. When you take a step back, he seems more relax and you glance down at his wound before switching off the blowtorch. You are relieved when you see the wound closing and smile widely at him. But, before you could truly process what was happening, Peter had gotten rid of your purse and had bounced on top of you to pin you to the floor and kiss you passionately again.

" Stiles doesn't deserve you..Nobody does..Nobody needs you like I do..Nobody can handle me the way you do..I don't want them to take you away from me..Stay with me..If you leave, I'll lose my fucking mind.."

He mutters between each breath he takes while kissing you and you blush vividly at his words. He looks up at you with his bright blue eyes and you can't help but smile up at him before kissing him back yourself and petting the top of his head appreciatively.

" You damn nut job, if you wanted me that bad, why didn't you tell me ? Instead of making me lose my mind.."

He grins before nuzzling your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist.

" Because I like when you get mad.."

You chuckle before returning his embrace.

" Bad pup.."

" Stiles lover"

You ark an eyebrow at the odd insult before replying teasing.

" Does that mean I won't be able to go back to his place and sleep on his couch ? Do I have to remind you that I live with him ?"

He tightens his hold on you and grumbles tiredly against your ribcage.

" Over my dead body. The only thing you will be allowed to sleep on from now on is me, got it ?"

You seem dumbfounded for a second and Peter picks on your uneasiness before laughing and looking up at you with a sly smile.

" Not what I meant, you pervert."

You blush a deep red and hit him on the back of the head playfully.

" Hey ! You're the one always insinuating things !"

He genuinely smiles at you before lowering his chin on your belly and tilting his head to look at you with fake innocence.

" I'm not the one who kissed me.."

You sigh, it was becoming a competition, like many things with him. You sit back up and make him fall at the same time.

" Yeah ?! Well, you were badly injured..and you reciprocated !"

You don't know why you wanted to defend yourself, you just know that you can't allow yourself to succomb for the man that had nearly killed all of your friends. Plus, you had just been attacked and were too weak to make any decisions. He seems to notice your worry and takes a step back immediately to get up and extend his hand towards you.

" I'm sorry. You helped me and I was being an idiot. You need to get some rest. Come on."

You look at his hand for a few seconds before slipping your hand in his. He yanks you upwards and proceeds to carry you back to your room where he lays you down on your bed. He leaves the room promptly afterwards, mumbling a small goodnight before walking out. When you're sure he is truly gone, you curl up into a ball and try to muffle your sobs. You couldn't sleep, every time you would close your eyes, their hands were there, touching you and making you feel as if you were weak..So weak..You whimper and cry as silently as you can until someone opens the door suddenly and blinding light surrounds the room. You turn around to see Peter standing there, his eyes glowing with such an intense color that it shocks you, you then notice the slight rise of his shoulders at each of his heavy breathing and finally, his lips curled and teeths grinding in rage.

" I should have killed them both..I should have never left you.."

You open your eyes wide at the realization, he had probably heard you and was reacting to your emotions. He approaches slowly and tenderly strokes your cheek, placing his forehead against yours.

" I'm so sorry, darling.."

You feel as if he's been crying too and step back. He seems to be hurt by your sudden distance, but you quickly indicate the spot next to you.

" Come on, I need a bed warmer."

His eyes light up like a happy puppy and he crawls next to you in order to cuddle you, making sure that you are comfortable every step of the way. You sigh in contempt before feeling sleep slowly taking over your tired body. Just before you fall asleep however, you mumble sleepily at Peter.

" You were right..I won't be able to sleep when you're not there anymore..You're too good of a bed warmer.."

You feel him chuckle behind you and smile as you realize that being best bud with Peter wouldn't be so bad..and maybe with time, a bit more.

The next day :

Derek finds the both of you on the sofa: you reading a book out loud, and Peter with his arms wrapped around you, listening attentively.

" So, I guess the babysitting went better than our stake out last night ?"

He asks, amused by your sudden friendliness towards each other. You look up at him with a small smile while Peter chuckles against your ear, the sound alone making you feel things you shouldn't be.

" Best of friends, aren't we, sweetheart ?"

Instead of answering his question, you try to change the subject.

" What happened to the stake out then ? I thought you were supposed to catch a couple of bounty hunters ?"

Derek shakes his head before shrugging his shoulders.

" I know, but when we got there, there was only one of them, and he was screaming that his friend had been murdered by another werewolf in town..I wonder if there are any others like us that we've not yet been in contact with ?"

At his explanation, you feel a lump forming in your throat, but when you were about to tell him what happened last night, Peter beats you to it.

" Funny, your description of the scene exactly matches what happened to me last night.."

Derek frowns before looking up at Peter with his jaw clenched.

" I thought I was pretty clear when I said stay put ?"

He glares at Peter, but then his eyes shift to you.

" And you, where were y..?"

But before he could finish his sentence, Peter cuts him again.

" Asleep. I waited for her to fall asleep before going out. Poor humans, can't manage a night without craving sleep.."

You look up at him with your mouth wide open, ready to deny everything he just said when you see him wink at you..He wasn't trying to make you look bad at your job, he was trying to save you the embarrassment. You close your mouth as fast as you had opened it and turn around towards Derek that was looking at you with an eyebrow raised, waiting for your confirmation. You nod and he sighs.

" Maybe it was a bad idea to leave you alone with him, you're still young and he's had plenty of experience when it comes to get what he wants..I'll ask Scott or Stiles next time."

You feel the lump in your throat slowly making its way to your stomach and your expression twists into one of pain and regret.

" No !"

To the surprise of everyone in the room, including yourself, you're the one who just shouted your disagreement. Derek frowns again before crossing his arms and waiting impatiently for an explanation while Peter only tightens his grip around you, a silent warning as to what you are about to say. You take a big breath before glancing up at Derek and saying in a calm and unfaltering voice.

" This is my job. I'm part of the pack. It's bad enough that I'm completely useless when it comes to working on the field, I can't let my only participation in all this go to someone else. I made a mistake, it won't happen again."

Derek seems to believe you, even though he shakes his head in hesitation.

" I don't know, Y/N..I was allowing this to continue since it seemed to work..But, Peter succeeded in complicating things, again."

He emphasizes on the last word while staring at Peter accusatively. Peter flashes an innocent grin at him before agreeing with you.

" I promise to behave from now on. Please, dad ? Can I please keep my plaything ? It gets lonely around here when you're all running around, chasing your own tails over and over.."

You elbow him as a warning, but Derek is already shooting daggers in his direction, on the verge of growling in annoyance. Fortunately, Derek succeeds in keeping his cool and only sighs in defeat before walking away.

" Fine. But, I warn you, one more mistake and I'll personally kick you out.."

" Can't do that, chief. It's my house !"

Peter answers with a big shit-eating grin, but Derek frowns at him before looking straight at you.

" I was talking to you, Y/N..I can't allow you to become a weakness, we've got already too many and Peter is the master of manipulation, dont fall for his tricks. It's a warning, let it be not a premonition."

And with those last words, he is gone. You both stay still for a moment until you decide to stand up and make yourself a cup of coffee. The words of Derek are swirling around in your mind and you glance at Peter when you think he's not looking..Were you really just another pawn in his mastermind plan to bring down the pack ? He seems to feel your stare and points it out.

" If I didn't know you the way I do, I'd say that you actually believe this idiot.."

" Why did you protect me ?"

You ask him abruptly, still not sure about what to make of last night's rescue. He seems to thinks about it for a while before answering you with such honesty that it surprises you.

" Because there was no reason for me to talk about it..Unlike what you all think of me, I'm not such a monster. I feel no satisfaction in a young girl's life being ruined by such macabre events. I care about you more than any of the other dumb teenagers of your group, even my own cousin. You're nice, kind, smart and you don't judge. You never told me that what I did was despicable or that I didn't deserve to live. You did what you had to do and tried the best you could to help. I agree that we have had our disagreements, but it was always playful and never really serious. Why would I ever want anything bad like this to happen to you when you're the only person who ever believed that I could become an ally ? Tell me, how many people do you think ever read to me or felt safe in my arms ? Not even my own family ever believed I could change..So, yes. I protected you, because you would have done the same thing for me. Your strength remains in your humanity, Y/N. Stiles may be the voice of reason, but you're the voice of mercy.."

You are awestruck by the words that seem to be tumbling out of his lips and surround you like the warmest of blankets. You would be happy to listen to him all day. You genuinely smile at him and, before you could stop yourself, you kiss him. He relaxes under your touch and wraps his arms around you to close the gap between the both of you. He finally breaks the kiss and laughs softly before adding.

" You also have very nice lips.."

You playfully punch his torso before laying down on top of him, finding the rhythm of his heartbeat oddly soothing.

" You're a jerk..But you're still a good person.."

You whisper while closing your eyes and you can hear him snicker above you.

" Congratulations, you just qualified me with two opposites. Jerk and good normally don't go together."

You don't answer, already snoring softly on his torso. He smiles sweetly at the sight before kissing the top of your head.

" Sweet dreams, darling.."

#peter hale #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #derek hale #peter hale x reader

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scharoux · 4 years ago

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That's Enough....

As a lot of my followers and mutuals know, I try to keep my blog 'discourse' and drama free. I strive to keep my blog a safe and accepting space for everyone to enjoy the fandom content we all want to see and share.

Unfortunately, I have to say something about all the disgusting ageism bs, bullying and harassment that some of the other fandom content creators have been subjected to recently.

I will NOT be putting this under a cut because it needs to be said and heard!

#TW: Profanities Abound

For those who are unaware, or are just plain ignorant to the fact because they choose to be, the Dragon Age series is an ELEVEN year old franchise. Dragon Age: Origins was released in 2009. At the time it was rated M, ie. appropriate for players ages 17 or older.

That means that people in the fandom who are currently between the ages of 17-19 were about 6-8 years old at its release. Which for those who can't do the math on the fly means that us 'old ladies' (who are in our thirties now) were either 19 or older when it began. That's only two years older than the recommended player audience (and here's some more math for you egotistical ageist offenders, that means we were the same age you are now.)

We were of age when we began this story. We got to enjoy the characters and experience their struggles and just generally enjoy the game for what it was. Naturally that means we also enjoyed the two sequels to the franchise when they were realeased in 2011 and 2014.

Did the fact that we aged with the games mean we miraculously lost interest in the games? No, it sure as hell didn't. We were just as interested and enjoyed those sequels just as much as we did the original. Just because you get older doesn't mean you suddenly stop enjoying the things you used to. Sure your tastes can change. You might not like something as much as you used to, or you may find you like something you absolutely hated before. However, I highly doubt that I am going to wake up tomorrow morning, and after 30+ years suddenly decide that I am 'too old' to like cheese.

You don't see us 'old ladies' sipping our cranberry juice while we air out our 'pussy stank' (that was fucking vile btw) coming at younger members of the fandom telling them they're not 'old enough' to enjoy it, or to come back when you're older. Why would we try to police what someone else enjoys when we also enjoy it based purely on their age? I am not embarrassed or ashamed to be in my thirties and playing video games, and I will NEVER apologize for it.

Age does NOT and should NOT define what we can or cannot like, enjoy or partake in if we are of an appropriate age to participate in it. No one has the right to dictate whether or not you're 'too old' to enjoy something.

I ask you;

Are you going to go to a skate park and bully or harass someone because they're not a teenager or in their early twenties, and ergo 'too old' to enjoy skateboarding?

Are you going to tell my grandparents that they're 'too old' to sit down and play Mario Kart together when they're clearly having a blast together and enjoying it?

Why is this any different?!

YOU trying to harass or bully someone because YOU decided they're 'too old' to like something makes you an asshole. That's it. End of argument.

IF you are planning on lying to me by saying that you won't or couldn't possibly be invested in any possible game, book, movie, music, etc in eleven years from now on the basis that you're tool old to enjoy them, then I feel sorry for you. You're going to have a very boring and entirely lack luster life purely based on the fact that you're too narrow minded to get your head out of your ass to see that you're being an entitled ageist bully and clearly have a lot more maturing to do.

I have zero plans to stop liking the things I like because you're egotistical enough to think you have any right to tell me I should. You can catch me playing Dragon Age, Mass Effect, etc until I am no longer able to hold a controller and if you don't like it I'd advise you to get used to being disappointed.

You DO NOT get to tell me or anyone else that we're 'too old' to enjoy the things we like.

Now get the fuck off my lawn....

#scharoux misc post #on fandom ageism #this blog has ZERO tolerance for bullying #this blog has ZERO tolerance for harassment #this blog has ZERO tolerance for ageism #don't like it?#there's the fucking door #don't forget to hit block on your way out #your discrimination is NOT welcome here #tw: profanity #tw: ageism #tw: bullying #tw: harassment

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marvelyningreen · 4 years ago

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Linger

[Summary: You’d always struggled with your mutant abilities. Now, as doubts and frustrations weigh on your mind, you find encouragement from both a friend, and from a mentor.

Warnings: mild language

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader, featuring Professor Xavier for platonic reassurance (because the world can always use more platonic fluff.) Set in a corner of the multiverse where the X-Men reboot timeline is happening largely as in canon, but the Dark Phoenix storyline isn’t. ]

You shut your eyes tightly. Focus, focus…

With every fiber of your being tensed in concentration, you have to remind yourself to breathe. You should be able to do this.

For a moment – for the briefest instant - you think you feel a lightening in your heels. But that realization breaks your concentration. With a sudden jerk – like the falling sensation that comes when you’re about to fall asleep – your heels thud back into the ground.

You swear quietly under your breath, grateful that everyone else is busy with class at the moment, meaning they won’t see you out in the gardens. It’s enough of an embarrassment to be struggling like this without the added pressure of an audience. You’d better take a break, though, before you burst a blood vessel or something.

You don’t even have a chance to register the impossibly fast breeze that shoots by you before you hear a familiar voice say:

“Whatcha doin’?”

And it nearly makes you jump out of your skin, just like every time.

“Cripes, Peter!” you gasp, “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

Peter’s grin turns a little sheepish, and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry,” he says. “Hang on, let me try again.”

And then he’s disappeared, and you hear the measured sound of footsteps on the paved pathway. A few seconds later, Peter strolls casually into view around the corner of the hedgerow. He pauses, spreading his arms and tilting his head slightly.

“That better?”

You can’t help but laugh. Somehow, even his sarcasm seems cheerful. You feel bad for being short with him, even if you were startled.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was just lost in thought, and you caught me off-guard.”

“I’ll say. But my original question stands. What are you doing out here?”

Even when he’s intentionally slowing himself down, Peter still talks quite fast. When you’d first met him, it’d take you a second to process what he’d said. These days, it’s easier for you to keep pace – at least with his conversation.

“You’re asking me, the groundskeeper, what I’m doing out on the grounds?”

You give him a wry smile, hoping the answer will throw him off track. You’re not sure you want to discuss your current state of mind with anyone, and especially not Peter Maximoff. You blink, and he’s standing much closer than before.

“That’d be a fair answer,” he says, “Except for the fact that you forgot to turn the lights off in the cottage before you left, and you only do that when something’s bugging you.”

Your brows furrow. “Did you just-?”

“Nah.” Peter shakes his head. “I didn’t know where you were, so I swung by the cottage first. And you weren’t there, and you weren’t in the mansion, so I came looking for you out here.”

You immediately seize on the opportunity to change the subject.

“You were looking for me? Why, do you need something?”

“Nope. I was just bored. But you’re out here looking like somebody took a hedge-trimmer to your rosebushes. What’s got you so frustrated?”

He’s looking keenly at you with those big dark eyes of his, and you feel your resolve start to weaken. You turn away, trying not to make it obvious that you’re avoiding his gaze.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say. “It’s nothing.”

He’s right beside you now, and he nudges your shoulder teasingly.

“Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Peter…”

He nudges you again. “You’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

His wheedling is unfairly effective.

“I was trying to-”

But then you clam up. It’ll sound silly to say it out loud, especially considering your lack of success. Peter waits a moment, watching you expectantly.

“You were trying to…?” he repeats, when it becomes clear that you aren’t going to continue.

You know you can trust Peter. He might be inclined to use his powers for pranks, but he’s not the sort of person who’d mock you for your shortcomings. And he wouldn’t keep asking if he didn’t actually care to hear the answer. You sigh, gritting your teeth.

“I was trying to levitate,” you mutter.

Peter lets out an impressed whistle. “Levitation, huh? You’re swinging for the fences.”

“I’m telekinetic,” you say. “Logically speaking, if I telekinetically push against the ground, it should push me into the air. I mean, Mr. Lehnsherr can make himself levitate while only being able to control metal, right? I should be able to do this.”

Hank would be quick to point out that Mr. Lehnsherr is able to levitate by manipulating the earth’s magnetic field rather than by manipulating metal itself, but that’s hardly the point. And-

And now Peter’s laughing. You cross your arms, nonplussed.

“It’s not funny!”

“No, I know,” he says, “I’m not laughing at that. What’s funny is hearing you call him ‘Mr. Lehnsherr.’ Why do you always do that?”

“It’s not like I go around calling the professor ‘Charles,’” you argue. You feel a little disrespectful even saying it hypothetically.

“Well, sure. ‘Professor’ is his title. But you don’t call Hank ‘Mr. McCoy.’”

“That’s different,” you protest. “I can’t call my best friend’s dad by his first name. It’d be too weird!”

There’s a second of silence as you both process what you’d just said.

Sure, Peter is your closest friend, but you’d never said it in so many words. Did it sound silly? Did it make things weird? Well, it’s too late to take it back now. Peter grins at you, and he speaks before you can try to backpedal.

“Alright, then as your best friend, I’m gonna give you some advice. You know what your problem is?” he says, wagging a finger at you. “You get stuck in your head and psych yourself out all the time. Here – I got an idea.”

Peter reaches down to the Discman clipped to his belt and presses play, then skips ahead a few tracks. He settles one of his ever-present headphones onto his ear, and offers the other to you.

You hesitate.

“I’m going somewhere with this. I promise,” he says. He raises his eyebrows inquiringly, and extends his hand again.

Peter smiles as you finally take the headphone and place it over your ear.

“Now,” he says, “Just take a second and listen. Relax. Breathe.”

Well, he might know what he’s talking about. You’ve noticed that live music is one of the few things that can get him to voluntarily stay in one place. You exhale, closing your eyes.

‘You got me wrapped around your finger,

Do you have to let it linger?

Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?’

You’d first met Peter a few weeks after you’d started working here at the school. One morning, this silver-haired young man with pretty, dark eyes and a charming grin had appeared at your door, introducing himself as Peter Maximoff.

That in itself wasn’t strange. You hadn’t gone more than a day without someone stopping by the cottage to check on you, or just to talk. You were never certain, but you had a hunch those visits were at the behest of Professor Xavier.

Peter, on the other hand? You’re pretty sure his visit was prompted by the scent of freshly baked strawberry pie emanating from the cottage’s tiny kitchen.

Peter was one of your most frequent visitors after that. He’s always happy to taste-test any and all baked goods you’d whip up. He’s good company, and easy to talk to. And if there are days that you don’t feel much like talking yourself, he’s easy to listen to.

Drifting back out of your reverie, you open your eyes to see Peter watching you. He smiles.

“Little better?”

You nod.

“Yeah,” you say, quietly. “Thanks. It’s just… I’m so bad at this.”

Peter frowns, confused. “Bad at what?”

“This. All of it.” You gesture vaguely at your hands, and then at yourself, trying to indicate your own mutant abilities. “People hear I work at Xavier’s school, and they expect me to be like the Professor, or like Jean, or you.”

“Huh. Not seeing the common thread there. What do you mean, like me?”

“Like… Well, you know – exceptional. Important. But I’m not, and I never have been. You can do such incredible things, and I struggle more than half of the students. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I’d be better off back out there, pretending to be normal, instead of here, pretending that I belong.”

Peter’s face had lit up for a moment at hearing you call him exceptional, but the smile faded as you’d gone on. Now he looks frustrated, and almost sad, but he quickly straightens up and looks you earnestly in the eyes.

“So you’re not as powerful as Jean or the professor. So what? That doesn’t mean you’ll never get any stronger than you are now. And if you wanna talk about me, well,” Peter scoffs and spreads his arms self-deprecatingly, “I started out as a punk-ass shoplifter.”

You laugh involuntarily. He’s so blunt and matter-of-fact about it that you can’t help it. Peter seems to take your reaction as encouragement.

“And then I met the professor, and Hank, and Mystique,” he says. “And I came here. Look how much has changed for me since then.”

You shake your head. “That’s different.”

Peter cuts you off.

“Listen,” he says. He steps closer, taking your hands in his. “Of course it’s different. You’re not me, and I’m not you. But don’t think for a second that you don’t belong here, because you do. And I… I want you to stay.”

Still moving at a normal pace – which seems oddly slow for him – Peter reaches up and gently brushes your hair behind your ear.

As his hand lingers, you lean your head against it ever so slightly before you realize what you’re doing. Peter hesitates for a second, and then that grin of his returns.

Slowly, still, he steps closer to you again, wrapping an arm around your waist, leaning in until his face is an inch from yours. He pauses.

“May I?”

“Yes,” you say, breathless.

And then he pulls you close, and your hand settles against the nape of his neck, resting against his soft silver hair, and all you can think is how long you’d been wishing that he’d kiss you. But Peter is a flirt with everyone, right? It’s part of his charm. You didn’t want to let yourself think that you were special to him at all.

But here he is – seeking out your company, kissing you in the gardens like the silly romantic that he is – and just for a moment it seems like everything else is drifting away.

Peter pulls back slowly.

“See, what’d I tell you? The second you stop psyching yourself out, you’re a natural.” Peter grins in response to your puzzled expression. “Just, y’know, don’t look down.”

“What do you mean, don’t l-”

And at this moment you realize that your feet aren’t touching the ground anymore. You’re floating, effortlessly, ten feet in the air with Peter in your arms.

Your heart lurches in an instant of panic, but between the music in your ear and Peter leaning in for a second kiss, you don’t lose control.

In fact, you find that you’ve gained it. In your mind, you press down experimentally, lifting the pair of you a foot or two higher, before gently lowering yourself down until you’re once again standing on the ground.

Peter opens his mouth to speak, and then seems to catch sight of something behind you.

“Oh, hey, Professor,” he says. “How long have you been there?”

Peter manages to keep an arm wrapped casually around your shoulders you whirl around to see Professor Xavier at the end of the hedgerow, watching you with an amused expression.

“Not long,” he says.

Damn it, you can feel your face going beet red. Peter coughs awkwardly, hurrying on to answer a question the professor hadn’t asked.

“We were just doing some, uh…” he catches your eye for a second, “Tutoring.”

You fight the urge to facepalm. Why couldn’t you have invisibility powers instead?

“A unique approach,” says the professor. “Peter, aren’t you supposed to be assisting with a chemistry lecture this afternoon?”

Peter grins.

“What, are you worried that I’m gonna be late? Me?” He leans back in to give you a peck on the cheek. “Bye.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with Professor Xavier. You’re scrambling to figure out how best to politely make your exit when the professor speaks.

“It’s lovely weather out here,” he says. “Why don’t you walk with me for a bit?”

“Well, I… Uh… Okay.”

You fall in step beside his wheelchair, and the two of you go in silence.

Forget invisibility. At this moment, you wish that you were telepathic. That way, you’d be able to block the professor from experiencing the secondhand awkwardness of your flustered thoughts.

As you’re stewing, you hear him chuckle.

“I run a school full of teenagers, you know,” he says. “That was hardly a shocking tryst.”

That’s a fair point.

“It’s also hardly the sort of thing you want your boss to walk in on,” you say. Though the initial embarrassment has faded, you still feel a little nervous.

You’ve always been a bit in awe of Professor Xavier. He’s a kind man, and he has a knack for putting people at ease. But part of you worries about your lack of progress, and the possibility that others might think it reflects badly on him. You don’t want to disappoint him like that.

“I imagine you wonder, sometimes,” says the professor at length, “Why I don’t just use my own abilities to unlock yours.”

Your silence speaks volumes. He’s not wrong, but you don’t want to admit to it in so many words. The professor smiles faintly, and continues.

“I’ve seen what happens when someone unlocks the full extent of a mutant’s abilities in an instant. The results are… unpleasant.”

You don’t have to be psychic to know what he’s referring to. Four years ago, in Cairo, a being that the news had dubbed Apocalypse and his four power-enhanced lackeys nearly destroyed human civilization. It’s not surprising that the professor would be leery of using such tactics himself, and you know he’s right.

“And even if that wasn’t the case,” he says, “I’d be taking away your opportunity to grow into them on your own. And with that, there’s a risk that you might never fully understand and appreciate them, or yourself.”

You know he’s right, again, but it doesn’t reassure you very much.

“To be honest, Professor,” you say, “I don’t think I’ve grown at all so far. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Maybe I’m too old to start learning these things.”

“Nonsense.” The professor’s tone is a little stern, but still gentle. “You know, in many ways, you’re very much the opposite of someone like myself. While I was overwhelmed by powers I couldn’t control, you struggle to access a power that constantly eludes you. You know it’s there, just out of reach – like words to a song you can’t quite remember.”

You sigh, turning your gaze to the ground. This is something you hardly need to be reminded of. Still, it’s a little bit reassuring that he can understand it without you having to fumble around trying to explain it. But what he says next catches you off-guard.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I’ve been neglecting you.”

Surprised, you look over at the professor. His brows are furrowed, and there’s something like regret in his eyes. You hurry to contradict him.

“You haven’t!” you say. “You’ve got so many things to worry about already. If it’s not a crisis, it’s a catastrophe – and running the school on top of that? That all takes precedence; I understand that.”

You understand, and you don’t mind. Much. The professor shakes his head.

“It’s been relatively peaceful here for some time. You’re not a child, but you’re still my student, and I’ve neglected to see to your training. For that, you must let me apologize, and let me promise to make up for lost time. But in return, I’d like you to promise me something, as well.”

“Of course,” you say, mystified, “But… promise you what, exactly?”

“This school isn’t simply a place of academic learning,” he says. “It’s a place for people like us to find one another. Though our lives and experiences may be different, we give ourselves the chance to connect with each other, to learn from each other.”

You’re starting to get his drift. “So… I’ve been neglecting my studies on that front, is that right?”

The professor nods, but you don’t see disappointment in his expression – merely patience.

“You have,” he says. “You believe that you’re weak, and because you’re ashamed of that weakness, you hide away and keep to yourself, but that only discourages you more. But if you stop running from yourself – if you were to reach back when someone reaches out to you…”

“You mean, like… with Peter? Just now?” You sound silly even to your own ears. Your awkwardness seems to amuse the professor.

“I don’t mean that exact method, specifically,” he says, biting back a smile, “But, yes. Perhaps a friendship like his is exactly the encouragement you need.”

You fall silent again, considering this. It’s true; you haven’t mentioned your doubts and frustrations to anyone before now. You’d honestly expected to feel worse about opening up to someone, to feel the need to double-down on your self-sufficient attitude to compensate for any vulnerability.

But you don’t feel that way. You’re still a little hesitant, sure, and you don’t expect that’s going to go away anytime soon. Still… this wasn’t the catastrophic moment of failure you’d anticipated. Peter didn’t laugh at you, or dismiss your feelings. He stuck by you and tried to help. You hadn’t expected that. It’s nice.

“I know you feel that you should be doing more,” says the professor, “But you must understand, what we’re working towards is a time when mutants don’t have to justify their existence through acts of dangerous heroism. What I hope for is a time when our kind is free to simply exist, using our skills to better our communities, our world, and ourselves, just like any other human being.”

You’re not sure how to describe it, but sometimes there’s something about the professor that’s so reassuringly, resolutely hopeful that it makes everything seem a little less dire.

“I know,” you say, smiling faintly, “But I still do want to help.”

“You are helping,” he insists, “Or haven’t you noticed how more and more students come out to the gardens to study?”

Come to think of it, you have noticed that. When you’d started working here, you could go weeks without seeing a soul outside, and now the garden is almost a more popular destination than the library.

“See, I knew it was a good idea to update the patio furniture,” you say. “Those old iron chairs are beautiful, but so uncomfortable to sit on for more than ten minutes at a-”

You break off, looking curiously at the professor, who’s smiling as he shakes his head.

“They don’t come out here for the furniture. They come out here to see you.”

You blink, surprised. That can’t be right. Or…

You think back to your first year working at the school. The students would gather on the grassy areas of the grounds, but generally not in the gardens themselves. You figured this had something to do with the rather austere layout and, after getting the professor’s blessing, you began incorporating more cottage-garden style flowers. It’d brightened the place up considerably.

One afternoon, as you were hauling wheelbarrowfuls of mulch, you came across one of the younger students. Said student literally had steam pouring from her ears as she stared at the schoolwork spread out on the bench beside her.

If only to prevent anything from catching fire, you stopped and asked her what she was working on. It was history homework, and she was having trouble memorizing the names of the important figures in the era.

Now, you may not be a particularly strong mutant, but you were usually good at school. You sat down with the girl and helped her figure out a mnemonic that made sense to her.

You saw the girl in the gardens frequently after that, and sometimes her friends would join her, and they’d flag you down to tell you what they were learning about. The gardens became a favorite study spot for older students, too.

You’d never really thought about it before now, but every time the students would try to catch your attention, it was to talk through a concept they were struggling with. Huh…

“You have a knack for thinking about things from a different angle,” the professor goes on. “Are you quite certain you don’t want to teach?”

You get the feeling he’s only half-serious, and you laugh. “Oh, I’d be useless trying to put together a curriculum. I think I’d better stick to giving freelance advice.”

“Fair enough. I can tell you this much,” says the professor, “There’s much more in you than you know yet. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen Peter so content to pace himself in everyday life.”

Yup, you’re blushing again. You can feel it.

You’ve circled back around to the doors. To his credit, the professor seems to understand that he’s given you enough to think about for one day, and takes his leave.

“Well, it was a lovely afternoon for a turn around the gardens,” he says, “I noticed that the zinnias are getting ready to bloom. Might I trouble you to bring some in for my study this week? They always seem to brighten up the place.”

“Absolutely, sir,” you say. “And, Professor? Thank you.”

The professor smiles, and bids you good afternoon.

As you walk away from the mansion, your thoughts turn back to Peter, and you smile to yourself. You know exactly what your next baking project is going to be: a chocolate cake with real buttercream frosting – Peter’s favorite.

And suddenly, your arms are held out in front of you. In your hands is a little potted tea rose plant – the sort you’d find at a grocery store’s floral department. There’s a note stuck amongst the leaves, written in slanted, hurried-looking script:

Figured you’d prefer something that lasts a little longer than a bouquet. See you tonight, maybe? <3 Peter

He really is sweet. Ridiculous, but sweet. If you hurry to finish the last of your work, you’ll have just enough time to bake that cake before evening.

You can picture yourself putting the finishing touches on the frosting, only to blink and find that a piece of cake is missing, and to turn around and find Peter sitting on your couch, already halfway through the slice.

The thought makes you smile again. Carefully hugging the little rose to your chest, you hurry along.

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #x men fanfiction #peter maximoff fluff #am i implying that peter maximoff listens to the cranberries? yes. yes i am.#I know it doesn’t quite fit with the timeline #but in my defense - multiverse #also - i’ve been thinking of this as an alternate version of ‘you’ from andante #because i’ve been having fun with this hypothetical mutant character XP #just shouting into the void #peter maximoff fanfiction

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jadelynlace · 3 years ago

Text

Hvitserk’s First Tattoo / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. here is the visual reference for the tattoo Hvitserk gets (image isn’t mine and all credit goes to it’s original owner). mentions of brotherly bickering, Hvitserk being scared and Ivar tattooing.

synopsis: You finally talk Hvitserk into getting some ink.

✎

“Did I miss it?” You say, nearly falling in through the main door of the shop. “I almost took the ambulance over here just because it has lights and sirens,” Hvitserk offers you an estranged look, one mixed with him being mortified and slightly impressed with your timing after the over night shift.

“I’ve never seen you this excited,” Sigurd calls from his spot, pulling a record from the shelf as he goes about lining it up, pulling the needle over so the music can fill the room.

“She doesn’t even get this excited when she sees my dick,” Ivar teases from his spot and you offer him a less than kind finger gesture.

“Can you blame me?” You remark back and Ivar only returns your original hand motion. “Did you pick yet?” You the ask as Hvitserk studies Ivar’s portfolio, as if he will be quizzed on it at the end of the session.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” He groans, another turn of the laminated pages.

“All of our best talks happen when it’s in the ambulance cabin at four in the morning,” You laugh, patting his back as you round the small counter. Ivar’s hands are quick to seat you on his lap, wrapping around you almost instantly and you both breathe in relief.

“Long night?” Ivar asks softly in your ear.

“Routine bullshit,” You grumble back, his hands tracing up your back and you could almost fall asleep in the very spot. One hand leaves your spine, reaching along the counter to grasp the tall can of his energy drink, offering it to you but you only shake your head. “That crap tastes like cough syrup,” You add as Ivar downs another gulp.

“Hurry up Hvitserk, we’re here after hours for this,” Ivar calls before he pulls the can back to his mouth.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to pop your cherry,” You say and Ivar looses some of the energy drink through a spray from his lips.

“You can get her name on your ass,” Sigurd says, walking past Hvitserk and tapping his uniform clad back.

“Why? So Ivar and I can match?” Hvitserk grumbles back and you laugh against Ivar’s chest.

“How do they know about that?” Ivar asks you quietly, through a teasing voice and you raise slightly, giggling against his mouth as your catch his lips with yours.

“Oh, for fucks sake—Hvitserk here, do that one,” Sigurd says, tapping his fingers against the page. “Paramedic Ragnarsson gets an anatomical tattoo,”

“Nice choice,” Ivar hums, standing to his full height with you latched still around him and he sets you to sit along the counter.

“Is it nap time for the baby?” Sigurd says, voice taking on a toddler’s tone as he sits back at the front desk, and at the receiving end of the pen that flies from Ivar’s grasp. Leather combat boots stalk along the dark wooden floors, pulling the design from its laminated home before Ivar sends the image through the printer in the far corner. Your eyes catch sight of his back, the muscles in his biceps, the veins on his forearms as he programs the machine to spit out the stencil. Looming your eyes up the gray fabric of the old band tee, over the locks that he’s starting to comb into a bun, and then down the dark wash jeans and over how they end in the tops of his shoes. More thoughts swirl about how you couldn’t wait to undress him when you two would go to your apartment.

As Hvitserk makes himself comfortable in the black leather chair, he rolls up the uniform sleeve, a quick unbutton and folding of the blue material, already deciding on where he deemed the appropriate placement. The curl of his sleeve stops above his elbow and you could see the faint burn mark on his wrist from when he tried to eat a marshmallow that was still on fire. You watched Ivar position himself at his station, a meticulous arrangement of his tools, setting everything in a straight line to connect. There was a squirt of the ink into the containers, a pull of gloves onto his hands, wiggling his fingers into their spots and cracking his knuckles. You bit down on your own tongue to stop that moan that tried so hard to escape. Taking the razor to shave off the blond fuzz, he gingerly laid the stencil on his brother’s inner arm, pressing it gently before pulling it back.

“Double check in the mirror that you like the placement,” Ivar says, tossing his head towards the back wall with the mirror surrounded by an intense wooded frame Floki had built. Hvitserk stands, and you see the slight tremor in his hands, never a fan of any sort of pain—intentional or not. You’ve seen this man cry at the sensation of a paper cut, and all but sob when he jerked his shin against the metal grate on the ambulance’s bumper. But, he was also the man who would tell the patients that it was going to hurt—the realignment, or when he set up the hare for an isolated femur fracture—it was going to hurt and they had his full permission to break his hand if need be. You laugh every time there’s an active labor call, and Hvitserk reassures the mother that he has two hands, and if she needs to break one to push her child out, he’s willing to suffer. It calms the hysteria, even on the worst calls you two had walked into, Hvitserk always knew how to calm any of the demons that danced in the ambulance. Ivar turns to you as Hvitserk gazes, probably far longer than other client has to date, and slides himself over to where you’re perched. There’s a removal of one glove, an index finger and thumb on your chin as he kisses you once, twice, and third time.

“I already know what I want to eat for dinner,” He whispers against your ear, just loudly enough so you’re the only one to hear his words. “But make sure you leave the polo on, baby girl,” He adds, kissing your temple and nudging the badge that’s on your chest, as a slow blush roses over your cheeks while he turns back around. “Alright brother, ready?” He calls, tapping the seat of the chair and Hvitserk takes a final look before plopping both himself down and his arm against the cushion.

“Is it going to hurt?” Hvitserk asks, trying to bite the smile he’s showing while both Ivar and Sigurd are preparing to throw whatever they can reach. “I’m sorry I couldn’t resist,” Ivar offers him another lethal glare, nearly plucking the smile from his lips as he begins to spread a thin layer of the ointment across the purple ink. There’s a buzz from the needle gun and Hvitserk whimpers not unlike a puppy. Ivar’s glove-clad fingers stretch to pull the skin taunt, taking the gun down the first line and wiping it with a paper towel.

“Still alright, sir?” You say to Hvitserk as if he’s a patient in your ambulance and you’re watching an IV start.

“Can you hold my hand?” He whines in a faked voice of concern.

“No,” You say back and there’s a snicker from Sigurd on the far side of the shop. The room dulls to only the noise of the record, the vibration of the needle and you watch Ivar so effortlessly in his element. Eyes watching, concentrating on what he’s doing yet singing lowly to the lyrics of the song that floods your ears alike. He rolls his chair slightly, maneuvering Hvitserk’s arm to his liking as he holds it down with his own. Strength unmatched because his least favorite thing is when the client fidgets, since it sends his work to become sloppy, and he’s grown accustomed to a way to hold the body part down to his liking. And that sight makes you think about him over you, body weight pressing against you like a weighted blanket, one with a smart mouth and curved lip who melts at the sheer stroke of your nails on his skin. Your thoughts rolls from the shift you worked prior, reanalyzing what you had done, gone through, pulling it to part like thread. They roll like waves but crash with thoughts of Ivar, his small comment earlier and then they shift. From work to pleasure and you’re squeezing your thighs before you realize it. Ivar’s voice comes through your ears to halt the dissection, and you move your head to see Hvitserk admiring the piece now forever on his skin and you smile back. Another layer of ointment and then it’s wrapped tightly with Ivar’s instructions to leave it on for an hour.

“See? No need to be a little baby about it,” You tease him and he laughs.

“That’s his default setting,” Sigurd’s voice calls as he stands up. “Ivar you’re closing up tonight, right?” And Ivar just nods. “I will see your smiling face tomorrow morning then,” He adds sarcastically, and with a wave and check of his pockets he’s out the shops front door.

“Wasn’t as terrible as I thought,” Hvitserk jokes. “Maybe I will get your name on my ass after all,” You offer him a faked smile and forged laugh. “I’m going to head out too, I got the over time for tomorrow,” And he’s gone with a salute through his hand and the hundred dollar bill on the desk, leaving you and Ivar alone in the shop.

“I like seeing you in here,” You say softly as you watch him clear his materials, place everything in their homes and he smiles while he works. “You’re so relaxed,”

“I can say the same thing when I see you in that ambulance, baby,” He replies as he casts a look back to you and then he’s standing, arm grabbing you to come into his side. “Now let’s get going, I’m really looking forward to my dinner…”

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elizabeethan · 3 years ago

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Steal Away: 2 / 5

When a bank robbery with his brother goes horribly wrong, Killian Jones learns to heal with the help of a fiery blonde who happened to get caught in the crosshairs.

A Modern AU

Based loosely on the movie Hell Or High Water (and so I tag @captainswanmoviemarathon)

Read on Ao3

Read The Rest

Read my Other Stuff

A/N: So this was supposed to be a one shot, but it’s, like, 24k words so I thought it would be best to split it up. I’m probably going to post one part a night for the next week or so, though.

This part is rated T as well, mostly for language and car sickness :) (I’ll let you know when we get to M hehehe)

thank you as usual to @the-darkdragonfly, @donteattheappleshook and @xhookswenchx for letting me ramble about this for weeks, and to Kay for beta-ing <3

~~~~

It happens quickly.

Her sense of humor, her taste in music, the adorable way she snorts when he hits a pothole while she’s sleeping… it’s impossible for him to avoid the feelings that stir in him. It’s almost embarrassing, the speed at which he begins to recognize his feelings, but it’s not as if he plans on sharing them at any point.

The fact is… he likes her. She’s cute, and funny, and undeniably sexy, and he knows that if she wasn’t here, he probably wouldn’t be either. He would’ve been arrested right off the bat, or shot in the bank himself, or drowning in a bottle of rum beside his brother’s grave. If it wasn’t for Emma Swan and her insistence to stay in his life, he wouldn’t be on his way to Maine to pick up the only remaining person in his life who means something.

Although, perhaps that isn’t true, because after a day on the road, he’s discovered that she’s starting to mean something, too.

He doesn’t know enough about her to dignify a crush, but he also isn’t stupid. He knows that he’s infatuated with her. He knows that he’s finding it hard to keep his gaze off of her. He knows that her stunning green eyes play off of the gold of her skin and her hair in such a way that makes his heart race. He knows that, based solely on what she’s told him so far, he’s desperate to know more.

She doesn't have a family. She spent much of her childhood homeless and running away from abusive foster placements. She was abandoned as an infant, left in the woods at only a few hours old. She’s been through hell and back, and she still manages a blinding smile.

Her ex boyfriend is the reason she’s here with him, he thinks. She says that he screwed her over and that she wants nothing more than to get away from him and from the place that reminds her of him, and Killian thinks this all happened at a rather convenient time for her. She told him yesterday, when he was panicking over his brother’s demise, that she could tell that he was there in that bank for a good reason, and he’s taken to assuming that she has a good reason to assume that.

They hardly know each other, and yet he feels as though he’s known her his whole life. He knows so little about her, and yet, he can read her like she’s an open book. The term kindred spirits feels naive, and yet, that’s exactly what they are.

“Are we gonna stop in Chicago?” she asks excitedly as she watches the Welcome to Illinois sign pass them by.

“Definitely not,” he laughs. “It’s far too north for where we’re headed.”

“What, and Maine isn’t?” she snorts, shaking her head and pointing out a bird that flies by. “What’s up there, anyway?”

Immediately, his heart starts racing and his palms start sweating at the thought of telling her the true reason for their trip. It dawns on him that, when they arrive, he would have to tell her anyway, lest he abandon her in town before he arrives at the lawyer’s office.

Of course, Emma has experienced her fair share of abandonment at this point in her life, and while he hardly knows her and shouldn’t care, he wouldn’t dare contribute to the trauma that comes with the feeling of being left behind and forgotten.

Bloody hell.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she says after a long moment of silence.

He clears his throat, drawing his focus back to the highway before him. “It’s alright, love. I just… it’s a sore subject, I suppose.”

“We share a lot of those,” she jokes, smirking at him and making his heart race. More gently, she reasons, “which means you should know by now that I won’t judge you.”

“Aye,” he agrees immediately, because he does know that. “Aye, you’re right. It’s, um… my child.”

He catches her balking, her jaw dropping and then snapping shut in quick succession before he needs to focus back on the road. “You have a kid?”

With a nod, his grip on the steering wheel tightens. This vehicle is better than the last, the clutch not sticking like the one in the truck had, but it’s so small and cramped that he doubts they’ll be able to sleep comfortably in these seats tonight. He’d best pull over soon so that they can find a place to sleep. “I do,” he confirms. “A daughter. She’s eight.”

“How old are you?” she asks in shock.

He narrows his eyes, shifting his gaze to her briefly and suspiciously asking, “how old are you?”

“I asked you first,” she says seriously, as if she truly doesn't want to disclose her age, and he begins to panic. She looks old enough, but the potential that he’s just kidnapped a minor on top of everything else begins to assault his thoughts.

“Please just tell me I didn’t kidnap you,” he begs, his heart racing.

“No,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m 23, and much more mature than you.”

With a sound that’s somewhere between a snort and a sigh of relief, he nods. “Aye, love. I’m sure you are.”

She sits in silence, staring at him expectantly, and he knows that it drives her mad when he smirks and begins to laugh. “Don’t be stupid! Just tell me how old you are!”

“I’m… I’m 31.”

“Oh,” she says, chuckling beside him. “So you’re not that much of a cradle robber. Just a regular old bank robber.”

“Oy!” he shouts in offense, staring at her in shock. “Sensitive subject. And what makes you think I’m trying to rob your... cradle?”

She snorts and shakes her head. “Please. I saw the way you were staring at my ass at that last rest stop.”

She could’ve chosen a more opportune time to say that, perhaps when he wasn’t taking a sip of coffee. It’s rather uncomfortable coming up his nose. “Love,” he says through a cough. “I’m not— that is, I meant not to—”

“It’s fine, Killian,” she tells him, giggling softly and playfully. “A girl likes to feel flattered, especially a girl who feels like a—”

Her jaw snaps shut and her eyes grow wide, the emerald catching the rays of the sun and throwing glints of gold. “Like a what, darling?”

“Like… um, like I could eat everything on the menu at McDonalds. Is it time to stop yet?”

“No,” he laughs, although he finds that he struggles to say no to her and mean it, even after such little time, and he indicates his intent to change lanes and moves towards an exit. “We only stopped for breakfast a few hours ago.”

“Well, I’m starving,” she tells him, shooting him a soft smile. “And if I don’t stretch my legs in a minute, they’re gonna fall off.”

“You need to stretch your legs? Your feet are currently on top of my dashboard. Is that not enough of a stretch?”

“Your dashboard? I’m pretty sure I witnessed you stealing this car.”

“From a scrapyard,” he mumbles, giving her a shy smile as he exits the highway. “What do you want for lunch? Or should I say brunch? It’s barely eleven.”

“We crossed time zones, you ass.”

“What do you want?” he laughs.

She hums playfully, pretending to ponder his question seriously and says, “a prime rib, cooked medium rare, with a side of garlic mashed potatoes. Caramelized onion and mushroom sauce on the steak. And some green beans, for balance.”

Shaking his head and laughing along with her, he says, “chicken nuggets and fries it is, darling.”

~~~~

“You need to pull over,” she says suddenly, breaking almost an hour of silence between them during which he was certain she was asleep. After their early lunch, he decided to keep driving, anticipating that she would take over in a few hours.

“Emma,” he sighs, “we only just stopped two hours ago.”

“I’m not asking,” she demands. “I’m telling you that if you don’t pull over,” she puts her hand over her mouth, her retching and gagging preventing her from saying anything more.

“Jesus,” he mumbles as he pulls into the breakdown lane, barely stopped and still in gear when she thrusts the door open and loses her lunch all over the ground. He can’t ask her if she’s alright because she hasn’t stopped vomiting, so he checks his side mirror and opens his door, walking around the front of the car to meet her. He stands behind the door and places his hand in her hair, massaging her scalp as she shudders violently. “I didn’t realize you were prone to car sickness.”

She groans, shaking her head and resting it against the window at her side. “I think your driving has gotten worse.”

He hums, continuing his ministrations on her scalp as she catches her breath. “Was it the chicken, love? I knew that stuff was crap.”

“No, it’s your crap driving.”

“Do you want to take over, then?”

“No, I want to sleep.”

“Come on out and get some fresh air, would you?” She whimpers as he pulls the door open a bit more, and he takes her hand to help her out and around her sick. “It’s alright, love, come here.”

She breathes deeply as she stands, and only remains in front of him for a moment before she falls forward against his chest and into his arms. “Sorry,” she whispers into his sweatshirts wrapping her arms around his waist and holding herself close to him. “For delaying the trip.”

“You needn’t worry about that, love,” he soothes, and he focuses on moving his hands along her back and hair in the same way she had his. “A few moments while you find your bearings won’t hurt. Are you alright?”

She nods against him, a sound coming from her throat that makes him squeeze her tighter. He can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, the need to comfort her interrupting any reasonable thoughts in his head. She whispers, “yeah,” so softly that he kisses her again.

“During lunch I found a small campground that takes cash. It’s only another few hours; can you make it that far? We can use the tent and the camping mat instead of sleeping in the car.”

“Luxurious,” she jokes softly, maintaining her firm embrace around his middle. “That sounds perfect.”

~~~~

She’s relentless in her jokes at his expense as he struggles with the tent. It’s dusk, and there’s a decent canopy of trees above him, and, as she points out often, he’s getting old. He struggles to see the small pieces and determine what goes where, and she’s hardly any help as she sits in the car laughing at him as she claims to be recovering from another spell of car sickness.

“You could try helping me, you know,” he finally mumbles as the structure collapses again and he’s met with her symphonic laughter.

“Need a newer pair of eyes, Captain?” she asks in good humor, standing and bounding towards him confidently. It’s almost miraculous how quickly she’s recovered, and yet her nausea seems to keep coming back.

“Very funny, love. Come and tell me where E connects to G.”

It’s impossible to ignore the way the full moon shines against her hair, almost white in the dim light of the night sky. The gentle waves flow freely as she releases the tie from around her locks, rubbing her palms over her face as she settles into the warm cocoon of the sleeping bag. She gives him a soft, gentle smile as he zips the tent’s opening securely shut, taking his place upon the ground between her and the door. “Where’s yours?” she asks, gesturing down at her sleeping bag and camping mat.

He shrugs and then nods towards her. “Someone stole it.”

Her eyes widen in surprised embarrassment and she asks, “this is yours? What about-- weren’t you and… I mean…”

Smiling as he lies down on his back, he turns his head to face her and says, “I was meant to travel alone, actually.”

Just as he thinks she’s about to match his position and lie back herself, she stirs and begins tugging on the sleeping bag until she’s out of it. She shakes it out in front of herself to straighten it and then feels around in the dark for the zipper, pulling it around the puffy fabric until it’s fully open before her. Turning towards him, she gives him another soft smile and dramatically opens it like a parachute, draping it over the both of them. “There you go,” she says with finality. “We can share.”

“You don’t have to do that, love. It’s summer anyway.”

“We’re sleeping outside, and you're taking a second, unexpected person on your trip across the country, who also happens to frequently demand pit stops. The least I can do is share your sleeping bag with you.”

“Well… thank you, lass. That’s very kind of you.”

“I just can’t part with the mat, sorry. The ground is way too hard.”

He laughs as he turns to his side, silently agreeing with her that the ground is mighty firm as he grimaces. “You can’t spare it for an old man with old bones?”

She shrugs, laughing softly as well as she rolls to her side to face him head on. “You're not that old.”

“So I'm only young when it suits you?”

“I didn’t say you were young.”

He hasn’t laughed this much in years. Before he met her, he hadn’t been so close to a woman in almost a decade. He’s forgotten how soothing the gentle touch of another can be, and he’s been hard pressed to ignore how especially soothing she is, in particular. “You do have quite the sense of humor, love.”

“All in good fun,” she smiles. He catches her gaze shooting down at the hem of the old sleeping bag, her fingers fiddling with some thread that has pulled away from its place. “Will you tell me something?” she asks in a whisper.

“What is it?”

She clears her throat nervously, continuing to avert her eyes from his, and asks, “will you tell me about your daughter?”

With a hum and a sad smile, he bites his bottom lip and nods, the memories of his love flooding back into his mind, as if he’s ever been able to prevent them. “Alice,” he says. “She’s just turned eight a few months ago. I missed her birthday.”

“Why? What happened?”

He notes the way that her fingers continue to play at the loose threads, and he matches her actions just beside her. “I was with my mother; she was dying and had no one else while Liam was in jail. I wanted to bring Alice with me, but… her mother wouldn’t allow it.”

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately. He hears a rustle against the mat her head lies on and lifts his own gaze to meet hers.

“Thank you.”

“When did you see her last, then?”

He gulps over the lump in his throat. “It’s been well over a year.”

She sighs, and he doesn’t think he imagines the minute amount of space that she closes between them. “You must miss her terribly.”

“Aye, I do. Everyday.”

“Is there… I mean, is there a reason it’s been so long? I’m not trying to judge you, I’m sorry, I just—“

“It’s alright, love,” he interrupts, noting the sudden shift in her demeanor as she realizes the nature of her question. “Her mother was rather… controlling, I suppose. I believe she used drugs and alcohol for much of Alice’s early life. I don’t have any reason to believe she used during her pregnancy, but I cared for Alice from birth when Eloise fell off the wagon. I even named her, after my ailing mother. But a few years later, she got clean and started to take over. She took Alice to live with her; became upset when I came around. And eventually, the way she would scream at me when I tried to visit made Alice upset, so I stopped coming around as much.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and he wonders if he’s taken things a bit too far. If he’s opened up to her too much. He fears this for what feels like an eternity as she lies beside him, her warm breath washing over his nose as he thinks the worst. That he’s upset her, that he’s offended her, that he’s made her think of the trauma of being abandoned herself as he describes the way he abandoned his own daughter. And his fears are confirmed when she sniffles softly before him and moves her fingers from the frayed threads to her eyes, wiping tears away.

“Emma,” he whispers into the darkness, “I’m sor--”

“That’s so terrible,” she interrupts sadly, and he bows his head in shame, knowing already that his actions are deplorable. Until she whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry… for what?” he asks in shock, speaking almost at full volume, a contrast to their whispering tones.

“You just--” she sniffs once more, “--it’s obvious how badly you want to be in your daughter’s life, and you haven’t been able to. That’s got to be the worst feeling… I can’t even imagine not being allowed to…”

Clearing his throat, he takes a risk by reaching before himself to wipe a tear from her soft cheek with his thumb, almost desperate to comfort her as she has him the entire time he’s known her. “It’s alright, love,” he whispers. “I’m going to get her back, with your help. I wouldn’t be here, on my way to her, if it weren’t for you.”

She sniffles and laughs at the same time, adorably embarrassed at the sound that escapes her, and asks, “what’s changed now? With you and her mom?”

“She died,” he answers simply. If she had begun to relax slightly into his hand, she stiffens at his words. “She relapsed, mixed drugs and alcohol… her body couldn’t handle it.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “That must’ve been hard, too.”

“Not much,” he answers too quickly. She draws her brows together in question and he continues, “I’m sad for Alice; she’s lost her mother. But she never really had her much. Eloise was never a very devout mother. It always seemed like she was in it for the image, or only when it suited her. I don’t think she ever really wanted a child.”

Emma nods gently, the small gap between them getting smaller when a gust of wind shakes the tent and she slides closer to him. “Was she, I mean, was Alice a surprise?”

“Oh, aye, very much so,” he laughs softly. “El and I weren’t ever a couple, we just met at a bar and… well, we were only together once. It was sort of a low point for me.”

“I get that,” she nods again. “Sleeping with the wrong person, I mean. Not that… I mean, not that Alice was a mistake or anything, of course.”

“I know what you mean,” he consoles in a whisper as she again worries that she’s offended him. She should know that she couldn’t possibly say the wrong thing, because despite how short of a time he’s known her, he knows that she can do no wrong in his eyes.

“Will you tell me about her? Like… What was it like when she was a baby? Was it very hard?”

He hums and nods, agreeing, “it was hard, yes; I was mostly alone. But it was so worth it.”

“It was?” she asks softly, almost insecurely and making him narrow his eyes in thought.

She hasn’t told him anything, but he isn’t a fool. He means every word of what he says to her next, and says it in hopes that he can give her solace. “Aye. As hard as life has been, I wouldn't change anything because it’s how I got Alice.”

In a move that surprises him almost as much as it doesn’t, she moves as close to him as she can and tucks her head into his chest, just below his chin, and wraps her arm around his waist. “That’s a good point,” she murmurs into his sweatshirt.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks, accepting her into his embrace and letting his hand run along the length of her spine over her own sweatshirt. He reminds himself that he doesn’t truly know her, so he can’t assume that this isn’t like her, but it feels profound.

She nods against his chest, pulling herself impossibly closer as she seems to seek more warmth and a firmer embrace. “It’s weird,” she starts, her voice muffled. “I barely know you, but it feels like you're my friend.”

“I am your friend,” he agrees with a smile. “And you’re mine. I told you I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

“Of course not. I’ve been driving most of the way.”

She snorts, nuzzling her nose into the crook between his neck and his shoulder and squeezing around his waist. “Yeah, that’s why I’ve been puking nonstop.”

“Would you like to drive tomorrow, then?” he laughs.

“Sure.”

“Alright. We’ll need to leave quite early. Just another two days to go, I think.”

“Okay,” she yawns, falling asleep in his arms feeling, he hopes, as safe as he does.

~~~~

Tagging:

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#captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #captain swan au #modern au #cs ff au #Steal Away #steal away ff #cs fluff #cs angst #eventual smut #hurt/comfort

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foodieforthoughts · 4 years ago

Text

Sand and Stars - Chapter Four

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 1752

Warnings: 18+, slight fluff, drinking, consumption of alcohol, smut in future chapters (we are getting there!)

A/N: I loved writing this chapter. Sy is grumpy and confused, but I finally got something for him to be excited about! Thank you to @thelastsock again for being so helpful and beta-reading my work. Leave a comment, like or reblog and tell me what you think will happen next? Enjoy!

<Chapter Three

Title: Chapter Four

Syverson was not a man to be lingering on a woman’s attention for so long. He liked the chase, but his ego was fragile and if his attempts seemed futile, he would stop. But this time, a certain red-haired woman sat across from him had made it almost impossible to steer himself away.

Sy watched as Olivia clapped Schmidt on his chest, her head falling back as her laugh echoed in the night. She had her hand on the other man’s pecs, her body shaking with their shared joke and her face lit up like the fourth of July. Sy had noticed the bond between Olivia and her second in-command. He admired that they had an understanding, but he also desperately wanted to take Schmidt’s place in Olivia’s life.

Sy sighed, running a hand across his buzzed head and looked at the other soldiers sitting around him. It had been a whole week since the last time he had met Olivia at the gate. He really had wanted to pull her by her scarf and give her a long, ravenous kiss. But when she had turned away from him, he had felt stupid and angry at himself. Stupid because he was a grown-ass man acting like a teenage boy and angry because he had never subjected himself to devastating humiliation before.

Sy had chosen to walk away and since avoided Olivia the best he could. He had assigned separate patrolling hours so as to not run into her. He stayed put in his office most of the time or had chosen to take more trips to the village. He was trying so hard to dismiss all thoughts about her, but she lingered in his mind despite all his efforts.

Last night Sy had heard her voice from his adjacent room. At first, he thought he was hallucinating, conjuring her voice in addition to thoughts of her as he started to fall asleep. But then he had peered outside his room, only to spot her and the other ladies playing cards with his men. He had debated joining them, potentially walking into the trap of her entity and ruining the minimal self-control he had managed to regain. With a huge sigh and a grunt, Sy had closed the door and thrown himself on his bed before covering his ears with his pillows.

He had been successfully avoiding her for that whole week when he was informed about the party her unit had planned for her. Sy was amused to learn that it was her birthday the next day. The plan, he was told, was to have some drinks and chill on the rooftop with music until lights out. He could have stayed in his room but the urge to wish her a ‘happy birthday’ at midnight was too strong. So here he was, sitting on the floor with a glass of whiskey in his hand and watching Olivia as she spoke to her friend.

Schmidt had bumped into him with an armful of blankets to take up to the roof. “If only we could get whiskey for the Sergeant, she would be the happiest,” he had said, running up the stairs. Sy, with the new found information, had gotten a bottle of his treasured, fine Irish whiskey from his secret stash and handed it to Schmidt as soon as he had arrived on the roof.

“Come on, tell us something we don’t know.” Sy watched as one of Olivia’s men pitched in, slurring his words as he spoke while taking support of the man beside him.

Olivia was also visibly drunk, smiling sheepishly at her men. Sy noticed the flush on her skin, a faint rosy tint appearing on the apples of her cheek. Her hair was tied in a loose braid, falling over her shoulder and resting on her breast. Sy took a sip of his amber liquid as his gaze lingered on the ends of her braid caressing the soft swell of her chest with her movements.

“What do you want to know?” She asked as she placed her elbow on Schmidt’s shoulder. Sy let out a slow breath through his nostrils as he observed the close proximity of their bodies. Involuntarily, he felt his grip tighten over his glass.

“Anything from your days of being a Private!” Someone interrupted. Sy was too busy to note who was the person that spoke as he was busy following Olivia’s every move. As she began describing her days in the camp, Sy let his eyes travel down her body. She was leaning back on her hands now, with her face looking up at the sky as she reminisced about the past. They all had their fatigues on, except Sy, but she had unbuttoned the top three buttons, exposing her collar bones as she wore no t-shirt inside. Sy took a big gulp of his drink as he feasted on the minute details of her enchanting body.

“Tell us about Captain Coop!” Sloan announced from beside Sy. He turned his head looking at the blonde resting her back against her man. BJ had become a complete sucker for the woman for which Sy had had a private talk with the sergeant about the code of conduct and how he cannot throw out his bunk mates for his campsite romance.

“No!” Olivia remarked, throwing her hands up in the air. “Not him, not tonight.”

“We need some gossip to live by in this dump, Sarge.” Sierra commented from a corner, clutching her bottle of local liquor close to her body.

The mention of another captain had piqued Sy’s interest. Worry clouded his mind as he went over the idea of someone waiting for Olivia back home. He frowned at the thought and grabbed a hold of the bottle of whiskey to pour himself another drink. Sy had been so busy romanticizing himself with her, he hadn’t bothered to find out if she was single.

“Well-” Olivia started just when the lights went out. With a resounding groan, she was cut short as everyone around her stood up on their wobbly legs to wish her happy birthday. The sound of her exuberant laughter rang in Sy’s ears as her unit members enveloped her in hugs and kisses.

Sy stood away from the huddling group with his drink in hand. His men stood beside him, letting Olivia’s comrades speak first. Sy couldn’t help but smile as Olivia hugged each one of her team members with delight apparent on her face. He had noticed the way she treated her men. Unlike many from the enlisted army, Olivia viewed her unit more like her family and less like people who worked under her.

It took several minutes for the excitement to die down as people started to retreat back to their quarters. Sy stood leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched everyone walk by him towards the door. Schmidt was the last one to leave but not before wrapping Olivia in a hug and then picking up the bottle of whiskey on his way out of the door.

“Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday, Captain?”

A whole week Sy had longed for her to address him. Seven days of absolute hell for him to ignore her yet want her. Olivia stood a few paces away from him with her hands wrapped around her body as the wind picked up. Sy pushed himself off the wall and took slow steps towards the woman who currently occupied his waking thoughts.

When he came close to her, her warmth caressed his body against the cold. She had a dopey smile on her face and her big brown eyes looked up at him with anticipation. He gulped as his gaze travelled down to her plump lips noting the sharp points of her cupid’s bow.

Olivia shivered as a strong breeze blew past them. A few strands of her hair had come loose and flew onto her face. She tried to tuck them behind her ear but Sy caught her hand instead. Her hand fell away, Sy following the movement with his eyes where his hand left hers. He gently pushed the hair away from her face, his fingertips tingling with the feel of her soft skin against his.

“I’m sorry for being rude that night,” Olivia whispered, closing the gap between their bodies with another step. Sy took a sharp breath as she plastered her body flush against his. He could feel her curves against his, marveling at how pretty she looked under the moonlight. Her eyes gleamed like liquid gold as they looked up at him.

Sy brought his other hand up to her cheek, holding her face with both of his hands. He watched as she wet her lips with her tongue and her gaze dropped down to his own.

“Are you going to kiss me?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Sy felt her hands on his waist, clutching his t-shirt in her fists.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to finally taste her on his lips, feel her moan into his mouth. He wanted to suck at her bottom lip until it was swollen red. But he debated with himself, his lips tingling with the anticipation of the kiss he had been dreaming about.

With a slow, shuddering breath escaping his mouth, Sy closed his eyes. He touched her forehead with his, breathing in the scent of her. She smelled like lavender, a hint of rose and whiskey too. “Not like this.” He whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want our first kiss to be like this. You shouldn't be drunk, and I shouldn't be fighting this urge.” He opened his eyes to stare into hers. “You don’t know how badly I want to kiss you, but we’ll wait for it to be memorable.”

He looked at her, waiting for her to react and expecting her to feel hurt or rejected. But she smiled back at him instead and nodded. He kissed the top of her head gently and pulled her in for a hug. Her arms couldn’t reach around his body, she laughed drunkenly as she struggled to clasp her hands behind his back. The sound of her unrestrained chuckle filled Sy with joy and a satisfaction that all hadn’t been lost between them, that he need not ignore her anymore.

“Happy birthday, little birdie.” He whispered as he pulled Olivia tight into his embrace.

Chapter Five>

🌟Series Masterlist🌟

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #sand and stars series #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic

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teaboot · 4 years ago

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Hey I just wanted to ask you something I don't know if its personal so maybe I'll start with me, my psychiatrist told me that I have asperger's syndrome and like my mom keeps asking me like what does that means because I think she sees people with autism as stupid and I'm at the top of my class so she feels like it's a mistake, I personally go mute for months sometimes except for like oral tests, and idk I forget about having a body and so I hit onto walls when I'm focused on something but *

"...*is not so exaggerated like I'm pretty functional I just forget that there are walls and doors and that I can't just transport me to the other room or so,I mean I feel like I'm just trying to find what my "weird or autistic" traits are to justify the diagnosis,I didn't asked my psychiatrist to elaborate on that and so I was wondering, what would you say that your autistic traits are?Also just in case,I know that autistic people can be hella smart and I think that you are really wise I admire you"

Thank you so much, that's very sweet of you to say!

Honestly, I'm sort of in a similar situation- My parents' reaction was to say, "you're too smart to be autistic" or, "Everyone of ~your intelligence~ is a little weird in the head, anyways", and then. Expect me to live up to all the positive stereotypes without ever getting bogged down by the negative realities?

This might not be very helpful at all of me to say, but as an adult who grew up in a rather unpleasant environment, there really isn't much help for a number of things except getting old and independant enough to move out, and then just accepting that their perception of reality isn't open to negotiation. You can try debating it, or meeting them on common ground with scientific basis, but in my case....

....well. There's just some things I now know not to talk about at family gatherings.

I'm sorry, I know that's probably not very helpful or heartening to hear.

As for my personal grab bag of symptoms? I tend to hyperfocus on personal projects. When I'm really invested in an art piece, I often forget to eat or sleep or drink, and the only way I've learned to snap out of that is that if my hands are shaking or I'm falling over a lot, I probably need to eat something and lay down for a while, because otherwise- and yeah, not the healthiest motivator- otherwise I might start fucking up my hard work.

I also get overwhelmed by overlapping noises- if two people are talking at once, even if one is on a radio or TV show, I can't hear either of them and it stresses the shit out of me. White noise, like in malls or assemblies, also tends to burn my energy pretty fast.

Things like leaf blowers, people whistling indoors, and emergency sirens are physically painful. Repetitive noises like a bouncing rubber ball, sniffling, dogs licking things, and low-frequency vibrations from massage chairs, earthquakes, distant bass music, and some fluorescent lighting systems are impossible to ignore, which ranges from irritating to distressing, depending on my headspace du jour.

I hate bland food with a passion. It tends to make me nauseaus. I like lots of spice, lots of sugar, lots of sour and hot and acidic. I love strong flavours, and if I'm cooking for friends and family I often have to remind myself to tone down the seasonings for them.

Some textures make me genuinely ill, too- most types of meat, fat, and other animal bits result in.... Bad times for all. Polyester towels suck ass. Microfiber cloth. Thick cotton knit material. Any fabric covering my forearms. Thin, elastic denim. Vinyl. Polar fleece.

On the flip side, I looooove woven cotton blankets. Cotton sheets, cotton bedding- cold, heavy duvets are good, too. Acrylic, so long as it doesn't get damp. I have.... Perhaps a little bit of a problem here, as I do... Maybe, possibly, get a little impulsive with buying rugs, throws, and blankets when I come across one that feels right.

All my cups and bowls are handmade out of clay. I'm OK with smooth ceramics, but stoneware feels happy in my hands. I think of it as a treat, like packing a bit of chocolate with my lunch, or eating a whole bag of popcorn by myself. Again, I.... May go a little overboard when I come across A nice-feeling piece of dishware.

Basically, from what I understand, a lot of folks on the spectrum are under and over stimulated by various sensory inputs.

Me, I gravitate towards taste, inertia, tactile sensation, temperature, and dark lighting, while I find myself avoiding, limiting, or minimizing sound, light, color, oral texture, and smell.

As for more stereotyped behaviors, I find organizing things such as legal documents, filing cabinets, paint swatches, hardware, coins, stones, or colors to be very soothing and almost meditative. I go through special interests fairly often, and have been 'into' things like animals, insects, natural history, and art since before I could walk. I can't explain why they're such alluring subjects, they just make me happy.

I didn't realize until recently that I do stim, as well- I rock, sway, growl, swish water around, hang upside-down, rotate my thumbs, rub fabric, twirl coins, and flex my hands. I also (rarely) seem compelled to jump up and down in circles very fast when I'm particularly excited, or flap my arms against my sides like a penguin.

When I'm overstimulated, I go.... I'm not sure if you could call it 'nonverbal'. I get the feeling I COULD speak, it's just.... Overwhelmingly difficult. Usually I find a dark space or a corner away from people, put a coat or something over my head, cover my ears, close my eyes... Sometimes deliberate eye contact is hard, or I can't say more than one or two words at a time, or I find myself relying more on a hum or a grunt to communicate that I'm listening.

It... Probably all sounds weird to a neurotypical who may be reading, but I'm perfectly happy with myself as I am. I wouldn't change it if I could, except perhaps to minimize some of the more irritating things.

Mostly, my biggest peeve is being treated like a cool new pet or accessory. "Oh, this is my person with Autism- they're great at cleaning, you should get one!"- yeah, that can fuck right off. I'm right here, I can hear you, I'm a person. A little respect goes a long way.

But, whoops, here I've gone on a ramble- you want the best advice I have, though? Become comfortable with the person you are. Accept and seek out what things bring you happiness. Don't get hung up on the negatives. Love your experience, if you can, and don't worry about validating anything- you are who you are, and the words we use to explain ourselves fall so, so short when faced with the complexity of our individual existence.

The way I see it, the day before your diagnosis is the same as today, you just have one more tool to understand yourself with. The decision of how and if you choose to explain this to those around you is entirely yours to decide!

I know this kind of went off the rail of your question. My answers are a little limited. I hope I could help anyways! Good luck!!

#Long post #teaboot

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sleepynct · 4 years ago

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Nct Dream reaction : he says something mean

Renjun: You were having a movie night with Renjun and his members at their dorm. You were cuddled up close to Renjun, enjoying the time you were spending with him. A funny scene came on and you laughed loudly with everyone else, but Renjun, he shot you an annoyed look. “Can you stop please, your laugh is so annoying.” The smile on your face dropped and you mumbled a quiet sorry. You didn’t make a sound for the rest of the movie. When the movie was over you helped everyone clean up the living room before saying good night and walking to Renjun’s room. You completely ignored him when he tried to talk to you while you were getting dressed for bed and continued to ignore him while you were brushing your teeth together. You were hurt by what he said and wanted to show him, but it was already clear to you that he had no clue why you were acting this way. You flop down on his bed when you are done in the bathroom and take your phone out, keeping yourself busy on it while ignoring your boyfriend. After a while you hear Renjun sigh. “What’s wrong? Why are you ignoring me?” you roll your eyes at him. “ oh I don’t know, maybe because you told me the sound of my laugh was annoying?” his eyes widen in realization. “oh baby no, I didn’t mean it.” You sit up so you can look at him, a pout on your lips. “Well, you said it so you probably did mean it. Why else would you say something like that?” “I don’t know, I was just in a bad mood. I’m really sorry baby, I really did not mean it.” You still have a pout on your face so Renjun comes closer to you, you think he’s gonna kiss you but before you know it, he starts to tickle you. Loud laughs escape your mouth. “Please stop!” Renjun shakes his head. “No, I wanna hear your nice laugh.”

Jeno: You hadn’t seen Jeno in over three weeks, his busy schedule and all the work you had for school making it hard to make some time for each other. You had missed him, so when he called you last night to ask you to hang out with him today, you were excited.

You arrive a little bit earlier at his place then that he told you to come but you just couldn’t wait to see him. He opens the door and greets you with a kiss. “Hey, you’re early.” You smile, “Yeah, I was excited to see you.” He laughs and lets you in. The whole afternoon your barley left Jeno’s side, always holding his hand or following after him when he leaves the room. You realize that you’re being a bit much but you can’t help it, you just missed him a lot. When you are all sitting on the couch and the guys decide to watch a movie together, you cuddle closer to Jeno. He looks at you with a face that you can’t quite read, “Jeez, you’re being so clingy today. I don’t think we spend a second apart today.” When he sees the hurt look on your face he realizes that he shouldn’t have said that, or at least not in the way he said it. “I’m sorry, I just missed you a lot. I didn’t realize it annoyed you.” He sighs, “It doesn’t annoy me baby, I didn’t mean it like that. I just noticed that you’re really clingy today, I didn’t say I hated it.” You nod. “I know I’ve been clingy, I just missed you so much the past weeks that I wanted to spend as much time as possible with you today, because who knows when we’ll see each other again.” Jeno nods understandingly. “I missed you too baby. I’ll try to make more time. Now come on, let’s cuddle.” You smile and wrap your arms around your boyfriend, enjoying the time you have with him.

Haechan: You and Haechan were hanging out with his member from 127, eating and laughing loudly. You were keeping yourself on the background, still a bit annoyed that Haechan dragged you here instead of going on the date you had planned with him. When everyone started laughing about something Johnny said, Haechan looked your way and groaned loudly “Can you please stop being so boring, everyone is enjoying themselves and you’re sitting here like it’s the very last place you wanna be.” Tears spring to your eyes, feeling embarrassed that everyone heard him talking to you like that. You blink a few times, to get rid of the tears. “I’m sorry for looking like I don’t wanna be here, but it’s true. I had a nice date planned for us and you just completely ditched the idea and dragged me here. Sorry for wanting to spend time with just my boyfriend.” You grab your purse and stand up, “Thanks for the food guys but I’m leaving.” Turning to Haechan you say “call me when you decide to not be an ass.” When you leave the dorm, tear start to roll down your cheeks. You feel humiliated and sad about the way Haechan just treated you. Right when you want to walk in to the elevator you can hear Haechan call your name. “Wait up!” Haechan runs up to you and hugs you. “I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have said that.” “You embarrassed me.” He nods. “I know, and I am sorry about that.” “I planned a nice evening for us and you didn’t care about that, you completely ignored me when I said I didn’t wanna come here tonight.” He nods again. “I know, I shouldn’t have done that. I was just excited to spend some time with the guys but that’s not an excuse for the way I treated you.” “I understand that you like to spend time with your friends, but sometimes I just want it to be the two us. You see these guys everyday, we don’t get to spend much time together so when we can I just like it to be the two of us sometimes.” Haechan takes your face into his hands and wipes your tears. “I know baby, I should have thought about that. How about we go to your place and watch some movies and cuddle?” you nod “I would like that a lot.”

Jaemin: Jaemin was helping you out with some work for school that you were having trouble with. He already explained it a couple times, but you still don’t understand it. You put your head on the table and groan loudly. “can we take a break? Maybe afterwards I will understand it.” Jaemin laughs “I can’t believe you still don’t get it. Are you stupid or something?” He meant it as joke, but his words still hurt your feelings. “I’m not stupid, it’s just hard. It’s not like this is the only subject I have to work on.” Jaemin realizes by the tone of your voice that you didn’t take it as a joke. “No baby, I’m sorry. I was only joking. I know that it’s hard.” You pout, “it wasn’t a funny joke.” He shakes his head, “No it wasn’t. Sorry baby.” You smile, “it’s fine, just explain it one more time.”

Chenle : Chenle and you were having a date tonight, the both of you decided to just stay in and watch a movie together. Instead of ordering takeout like you originally planned you decided to cook for Chenle. Now you weren’t the best cook, but you like to think that you’re decent at it. You spent all afternoon in the kitchen, trying to make the best meal you could. When Chenle arrived at your place you were so excited for him to eat the food you cooked, but the excitement died down once Chenle took his first bite. “You’re cooking isn’t the best.” Your heart dropped. “I’m sorry, it was a stupid idea to cook. I should have just ordered takeout.” You could feel tears burning in your eyes, you worked so hard for it but it didn’t even taste nice. “Don’t be sorry. It’s really sweet that you did all this.” Chenle walked over to you when he saw the sad expression on your face. “I shouldn’t have said it that way, I’m sorry about that. I know you really did your best, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” You turn to him, “I know you didn’t want to hurt my feelings. It just sucks.” Chenle hugs you. “Thank you for trying tho, I really appreciate it.” You give him a kiss. “Should we order takeout then?”

Jisung: You had been asking Jisung to teach you how to dance for ages now, but the both of you could never find a moment where you both actually had the time for it, until today. You met up with Jisung in his practice room, at first it was going great. You and Jisung were joking around and having fun until Jisung started to get more serious about it. The dance was hard and you weren’t a dancer so a lot of mistakes were made on your part. After you get yet another dance step wrong Jisung groans loudly and turns off the music. “You’re really awful at this.” What he said didn’t hurt your feelings because you know that you sucked at this, it was the way he said that hurt you. The smile that was on your face dropped and your mood changed. “Yeah I suck, we should just stop.” Jisung could hear the sadness in your voice and immediately felt bad for what he said to you. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s true I’m not good at dancing. I just wanted to have some fun.” Jisung walks over to you and wraps you in a hug. “You’re good at so many other things tho.” You smile at his words and give him a small kiss. Jisung walks away from you and turns the music back on. “Come on, let’s have some fun.”

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years ago

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What You Don’t Know pt. 3 - The Finale

[25Min Read/7.6K Words - College Au - Jisung x Female Reader - NSFW/Smut, 2/3 Plot - Femdom, Dom/Sub, Finding Kinks, Hair Pulling, Handcuffs, Minor Edging, Minor Cock-Slapping, Mutual Bondage, Bad Conflict Resolution, Drinking Buddies, Talking Things Out, Past Relationships, Friends to Lovers(?)]

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“Jisung,” you bristled, “you and I haven’t even agreed to be You and I.”

Jisung impatiently folded his arms. “Say no or come out with me tonight. Stop trying to fuck your way out of this if you actually care about me. This can be our little secret, but I won’t be your little power trip.”

You folded your arms as well, matching him in frustration as you considered what Jisung was proposing. If you went out with him that night, he might push you to confront some feelings you really didn’t want to. If you didn’t go out with him that night, however, you could see your friendship quickly dissolving. “Fine,” you huffed. “I’ll be at the bar tonight.”

What a terrible idea.

It had completely eluded you that tonight a live band was playing at the bar, and the energy inside was maddening. The guys wanting to go out on a Monday made way more sense all of a sudden. Minho beamed at you as you walked into the bar.

“My, don’t we look pretty tonight,” he teasingly complimented you, and you grimaced as you shoved him in retaliation.

“Don’t start,” you grumbled, “I’m not having the best day.”

“You, too? How funny,” Minho grinned as he put a beer in your hand. “Jisung’s been pissy all day.”

“What a coincidence,” you marveled sarcastically as you pulled up a stool at the bar. You didn’t even want to look at Jisung sitting at your usual booth, let alone sit with him. You missed the days when you didn’t feel anything towards him. It would be better than feeling whatever this was.

“Why do I even try?” Minho laughed in disbelief as he clapped you on the back. He shrugged before he abandoned you to simmer alone. You did watch now as Minho walked over and pointed you out. Whatever Jisung said in return, Minho had the same reaction as he’d had with you, laughing and shaking his head as he left to go actually have fun with everyone else. This was going to be a waiting game, you figured. Jisung would have to make a move if he insisted on you coming out, but you didn’t get much of a chance to see if he’d follow through. The strongest scent of girlish perfume hit your nose and you recoiled as you noticed Stephanie was here, for the first time in a couple weeks, and currently having way too much of a good time as she sauntered up to you.

“Hey!” She greeted over the music. Her tube top looked obnoxiously good on her. You cracked an inert smile and raised your beer in acknowledgment. “Jisung looks really good tonight,” she gushed as she leaned into your space. “So do you.”

“Thanks,” you nodded stiffly. “What’s up? You never talk to me.”

Stephanie shrugged cutely. “Well I’m talking to you now. Did you and Jisung come here together?”

You regarded her ingratiating smile. “Together? No,” you began carefully. “Why?”

“No reason,” Stephanie shrugged again, “he just looks really good tonight, like I said. And so do you. So I wondered if you came here together. That’s all.”

Her smirk was constructed purely from trouble before she waved and walked away, and right over to Jisung still sulking in the booth. You still couldn’t make out what was being said, but you could clearly see Stephanie point at you as well, and when Jisung leaned in to ask something, she shook her head before helping herself to the booth and sliding in beside him. Jisung looked across the bar at you now, and you were tempted to kill him right there and then as he shrugged at you, looking falsely helpless and clueless as Stephanie instantly leaned into his space.

You were subjected to watching Jisung get cooed over and pawed at for the next twenty minutes. Stephanie was relentless, really going at him and apparently emboldened by how aloof he was suddenly acting with her. Now you were thrown into a spiral of really wondering what you wanted with Jisung, and any one of those thoughts instantly made you feel queasy, especially as Jisung kept looking at you. She was awful, really — but you knew she really wasn’t, even as she whispered in Jisung’s ear and played with the strings of his hoodie. You knew she was just seeing him as available, and she was only up to her old business. After all, you said it yourself that you didn’t come here together. It still hurt to watch though, and it drove you crazy that you knew exactly why. But you would tough it out. You would sit and watch that jerk get fawned over even if it lasted all night, because he couldn’t be allowed to win this easily.

Until Stephanie made her move. You could almost hear the conversation play out from across the bar, with her swearing how much she missed him and caressing his knee under the table, promising she’d been thinking of him when she’d really done no such thing. You’d sworn you’d heard it plain as day, so it shouldn’t have surprised you when she kissed him. It surprised Jisung, too, and that was even more inexcusable since he was there contributing to the conversation.

It was Stephanie’s turn to be shocked as you stalked across the bar, entered the booth from the end she wasn’t occupying, and grabbed his hand to pull his attention away.

“Excuse you,” she balked, but she didn’t even try to interfere.

“Can we talk?” You asked him bluntly, voice covered in sugar to contrast with your vice grip on Jisung’s hand. He had the audacity to smirk as he excused himself from the table and followed you. You pulled him along to the back door of the bar, back by the bathrooms, and shoved it open to enter the dark alley behind the building. Jisung’s smirk lasted until the moment he was out in the cool of the night, and his hand sharply tugged on yours to wheel you around. You defensively pressed back against the wall. He knew you hated being surprised from behind. You didn’t even like back hugs or taking it from behind. Trust issue or not, Jisung knew better.

“I can’t fucking believe you!” He scoffed.

“I can say the same,” you shot back.

“What’s not to believe?! We’re not together, remember? But I guess you’re possessive when it’s convenient.”

“And you’re so quiet when it’s convenient,” you snapped. “You definitely seemed to want me while her tongue was in your mouth. You probably would’ve gone home with her if I hadn’t—“

Your ranting was cut short as Jisung kissed you hard against the wall of the alley. His hands gripped your waist tight and wouldn’t let up until you weaved your fingers into his hair and yanked. Jisung’s knees instantly buckled but he fought against it, his lips still on yours until you pulled him off of you. The grossest part of it was how much you instantly wanted him in that moment, even with how hurt you both were. Jisung was pushing this, and you were pulling away, literally so as you clawed your fingers into his hair and got him off of you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Jisung?” You asked coldly.

“Don’t accuse me of not wanting you when you won’t even talk this out.” He stared you down in the dark alley, trying hard not to shiver as you craned his head back. You manhandled him around to shove him back against the wall now, and his shocked cry turned into a surprised moan as your other hand took a serious grip on his cock and you kissed him back.

“You’re being such an ass about this,” you growled, emboldened as you could feel him trying not to tremble.

“And you’re being so immature about this,” he bit back, and it dug into you in a way you didn’t want to admit. Every time Jisung tried to say something more, you shut him up as you massaged him hard through his jeans. He didn’t stop trying to fight through it, though. “Did I make you upset, ma’am?” Jisung grinned sarcastically against you. His lips tasted of vitriol. “What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

His taunt made you freeze. Suddenly, you could see how this looked: both of you angry, upset, and undeniably wanting each other. You abruptly let him go. All you were doing was trying to stitch together this whole mess with flimsy lust. “You did,” you nodded seriously in an attempt to be open. “You did make me upset. This isn’t as easy as I was wanting.”

Jisung scoffed. It was apparently too little too late for you to be vulnerable. “Fine. Allow me to make it easier.” He was rough as he shouldered past you and made his way down the alley. You watched Jisung walk out to the street, silhouetted by streetlights as he made his way back towards the house.

You were livid as you stormed back into the bar to pay your tab and get the hell out. This whole night had been a terrible idea already and now it was worse as you pushed your way through the crowd to leave out the front, only to run face first into someone opening the door at the same time. You shoved whoever it was back only to find Chan facing you.

“Hey!” He shouted over the music, his annoyance abruptly turning into concern. “Are you okay?”

“No!” You called back. “I’m going home. I’ll see you, okay?”

Chan quickly turned and followed you as you elbowed past him out the door. He caught up with you on the sidewalk. “Do you want a ride?”

You paused, shifting uncomfortably as you silently nodded. He was handsome in his work clothes, his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. The sickening sensation of tears brimming in your eyes was distressing. Thankfully, Chan didn’t ask any questions, instead opting to wordlessly herd you towards and into his car. He sighed as he put the car into drive and headed in the direction of your apartment. “I’m sorry you’re not having a good night,” he offered.

“It’s fine. It’s stupid anyway,” you grumbled, feeling miserably embarrassed to have your friend see you like this.

“It’s not stupid, I assure you,” Chan consoled. “Try to calm down, okay? Here.” Chan reached down and slipped his heavy water bottle out of his bag and into your hand. You regarded it thoughtfully as you took a sip, followed by a deep breath.

“Isn’t this mine?” You asked, looking at the water bottle in your hands, your thumb tracing over the stickers adhered to it and the dents made in it over time. “You still have it?”

“Of course,” Chan chuckled. “You let me keep it, didn’t you?”

The short drive was painfully quiet but you were thankful for it, watching streetlights pass overhead and trying to ease the feeling of apparently hurting Jisung so badly. It felt lonely to approach your apartment, and you were silently grateful as Chan made no rush to get rid of you so he could head back to the bar. He leaned back in his seat and looked at you, almost as if he were checking on you again.

“Thanks,” you began awkwardly, despite gracefully setting a hand on his, “for being here for me.”

“Of course,” he assured you with a humble smile. His hand reassuringly squeezed yours. “You look really good tonight, by the way.”

“You think so?”

“For sure,” he nodded seriously. “When was the last time I saw you in a dress, let alone this dress? It’s my favorite.”

You felt your face heat up in a familiar way, and you couldn’t help but enjoy just hanging out with Chan again. This had been easy, too, before it wasn’t anymore. His hand was warm in yours and it felt good to be around him again.

“I missed you,” he said quietly. “I miss just hanging out. I’ve been meaning to call you.”

“I know you’re busy,” you reassured him, “but I missed you, too.”

“That’s the thing,” Chan bit at his lip. “I’m not going to be nearly as busy anymore. I’m finally getting my promotion.”

“You are? That’s great!” You congratulated him, and you truly meant it. Chan has been working like crazy since the day he started at his job. “I can’t wait to actually see you more,” you grinned.

Chan nodded, and it took a second longer than it should have for you to feel his pause in the stark silence of his car. The second you did, though, Chan had already leaned over the center console, his hand that wasn’t holding yours softly cupping your face as he gently pressed his lips to yours. His kiss was just as filled with muted affection and infatuation as the last he’d shared with you ages ago, but this wasn’t right. You reflexively shoved your hand against his chest, the heel of your palm sliding up until your hand landed on his throat. Chan hummed out a soft groan, misconstruing your defensive move for one of your games you used to play. He was thoroughly confused as you corrected your hand placement and shoved him off.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows furrowed with concern.

“You jerk,” you laughed miserably as you went to open the door.

Chan grabbed back onto your hand. “What’s wrong?” He repeated.

“You don’t get to just swoop in when you’re ready to settle down!”

“What do you mean?! We’ve been waiting—“

“We?” You asked him, bewildered at his assumption. “We? I stopped when you wanted to back then, but now you’re saying we have been waiting for this? You didn’t even ask me what’s wrong tonight!”

“Fine,” Chan sighed as he sank back into his seat, “you’re right. I wrongly figured you still prefer to divulge that on your own. What do you want to do? You’re in charge.”

“That’s the entire problem!” You lamented. “Jisung keeps saying I just want to be in charge, like I’m actually just exercising some power trip on him, and now I probably chased him off forever.”

“Jisung?” Chan blinked. “What does he have to do with this? Why does he keep saying that?”

“Because it’s a million times easier to just fool around instead of wanting to admit I want anything more,” you grumbled as you buried your face in your hands. “So I’m just using him instead of actually talking to him.”

“Oh jeez,” Chan heaved out a held breath as he finally realized what was going on and pulled you into his arms across the center console, “is that what this is about? Come here.” Chan affectionately rubbed your back as you shoved your forehead into his shoulder. “I’m sorry I kissed you. I’ve been in tunnel vision for—“

“Forever?” The jab may have been rude, but he knew he had it coming.

“Yes,” he nodded forlornly. “For a pretty long time, at least. How long has this thing with Jisung been going on?”

“Not long,” you admitted, “maybe a month or two.”

“Do you like him?”

“I do,” you grumbled. He nudged you as he finally released you from his embrace.

“And he feels the same?”

Your sigh multiplied as you nodded.

“And, let me guess, he wants to make it serious?” Chan nodded as you chewed on your lip in hesitance. “And you’re scared to make that move. I see. That explains why he’s been so off lately.”

“What do I do?” You frowned. Chan patted your hand.

“Sounds pretty easy to me. You already share feelings. What are you afraid of?”

“I just wanted something easy,” you explained, and you finally heard how whiny that sounded out loud.

“Doesn’t sound like that,” Chan shook his head. “If you wanted something easy you would’ve laid that line down already. You’re indecisive for once because you don’t want things to change.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“I’m afraid so,” Chan nodded earnestly.

“I hate this,” you glowered.

“I know. But it can’t be easy all the time.”

You and Chan both sat in renewed silence before you nodded with determination. Something was pressing in the back of your mind before you could leave, though. “Were you really wanting to try again? You and I?”

“It doesn’t matter now, but yes,” Chan softly smiled. “I’m just sorry I missed my shot, but I’m glad you sound like you know what you’re doing with Jisung.”

Chan sat and took it as you leaned forward to kiss his forehead before you stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk. You ducked back down to look at him. “It doesn’t matter now, but things might’ve gone differently if you got that promotion a few months ago. Thanks for being there for me tonight.” You watched, still feeling a bit bruised as you waved to Chan driving off back down the street.

Jisung went back to ignoring you in class the next day, and you knew he would continue to if you didn’t do something fast. You had one plan in place. You had sat with your draft —a piece you were finally getting a chance to write after conceiving it ages ago — and carefully edited the whole thing with Jisung’s corrections and suggestions in mind. It took you the better part of the night, but you had no desire to sleep anyhow. It would have to look markedly different for him to be tempted to leaf through it right away.

With bated breath, you sat in class, painfully anxious as you added your draft to the pile on its way to the front of the room. It seemed to take forever, passing from row to row until it finally reached Jisung in the front, and he immediately drew out his requisite blue pen to check if he had everyone’s work while the professor continued on with his usual droning. He flicked through papers, and you wanted to scream every time he paused to unstick a page or look for a missing bibliography. This didn’t feel unlike passing notes in high school and you hated it. You were suddenly wondering if he already reached your paper and perhaps you just missed it.

Except you hadn’t. Jisung very clearly found your draft in his pile, apparent as he set down the whole stack in his hands to flip through the pages once again, but more carefully. He did a double-take, and then another one, and then he looked through the papers and notebooks and pens on his desk as if there was some other reason he found a sticky note stuck to the back of the first page: See me. Jisung easily found your eye in the lecture hall, looking cute in another dress you hadn’t worn in a long time. As opposed to the sweet little skater dress with the knee socks that you donned back at the bar, today you sported a somewhat more mature number, something fitted and flattering with tempting buttons down the front, and he subtly nodded.

It was hard to tell how Jisung would arrive at your apartment. He could be coming in hot, ready to rail against you again for not opening up to him for so long and blowing your chance. He could be beside himself, or nonchalant, or any number of things as you paced your apartment. It would turn out he would still surprise you, instead looking impressed he even found you, and that was when you realized: Jisung still hadn’t come over since you’d become friends.

“Hey—“ he awkwardly greeted, barely waving before you stepped aside and let him in. He looked annoyingly cute in his lightweight hoodie and jeans.

“Hey,” you returned. You were unsure if you were happy or relieved or nervous to see him. “I’m glad you came. We need to talk.”

“We do?” Jisung smirked. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he curiously looked around your small apartment. “That’s a first.”

“Come on,” you sighed, “I’m trying here. Let me try, please.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Jisung shrugged, still attempting to look indifferent even as he paused to look at photos or little knickknacks you had sitting around. You decided you would make it easier and step into your bedroom yourself, letting him know it was alright to follow you into your space. It was cute watching him look around and get to know you more just by being allowed inside. You paused as he gently picked up a teddy bear off your dresser with the smallest look of amusement on his face.

“Something funny?”

“No,” he grinned as he set the bear back down, “not like that. I was just, er… well, after what we’ve done and from how I’ve known you, your place is so — I have no idea what word I’m looking for — normal?”

“Were you expecting a dungeon?” You giggled as you were caught off guard.

Jisung finally laughed out loud. “No, if you must know. But this is, well… it’s cute. It’s nice seeing your place.”

“I’m glad you could see it,” you smiled, “only Minho’s been in my room before.”

“Really?” Jisung asked incredulously, even turning more to face you as you sat on the bed.

“Really,” you nodded earnestly while you leaned under your bedside table to pull out an inconspicuous card box. “And I’m still kinky at home, I just keep my place organized unlike some people.”

“That was uncalled for and I should leave,” Jisung cackled, even as he stepped closer to see. You set the box on your lap and opened it to reveal your toys and restraints, some familiar and some not. He peered inside, smiling playfully as he drew out the cuffs you used on him the week before. “Why are you showing me this? Why did you want to see me?”

“I wanted you to see that I trust you,” you admitted, “even if it’s been really hard for me to start this conversation.”

Jisung seemed to consider this, his eyes drifting from you, your dress, to the cuffs in his hand. You playfully plucked the restraints from him and closed one end around his right wrist. A sideways smile urged him on as he pulled the other set of cuffs from the box and did the same to you. Now you matched.

“Okay,” he softly relented, still not wanting to meet your eye. “No more running then. And you already started off just fine. Now tell me what changed between then and today.”

“Well, Chan said you’ve been seeming off yesterday—“

“Yesterday? Chan wasn’t there yesterday,” Jisung did look at you now as he asked blankly.

“What? Oh. He came after you left and gave me a ride home,” you shrugged.

“He gave you a ride home?” Jisung pressed. “Did anything happen?”

“Not really,” you shrugged awkwardly again, “I mean, if I’m being honest, he kissed me, but—“

“He what?!” Jisung exclaimed. “Oh, that fucking prick, I can’t believe—“ It was surreal to see him so worked up.

“Jisung, I don’t—“ you attempted as he paced your room in a frenzy, narrowly avoiding you each time you tried to take his hand. “Would you calm down?!”

“I told that asshole it was about a girl at school,” he raved, “because how dare I try to respect that you’re a weird subject with him?!”

“I’m a weird subject with him? Jisung, it’s not like I knew Chan still had feelings—“

“How could you not?! Literally the whole house knows! Like first that dick kisses you and then he gives me a ride to your place today? That antagonistic piece of shit,“ Jisung hummed in simmering discontent as he whipped his phone out and began typing furiously.

“Jisung, you don’t need to—“

“Look, I get it,” Jisung babbled as you helplessly followed him out into the hall, “he’s stupidly good looking and he has a car and a great job and you’ve been friends for a long time but—“

“Jisung!” You snapped, finally getting a hold of whatever you could, namely the hanging cuff around his wrist, and clicked the open end around your free hand before tugging him close to snatch his phone out of his hand. “If you’d shut up for five seconds then you would know I told Chan about you right after he kissed me, and he had no idea about us and immediately backed off and he felt bad.”

Finally, Jisung was silent as he gawked at you, his wrist still hanging limp where it was connected to your own now. “He didn’t know about us? What did you tell him about us? Or me?”

“What did I— well, I mean, I told him the truth,” you floundered as you reflexively stepped back.

“What truth?” Jisung prodded. Now he tugged on the chain between you himself, even as you backed away again. He quickly brought up the hanging end of the cuff on his other wrist and snapped it onto you before reeling you in. “Come on, I know you hate leaving things unsaid,” he insisted as he brought you closer again. “You can do this.”

“Fine!” You erupted. “I want to be with you, you jerk! I want to hang out even when we’re not fooling around, and I think about you all the time, and you make me happy even when you annoy the shit out of me… and I would hate if that changed things,” you frowned, even more so as he gave a small, surprised laugh.

“Is that what this is about?” Jisung asked, his disbelieving shaded with some relief. “All that would change is maybe we would do some couple stuff.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“The point is I want to do couple stuff with you,” Jisung insisted.

“I do, too,” you readily agreed, only wishing you could sound more sure. “It’s just hard to—“

“You do? You actually want to do that stuff with me?” Jisung cautiously asked. “Then what’re you afraid of?”

You sighed in an attempt to breathe in any confidence you could before you looked down at both your wrists cuffed to his own. “Honestly, as simple as it sounds… I’m afraid of losing what you and I have.” He watched as you drew up your hands and rattled the chains a little to make your point. Jisung’s expression was cryptic: part stunned, part something else you couldn’t quite place before he stepped forward, determined. You backed up with a start, the wall of the hallway pressing against your back as he pulled at his left wrist, your right being pulled along by the cuffs connecting you as he led it back and up the nape of his neck until your fingertips nestled deep into his hair. In your surprise you dropped his phone in your hand, the device landing on the floor with a clatter. The ghost of your tentative breath was nearly a gasp on your lips as his hand closed around yours, guiding you to grip hard onto the follicles at the root. A soft groan emanated from low in his throat as you tugged on his hair, the action familiar by now but the feelings associated with it suddenly feeling more full, more weighty as his knees predictably buckled. He visibly felt that same shiver fall down his spine as it always did. You could do this, he seemed to silently encourage you, you could have this.

First, though, you needed Jisung to see that you wanted it, that you wanted him. A new energy surged through you, from the pit of your belly and pulsing along your nerves as you now pushed back against the wall of your own volition, releasing your hold on his hair to instead softly cup his face and pull him to you. The chains keeping you together meant the Jisung now gently held onto your wrists as he tried not to fall into you in your silent apartment. He watched, rapt as you shifted gears so suddenly but so smoothly, and he was still just as ready for you to do whatever you wanted to him as you met his gaze. The pause between you was sweet, intrepid, and just the smallest bit nervous as you finally brought him close to kiss his lips.

Jisung’s eyes fluttered closed as he savored it, almost like he was afraid this was a lapse in judgement on your part until you deepened your kiss and let out the smallest satisfied hum. Now you could do whatever you wanted to him, and he was dying for it. As he glimpsed at you the moment you pulled away from his lips, he was already tipsy, almost drunk on you, his eyelids heavy and his pupils blown out. You tipped him back onto his feet a little before you led his chained wrists to your waist, then your hips, and slowly down under the hem of your dress to your thighs. His fingers thought faster than his brain did as the pads of his fingertips absently soothed over your skin, erupting in goosebumps as he touched you until you yanked back on the cuffs and made him fall into you again. It felt like a return to form as you teased him closer and closer to your panties — until he brazenly pulled at the cuffs himself and dipped his fingers between your legs, over the thin fabric separating him from you. He cracked the most mischievous grin before you jammed down on the cuffs and surprised him into losing his balance and buckling. Jisung groaned as he landed on his knees, just a little dazed but still wearing that same playful smile.

“What,” you sneered, “you think you can get away with being a brat now?”

“No, ma’am,” Jisung earnestly shook his head despite his smirk, “but I trust you enough to try it out.”

“Let’s see if that pays off for you,” you taunted as you pulled your panties aside for him. “Now get to work.” To really rub it in, you pushed Jisung back by the forehead as he went to dive straight into you. He swallowed a breath as you looked down at him expectantly. “Words, sweet boy,” you chided, “don’t make this worse for yourself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded when he seemed to suddenly become much more compliant, “thank you, ma’am.” Jisung looked up at you with his big eyes glazed over as he licked you up, nosing aside your panties to get deeper into your folds with a practiced effortlessness. It was your turn for your knees to buckle, the wall pressing into your shoulders as you let out a content sigh. Jisung groaned at your pleasure and grabbed onto your thighs as much as the cuffs would allow for leverage. Your arousal scorched through you from your chest to your fingertips when you realized how good it was to be with Jisung again, and like this it felt even more satisfying as he eagerly laved at you. A familiar head rush took hold and you knew that there was too much you wanted for you to risk losing momentum from an orgasm knocking you out.

Jisung was barely lucid as you pulled his tongue off you again, still so focused on his task and returning to it until his hands followed yours up your thighs and under the hem of your dress. You took his fingers, placing them on your panties and pushing down until you nodded for him to take them off for you. He helped you step out of them as you leaned down to help him reach with the cuffs still pulling you along, and you pulled him back up to bring your fingers to the top button of your dress. He watched, mesmerized as you led his hands to replace yours again and take care of the rest of the delicate buttons that traced a line down the front of your dress. His fingers were almost careful, his breath measured as he slowly exposed you.

“Perfect, sweet boy,” you breathed. “Your turn now.” You were met with a surprised gasp as you shoved Jisung back onto his ass and followed him down to the floor of your hallway. Your apartment was so small that you were practically in the kitchen and the bathroom and your bedroom from this spot, and Jisung almost braced himself as you knelt between his legs. “Well?” You asked teasingly. “I said it’s your turn.”

Jisung was still confused until you took his hands and placed them on the zip of his hoodie. Of course, with the cuffs on, neither of you would be able to get much more undressed, but a soft rush of excitement still coursed through you as Jisung did as he was told and unzipped his hoodie.

“Belt, too,” you softly commanded with a nod.

“Can I get another kiss, first, ma’am?” Jisung smirked. “I really liked that last one.”

“Belt first, sweet boy,” you emphasized. He complied, his slim fingers working his belt free, but not without next grabbing onto your wrist and tugging you close to steal a quick kiss. It was barely anything, and you loved it, but you pushed your hand against his chest to flatten him back out on the floor with a groaned curse. You burned, sort of adoring this new level to your playing. Jisung seemed to love it too as you wrangled him into your grip: one hand in his hair and the other working his jeans open to grab onto his cock. As painfully sentimental as it sounded, you’d missed it.

Jisung cried out as you shifted around to kneel on his chest, one knee on his ribs and the other still on the floor as you began to massage his length to full hardness. The moment he tried to thrust into your hand, you lightly slapped the head of his cock and he hissed out a sharp breath. “Sit still, brat,” you warned.

“Come on,” Jisung begged, his eyes shut tight as you did it again, “I missed you, it’s so good.”

“What’s so good?” You teased before batting his cock again. “Being such a brat that I keep on slapping your cock? That can be arranged.”

“No no,” Jisung ardently shook his head, “please ma’am, please touch me. I’ll be good, just please touch me again.”

“Say you’re sorry,” you pouted, already poised to slap his cock again.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” your incredible, sweet boy immediately replied as he pressed his hips back into the floor. “I’m sorry for acting out, and kissing you without permission, and for not sitting still—“

“Perfect, sweet boy,” you simpered, “that was a good apology.”

Jisung’s head relaxed back onto the floor as you closed your hand around his warm cock again and began stroking it in earnest. His hushed whines and obscenities under his breath were heavenly, perfect notes in your ears after recalling them in frustrating daydreams for the past week. Even in just that short time, you truly realized how much more you wanted Jisung than you had first thought. Looking at Jisung stretched out on the floor of your tiny apartment and doing his best to behave while you massaged his blushing erection, you couldn’t believe it took you so long to admit you wanted to be with him. Jisung’s eyes were shut tight enough to furrow his eyebrows in the sweetest way, so utterly lost in the moment in a way you can’t just will into existence, he had to fall into it, and you would be an absolute fool to not recognize how handsome he was in the midst of it. Your gaze drifted down his heaving chest, down to where the hem of his shirt had ridden up a bit to reveal the soft definition of his abdomen, and ultimately down to his length that was agonizingly dripping, leaking precum, and you couldn’t take the sight anymore; you needed him.

“What’re you doing—“ Jisung dazedly asked as you let him out of your grasp. Rather than finish his question, however, Jisung gasped in surprise as you swung a leg over his hip to seat yourself on his lap. He was thoroughly trembling by now, and you missed that sensation.

“Good?” You checked in on him real quick as you eased the smooth head of his cock against your dripping entrance.

“Yes ma’am,” he obediently replied as you slowly dipped him into your depths. A sigh erupted from you, instantly revealing how much you’d wanted Jisung back inside of you, and you quickly laced your fingers into his for leverage as you began to roll your hips against his own. You couldn’t believe how much you’d missed fucking Jisung in just a few days. With the right angle, you could grind your soaked clit against him, and your feverish moans electrified him in the cutest way. Jisung writhed under you, coming undone from how much he loved being with you, being used by you while knowing he actually had you. He was keening and sighing and moaning sweetly with each groan and gasp that escaped you as you rode him, your undulating hips almost working him up too fast in combination with how much groundwork you’d already laid out. This realization, however, was unsatisfying for some reason, until you understood why. It was rare, but sometimes you did crave pressure against that little button of nerves inside you instead of directly against your clit, and you couldn’t reach it from this angle.

Jisung was a mess as you eased off him. “Wait, what’re you—“ he nearly repeated, babbling until you soothed him.

“Good?” You asked, making him jump as you grabbed back onto his cock to pump his slicked length a few times. He whined at your touch before he could finally give a tepid nod. “Say you’re good,” you implored.

“Good,” he nodded heartily, even more so as you let a glistening string of saliva fall from your lips onto his hard member and stroked it faster before letting go completely. Jisung threw his head back and cursed at the absence. “Fuck,” he croaked, “more, more—“ You smiled warmly as Jisung sat up as much as he could without pulling you down in the process, and you leaned a hand forward to give him some leverage to see what he would do. Your chest swelled as he leaned up, fervently kissing your jaw before looking up at you with those big eyes. “More, ma’am, please,” he earnestly begged, and you felt he more than earned it now.

“Jisung,” you called softly to him, getting his attention fast, “you want it?”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded seriously. He was curious as you helped him sit up more until he was up on his knees with you, enough so that it caught him off guard as you closed your eyes and leaned close to briefly kiss his lips again. He groaned appreciatively into you until you pulled away, but the curiosity resumed as you took one of your cuffed wrists and ducked under it, twisting around until Jisung was bear-hugging you from behind. “Ma’am,” he suddenly piped up behind you, “are you sure?” Even then, he couldn’t resist responding as you ground your ass back against his cock.

“Jisung,” you groaned wantonly, and let yourself lean forward against the wall, “fuck me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jisung readily complied. With a little adjusting, you felt the head of his cock nudge back against the sensitive opening of your pussy, and you both let out a renewed sigh of pleasure as you tested this new angle. You were surprised to find that despite any of your misgivings or trepidation, that Jisung’s length fit up inside you almost precisely like this, massaging right against that spot if you arched your back just right. Jisung thrust eagerly into you, the both of you panting for breath and breaking out in a minor sweat as he fucked you from behind in the hallway. With his hands still connected to yours, he held fast onto your arms for leverage but remained as gentle as he always was, still just as doting as he kissed and nuzzled along your shoulders and nape of your neck while he murmured grateful little proclamations into your skin.

Even with your arms crossed and held down by his own, you still felt safe against Jisung, and it was easy to fall headlong into this spike of arousal contributing to the incredible head rush you were experiencing. The sounds of your combined moans worked in tandem with his thrusts to push you closer and closer to the edge, while Jisung apparently wasn’t far behind with how his fingers squeezed into your arms. You knew he would be too behaved to ever ask for it, though. You leaned your head back against Jisung’s shoulder as he worked his hips against you.

“You’re doing so good, sweet boy,” you purred. Jisung whimpered as he tried not to jump the gun. “You’re going to make me cum like this. But I can’t—“

“What?” Jisung interrupted, almost crazed. You patiently shushed him in an attempt to soothe him.

“I can’t cum,” you goaded him, “without telling you the rules first. I won’t cum unless you fill me up when I do.”

“Oh fuck,” Jisung hissed behind you. “Anything, ma’am, fuck—“

Jisung was a wreck as he worked you over, thrusting and grinding his cock right into your spot as your impassioned moans quickly grew more feverish. “God, Jisung,” you pleaded, “make me cum, you’re going to make me cum—“

“Yes, ma’am,” Jisung panted, “I’m going to —god, fuck—“

Your hands clutched for each other as you both erupted in a cascade of emphatic cries and moans once you climaxed together. The warmth that so instantly filled you made you melt back into Jisung’s embrace, almost like you’d fall right through the floor if he let go. Instead, he held you for a moment to ground himself before he reached for the safety latch on the cuff on your right wrist. It snapped off with a rattle, and even that felt as much like an absence as when he eased his withering length out of you. Jisung was gentle as he helped you to sit and rest back against the wall while he unlatched the other cuff. He lightly massaged both your wrists, even taking a moment to feel out and crack the joint between your thumb and wrist on both hands. His dazed eyes still heavily lidded, he softly kissed both your palms before returning them to your lap and finally took both cuffs off of himself. The cuffs were set on the floor with a soft clatter and you shared a look now, suddenly just a bit bashful in your post-orgasm haze.

“Good?” You smirked.

“Good,” Jisung languidly nodded, and accepted your hands on his face, drawing him close for a chaste kiss to his lips before helping him down next to you to snuggle him into your arms. You relaxed on the floor of the short hallway in your tiny apartment, still shoddily half-dressed, half-exposed as the both of you were. Jisung was curious as you leaned over to grab his phone you had originally dropped on the floor. You took a cursory glance at the device, making sure you hadn’t damaged it in all the commotion before you dialed Minho’s number.

“What’re you doing?” Jisung wondered.

“What?” Minho’s voice came through on the third ring.

“Min,” you greeted casually, “when are we going out again? I have things to tell you. There’s something you don’t know.”

“What’s it about?” He asked shortly, apparently unfazed that you were calling from Jisung’s phone.

“About me and Jisung,” you replied. Jisung was looking up at you now, almost impressed.

“What about you and Jisung? Is this about what happened with Stephanie the other night?”

Jisung’s eyes widened curiously, possibly matching your own. “No, why? What do you mean?”

“I mean, I set her on her plan to talk to him because I was tired of you two not saying anything; I didn’t think she’d make a total ass of herself.”

You and Jisung stared at each other. “No,” you babbled, “it’s not that. I was just going to say—“

“Hey!” Felix’s voice interrupted. “Is Jisung gonna go to your place more often? I haven’t had the room to myself in ages. Like, I try to give you two space and everything, but—“

“Is that where they are?”

“Yeah, that’s where Chan said he dropped him off—“

“What’s going on?” Chan cut in now. “Are they actually admitting it?”

“Enough!” You announced, attempting not to get distracted with Jisung nearly having a fit of giggles beside you. “Alright. Next time we go out, we’ll explain everything.”

“Are there parts we don’t know?” Minho asked, bemused.

“You could fill books with what you don’t know,” you laughed, quickly ending the call to get the last word in. Jisung smiled at you affectionately as you carefully got up to your feet and offered him a hand.

“Am I heading home, then?” He asked as he let you help him up.

“Nope,” you shook your head, “bedroom.” Jisung stared at you like he was expecting a punchline.

“Bedroom? Why the—“

“Bedroom,” you nodded with a grin while you pulled him along, “or else I’m going to fall asleep right here in the hallway.”

Jisung beamed at you as you led the way to your bed. “Yes ma’am.”

#kprosenet #kwritersworldnet #sub!idol #stray kids fanfiction #han jisung #I DID IT IT'S HERE I LOVE YOU ALL #actual chipmunk loverboy han jisung 🤧

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ri-ahhh · 4 years ago

Note

bff grayson getting hard while taking a nap or while falling asleep after a movie or something 😍🥺

Your foot taps impatiently as you wait by the microwave for the popcorn to finish popping. The smell of it combined with the sound of the two distinct notes of Netflix opening echoing from the living room are making you anxious to hop on the couch with Grayson. You both agreed to have a movie night in after a stress-filled week for both of you.

“What are we watching?” he yells from the other room, his voice booming and distinctly audible even across a large surface area and the loud popping in the humming microwave. “If you tell me Clueless, I’m going to bed!”

You smile and roll your eyes, pushing the button to open the microwave door as the time between kernels exploding gets bigger. Admittedly, you had subjected him to your favorite movie many, many times since it had been put on Netflix.

“You pick, then!” you call back, ducking down to retrieve a big bowl for the popcorn, hissing when the steam burns your fingers as you open the bag. You grab a couple of Zevias from the fridge as well, tucking them into the pocket of Grayson’s hoodie that you’re wearing and grabbing the bowl to join him in the living room.

His bare back is to you when you walk in, and you smirk as you clutch a handful of his dark hair to yank his head back gently. Grayson yelps dramatically and pouts as he looks up at you upside down. Your belly swoops; he’s too cute.

“Can we cuddle?” you ask sweetly, trailing your manicured nail over his arched brows, down the bridge of his nose, tapping his puffy pink lips playfully.

It’s been this way for a while, the two of you dancing around this idea that maybe there’s more between you than being best friends. You’ve both been finding reasons to touch each other innocently lately, or to stay half-naked in your swimsuits long after you’ve retired from the pool outside -- anything to just be closer and put out those signals. It hasn’t manifested into anything, though, both of you too afraid of losing a best friendship to act on it.

His lips pucker against your finger with a little grin, and the tiny gesture sends an inexcusable wave of tingles to your belly. “I guess,” he sighs dramatically, sitting upright again as you smile down at him happily and make your way to the other side of the couch.

“Ooh, Af-er!” you shout behind a mouthful of popcorn you had just shoved in as you plopped next to him. He stops scrolling on After and looks over at you amusedly. You blush a little and swallow, retrieving the cans from your pocket and handing him one. “Trust me, it’s so bad it’s good. Please?”

He’ll put it on whatever you ask, even if it did end up being Clueless for the millionth time, and you both know it. But he really can’t resist when you utter that little ‘please.’

Cut to half an hour later, you’re spooned in front of him, a giant fuzzy throw blanket cocooning your bodies and Grayson’s arm thrown lazily over your waist. You’re only half invested, because the feel of him behind you, so big and warm and solid, is making you a little dizzy. You want him to hook that muscled arm tighter around you, pull you to him and tangle your legs together. There’s enough space between your lower halves for some of the blanket to collect and bunch up there, though.

He shifts behind you and nuzzles some of your hair out of his nose when he does. His breath tickles and you suppress a shiver. It’s even harder when he speaks, and you can feel the vibrato of his voice as much as you can hear it.

“Wait, so that’s supposed to be Harry Styles?” he asks as Hardin takes his shirt off on the lake dock on the TV screen. “They went that far to copy all his tattoos and shit?”

“Yep,” you answer, letting a piece of popcorn dissolve on your tongue slowly.

You both watch for a few more minutes in silence, then his arm lifts to reach for the bowl on the floor. “Popcorn, please.”

You pick it up, but hold it out of his reach last second with a mischievous grin. Grayson scoffs and lunges further this time, trying to reach over you to grab the whole thing. He must lean a little bit farther than he intended, though, because the blanket slips a little and your ass brushes against something hard and... distinct.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you turn back around to face him and see he looks almost as shocked as you, only with raging red cheeks. You have two options here: tease or confess. Expert problem solver that you are, you go with the former.

“Really?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it! It just...happens. And the lake thing is kinda hot.”

“So all it takes for you is a glimpse of a bra and you’re ready to go? I expected more stamina from you, Gray,” you tut, referring to the scene of Tessa’s own state of undress. You hope it’s from more than that, but you’re not about to put your own neck on the line if you’re wrong.

He’s still blushing, but he rolls his eyes. “Really, are you gonna make me say it?

“Say what?” you ask innocently, biting your lip and looking up at him with big eyes.

He pauses, looking down at you with dark, heated eyes. He reaches up and tugs your lip out of your mouth. “It’s not that girl in a bra. It’s you in my hoodie, in my arms, on this couch. It’s every time I see you. Every time I get to be around you.” He stops, and huffs out a little puff of laughter, his thumb stroking your cheek softly. “And I can’t believe I’m about to steal knock-off Harry Styles’ line but...I don’t think we can just be friends. Not on my end, anyways.”

Your chest feels tight, your head in the clouds, your body on fire. It’s only hitting you now how long you’ve wanted to hear him say those exact words. You turn around to face him completely, trailing your foot up his calf as you hitch a leg over his. Your hand snakes up to cup his angular jaw. “Remember what he does next?”

Confusion lights his eyes, then understanding, and he gives you a crooked smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

With that, he’s dipping down to kiss you for the first time, and his lips taste better than you could have ever imagined. Even if they are veiled by the salt of the popcorn, they’re sweet and soft and work in tandem with yours perfectly.

Your leg shifts higher up his waist, allowing your hips to meet, and you moan instantly when the hard ridge of him meets your pulsing center. He groans back, his hand coming to cup your ass to pull you even closer against him. You push his chest, a silent indication for him to roll on his back, and you grin down at him as you straddle his waist once he’s there.

Your pussy grinds rhythmically over his cock, and when your mouths meet again you delve your tongue past his lips this time. You take your time exploring, licking every crevice and sweet spot you can find as you blindly build that pressure in your pussy. You can’t remember the last time you had a good, old-fashioned dry humping makeout on the couch, but it’s just as amazing as you thought it was however long ago.

“Fuck,” he rasps, ripping his mouth away from yours. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, but your voracious for him, and can’t stand the idea of not having your lips or teeth or tongue on him now that you have that pleasure. You move your kisses to his stubbled jaw, then down his neck, stopping with a grin at the place that makes his breath hitch all over again.

Your hips haven't stopped this whole time. Your thin, tiny shorts and equally small thong, and his athletic shorts are practically useless barriers to the heat of your pussy against his raging hard-on. He lets the both of you indulge for a minute before he’s letting out this animalistic growl and a sharp smack to your ass, both of which go straight to your clit, and lifting you clean off his dick.

“You’re gonna make me embarrass myself if you don’t slow down,” he mutters, his face and chest flushed adorably, a little purple mark already blooming on his neck from where you maybe got a little carried away.

You shake your head. “It’s okay,” you whisper heatedly, sitting back a little and hooking your fingers into the waistband of his shorts. “Can I?”

He nods at once, and you smile at his eagerness. You tug them down just enough to let his dick spring out, your mouth watering instantly when you see him for the first time.

“You’re big,” you admit, spreading his precum around the sensitive tip. You giggle when the whole thing jumps in the air. “You like that?”

He nods again, his hair flopping with the movement, and it only endears him to you even more. You lock eyes with him as you lick your hand and wrap it around his shaft, watching with pure desire how his eyes roll at the simple touch. You start stroking him steadily, your hand twisting at the head while the other makes his eyes shoot open again when he feels it start massaging his balls.

Grayson starts moaning, and the soft sounds are music to your ears, but you want them louder, more desperate. You lean over and drizzle a stream of saliva onto the head of his thick cock, spreading it all over with a grin when you achieve that and an uncontrollable thrust of his hips at the added wetness. You feel his balls tighten in your hand. “Gonna cum for me, Gray? I want you to. I wanna lick it off you, all off --”

You’re interrupted by a loud moan of your name, and suddenly he’s shooting all up his stomach and chest with these grunts and groans that have your panties ruined for sure. You murmur soft encouragements and keep true to your word when he’s done, releasing him and dipping down to lick up the streaks of white with broad strokes of your tongue.

When he’s all clean, you show him the last pool of cum on your tongue with a smirk before swallowing. Grayson grins up at you, and hooks a big hand around the back of your head to bring you down to him for a deep, thorough kiss. He sits both of you up, securing a thick arm around your waist and flipping you over, smiling into your mouth when you let out a little squeal and giggle of surprise.

“My turn.”

#this turned out wayyy longer that i meant for it to lol #and more romantic #but whatever #i #hope you like anon🥺#ask #blurb #g blurb

273 notes · View notes

infinitelytheheartexpands · 4 years ago

Text

Responses from the Opera Screencaps Captioning Quiz

Hello, everyone, and thank you for taking my quiz! I had SO MUCH fun reading your captions-- there were several times I literally started crying from laughing so hard at the amazingness of your work! With that in mind, the captions (which I will continue to add onto as more people take it):

(also, thank you to @dichterfuerstin for translating the German captions I got)

originally taken from: the Wiener Staatsoper’s 2020 production of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail, featuring Regula Mühlemann (center) as Blonde, Michael Laurenz (right) as Pedrillo, and an unnamed extra (left) as the Grim Reaper

Responses:

(Backstage warm-up) “ok so someone dropped the pulse”

me and my friends watching the fire burn after doing arson

Introducing the polycule to the parents

*boom* ... did...you guys hear that too?

Ma Signor !

Knight in whinging armour gone wrong, look at how he holds the egg. Polyamory with weird knight and death.

the father, son and the holy ghost are very gay

the gays meeting for brunch, 2021, colorized

chicken lady forces death and a very flamboyantly homosexual anthropomorphized pink bird to be parents of her egg (they dont want to be)

That’s just me and my friends on our night out (before covid rip)-- closest

A Good Friday night

good omens (2019)

["the pocket guide to boy/girl/mischief" meme] who's the boy and who's the mischief though????

Papageno and Papagena take their first-born egg trick-or-treating

Angry Birds - The Musical. A pig stole an egg and the bird unites with death to take revenge.

I love my bird wife

Someone got murdered during the funky chicken dance

throuple murders child and steals sibling of said child

When you and your friends have widely different tastes in literature

angel leading twink to his rightful place (hell)

draco malfoy from a very potter musical and a death eater are very much in the wrong show

What have I gotten myself into

Mlm/wlw solidarity but I’m not telling who is who

A woman stands with a pink dipshit with an egg and a reaper.

A bird-couple makes a pact with Death, sacrificing their first-born bird-child in order to bring good luck upon their unborn bird-baby

There are three types of people on Halloween:

Uh oh, I don’t think the mother hen is very happy about this...

oh god, they’ve invented seussical. It’s too early!

gay brunch

Three little maids from school are we

guys maybe if we dress gay enough we can distract everyone from the dead flapper bee in the back

those three killed a duck for her egg and are facing the conswquences.

Duck has egg with human, shocked and upset due to biological impossibility

When you bout to make a banging omelet so you invite your fellow queers

"No mortal man could pass that egg, but heaven shall repair your rectum."

originally taken from: the Salzburg Festival’s 2007 production of Hector Berlioz’s Benvenuto Cellini, featuring Maija Kovalevska (left) as Teresa Balducci, Laurent Naouri (center, in chimney) as Fieramosca, and Burkhard Fritz (right) as Benvenuto Cellini

Responses:

“In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so: And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.” - a midsummer night’s dream, act v scene 1

"ah yes a prime specimen. see here, right in this box is our one of a kind hob goblin that can be all yours for the low low price of your soul"

what, YOU don't have a special eavesdropping chimney window?

Hänsel und Gretel plotting against the witch

man takes a wrong turn and ends up in a chimney, catches his girlfriend cheating-- closest

when you end up third wheeling the straight couple

lady cheats on her leather jacket wearing scummy boyfriend and when he unexpectedly comes home she hides the lover in the chimney

A straight girl and her gay best friend gossip about stuff idk

Idk Shakespeare?

experimental couples therapy feat. the chimney mf from mary poppins

Area Couple Inadvertently Traps Santa-in-Training in Chimney as they Attempt Rooftop Flirting

Landlords laugh over student renter's misfortune

I never asked for this

Ay yo lil mama lemme whisper in your ear

voyeurist listens to sandy and Danny from grease

Psssst! Did you hear about Susan? You won’t believe it!

lady and the tramp meets beauty and the beast?

human trafficking

And for just $30 you too could have your own tiny brick cage!

Psst I’m wearing assless chaps under this dress

A couple tortures a man in a box.

It's all fun and games being stuck in a chimney until your greasy uncle steals your crush from right above you-- okay ngl this could actually be a great Don Pasquale concept

Taking eavesdropping to the next level

Will you two stop being lovey dovey and let me out? SUMMER LOVIN, HAPPENED SO FAST—

overhearing how people talk about you when they think they're alone puts you in the shithouse

Does he know we can see him?

dear god, i am so fucking hungry, yall please just do whatever heterosexuals do so i can go eat a popsicle

the human version of the trash man from sesame street is realizing that those two are going to fuck on his trash can

Tmw you capture an angry short dude and start trashtalking him where he can hear

Omg what if we kissed but we actually kissed the lil goblin man under us

"Remember, don't feed him after midnight"

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Leonardo Estevez (right, on fake horse) as Le Comte d’Oberthal

Responses:

“When I said we needed to drain the swamp I didn’t think there were people actually living there”

horse? what horse? no sir i dont know what horse youre referring to.

definitely don't have a napoleon complex going on

King stole La Scala‘s Lohengrin set

king breaks all his horses, has to use statue dragged by servants as transportation because he’s too kingly too walk

Emperor Söder and his subjects on a carnival procession

man on horse makes a big deal out of being on a horse

That’s not Zeffirelli because the horse is not alive

Who the fuck put a horse on the stage

isn't this that picture of napoleon on the horse

Area Count Thinks Citizens will be Intimidated by his Extremely Fake-looking Horse Statue-- closest

Everyone wants their turn on the giant plaster horse. Police are there to make sure everyone waits their turn.

Night out with the lads

Local royalty horrified at the state of his own damn kingdom

gay army fights different gay aesthetics-- hi author how does it feel to be the funniest fucking person on this quiz

Well at least I LOOK badass

ceasar if he hadn't gotten stabbed (colourised)

some soldiers jumped out of my kindergarten fairytale collection book to burn the don carlos flemish deputies at the stake

It’s just a model

Is that how you feel pulling up in your Honda Civic, Madge?

Someone rides a horse statue in public.

Just a normal party with the bros.

what is this, some kind of crossover episode?

Terribly sorry for all the fuss, it’s just, that is, my horse is afraid of neck ruffles. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he’s—whoaaa there—he said he was a french courtier in a past life and he’s allergic to English fashion

Horse seller, listen to me! I am riding into battle. I need your strongest horse. - We have horses at home. - The horses at home:

All hail Incitatus the king

we are not ripping off shakespeare’s henry viii. what the fuck. this is about lenny xi you uncultured swine, go drown in a pit of your own farts

oh god is that hamilton

Guy Removed From Art Museum For Sitting On Statue, more at eleven

Gay <3

Officer: This horse... is a virgin! Crowd: *cheers*

originally taken from: the Parma Verdi Festival’s 2017 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Stiffelio, featuring Maria Katzarava (left) as Lina and Luciano Ganci (right) as Stiffelio

Responses:

That One kid in class

its a mEntAL BreAkDowN *final countdown but kazoo*

*record scratch* yeah, that's me. you're probably wondering how I got here-- closest

Dad keeps monologuing, teenager is done

left: all of my concerned friends, right: my emo ass having a very public mental breakdown

the demons in the corner of my room when im just trying to sleep

lady gets mansplained to (do i need to say more, we've all been there)

It’s probably an area baritone telling off an area soprano-- sorry; it’s a tenor. soprano is right though.

That was a fake horse in the last photo right?

child comes out as gay to father at a particularly bad time

dissociation solves everything

I can't believe it's not butter

Honey we talked about this

My sleep paralysis demon is Crowley from supernatural

child has nightmare of boring job

When you start dating a singer but he won’t stop practicing at night

just an average day in a hetero marriage

what do i do my wife's having period cramps again

Stop having an existential crisis. It’s time to sing!

“No son of mine will kin Gomez Addams under MY roof”

Crowley stares into space while a teen has post nut clarity.

When he wont stop reciting jordan peterson monologues!!

Do you realize how effed you are?

Ugh, not this lecture again! Dad’s Practicing For His Experimental Indie Band Again

asking your parents for help with your own personal situation and them just ranting off about what they went through instead of helping in any way

Will he shut up already!

no one tell him he’s yelling in the wrong direction, no one tell him plnsbdjddhdj

this kid is tired of his dad listening to rush limbaugh (a man who claimed to be pro life but died anyway)

Me internally vs externally

Daddy issues

originally taken from: the Grand Théâtre de Genève’s 2020 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots, featuring several chorus members

Responses:

It’s the deadly eye Of Poogley-pie. Look away, look away, As you walk by, ‘Cause whoever looks right at it Surely will die. It’s a good thing you didn’t … You did? … Good-bye. - shel Silverstein

why the fuckith? my good sir, i beg of you to put your pants back on

I hate this itchy hat

Titanic Extras hear that they have to do extra hours

people waiting to board the titanic watch someone fall off the plank

pov: you’re a time traveler

guy in the flatcap is embarrassed by patriotism and pathos

No idea. For some reason Le Marseillaise comes to mind

Is this from Harry Potter?

disneyland main street usa workers on strike

local tries to hide behind Newsies cap to avoid unpleasant but inevitable conversations. meanwhile, some very fashionable ladies look on.

"Thank fuck, 2020 was just a dream after all"

“We gather here today because this bitch got exactly what she deserved” “heaven!” “Stfu Stephanie she’s going to hell and we all know it”-- not quite but this basically happens later on in the opera (and act) so yeah (except the person in question very much Did Not Deserve It)

dc movie filter on bridgerton

america?

looks like my history teacher paused the prohibition documentary again

Who still wears page boy hats bro?

Coming out to a room of people who Already Knew That

Bitches are relieved at some party.

Several drunk people exiting getting off the subway attempting to seem sober and rational but realizing they have somehow lost all of their possessions

How tf do I act natural in this situation-- closest

“do you think any of them noticed that I don’t know the pledge of allegiance”

It's too fucking hot outside for this outfit

when hyyh yoonkook ending just hits different

pedestrians watch in horror as the triangle shirtwaist factory burns and the workers throw themselves out of the windows from a dozen stories up

Starting the pledge of allegiance be like

He's having a heart attack oh no oh god oh fuck

originally taken from: if I remember correctly, the Semperoper Dresden’s 2018 semi-staging of Johann Strauss II’s Die Fledermaus, with Jonas Kaufmann as Gabriel von Eisenstein

Responses:

“William Shakespeare wrote: "To thine own self be true And it must follow, as the night the day Thou canst not then be false to any man" I believe this wise statement best applies to a woman A blonde woman Over the past three years she taught me And showed us all That being true to yourself never goes out of style Ladies and gentlemen Our valedictorian: Elle Woods!” - legally blonde the musical

eat ass, suck a dick, and sell drugs

woooooorrrrd

Finally Jonas has graduated! It’s about time, considering he’s an international star.

what my professors think they look like

Prof. Dr. Dr. When someone tells him there are more than two genders

'and since you've now graduated high school, you'll be entering college etc. blablabla' .........meanwhile, there's a whole row of graduates daring each other to chug the cheap vodka one of them has brought in gallons (yes that happened at my graduation, lol)

Jonas darling baby <3-- can’t argue with that

I just realized I have no idea what the actual fuck happens in an opera

ok this one is just what jonas kaufmann always wears you can't fool me.

"as valedictorian i will share with you the importance of loving the floor"

"Yes, mother, my art degree will make me money!"

Graduation speakers are out, singers are in

Senior year takes a new meaninbg

mansplainer professor explains the concept of feminism to women

Your Prof when you finally turn in that missing assignment be like

younger boris johnson (derogatory)

jonas kaufmann retires from opera and takes up motivational speaking

What a fine graduation evening we’re having today

-70 points for slytherin you all have no swag

A man with a college hat sings.

An obviously greying actor trying to play a university student in a low-budget porn parody

How it feels to graduate high school after being held back for years

East High is a place where teachers encouraged us to break the status quo and define ourselves as we choose. Where a jock can cook up a mean crème brûlée, and a brainiac can break it down on the dance floor-

I may not have been "cool" in high school, but in ten years you will all be working for me!

I finally got my GED!

that one guy in ur intro to cultural anthropology class who mansplains to the professor somehow fucking graduated

he;s just graduating and taking his speech too serously idk

Graduation speeches with that one dude who got held back 3 times

Smrt

originally taken from: the Metropolitan Opera’s 2011 staging of Gioachino Rossini’s Le Comte Ory with Joyce DiDonato (left) as Isolier, Diana Damrau (center) as Countess Adèle, and Juan Diego Florez (right) as Le Comte Ory (disguised as a hermit)

Responses:

There is something very [disturbing grunts] About polyamorous couples - polyamorous, Chris Fleming

jinkies

femme fatale (including to herself)

I’ll have a threesome soon !

Hot guy walks by, everyone swoons.

thirdwheeling friend does not realize the other two are having sex

When your girlfriend had „just two beers“ again

jesus is exasperated about having to drag the two ladies towards doing what he needs them to do instead of purple dramatically declaring suicidal intent over the smallest trivial matters and red being equally dramatic about declaring that it's not the way! stay alive! i love you!!

The throuple is thriving

Get off the milf

orgy

my last three braincells because im a horny slut

countess receives too much love and is confused on how to react

Rasputin's lesser known romp with a much older czarina of russia

Woman's soul leaves body

Jesus and co. are worried after another woman gets pregnant without having sex

bisexual looks at photos of celebrity couples

When you go to the party to socialize with new people but your weirdo friend group starts getting clingy

Jesus cumming

one of those weird church christmas pageants but everybody's drunk

What have I done

Hozier??????????

Jesus assfucks some purple lady being hugged.

This time, the chick IS the magnet

An affair/threesome gone awry (2019 colorized)

What do you mean they canceled GLOW?

“I TOLD you it was cashmere!”

Are you wearing the - - The Gucci dress? Yes I am.

It's not what it looks like!

jesus is fucking that one cheerleader who grew up to be a suburban mom with one (1) super cool dress she stole from her kid who is desperately hugging her middle begging for it back because the spring fling is coming up and jason might actually make eye contact with her for more than three seconds.

jesus and mary magdaline and some other bitch

I’m at a bar and these drunk girls are flirting with me, do I lOOK GAY?!

Shrek 5, jesus's return

c. 2025 First attempt of an Officer and his Wife with a Handmaiden (colourized)

just about all of these are close lol

originally taken from: the Bolshoi Theater’s 1993 staging of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s The Maid of Orléans, featuring Nina Rautio (left) as Joan of Arc and Vyacheslav Pochapsky (right) as Thibaut d’Arc

Responses:

Don’t look, I’m still pooping

yall, the audacity of this man. he fuckin talked to me

*i can't even tell you how wrong you are* *it would be insulting to ME*-- closest

Cospeto!

„No I’m not talking to you, you keep cracking bad jokes!“ - „But I got another!“

when you’re mad at him but he says he’ll buy you food if you cheer up

When I’m wallowing in self-pity but my friends won’t comfort me

right: wanna fuck ;) left: yeah, fuck OFF lmao

Her face is screaming “don’t tell me what to do”

Yeah I got nothing

gay man tries to hit on a lesbian bc he thinks she's a twink. she's not amused but she's watching this happen anyway

me tired of MET's bullshit and them organising a Netrebko, known blackface apologist, a recital during Black History Month. (sorry im still fucking salty lol)

"stop smiling at me like that I'm trying to pout over here"

"I got fleas, you got fleas... wanna fuck?"

I have the best idea!

Haha nooooo don’t hit me with that bat you’re so sexxyy

lesbian is bothered by dilf

Me trying to flirt

if call me by your name was hetero and set in america

how many more dad jokes can i take before i explode

So. You’ve gotten yourself in a little pickle again.

What if we fought in the Russian revolution together ✨???????... unless??

Two people flirt in a poor place of town/

"If you ask me what I've got under this dirty, shapeless tunic one more time I swear to god I will kick your rotting teeth in"

You look like ur gonna kill me but ok

Really? You again?

Okay, I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes, do you think it’s safe to—oh god, he’s still there.

Have you seen Godot?

she is tired of everyone’s shit. she has done so many derivatives it physically pains her to see a variable. dont test her. ur icarus rn.

idk pick better pictures-- I HAVE DIED THE SHEER AUDACITY AND HUBRIS I LOVE THIS

200% done with your crap

Homeless man has fucking legs of steel n is gonna show off his Russian dance moves

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2019 staging of Paul Dukas’ Ariane et Barbe-bleue, featuring Sophie Koch (right) as Ariane and I don’t remember who the person on the left is rip me

Responses:

The knight who wore this into battle sure was swaggy

dear god its hiddeous

Capitalism

Knight in shining armour gone even more wrong.

ghost contemplates the safety of spiky motorcycle helmet

„Stop! He feels bullied!“

'this is my newest take for jesus's crucifixion crown ...... what do you mean they already put him up'

That’s probably a really expensive magic helmet idk. IDK-- closest

Omg I love the adventure zone!

minesweeper (windows xp)

"Okay whatever you do don't touch the shiny spiky ball" "It's so shiny I wanna touch it"

Taking down the trash way too late

IT'S NOT A PHASE MOM

Darth Vader got stuck in the freezer.... again. Leia isn’t happy

Star Wars 2030

“And here is the very latest in motorcycle helmet trends” “Look, I only came to the mall for a pair of socks “

futuristic kkk

long-suffering jewelry store attendant really wants to retire

Put it down put it down put it down

“Hmm no you should see a doctor about that”

A weird ass crown is presented

The creation of sars-cov-2: an experimental Eurotrance nightclub art piece gone horribly wrong

How it feels to want something that u cant have

AND WE WILL CALL IT—SPIKE MAN actually do you think that’s too obvious?? Because of the—yeah, because of the spikes?? See, that’s what I’m worried about. I want it to be SCARY

I know it's risky but... lube me up

use the force luke.

that is a weird fleshlight

When you get an ugly gift and need to find a way to get rid of it, so your family member/friend offers to smash it

Touch the orb

originally taken from: the Opera Vlaanderen’s 2019 staging of Fromental Halévy’s La Juive, with Nicole Chevalier (left, with bottle) as Princess Eudoxie, Enea Scala (center, under table) as Prince Léopold, and Roy Cornelius Smith (right) as Éléazar

Responses:

When no one comes to your birthday party :(

fantastic, day 487 of mischief and they have yet to find my masterful hiding spot

i really wonder who he thinks he's playing footsie with

Marriage crisis. Reason sits under the table-- closest but not in the way you think (after all, the man under the table IS a tenor).

the last supper afterparty after jesus left

When you order the last supper on wish

espionage at the Politischer Rosenmontag

Probably the wrong opera but is that Leporello under the table

Now THIS is a Good Friday night

this was every birthday party i went to between the ages of 5 and 11

that awkward moment when you drop your fork under the table but when you re-emerge everyone else has left except one drunk lady and the guy trying to deal with her

After the last supper

Tfw you arrive to the dinner party too early and have to hide until a more fashionable hour

When the cishets aren’t home

waiter hides from customers

Nobody: My dog every time I’m eating:

what's left of the homies Jesus had dinner with

university chem lab experiment gone terribly wrong

I’ve been under the table FOR 30 MINUTES

Set your friends up by tossing them off under the table, they’ll think it’s each other n fall in luv

Someone hids under a table

"You're about to see an surreptitious-under-the-table-dick-sucking master at work"

5 yr old me trying to eat the desert under the table without my parents finding out be like:

They never invite me to their parties!

Just another girl’s night in

Oops! Didn’t notice you the table.

dionysus - bts (2019, colorized)

just a normal episode of eric andre (eric is the one under the table)

Just a normal day with the boys

Thievery

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Kate Aldrich (left, surrounded by women in white) as Fidès and John Osborn (center, looking like a Jesus doppelganger) as Jean de Leyde

Responses:

Hold up, is that Eggman above Jesus?

holy disco

Looks like Tannhäuser. Our lord and saviour Richard Wagner. Now I need to be saved from that.

catholicism

me defending pineapple on pizza (THANK YOU)

jesus but hes about to be abducted by the alien ufo above him

Emmmmmmm Heaven? Idk

Lord of the rings?

ewww christianity gross

"behold, I am Important"

"Seriously?? It's not ACTUALLY pyjama day? Fuck you guys!"

Jesus at the Disco

Jesus Finds The Molerat People Who Live Under Bethlehem

disco is heaven

Want to join my new religion?

the kkk

church christmas pageant where everyone's sober but it's based on the director's fever dream

Am I the only one who sees the giant demon? Just me? Okay...

“Oh god I think I’m starting my period”

A party is held with a priest in the middle

"Let's get this secret Vatican sex party rolling!"

The new avengers endgame set is looking great!!

You know, guys, I try not to be a bother but...I can’t help but feel like I missed a dress code memo for this wedding??? It’s cocktail, right??”

Jesus visits Hogwarts

I must really stink if no one will even come close to me

the extra ass funeral i DESERVE

star wars life day

A cult at it’s best-- closest

Shrek 5, Jesus is still there I guess

originally taken from: the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden’s 2013 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Les vêpres siciliennes, featuring Bryan Hymel (left, standing) as Henri, Lianna Haroutounian (center, kneeling in the black gown) as Duchess Hélène, and Erwin Schrott (kneeling to her right) as Jean Procida

Responses:

When the director’s like “great rehearsal guys, just a few notes before I let you go” but it’s already 9:13 and your mom’s waiting in the parking lot

loyalist of subjects

bow before your queen

They forgot to take down the stage boxes after the Vienna opera ball but the show must go on.

somebody forgot to book chairs for this funeral

Me sharing God’s (Hayley koyoko) word on the discord server

mass execution bc the oboe solo sucked ass-- closest

That’s too many black suits I can’t see shit

I can’t even tell what’s going on here

8th grade school assembly about how it's uncool to shit on the walls at school

let's all get fancy so we can go to the opera and sit on the stage (idk this one's hard lol)

"Yes i am a time traveller, now don't freak out"

Tfw you forget to pay your lighting bills

White guys make decisions that will benefit them and screw someone that’s not a white guy over-- OUCH but that is too real (although not really in context here)

dead man gives speech at his own funeral

brotus and the boys ??? last meeting before the stabbing

high society social function ends in mass murder-- right opera, wrong scene

Someone walks into the talent show stage with a dog

Black-dressed bitches worship a man.

Worst school assembly of all time

POV:You're the window in the classroom and someone said "its snowing"

When the conductor shows up fashionably late to the orchestra concert

That's what you get for choosing the cheapest ticket option, get back in the mud where you belong

theyre just trying to jump into a grave at a funeral leabe them alone this is normal

oh my god he really whipped his dick out in front of everyone, this is just like in 1776 guys, except some women are actually in the room this time,

A funeral, stop wearing so much black

I want to slap their bald heads like rice

originally taken from: the Teatro Real Madrid’s 2018 staging of Gaetano Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, featuring Roberto Tagliavini (right) as Raimondo

Responses:

Crowd “haha!! Looks like someone missed the all-black memo!! Now it’s laugh-in-your-face time! / Guy on the floor (whispering to guy against wall): go, save yourself! I’ll hold them off...”

if i leave now i wont be a witness and can tell the police i had no idea

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Guy in the back pretends to help but is to far away to even know what’s going on.

priest walks in on beginning of an orgy, contemplated joining but is too scared-

when someone brings up capitalism but you’re just trying to play minecraft

lol lets trample this guy while the judge isnt looking

Again. Too many black costumes

Loved this Dostoevsky novel

i would know if opera directors were more creative with clothing choices ngl

me on parties lol

"imma just sneak out of here while everyone else is distracted"

"Where did he get this flooring!? Amazing!"

Everyone act normal!

The tell tale heart but they got REALLY drunk

man tposes to ward off vampires after being caught undercover

boys ???? night

the priest really shouldn't have visited the insane asylum-- closest

He’s FINE everyone’s been hit by a car before

Something happens in a room.

Perks of being a wallflower

There's always that one person in the fight whos trying not to get involved when they really wanna

Oh good, they’re all posing for a Rembrandt painting, I can just sneeeeaaak out the back here...

The gamer livestreaming Resident Evil + everyone watching the stream ? waiting for him to open the door just knowing it will trigger a chase scene

Quick!

the guy t posing in the back is regretting his every decision.-- also accurate

the us senate jumps ted cruz, some other wack ass gop senator is trying to sneak away

...I spoke too soon, however this is a James Bond mission

Queers help fellow queer do math but it's a struggle

#opera #opera tag #results #screencaps #captions #caption #caption this #caption contest #this seems to have gone over well and I am Pleased

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

Text

The Tattoo (Part Ten, Bit 2 - The End)

Okay, I’ve been staring at this all day. I have no idea what I’ve written anymore so I’m just going to dump this here and run ::hugs::

For @vegetacide cos it is her fault. Many thanks to @tsarinatorment @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for the read throughs, plot help and support. This was a bloody hard one to write. It started with Virgil, but Scott ate me alive. 2848 words, fic total 18,111 words.

I hope you enjoy whatever the result was.

-o-o-o-

“Son, sit down.” He waved him to a chair across from him.

A sigh. So, interview it was.

He loved his father. Would go to the ends of the solar system and beyond for him, but some things never changed. Jeff Tracy was a determined man.

At least Scott knew where he got it from.

He killed the coffee machine and made his way back to the table, this time taking up a seat that set his back to the shadow of Mateo.

Grey eyes latched onto him.

“I’m proud of you son.”

Blink.

His father reached over and took his hand.

Scott’s eyes widened. Dad had never been one for a great deal of physical contact, but that had changed since he came back. Scott stared at the scarred fingers holding his.

“Son, I…” His father swallowed. “I need to know your brother is okay.”

Scott frowned. “Virgil is okay, Dad. I promise.” It was what he had been saying all along.

A drawn out sigh. “I need to know if being part of International Rescue is in Virgil’s best interest.”

Eyes widening, Scott pulled back, his hand slipping from his father’s as his back straightened. “Dad, no.”

A held-up hand. “Hear me out.”

“Dad, this happened a long time ago. International Rescue is our lives, Virgil’s life. You can’t take it away from him.” A pause. “I won’t let you.”

Those old grey eyes latched on to him and his father’s lips thinned. “Is he on medication?”

“Dad, you need to speak to V-“

“Is he on medication?”

“Yes. It is handled and monitored. Virgil is fine, Dad!”

His father made a sorrowful sound that cut Scott to the quick, before burying his face in his hands. “I wish…” It was muffled, but Scott heard it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. If I had known…” But his voice drifted off and Scott was left staring at his father, his heart sinking more by the minute.

“We made it, Dad. We’re okay.”

His father’s head shot up. “How can you say that? Virgil is suffering from a mental illness exacerbated by his job. Yet you tell me he should keep doing that job despite what it is costing him.”

Voice quiet but firm. “It is his decision, Dad.”

“And what happens if it becomes too much? What if-“

“Dad! It is under control. Virgil is an adult. He knows what he is doing and yes, if something does go wrong, he has all of us. We back each other up. None of us are perfect. We work as a team.”

Grey eyes snapped at him. “What else don’t I know?”

Scott held back a snarl. “What else do you want to know? If you think I’m going to give you the lowdown on all my brother’s personal information, dream on, Dad.”

Those eyes didn’t falter. “Then what about you?”

“What about me? Have I had moments? Of course, I have. You know this job, Dad. It can be hell. And yes, there is a whisky stash in your desk. There always has been.” He returned that piercing glare with one of his own.

“I never claimed to be perfect, son.”

“And neither did we. Virgil’s mental health is his business. He prefers to keep it to himself. I’m aware of it. It is being managed. End of discussion.”

The steel in his father’s eyes did not vanish. “I only want what is best for my children.”

Scott’s lips thinned as he stood up. “We’re not children anymore.”

“I know that, son, but I’m still your parent.”

The tension in Scott’s shoulders only tightened. “Dad-“

“You know, I always remember Scotty being a bit of a clone of you, Dad, but up until now, I’d never really seen how much.”

A blink as Gordon slipped out of the darkness beside the stairs. He had his swimwear on and a towel thrown over his shoulder. His posture was casual, but Scott could see the tension in his shoulders. “Gordon-“

“Hey, Dad, welcome to the whacky world that is International Rescue, your local rescue organisation run by five brothers of questionable sanity. Here be the eldest, a strong, masculine heartbreaker who has an obsession complex that can drive the whole family out of the solar system. His back up and apparently medicated…” He glared at Scott. “…second in command, artist and sensitive type who takes on far too much and suffers for it. Coordinated by our communications guru who is so introverted he can’t go to parties without breaking a sweat. Not to mention our aquanaut who suffers from PSTD because his body was broken six ways to Sunday and yet still managed to survive. And finally, our kid brother who has yet to be traumatised enough to sport a mental illness, but give him time.” A sigh. “Honestly, Dad, what did you expect?”

“Gordon!”

“Scott, c’mon! Face it. It’s a hard job. We do it. Shit happens.”

Their father climbed to his feet. “Are you finished, son?”

Gordon glared at his father. “That depends.” His lips tightened. “Are you seriously considering pulling Virgil from IR?”

Scott flared. “That is not on the table.”

That earned him a brown-eyed glare. “Isn’t it? The fact you are questioning Virgil’s ability to do a job he has excelled at for years…” The glare returned to his father. “I just thought I’d let you know that if you do choose to do that, you can go find yourself another aquanaut. Because Virg goes? I’m going with him.”

“Virgil isn’t going anywhere!” The mere thought of losing any of his brothers… “Gordon, Dad just had some questions-“

“Yeah, questioning if the heart of this outfit was able to do his job.” Gordon rounded on his father again. “If you had seen what Virgil is capable of, you wouldn’t have any questions.”

“Gordon, for god’s sake!”

Their father held up a hand. “It’s fine, Scott. As you said, Gordon has a right to his opinion.” His voice was quiet enough to bring Gordon’s ire to a halt and the sudden gap in conversation let the sounds of the ocean in through the open doors. “But as your father, I have a right to my opinion also. I need information. Scott has been in command for those eight years, so I am asking him for a report.”

“On our brother.”

“On a staff member of International Rescue.” An indrawn breath. “And my son.”

“Then perhaps you should speak to your son.” Those brown eyes flared.

“I intend to.” Those grey eyes turned back to Scott. “However, I was hoping to put him through the least amount of stress by gathering enough information beforehand, in particular what instigated this issue.”

Scott straightened again. “I’m sorry, Dad. That is not my story to tell.”

“Even as Commander of International Rescue?”

Ever so quiet as his eyes held his father’s. “Even then.”

They were all interrupted by the whine of a not-quite-out-of-teenagerhood-despite-being-an-adult at the top of the stairs. “Oh, c’mon, John. I don’t need a warm milk.”

Smooth musical tones. “You had a nightmare, Alan. Warm milk is the best option for a quick return to sleep.”

“Really? Have you got a stash up on Five? Doesn’t that UHT milk taste vile?”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“Blech!” His little brother caught sight of the three of them. “Wha-? What’s going on?”

Scott just felt sad as Alan and John took the last few steps into the room. But then John’s eyes had that wiser-than-you-know look about them and Scott’s shoulders knotted just that bit more.

Hiding anything from John was futile. And Alan?

John played for keeps.

As if subjected to an antibiotic for anger, Gordon’s stance changed immediately. “Woah, John, you got the squirt up before the sun? How did you manage that without the side effect of death?”

“He had a nightmare.” There was something in his brother’s eyes.

“John! Geez, it was only a bad dream. I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“One that had you screaming.”

“John!”

Scott stepped around the table. “You okay, Allie?”

“Oh, god, John. Now look what you did.”

The elder astronaut had a rather knowing smirk on his face.

Scott glared at him.

He put a hand on Alan’s shoulder anyway and squeezed gently.

His little brother growled at him. “I’m fine. It was time to get up anyway.”

“It’s before noon, Alan.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“Hey, I just have your teenage need for sleep at heart.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“That’s enough, you two.”

“He started it!”

“Alan.”

“Scccottttt…” It was pure whine and a strong sign that Gordon was probably right. Alan needed more sleep.

“You going to grab some warm milk?”

“Heck, no. That was John’s idea. I was just going to plug in some tunes, but he demanded I come down here. What are you guys doing anyway? Dad?”

Scott shot John with his eyes. This was worth a discussion later.

The smart ass just shrugged and smiled that smile of his.

“Dad?” Alan left Scott and hurried over to the table. “You okay?”

Scott spun to find their father reaching for his cane. Alan was there in a second and handed it to him. His little brother had an arm wrapped around his father and whether his help was wanted or not, he gave it.

“Are you okay, Alan?”

Alan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Dad. Johnny is just making a big thing out of nothing.”

As usual, the ‘Johnny’ moniker riled the astronaut. “You were calling Virgil’s name.”

The room froze.

Alan shot daggers at John from under his father’s arm. “Thanks a bunch.”

John tilted his head. “Well, you were.” He held up his hands. “Just trying to help.” But his eyes flickered to Scott.

He glared back. Yeah, right.

John’s small smirk just wound Scott up further.

But he would kill his middle brother later, right now, Alan was the concern. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nooo.”

“Is this about Virgil’s tattoo?” His father’s voice was quiet and a little sad.

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m eighteen. Not a kid anymore.” It wasn’t a ‘no’.

“Age has nothing to do with dreams, son. I have nightmares all the time. Even some about you.”

Alan shrunk back just a little. “Me?”

Their father nodded and Scott’s heart finished its plummet somewhere amongst the flagstones.

“About all of you. Sometimes you’re calling out to me and I can’t answer. Sometimes you’re hurting and I can’t help. Sometimes all of you are just gone.” He looked up at Scott. “In more ways than one. That I’ve lost you. That my one misstep cost us everything. Even now I find it hard to believe that all of you are here safe and sound.” His voice hitched on that last word and Scott knew the truth. Knew that they weren’t as sound as they could be.

“We’re here, Dad. All of us.” Alan was looking up at his father in that same way that eleven-year-old had looked up at Scott all those years ago. Eighteen years or not, his little brother still had faith.

“I know.” He tilted his head and caught Alan up in his arms, burying his face in his youngest’s hair. “It doesn’t stop the dreams, though, kiddo. I’m still scared.”

Scott swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” It was muffled against their father’s shirt.

“Not your fault. I just wanted you to realise that we all have bad dreams from time to time.”

“Heh, I know. Gordon walks and talks in his sleep.”

“Hey! I’m over that!”

Alan poked his head up. “Newsflash, bro. Virg had to lead you back to bed three nights ago. Found you by the pool at two am talking to your ‘coach’.”

“Aw, shit.”

“Language, son.”

Gordon ignored his father. “Why didn’t Virgil tell me?”

Scott was more concerned as to why Virgil hadn’t told him.

“Dunno. You’ll have to ask him.”

Gordon muttered to himself about locks and tying himself to the bed.

Dad looked at Scott. “How long has this been a problem?”

Yet another sigh. “Long term, Dad. Left over from the Olympics. Flares when he’s worried. Hasn’t happened for a while. We have strategies.”

“Are there any other issues I don’t know about?” It was asked of the room at large, but Scott knew it was aimed at him. He pressed his lips together.

“Plenty, but they are all managed and safe.” The familiar baritone echoed down the stairwell and Virgil, trailing Grandma, was the last brother to join them.

His dark eyes ranged over the family gathering, obviously making an assessment and drawing conclusions. “Did I miss a meeting?”

His brother’s arm was strapped up but he was otherwise shirtless. It was obviously a statement because Virgil never went shirtless…ever.

He looked tired and worn.

“Virg, what are you doing up?”

It was Grandma who answered. “He needed his medication and I thought he could do with something in his belly before he goes back to bed.” She stepped past her grandson and headed towards the kitchen.

A quick glance at Gordon and the aquanaut was moving. “Hey, Grandma, let me help you with that…” He followed her into the kitchen proper obviously vetoing any villa-burning-down attempts in the making.

Virgil took the last few steps onto the flagstones and eyeing all of them, made his way towards Scott, suspicion on his face. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Some.”

“Obviously not enough.”

He turned to their father. “Dad, you’re up a little early, too. Anything I can help you with?”

It was a blatant barb. It was obvious Virgil thought he was the topic of discussion and Scott didn’t blame him.

“Just finding my feet again, son.”

Virgil nodded once before turning to Alan who was still holding onto their Dad. “You okay, Allie?”

“He had a bad dream, Virg.” It was shouted from the kitchen.

“Gordon, I’m gonna kick your ass!”

“You and what army, squirt?”

“Gordon!” It was choral – Scott, Virgil, John, Dad and Grandma.

“That army, idiot!”

“Alan!” Same chorus, younger name.

“He started it.”

“He always starts it and you always fall for it.” Scott glared at his little brother. He really was too tired for this. “It’s early. Get yourself some food or drink and back to bed. I’m going for my run.” The early morning pre-dawn glow was now bright enough to see by and not kill himself. God, he needed some time alone.

The expression on his father’s face clearly showed the man wanted to talk further. “Dad, give it time, please?”

His father blinked, but didn’t say anything.

“Trust me.”

He straightened. “I trust you, Scott.”

“Thank you.”

Scott turned to Virgil. “And you, wear your uniform next time. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Thunderbird Two.” He threw a glare at his second for emphasis.

That brought his brother up short. “FAB.”

“And fix whatever caused the accident so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Uh.” Virgil appeared suddenly panicked.

“Virg? What did cause you to fall?”

His brother’s face fell and he slumped with a wince. “A bat startled me.”

“What?”

“Did I just hear that correctly?” Gordon was far too gleeful in the kitchen. “Did you get scared by a bat?!”

“Shut up, Gordon.” It was the chorus again.

The aquanaut might have said something more, but a small explosion on the stove had him yelping and hurrying to wipe milk off the walls.

“It was a bat, okay? It startled me, I stepped back and fell. Can we ignore that now, please?”

“I’ll speak to Brains about finding a bat deterrent to keep them off the ‘birds.” Scott was firm.

Virgil turned to him and there was nothing but gratitude in his eyes.

“And if I hear anyone bugging Virgil about this, they will be cleaning all six of Two’s modules with a toothbrush. Is that clear?”

There was a muttering of assent among his brothers.

Gordon had milk in his hair.

Scott turned to John. “You and I will be having words, Thunderbird Five.”

“What did I do?” The astronaut was innocence itself.

“Strong words, Thunderbird Five.” He glared even more for emphasis.

John shrugged. “FAB.”

Alan. His littlest brother was still holding their father and didn’t appear to be separating from him any time soon. “Allie, you want to talk. Any of us will listen, you know that. Dad included.”

The young astronaut looked at his feet. “I know, Scott. Thank you.”

“We all have bad times. We get through them together.” His eyes drifted up to his father. “We do this together.”

Those strong arms held Alan even tighter and his father gave him a single nod.

Scott took a step back and stared at his family, wishing briefly that Kayo was home and Penny, Parker and Brains were there as well, even if just to complete the picture.

“Grandma, I love you. Gordon, don’t burn the kitchen down.”

And with that, he turned towards the pool, ran out on the deck and into the beginnings of the day.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #jeff tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy

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cockasinthebird · 4 years ago

Note

Now I don’t know if you take requests, but If you do here’s an idea. What about Steve being the King Steve he was, but he’s very slutty one and lets guys fuck him a lot. He would be such a tease to Billy at a party, grind his ass on Billy’s cock on purpose while they’re dancing, because he really wants this hot Cali boy to fuck him senseless already and that’s exactly what happens when Billy finally makes his move and fucks Steve somewhere away from other peoples eyes (Wow this got long sorry!)

Dearest anon, Don’t ever feel the need to apologise for such a long message, especially not one as grand as this!!! Here you go, just grazing 9 pages with the last line, so this is long yes, and I will “warn” you that there’s an excessive amount of dirty talking, at least to my standards, and a bit rough play, but nothing severe of course. Enjoy!

Another Saturday, another unsupervised party in the distant Harrington Mansion, music pulsating so vividly that Billy swears he can feel it through the soles of his heavy boots as he walks between cars parked on the grass.

It doesn't take a fool to know that the high and mighty King Steve has issues with the solitude his house brings, nestled between grand trees, so distant from the rest of the town that there's never once been a noise complaint. That he has issues with the lack of parental attention, and instead seeks to fill the emptiness of his house with his loyal subjects; particularly his bed.

Which might be why Billy always shows up, or maybe not, but who's to tell. Everyone's always at these parties filled with alcohol that Daddy Harrington pays for unknowingly, so it would be weird if Billy wasn't here, too, right? At least he's content with thinking so.

Billy knows loneliness like Steve does, seeks the cure for it just as well, finding brief notions of it when he's got his dick buried in any hole really, his body flooded with liquor, his head pounding to the beat of shitty synth.

So here he is, looking for a saving grace, to have another night filled with sweaty, writhing bodies, stepping through the front door to King Steve's castle once again; having stopped counting how many times around 20.

Just like last week, there's people everywhere – every single junior and senior that knows what's good can be found here, perhaps even a few older drunkards that has nothing better to do in this shit hole town than to crash a high school party.

And just like each and every other time, it's overwhelming in the best possible way. All senses gets fulfilled the second he's completely inside;

Sweaty bodies bumping shoulders as he squeezes his way through the hall, guys patting his shoulders, girls bashing their eyes, and he can't help but grin all smooth and charming at the attention.

Tight jeans and short skirts, bulging muscles and exposed cleavages, all so pleasing to his wandering eyes as his peers twists and turns to ensure he sees it all.

Through the music he can barely hear it when one girl says, “Looking good, Billy,” or when a guy leans in to ask, “Can I get you a drink?” as he makes it into one of the living rooms.

With every breath he takes, a wild and intrusive mixture of perfumes and colognes and deodorants fills his lungs to completion, cheap and expensive alike, and it brings him to life.

All there's left now, is to taste a nice, cold beer, and his soul will be satiated, the checklist for a good party completed, and the festivities could truly begin. But when he turns in to the kitchen, it isn't the giant fridge he focuses on, or the girls passing by, giving him all kinds of bedroom eyes, or the impressive array of chips on display on the kitchen island.

No he sees the host immediately, Steve Harrington, leaning with his back to the wall. His jeans sit a bit more snug than usual, and his tee a bit higher up; not exactly a crop-top per se, but just short enough to expose a gorgeous, wiry trail of hair dipping beneath his pants.

His face is turned towards Tommy Hagan who stands awfully close for that to just be a friendly conversation, and there's no doubt in Billy's mind what they're talking about, if the way Steve's eyes sliding up and down is any indication, or the way he bites into his lower lip.

There is no hiding why Steve is so popular, or why he remains on the top even though Billy managed to beat his keg stand record with ease. Hadn't been any hiding the way Steve leered at him at Tina's Halloween party either.

The first week in Hawkins Billy had caught Steve twice doing the most salacious things, that Billy to this day, 7 long months later, still think about daily.

Steve, on his knees in the showers of the boys locker room one Monday after practice, probably nearly drowning under the water with his mouth wide and stretched around some teammates cock. Even now Billy can recall the way he was moaning and gagging passionately; hears it louder in his mind than the music of the party.

Steve, underneath the bleachers during third period, skipping class to fuck hard into some blonde bitch who struggled to keep quiet as she stood bent forward, arms wrapped around one of the supporting beams for the seats above. And he can still see Steve's lewd expression as he caught Billy staring, Steve's mouth slipping into a sly smirk, eyes dark and heavy as he kept their gazes locked, cumming with the most enticing groan.

Of course that wasn't the last time he saw Steve like that.

Sometimes Steve was the one bent over, against a tree or knees in the grass. Billy has passed by that brown BMW bouncing and wiggling by the side of the road indiscreetly plenty of times. And at almost every party he's attended, he's watched Steve go in and out of rooms with anyone really.

One time he followed along, peeked in through the crack in the door, and watched from start to finish as Steve laid on his back on a desk, hands firmly around his neck, some dude balls deep inside of him.

But with one blink, Steve turns his head and looks directly at Billy, as if he knew the other was watching. And he tilts his head aside, allowing for Tommy to kiss and suck his way down the exposed neck, Steve's lips parting from the smile into something more comfortable.

Billy keeps staring, intently. Walks to the fridge, blindly reaches in to grab what he's hoping is a beer can, then leans against the counter; scarcely ever blinking as to not miss a single second of the show.

And it is ardently clear that Steve enjoys having an audience, enjoys performing. Eyes heavy on Billy, Steve lifts up his right hand in a slight fist, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as he simulates giving a blowjob.

Something which Billy can't help but snort at for some reason, despite how the suggestion courses through him rapidly, and Steve seems to find that equally as humorous, as he laughs quietly.

He then grabs Tommy by the chin and guides him off of his sensitive neck. Steve says something that might sound like, “Not tonight,” which wipes Tommy's lustful grin right off. And when Steve looks towards Billy, Tommy's gaze follows right along, and now the freckled guy looks downright pissed off.

Billy stares with a strong intensity, daring him to try anything, as Tommy walks right by with a clear scowl, jaw tense and hands curled by his sides. But he manages to make his way out the kitchen without as much as a word.

When Billy turns to look for Steve again, he finds him standing right by his side, hip against the counter.

“Hi,” Steve purrs.

“Hey,” Billy says and lifts up his beer to take a sip, but Steve is quick to snatch it from his hand, to then drink from it slowly, eyes locked together.

Steve gives a little satisfied hum and licks his lips clean, a gesture that at this short distance sparks inside of Billy's chest, lighting him up.

“What's his problem?” Billy asks and nods in the direction of where Tommy had marched off. “Thought he was dating that Perkins girl.” He tries to play it cool, pretend he's above knowing who's who here, despite the fact that Carol has flirted with him enough times to need more than two hands to count on.

“Him and Carol loves to play this little game where they flirt with others at parties, get all excited at the thought of being unfaithful, then find a place to bang it out.” Steve offers Billy what's left of his beer, which is less than a half, and much less than what Billy needs to keep somewhat calm right now.

“So you and Tommy never...” he trails off, hoping that the insinuation is clear enough.

And judging by the way Steve smiles something so suggestive might just be enough of an answer, yet he says, “Wouldn't you like to know?” And watches how Billy's mouth opens to take a sip.

Neither of them talks as he empties the can. Billy watches how Steve is almost admiring the view; the bob of his Adam's apple, the way his shirt is unbuttoned nearly all the way, the tight fit of his jeans. And Billy wants to say something, a slight quip about enjoying the view, or if he sees something he likes, but it's redundant, because who doesn't like what they see when they look at Billy Hargrove, Keg King.

The tense silence between them gets interrupted, when some drunk girl shouts, “Steve!”

She's got dark hair, a low cut blouse, and an impossibly tight leather skirt. Pretty enough, Billy would say, but he can't remember her name; too many cows around here for him to bother learning what they're all called. It's only important that they know his name, yet it's Steve she calls for and reaches out to grab his hand.

“Steve come on,” she coos and sways even when standing still, “You owe me a dance for doing your essay!”

Steve doesn't resist when she starts pulling him along, just turns to Billy with a certain grin, and says lowly, “Duty calls.”

Admittedly, Billy is kinda impressed with just how easy it is for Steve, or rather, how easy Steve is.

And maybe he spends the next hour thinking about that, as he walks the party with a fresh beer in hand and a searching gaze, always keeping a lookout for where the host might have sneaked off to.

When he stops by the dining table to assist in a victory of beer pong, he's thinking about how often he's seen Steve in compromising positions, rarely ever with the same person twice in a row, but always with such a euphoric expression.

Or when he's standing with a gaggle of girls, charming his way into their hearts, and hopefully their panties, he's thinking about how Steve pays others to do his homework with the pleasure of his company, and how Billy got an A on his history test last week, and how he knows that Steve struggles with that especially.

And when he walks into the other living room that has been designated as a dance floor it seems, he's thinking about that happy trail being exposed whenever Steve raises his arms too high, the way his hair moves fluidly along with the motion of Steve's lively expression, the way his hips goes from side to side in rhythm to the music, and the way his grin twists something so delicious when almond eyes catch angelic blues staring.

Without missing a beat, Steve prances through the crowd; the flow of his body uninterrupted and damn near beautiful as he makes his way to still before Billy's motionless stature, and they share similar smiles as Billy looks at Steve with hooded eyes and something darkening the calm skies in his eyes, tongue out to wet his grin and Steve's appetite.

You Spin Me Round plays louder than Billy's thoughts, and Steve turns his back to him, dancing, arms up, making the shirt expose his dimples of Venus, and Billy finds himself wanting to grab on to the swaying hips, press his thumbs into where the skin dips in the small of Steve's back.

Billy's not much of a dancer himself, but he still sways slightly to the song, shoulders pumping to the rhythm of the least detestable song that's been played so far tonight. All the while he stares at Steve putting on quite the sweaty, twisting, swirling show, and it wouldn't be hard to believe that it is all for the enjoyment of Billy only, despite how others occasionally shoot jealous glares at the pair of them.

He doesn't even notice it when Steve takes a step closer, having once stood a respectable distance away, now so close that Billy can smell perfume on him; whether it's Steve who's gone diving in his mothers drawers, or from girls having been all over him tonight, is an uncertain factor, but he smells good. And perhaps Billy takes a step forward, the movement of Steve enchanting, but the Keg King would absolutely deny it. Deny that there's someone in town who can so easily bewitch him with barely any effort. Deny that he's not in control of this attraction no more than magnets are to metal.

But when there's contact between them as Steve accidentally grazes against Billy with his ass, it becomes increasingly difficult to sustain plausible deniability, and his salacious little smirk falls. And as Steve continues to flow with the rhythm, he meets with Billy's crotch again, this time with more accuracy- more force, and Billy chokes back a, “Fuck,” that wouldn't have been heard no matter what here. When it happens again and again and again, Billy feels heat drain down to pool near his gut, and with every timid grind against his swelling flesh, it ripples through him, like rain breaking surface tension, a fever pulsating.

And this time he takes a definite step forth, pressing himself into Steve's confident movement, who pushes back against him, hips circling around, plump cheeks pressing deliberately into the noticeable bulge now, and although Billy can't see Steve's face, he would bet money on how he's undoubtedly smiling at the attention.

Enough is soon enough, and Billy grabs on to Steve's hips with near brutish force, stopping the irritatingly erratic motion and pulls him as close as possible, so that hopefully Steve can feel just how hard he is.

He leans forward, lips at the shell of Steve's ear, as he growls, “If you don't stop what you're doing, I won't be able to hold back.”

Steve turns his head as far as he can, ass flush with Billy's trapped erection, and shows just how eager he is for that little promise; mouth not turned up in a smile, but hanging wide open as he pants out, “Then don't.” Honeyed eyes drowning in black, lashes fluttering as he gives a tentative roll of his hips, causing Billy to lurch forward, grinding into the friction with a stuttering notion.

Behind a locked door, Steve's desk slams against the wall as he lands on it, Billy shoving at him, tearing off his shirt and dipping down to kiss rudely and bite along the exposed shoulder. Steve with his legs spread wraps them around Billy's firm hips and draws him closer to feel just how eager he is, too, as if the way he's moaning wasn't enough proof of that.

Steve yanks at golden hair to guide Billy up for a desirous meeting of lips, when Billy pulls away to hiss out, “You taste like pussy,” almost in wonder.

“Didn't think you'd mind that,” Steve chuckles then drives his slick tongue into Billy's mean mouth, feels how he sucks it all in, groaning at the mix of spit and booze and pussy that lingers. “How you want me, big boy?”

It takes Billy a second to understand he's being spoken to, as alcohol and his own unadulterated lust mixes in his system, making him grind all animalistic into the spread of Steve's thighs, like a fucking dog humping a leg.

“On your stomach, in bed,” he breathes out wetly and licks his lips to savor what's left of Steve there.

With a hand spread out onto his chest, Steve pushes Billy away, so that he can move off of the desk and step around the hulking, panting stature of Billy's burning hot body. There's a not-so-subtle chime of Steve's belt, his zipper going down a joyous melody, and honestly Billy shouldn't be this surprised to find out that Steve is going commando tonight, and perhaps he always is.

Billy doesn't move at first, paralyzed by the gorgeous curve of Steve's naked ass, how long and perfect his dick is, and he understands now why girls flock to him the way they do. Each and every mole across pale, lean skin the landmarks of a treasure map guiding you down between his legs.

And Steve crawls on to the bed, his knees just on the edge of the mattress, his back turned to Billy still, and he bends over, cheeks spread to expose his tight hole. Moves his right hand down between spread legs where his leaking erection hangs lonely, starts stroking it with slow pulls that brings out fresh moans, while his left hand goes past parted lips; two fingers knuckle deep as he sucks on them, tongue slipping between to get them proper wet and dripping.

“I want you so bad, Billy,” he whines once he's removes his fingers from his mouth. Leads them behind himself, presses both inside with ease, voice stuttering as he pumps them in and out. “Every since I saw you at Tina's party, ahh, when you knocked me off my throne, beat my keg stand record- fuck-” Fingers speed up for a moment, then slows down again, teasing himself- teasing Billy. “I've- I've never felt so defeated, so... alive.”

Billy feels his underwear stick where he's leaking, untouched, but the performance that of a lifetime, and fuck he wishes he had a camera – convinced Steve would be into that, into being filmed like this. He's heard rumors about certain Polaroid pictures circulating school, but he hasn't had the chance to see yet, although that only makes this all the more sweeter, to see King Steve in all his glory afresh.

He tugs his shirt off over his head, unbuckles and unzips, moving closer with a hand down to massage his painful, throbbing cock. Knows that Steve is watching him as he leers at his entrance begging for more, clenching something so unsatisfied at his own two fingers. Without warning, Billy slicks up his own fingers with spit and plunges them inside along with Steve's own two digits.

“Fuck, ahh!” Steve cries out and arches his back, “Your fingers are so thick.”

At a pace set by Billy, they dive in and out, stretching him together, and Billy sees it fit to spit right on him, lubing him up a bit more and moves faster as he intently listens to how Steve is moaning and calling out for more, harder, deeper.

“Jesus Harrington, you're so fucking insatiable...” Billy looks down at where Steve's eyes are closed tightly, knitted with pleasure, mouth wide open to let out all these delicious noises. “Such a slut,” Billy drawls, and is convinced that Steve's ass clenches a bit tighter at that word. Slut. “So hungry for my fat cock, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve whines and nods profusely, opening his eyes finally to catch cold waters meeting his gaze immediately. “Please,” he begs.

And as Billy pulls out his fingers, so does Steve, who brings both hands down to clutch at the bed sheets, his breathing shaky with anticipation, his prick drooling all over the blue covers.

“Lube and condoms in the top drawer, there,” he pants and points to the bedside table.

Where Billy is quick to yank it open and grabs both in one hand; his other continuously stroking himself through the trunks that are suffocating him, knowing that if he didn't keep that barrier of fabric in place, he'd blow far too soon from just the sight of Steve being so damn horny and needy.

“Can't wait to fill you up so good, princess,” he huffs as he slips on the condom.

Steve shakes his ass in a taunting manner with a lazy smile, and Billy can't help but laugh lightly at it, then brings his hand across one cheek, and-

“A-ah!” Steve moans out and presses his face deeper into the duvet.

And the grin that cracks across Billy's handsome features is awfully telling.

“I'm gonna fuck you so hard, baby, you won't be able to walk or sit straight for month,” he growls and licks his lips. “When I'm done with you, no other guy in Hawkins will be able to make you cum as good, won't satisfy you the same way I do.”

The cap of the lube pops open, and Billy slicks up two fingers, then promptly pushes them inside to lather Steve's ass up, who whines impatiently and moves his hips against the broad digits.

“Please, Billy,” voice all pathetic, “Just fuck me already.”

“Mmm patience,” Billy coos as he removes himself again, “Don't wanna hurt you by going in too dry.”

He covers his steely erection in a spirited amount of lube, excessively so as he strokes himself through the condom, and then goes to line up with Steve's fluttering hole, gasping, aching to be full. Pushes inside with nary a hint of kindness, bottoming out in one headlong swoop, leaving Steve moaning out long, and Billy grabs on with both hands to quell all motion between them, as he revels in how tight Steve is, how he's sucking him in.

“Oh fuck, Billy,” Steve keens and tries to move, but stern hands keeps him locked in place. “You're so big.”

“Yeah, I know,” Billy chuckles out like rumbling thunder in his chest.

Hands move off of Steve's hips to go grab two fistfuls of soft ass, where he spreads the cheeks as far apart as they can go, as to get a good and proper look at how his girthy cock is sunk deep inside, watches how the rim clench around him with a hunger to be thoroughly fucked. And at a pace menacingly slow, Billy pulls out, feels how every muscle clings to him like he's the most important thing in the world right now, and Steve whines as if it's true, too.

He keeps his stare there, watching with great interest as he moves till just his fat head remains inside, then shoves right back in, receiving the most vivid and alluring cry of his name from Steve's pretty pink lips.

“Billy- fuck, ah-” Steve moans with no inhibition as Billy sets a brutal pace of pulling out just to snap his hips back against Steve's exposed ass.

Skin slaps louder than the music downstairs, accompanied well by the squelching of Steve's dripping wet hole and his lascivious singing of praises and curses; the bed concurring with slight creaks. Steve arches his back in the most gorgeous curve, a pose with his plump ass raised with such expertise it shows just how often he's found himself like this, yet still calls out as if it's his first.

“Shit, princess, harrh, for being such a slut you sure keep tight,” Billy groans out as he slams his veiny cock into the most fantastic velvet heat.

A warmth that stirs perfectly at the base of his dick, waves of it washing down his thighs as he continues to chase his own high with the most ferocious will.

He bends forward, driving himself as deep as physically possible, and brings one hand down onto the back of Steve's neck, squeezing and pressing him into the bed.

“Yes- yes! Ah-” Steve croons like a bitch in heat, eyes rolling back, hands seeking for something to grab on to.

And Billy barks a laugh at how lost Steve becomes, how indignant and uncontrolled his voice becomes.

“You like it rough, huh bitch?” Billy growls like a wild hound, baring his canines and licking across the sharpness there, his thrusts rapid. “Like it when a real man fucks you?”

“Yes,” Steve chokes out, oh so pliant and dazed.

“Mmnh, hah, feel so good inside baby, sucking me in- my thick cock splitting you open.” Billy grazes his teeth across where he can reach on Steve's shoulder.

The response a whine, high pitched and erotic, and Steve reaches for himself-

But his wrist is quickly grabbed by Billy's other hand, pinning it above Steve's head; now most of Billy's heavy body weight pressing onto his neck, and his body tenses tighter.

“Fuck, ah,” Billy grunts as he feels muscles clasp around him like a vice. “Why don't you show me how beautiful you look cumming on my dick alone?”

“Billy,” Steve moans in a telling way of how close he is, and of how helpless he is. “I'm- I'm close-”

“Yeah you are.” Billy grins and bucks his hips all cruel and ruthless; wants Steve to remember this, to maybe be a bit sore after, cheeks red and ass puffy, throat sore from overuse. Want hims to know that absolutely no one else is ever going to make him nearly scream like this. “You're such an easy little whore, Stevie.”

“I am, ah- shit-” Steve admits readily, mumbles something more in agreeance, but all Billy can make out is his own name being called for again and again in tandem with his girthy cock hitting all the right spots.

It barely takes more than that before Steve's cumming; shooting hot and white all over his expensive sheets, body tensing up to a choking point that pulls Billy closer, the tightness unparalleled by any pussy he's ever been this deep in.

“Fuck that's hot,” his voice dripping with lust thick as honey.

“Don't- don't stop, please,” Steve's voice barely there, fucked out and hoarse, body going limp as he whines at the delicious overstimulation.

“Oh yeah, pretty boy? Want me to-” Billy gasps as he can barely manage words as he slams hard against Steve's worn ass, desperately clenching around him, and he stands up fully, plants his feet and digs his nails into fleshy hips. “-Want me to use you? Like a fucking toy?”

“Yes! Yes, Billy, fuck me-”

The wet slapping of skin in perfect harmony with Steve moaning a whole ballad, brings Billy to his blinding climax, forcing a stutter to his hips as he slams home hard enough for Steve to move up the bed, and he calls out with no restraint as his throbbing cock pulsates and kicks; draining him of all heat and energy into the condom buried deep in Steve's desirous hole.

As adrenaline seeps out, exhaustion comes in and he slumps forward, shoving at Steve's shoulder to keep him in place as he twitches and goes soft. Chest heaving, curls sticking to his neck and forehead, thighs sore from a good days work. He rubs the space between Steve's shoulder blades with a firm thumb, who hums pleasantly between equally exhausted pants.

But Billy has to pull out, takes off the condom and ties it neatly, before collapsing next to Steve on the bed.

And Steve rolls on to his side, rests his warm palm on sweaty pecks, smiling all satisfied and admiring the view of Billy's spent dick. “You did good, tiger... think you can go another round?”

Billy snorts abruptly – he can barely keep his eyes open right now. “Are you serious?”

Steve climbs right on top of him, landing with his own impressive cock side by side with Billy's vastly shorter, but definitely thicker, dick. He rocks back and forth all lazy like, sighing with a definite promise of more.

But Billy winces with a sharp inhale and reaches down to stop the motion of those pale hips on top. “Fuck- stop! I'm spent, go find some other hole to fulfill your needs.”

“Hmm...” Steve thinks about something, but climbs off never the less. “I'm gonna give you fifteen minutes, and if you're still to weak after that I can easily find someone else.”

He's quick to get dressed again, leaving Billy to feel, yes, weak and perhaps a bit piteous, sprawled out on King Steve's bed, a mess of sweat next to a pool of semen, yet Steve steps up to him and leans down.

“But,” he coos softly and smiles just so, “If you ever want to do this again, or something else, I can make room for you in my busy schedule.”

And Steve kisses Billy on the lips, making the poorer guy immediately desire more, but as Steve pulls away again, Billy continues to feel defeated and impossibly exhausted.

The last thing he notices before dozing off is the bedroom door closing.

#Harringrove #Lemon #My Writing #request #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #Anonymous

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