#also I learned how to draw whipped cream specifically for this drawing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lizbotw · 4 years ago

Text

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

153 notes · View notes

gangrenados · 4 years ago

Note

A-z for vampire jason? Please

•Could you do all the AU!Vampire alphabet with Jason, please?

I wanted to use a more vampire-ish gif BUT I can't say no to a shirtless gif of this dude, sorry

Warning: blood, death and murder mentions

A - Accident - would they turn someone to save their life?

I don't think so, that person has to be really important to Jason for him to consider turning them into a vampire. Like you, one of his siblings (cuz batkids care about each other idgaf), Alfred or his close friends...maybe even Bruce but I'm not so sure about that one...

B - Bite - how do they bite? Sensually, aggressively? Do they make it hurt or try to be gentle?

When Jason bites you he tries to be gentle and not apply so much pressure. He doesn't want to hurt you too much, so he prefers to take things slow.

Of course, if he comes to bite you in privacy then he will do it in a sensual way, doing everything possible to give them hickeys since they like to see them afterwards.

Now, if he is feeding on someone unimportant then he doesn't care that much if it hurts or not. Of course, it all depends on who this person is, because if it is someone who made him angry then he could even tear the skin so that more blood comes out.

C - Control - do they take advantage of their powers?

Of course! He uses every one of his abilities when he has to fight, it would be very foolish if he didn't.

Besides, he uses them for extremely normal things, like not turning on the lights at night to go to eat something, using his cloaking ability to scare you a little and flying around when he feels very overwhelmed and wants to be alone for a while...

D - Dangerous - how scary they can get? How bad things can they do? What’s their ethics?

When Jason is mad it's better to stay away and let him deal with it. Anger is not an unknown emotion to him, but he truly prefers for you to not see him when he's about to rip someone's head.

His eyes turn blood red and his fangs come out, in this scenario his fully strength comes to light and he's not afraid to use it. Jason is an agile and stoic fighter, so you wouldn't know what happened before you're death.

He's capable of killing or injuring someone pretty fucking badly (or even dismembering if he's feeling playful)

E - Exchange - do they opt for blood bags or animal blood, if possible?

He prefers human blood as it is easier to get and tastes a little bit better as well. However, I think that in a life and death situation he wouldn't pay much attention to that detail.

F - First bite - on what occasion would they bite you for the first time?

Jason is really unsure weather biting you is a good thing or not, he doesn't want to put you in pain and he's really sure a small bite will lead to him sucking your blood. He tries really hard to avoid biting you.

The only way Jason will bite you if he's starving really bad. He would just go where you are and bite down on your arm without much care

Jason is too hungry to be polite and after you see part of his face covered in blood and a little grin because now he's not at the verge of dying, Jason will apologize for almost drying you.

G - Growl - are they more on the “civilized” side or do they enjoy hunting their prey down?

Jason absolutely loves haunting his prey, the thrill of the chase gives this man joy. He will do anything to make this situation enjoyable for himself, he doesn't care that much about the pray because, well, they're gonna die either way, right?

The only "prey" Jason is careful with is you. He still scares you in a joking way when he's about to suck your blood, but he doesn't torture you...

H - Hate - how do they feel about their kind? About themselves?

He feels like a monster in every way possible. It sickens him to the core the fact that he has to hurt you to be with you, he hates himself for all the horrible things he has done in the past.

It's an neverending torment, but Jason stills hope he can change.

I - Intimacy - how fast would they let you close to them? Would they want to share with you what they are?

It took you YEARS to get closer in an emotional level with this man and yet it's hard to understand him sometimes.

Jason is a complicated person, he believes that if someone gets close enough to him something bad will happen to them. That's the reason he tends to avoid you.

He told you the vampire part when you found him in a compromising position: Jason's entire face was covered in blood along side his hands.

He was standing next to a corpse, whipping away the blood from his chin as he licked it eagerly. It has been so long since he has eaten something, living with a human was surely a hard task.

"Oh shit..." he turned around at the sound of your voice, his panicked eyes meeting your scared ones. " Is that you J-jay?"

Jason took a few steps away from the corpse,spreading his arms fearfully."I can explain, babe..." he said slowly. This is the end, he fucked up and there's no way you can forgive him this time.

"Fuck!" He shouted when you fainted, speeding up to catch you. Jason's fingers brushed your face lightly, smearing blood on your skin." Damn, I fucked up..."

J - Joke - would they do pranks on other people with the use of their powers?

You can bet you life he would.

His family is used to dealing with Jason's stupid pranks, so are the Outlaws. In fact, everyone who has a decent relationship with him will be a victim of his pranks.

L - Life - do they wish they were human?

Yes, that thought tends to cross his mind every time he sees the simple life the humans have or when you're asleep on top of him.

He knows your life is a lot shorter than his and it scares him to know you one day will die and leave him. Jason wants to spend his life with you for the eternity, maybe he will need to use other methods to make his wish come true.

K - Key - what’s the way of making them open up to you?

Acceptance, love and a lot of patience.

Jason feels like a burden every time you put se effort in trying to connect with him, however, it warms his heart since it's always a surprise when someone is kind and sweet towards him.

M - Murder - would they kill someone while feeding? Have they ever done so?

Jason has murdered people before, so yeah, but he usually tries to avoid drinking blood from criminals because you don't know where this people have been.

That why he prefers to buy some clean blood or just ask one of the people he trusts for some of theirs. But if the thing gets extremely bad, Jason is not opposed to just feed off a random civilian...

If Jason feeds of normal people, then he tries to be gentle and not suck them dry, even when he's starving really bad.

He once accidentally killed a civilian while feeding on his early vampire years. Jason didn't even asked them if it was okay if he drank some of their blood, he was beyond hungry and too altered to be polite...he still feels guilty of it.

N - Nature - do they justify their doings? Do they consider them natural?

Of course he doesn't! Jason thinks he's a freak, as well as the rest of his kind but maybe his way of thinking has to do with the fact that he wasn't born a vampire.

This is his new life so he has to keep up if he still wants to live. But there's no way someone can convince him that drinking blood, having sharp fangs, the ability to fly, among other weird things like being able to camouflage.

O - Odd - do they have any specific hobbies or habits?

Jason wanted the whole vampire aesthetic, so he learned how to sleep upside down as well as levitating. It's weird having a normal human day and then finding your boyfriend taking a nap in the rooftop.

But Jason has been trying to convince you to buy a coffin.

" You said you're tired of the footprints in the rooftop, if we had a coffin you wouldn't have to worry about that!" He says so confident it makes you roll your eyes ." Besides it would look dope."

He also as deployed a love for bloody milkshakes with extra whipped cream (he has been speeding too much time with Dick lately)

P - Pain - are they sadistic? Do they enjoy what they do?

Jason is not sadistic with you, he hates the thought of inflicting your pain on purpose. But if you're on the freaky side then you can convince him to be a little mean with you during the nasty, and even then Jason will always ask how you doing and if you want him to stop.

Taking that apart, he can be sadistic with the people he doesn't like. During fights Jason will mock them as he crushes them without blinking, what if he's confronting someone who harmed you? Well, Jason is gonna make that person feel pain ,he wants their suffering to last.

R - Roles - do they enjoy pretending to be normal people? How do they feel about leaving their life behind to start a new one?

He had to leave his life behind even if he wanted to, coming back from death is not a normal thing to do and it gets even weirder when you find out you're blood sucking creature.

Jason tries his best to pretend to be a normal human when you go out, he doesn't want to draw too much attention. It annoys him and he doesn't want you to be exposed to be uncomfortable.

S - Scars - do they leave marks or try to make the wounds small and invisible?

Jason doesn't understand why, but it makes him so happy to see his bite marks on your skin, for him they're like hickeys in a twisted way.

He also like to leave the normal hickeys when you're doing the dirty.

T - Turned - how were they turned?

(This apply more with this Arkham Knight version cuz yeah)

Jason was turned after a few days after being locked in Arkham. He remembers vaguely what happened since his mind was still off in that time.

Jason just knows he was in one of the many cells with one or two goonies of the Joker and high pitched voice of Harly complaining about the Joker leaving her alone.

Then Jason felt a sharp pain on his neck, blood running down his cleavage and staining part of shirt and the weird thought of "why is this taking so long?" That filled his mind.

Next thing he knew was that he had to feed of blood for the rest of the eternity.

U - Universe - what’s their biggest wish that they can’t achieve as immortals?

A decent mental stability and a good relationship with his family.

Jason has been through many things that he does not wish on anyone, the negative things he thinks about himself are embedded in his brain and it is difficult for him to ignore them sometimes.

As hard as he works to overcome all his insecurities and traumas, he feels that he will never be able to escape these demons. Still, he tries to be better...

Now, we all know that batfam is somewhat complex and no matter how much they support each other, there is always that tension present. Jason looks like he doesn't care, but that's a lie.

He cares about them even if it is hard for him to show it, and he wishes that the relationship they have was more stable and not so chaotic.

V - Vampire - would they turn you?

Yes and without hesitation if you were at the verge of dying or after he had a crisis because he became suddenly aware of the short lifespan humans have.

Jason can't bare the fact of living without you, it sickens him to think about the day of your death...he just can't let you go.

He doesn't care if it's selfish, he will transform you into a vampire so the two of you can be together for the eternity. Jason is aware he might feel extremely awful after, but again, he dosen't give a fuck as long as you're alive.

W - War - would they engage in fighting their own kind for the humanity’s sake?

Well, he goes out every night to fight crime...I guess that's a yes, but it has to be a really serious fight for him to fight against his own kind.

Y - Yandere - would they become dangerous to you (their lover)?

Jason can be pretty obsessive and extremely protective, he just wants you to be safe and that's sweet, but he can get suffocating really fast.

Because of this Jason doesn't hesitate about killing those who harmed you in cold blood, as well as keeping you safe from the horrible things the world has to offer.

Jason would not abuse you by any means, but if he has to scare you to make you understand why you have to be careful, then he will. However, it takes a lot for him to do that.

Z - Zombie - are they on their way to losing sanity?

Jason has made a lot of progress since the pit days, but I don't think it takes much to make this man go insane.

It's not gonna be a cute thing if he loses his mind. Jason would turn into a cold hearted man with prominent sadistic tendencies and little to no care about other people's lives. However, the last point is just for criminals, Jason still has a soft spot for those who can't protect themselves...he doesn't cross that line.

If he reach this point there's a big chance Jason will try to make you leave, since he doesn't want you to get in trouble OR in the other hand, he will basically make you stay with him even if you don't want to cuz he truly believes he's the only one in this world that can protect you.

Tag list @bathroom-sand @aterriblelangblr @simpery @strangerthings14 @jyarumu0619 @kellieriddle96 @adarksoul098 @rosethegothamhistorynerd @duckmylife18 @panic-attheplace @malfoys-demigod @darkraven1983 @magicisabluewish @hamdehlesmis @lucy-roo @lovelyartemisa @missmaskedwriter @c0-77 @ginevraxrogers @imagines-fluff-yandere-smut @shadygoateeprincess @nervousfandom @ghost-bitch @silverw19 @thegirlwholovesbooksblog @hecatemacbeth7 @unknowntoanyone @mistalli @screechingghostbananafarm @psych0crybaby @barnowl48 @waroncheer @lady-stirling @ghostly-ginger @greeknerd007 @la-femme-lupita @jasonsballsack @violettessuniverse @wondergal21 @pree-2003-blog @dreamxcollide @thirstiestpotato @magicalbeanie @dreamingforthosewholost

#vampire! Jason todd #vampire au #jason todd x reader #Jason todd imagine #jason Todd headcanon #jason todd #dc imagine #red Hood imagine #red Hood x reader

142 notes · View notes

vanthedork · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! Sorry if this is a bit forward, but I absolutely adore your art style! I’m someone who wants to get in to character art but doesn’t have the education yet to back it up, I was wondering how you learnt to drawer or if you have any tips on good places to start, if you feel comfortable sharing?

Thanks and have a great day :)

Heyo! That's a very sweet thing of you to say, it made me happy to read! Well I don't have an art education either but I think you can definitely build something up if you're determined enough to work on it. There are a lot of art tutorials out there, but I'm someone who doesn't really have patience to sit through long videos to learn stuff. Instead I'm gonna give you a few tips of what worked for me: Observe everything around you. Everything you see can be an art lesson: shadows, lights, colors, shapes. Try to break objects and shapes down to geometrical forms: It's easier to understand how to draw an object when you stop focusing on the small details and focus on the overall shape. You'll start to see that everything is geometry.

Don't use too many colors for a design. You can use shades of a color, but it's generally more pleasing to the eye when you keep your color palette narrow. Of course you can experiment and see what works best for you. I found that keeping it to a few colors that harmonize helps. Don't add too many vibrant colors cause they usually end up clashing (unless you're drawing a parrot or something that demands a vibrant palette), instead use neutral tones too (like greys, browns, creams etc). Shade and highlight using colors, not greys. Your art will become more vibrant this way. Try shading with colors that neighbor the color you are shading (on the color wheel). I usually go with purples/blues for shading but reds/browns work too for warmer environments. View everything in a 3D space. When you break things down to shapes this becomes even easier. Remember that everything has a dimensionality and that will help you add the shadows better and avoid making your work look flat (sorry for the below floppy balls lmao I whipped 'em up with the mouse quickly for visual reference)

Study from photos. It's important to look at photos and break down the poses so you can understand them better. I know I said I don't have patience for videos, but I make an exception for Ethan Becker because he's just fun to listen to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iLIjD-5AgWU&ab_channel=EthanBecker

Draw a lot. What helped me improve really fast is that I love creating comics and so I used to draw a lot of comic pages, which would force me to draw the same characters but vary the angles, poses, settings to make it more interesting. Drawing a lot is the way to go, but make sure you draw a lot of what you like, otherwise it becomes a chore. Study your favorite art styles. We tend to be self deprecating and look at other people's art and think "man I suck in comparison." Instead try to look at art you love and analyze it. Say you love the way the artist draws eyes. Figure out what is it that you like about it. Is it the shape? Coloring? That subtle little line they add here and there? Analyze and try to break down art as if it was a puzzle and figure out how you could emulate this and that. It will also broaden your repertoire of shapes to make characters look different from one another. Don't be afraid to use reference. The biggest artists out there do it. You can not accurately draw something from memory, we are not robots. Whoever says referencing is bad does not understand how art works. I like to use 3D models that I can rotate, as it helps me figure out the angle I want to draw the thing in. A good website for this is sketchfab.com . You can create and account for free and preview 3D models for free to use as reference. You can even find models that are in motion and that you can pause to get just what you need. Use yourself as a model. When I need a specific pose, I usually set my phone camera up and take a picture of myself doing that pose. Our bodies will move naturally and emulate an organic pose.

Similarly, you can use google earth/google maps to drop down and have city reference, for all those different looking buildings. I hope these tips can be of help to you and if you want me to talk about something specific don't be afraid to ask. I'll try to help as best as I can! :) Remember, no challenge is too big if you've got passion for what you do! I used to draw with a mouse for a few good years because I couldn't afford a tablet. You don't need fancy tools or expensive study materials as long as you are dedicated to your craft.

#askvan #textos #art help

4 notes · View notes

leam1983 · 3 years ago

Text

On Grief

This is a long one. You're under no obligation to push further if you don't want to. It's a personal post, so I'll more than understand if this isn't to your tastes. The normally-scheduled pedantry, commentary and memes will resume shortly.

One of my relatives was diagnosed with ALS. What started as an odd case of palsy in her left set of vocal cords that could've been far more benign was just confirmed by her referred physician. It's Lou Gherig's, and with her age and current condition, her prognosis is of three to five years, tops. Sure, Stephen Hawking blew his own prognosis out of the water, but a combination of notoriety and luck enabled him to eke out as much existence as medical tech could've possibly allowed.

We knew things were suspect when my aunt, a marathoner with a monthly sub to Runner's World, stopped running. Her food intake dropped like a stone, and she soon took to increasingly simple painting and drawing styles. At first we thought it was just her wanting to explore simpler rendering techniques, but then...

Then we noticed the twitching. How awkwardly her pens and brushes were set in her hands. She was in great shape and didn't mind living in the ass-end of Sutton, basically in the open country and with a path leading up to her front door that was all in rough cobblestones. She broke a hip against them, last year.

Her speech started to slur, lately. Her last bike trip also landed her in the ER. She doesn't bike anymore. She doesn't run, and being a gourmand by nature, feels obligated to restrain herself, for fear of gaining weight. She's aggressively vegan. Not towards others, but towards herself. No meat, no eggs, nothing. Most of us ovo-lactos and omnivores in the family know her constant snacking meant her seventy-plus body is desperate for energy.

From the look of things, it feels like the diagnosis broke through her bullshit reasoning for being vegan. She wasn't vegan for the sake of limiting her carbon footprint or making more responsible choices at the grocery store, but because she, as a lifelong anorexic, thought she was ugly and needed to lose weight. That's been a constant with her. Age catches up and skin sags? She mistakes it for a love handle, cuts out virtually all sources of protein and carbs safe for tofu, seitan and bean-based preps. Of course, like a lot of anorexics, she'd have bulemic episodes. I used to sleep over at her last bachelor pad, as a teen, and I remember her pantry was loaded up for bear with Danish cookie tins, Nutella jars and whipped cream. I remember she invited me over specifically when she intended to cheat. Then it was back to yoga, pot-smoking, meditation and shopping runs - and she probably kept her purging for when I was gone.

So yeah. I'm betting Belgian Asshole (see one of my previous posts) convinced her to break her vows and went looking for a "slice of authentic Tikka Masala", to quote his email. The entire family is made up of ethnic food diehards, so we spam-flooded his inbox with recommendations. Looks like she'll be eating meat again, soon. Her own email mentioned concerns of strength and stamina, so I get it.

Otherwise? We're gobsmacked. Imagine spending an entire weekday both at work and off work, aggressively goofing off because you're trying as hard as you can not to think of your favourite aunt's mention of assisted suicide as an option.

Three to five years. Maybe one, or two good Christmases. After that, her condition should probably have started to deteriorate quickly.

I'm not close with a ton of my own family. I love them all, but it's more a sense of polite respect than anything involving solid bonds. The only two folks I know I'll be devastated for when they'll die are her, and my youngest cousin on the other side of the family.

I'm mostly okay now. No doubts, no crisis of unbelief, no anger, no rage... But then I'll see her in a more diminished state, one of those days. How am I going to take to it?

Part of me keeps a tally of the deaths in the family. First, it was my uncle on my mother's side. Ruptured abdominal artery, with a leak small enough to pool into the gut's cavity for months. Decay settled in, guy got anesthetized for an intervention...

They didn't even bother sewing him back up.

Second one was my other paternal aunt's new husband. First one was great, but left the country in the seventies to go live in Stockholm with his medical assistant. Second one was a geologist and physicist at the same campus she taught as. French guy, the son of innkeepers four generations down. It showed, too. Our Christmas tables haven't been the same since he left us his recipie books, all his corny jokes on provincial eating habits, and his obstinate focus on turning every 25th of December into a Roman orgy probably befitting of the old Saturnalia traditions. I mean, when's the last time you've had an eight-course meal, outside of Thanksgiving?

Tumors in his mesenteric artery lined the blood vessel's inner walls, deposited virtually everywhere in his body. He was diagnosed in June and dead by August. He'd always been the lanky type, bone-thin even if he hoovered food like he'd never have enough. He looked even thinner in his hospital bed.

Then, my maternal grandpa bit it. Decades of casual alcoholism, cirrhosis more or less jumping on him around his seventy-sixth year. He looked a bit like John Keston, the actor who played Gehn in CyanWorlds' Riven. Same hairline, same hawkish nose, same eyes - just more Cajun and less New England-esque. I don't know if it was youth or stupidity or - anything, really, but I dropped by to see him, just two days before he died. I didn't realize he was tallying my life, asking me if I had everything in order, if things were planned.

Now, I understand.

Next one on the chopping block is Aunt Doris, still on Mom's side. She of the serial mooching, she of the concept of not needing much to get by if you were the cute one of the family. She was pretty enough in her prime, sure - if by pretty you meant "cigarette-butt blonde with a discount Farah Fawcett blow-up and an unfinished High School degree". First husband was an abusive ass who gave her an uncommonly sensitive son, second one figured she'd stick to the minimum-wage circuit while he tore out rotator cuffs or busted his C7 while on his outboard like clockwork. By the end, she roped my grandmother into living with her, spent her days sloppy-drunk and died on her ratty couch while falling asleep and choking on her own vomit.

Before them all, the youngest of my uncles died at age two. Cancer. Never knew which one, was told it didn't matter. You didn't survive much of anything cancerous, back in the late fifties.

Ping-pong this back to three years ago, and my oldest paternal uncle dies. Paul, who smoked like a chimney for most of his life and successfully stopped after discovering Champix. He got to live five great years as the high-IQ oddball he'd always been, smoke-free. Paul was the weird bird in the family, the type to remember a really engrossing story at two in the morning and making a note to call you up first thing in the morning to share it. He always had a project of some sort to work on, like a simulated investors' tank for young entrepreneurs looking to learn the ropes, or a Byzantine arrangement of coaxials allowing four of his lakeside neighbours to pirate his cable sub. He'd invite us over for dinner, gather all the ingredients we'd need for whatever it was he wanted to treat us to - and then he'd let us cook it - just sitting by the sidelines, chatting away.

He was also a bit of a narcoleptic, and looked a bit like William Howard Taft if you'd worked him out of these old sack suits and into modern shirts and suspenders. He fell asleep practically everywhere, with his more wakeful environments being his workshop and his property's dock. He took me out fishing, once, and knew what the entire family expected.

"Oars're here, Gremlin, fish're that way. Wake me up when you've got a bite."

At this point, it wasn't even a point of concern; it was just an Uncle Paul Thing, the exact thing you'd have expected out of this kind, eccentric blob of a man whose idea of fishing involved pushing his hat over his eyes and basically all but ensuring that his roaring snores would scare prey away. He'd been a supposedly high-IQ type, terminally bored with almost everything, only really getting agitated and interested back when I asked him for help for my Junior High Computer class's Javascript calculator. Once the syntax hit something familiar and he realized that JS has some similarities with FORTRAN, he was on a roll, acting like someone had snuck a Red Bull in his coffee.

Well, fibrosis caught up with him. His last hours were spent directing us on how to cook what would've been his last meal. I think he really just wanted to know we were alright, that we still could exchange laughs around the kitchen counter. He clocked out the way he always did, except he had an oxygen tube running under his nose. His head bobbed down, he snored loudly for a few minutes, then turned increasingly quiet...

And that was it.

And now there's Isabelle. The marathoner, my partner-in-crime when it comes to professing to have a healthy diet while occasionally cheating in glorious, weekend-defining means, my gateway to cannabis and also the first person who took my cringy self-insert fanfic fodder and went No, that's worth it! Push it, develop that universe of yours!

I wouldn't be almost two-thirds of the way through my first decent manuscript, if not for her, and I wouldn't be shopping for publishers with the same energy you'd reserve for weekend-grade Facebook putzing-about. I owe her part of my self-acceptance, and part of my discovery of what defines my routine to this day. Isabelle was my first meditation coach.

And in three to five years, she might be gone.

I just thought grief might be... noisier, is all. Louder. Right now, it's just germane to confusion, and it's sitting there. There's a pinch of fear in it, too. My parents are in their mid-sixties. How long do I have left with them?!

And the family and I just covered that up with jokes and, well, cooking. I've been told I'd make a half-decent therapist but - navigating your own emotions is hard work...

I don't know. I guess I needed to put this down somewhere.

#personal life #tw: cancer mention #tw: alcoholism mention #tw: death mentions #grief #coping

3 notes · View notes

breanime · 5 years ago

Text

Johnny Tuturro NSFW Alphabet

Ok, I’m going to sleep now...

warning: steamy, nothing but steam!

*gif not mine*

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The boy is a cuddler. After sex, he’s holding you close, kissing you softly and making sure you were okay. He always make sure you’re good; wiping you off, bringing you water, anything you need. Johnny’s top priority is you, and he wants to make sure that you’re comfortable after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite part on himself are his abs. He’s very proud of them (as he should be, you go, Glen Coco!), he loves the way you look at them and the feel of your fingers on them. And when you kiss your way down his body, lingering on his abs… Oh man, Johnny loves it so so much.

The non-sexual answer for what he loves on you are your lips. He thinks you have the prettiest lips, and he stares at them all the time. He loves kissing them, and he loves the way they look when they’re spread in a smile…or spread around him… good lord…

Johnny loves your ass. He’s an ass man. He loves the way it feels in his hands, love to smack at as he walks past, he loves kissing and biting it, he loves holding it and pulling it back towards him as he’s inside of you… He just loves your ass. Johnny has walked into many a-wall because he was too busy staring at your ass to watch where he was going. He also ADORES your ass when you run. As much of an adrenaline junkie as he is, Johnny will volunteer to be positioned behind you when you’re arresting someone, just so he can watch your ass as you run after the perp.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Johnny loves cumming on you, specifically your ass. He loves to see himself spread on your skin, loves the sound you make—the soft, surprised, delighted gasp—when he releases on you. He just loves it all. That being said, he simply adores the feel of cumming inside of you. Jesus, the way you wrap around him and clench him has Johnny seeing stars. And the way it feels—boy oh boy, Johnny is a man of many pleasures, but cumming inside of you is his bread and freaking butter, baby! But, he also loves seeing his cum in your mouth, loves to see your mouthful of him, watching you lick it up and swallow, your tongue darting off to chase the taste of him… I need to sit down…

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When he’s away on a case and hasn’t been able to talk to you for a long time, he has wet dreams about you. Like, he’s just having a sexy dream about you—more memory, than dream, really—and before he knows it, he’s cumming in his fucking sleep. He starts sleeping in the nude when he’s away for too long, just because it makes clean-up easier.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ohhhh, Johnny is experienced. He went through a slut phase and learned a lot about sex and women’s bodies and the things that turn him on. He definitely knows what he’s doing, and as an undercover agent, he’s especially gifted at adapting when he has to, so… The man knows what he’s doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves em all! He loves doggy style, being able to grab your ass and watch you take him, loves that he gets to set the pace. He loves missionary, loves that he can watch and hear you so well, loves that he can be soft and gentle or fast and rough in that position, loves to watch the expressions on your face as your on your back, taking him. He loved you on top, loves to watch your breasts bounce, loves to grab at you, loves that you are more in control. Johnny loves being with you in every way, his favorite position really changes day by day and according to his mood.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s humorous more often then not, and he makes you laugh too. He can, of course, be serious, and he is—especially after a close call at work or after a fight, but Johnny likes to laugh during sex.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Groomed enough. He doesn’t manscape all the way, but Johnny likes to keep it low cut, make sure you can clearly see THE THICKNESS.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very romantic, Johnny is all about kisses and caresses and whispering how beautiful you are and how good you feel into your skin. He laughs with you, his hand on the side of your face, smiling down at you, and you can see the love he had for you reflected in his eyes. You can feel it in his touch, Johnny makes it a point to leave NO room for questioning how much he cares for you when you’re being intimate together.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Due to the nature of his job, he has to be away from you for long bouts sometimes, so he jacks off when he’s missing you too much. He doesn’t necessarily enough it—obviously, it feels good in the moment, but his hand could never compare to the real thing. Johnny will jack off when he’s away from you, and he enjoys a good bout of phone sex, but he definitely prefers being with you in person.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

You saying his name turns him on. Like, when you say “Johnny Tuturro” in regular conversation, he gets a little tingle down there. And when you say his name during sex—he loves it. He also has a kink with doing it in public places, he likes sex on the beach, sex in the living room at Graceland, he likes sex on a plane… He loves the idea of being with you in every and all scenarios.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Um… Everywhere? Nah, but his favorite place is his room. He loves that he can draw sex out when you’re in his room, and that he can cuddle you once it’s done.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your laugh. Your smile. The way you say his name. The way your ass looks in pants, and leggings, and dresses. Johnny’s sex life improves exponentially when he’s in love; everything turns him on, and everything you do is sexy to him. He also loves when you cozy up to him. There have been many-a-time when you’ve been cuddling with Johnny, just on the couch watching a movie and talking, and you’d end up on top of him with his hands all over you. You just turn him on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He jokes about threesomes, but he would never have one. He isn’t keen on sharing you with anyone. And he’d never do anything to hurt you—he draws the line at smacking your ass, he couldn’t stomach choking or hitting you. He likes to see his cum on you, but he isn’t into any other bodily fluids, and he would never talk down to you during sex. He just can’t see himself being harsh with you, especially in an intimate situation.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh, he loves to receive, but he is a master at giving. Johnny can spend hours licking between your legs, coaxing orgasm after orgasm after you. He loves tasting you, but more than that, he lives for the sounds you make. He fucking loves the monas and groans and screams you make when he’s giving you head. Drives him insane.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Both; slow and sensual most of the time, but he can be fast and rough, especially after a fight or if he had been away from you for a long time. Either way, it’s a good time for you. If he’s rough, though, he always makes sure to give you slow, sensual, soft and loving sex afterwards.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Johnny loves a good quickie. And sometimes, they’re just necessary. Plus, Johnny’s sex drive is high, so sometimes all he can get is a quickie with you—which he would take gladly. In all honesty, he tries for at least one quickie a day. Hence the risk factor…

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

The biggest risks Johnny takes with you is the public sex thing. He’s down to experiment, he thinks sex should be an ongoing dialogue, and he wants to do whatever it takes to get you off—within reason.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Johnny can go foreveeeeeer. He doesn’t last as long as usual if it’s been a while, but he’s up and ready to go within minutes. Johnny can go all damn day, he’s got fantastic stamina—he can last for hours. All he really needs is a water bottle and maybe a snack after hours of sex, and he’s back at it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He loves vibrators. He loves using them on you, loves to watch you shimmer and shake as he pressed it against you. He loves fucking you with the vibrator on your clit, it actually turns him on, too, the feel of the vibration. He also likes to watch you use toys on yourself, it makes him so hard watching you, and he can’t keep his hands to himself for long. He also likes eating things off of your naked body—whipped cream, candy, chocolate sauce… He lives for it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, Johnny is a tease. He loves slipping his hand between your thighs under the table while you’re out, he loves whispering innuendos—or straight up dirty talk—into your ear at random times during the day. We all know that he is half-naked all the time, and he struts around with his shift off all day long, knowing what that does to you. And when he comes out of the water after a day of surfing… it’s like a slow motion movie, and you want to be the dewdrops of water trickling down his skin. Mm…

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Johnny can be a talker, but really, he’s a groaner. He makes the most delicious noises when you’re together, he’s all sighs and grunts and growls. He likes hearing you over hearing himself, though. He does this fantastic scream/grunt/groan thing when he cums that’s super sexy.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Johnny is 100% into cockwarming. He loves burying himself inside of you, going asleep, and waking up still in you. He’s a big fan of spooning for that very reason.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Johnny’s average length, but he’s got an excellent thickness that really makes him special. We all know the boy is fit, but he’s packing some significant heat between his legs, too.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. As. Hell. Johnny wants you all day every day and twice on Sundays. His yearning and his sex drive and stamina all together is a POTENT combination. He’ll have you walking funny for days on end.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He tries not to fall asleep until you’ve fallen asleep, but if he’s exerted a lot of energy (wink wink), he can fall asleep pretty quickly. However, if there’s even a hint that you want to go again, he’ll stay up, no problem. Johnny very much enjoys falling asleep inside of you, waking up in the middle of the night, and fucking you some more. But more than that, he loves watching you fall asleep in his arms, all warm and sweet and sated, he loves seeing you worn out from his love. Hallelujah.

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! I’m not very good at these alphabets, but I tried, haha!

Everything Taglist: @sweetybuzz25 @mrsjaxtellerfan @rhabakoli @encounterthepast @realduckvader @justvnash @knowles-morgan @ateliefloresdaprimavera @evanlys19 @nyxxnoxx @carlaangel86 @luminex3 @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek @otomefromtheheart @lexxierave @crushed-pink-petals

#johnny tuturro #johnny tuturro imagine #johnny tuturro x reader #graceland usa #manny montana

328 notes · View notes

dragons-bones · 4 years ago

Text

FFXIV Write Entry #8: They Grow Up So Fast

Prompt: clamor | Master Post | On AO3

Spoilers for Ehll Tou’s Custom Deliveries!

Aymeric jumped in alarm, looking up from his paperwork when the doors to his Congregation office crashed open. Nearly every item in the room shook.

Synnove stood in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes red and bloodshot, her usual crafting attire askew and her braids disheveled. Her lower lip wobbled and tears filled her eyes as her expression crumbled.

Aymeric was up and out of his chair so fast it nearly toppled over, rounding his desk and practically dashing towards his lady to gather her up in his arms. Synnove was not a woman who regularly gave into strong emotion, and seeing her like this… He said a silent prayer to the Fury for the foresight of shucking his formal armor earlier as Synnove mashed her face into his shoulder and bawled.

He rubbed her back soothingly, crooning wordlessly into her ear, and rocked them back and forth, desperately attempting to get his love to calm down enough to draw a full breath. Once her sobs finally began to taper off, he said, “Synnove, what’s wrong? What happened?” He managed to keep his voice steady, thank the Fury, as his own panic would be useless.

His ladylove sniffed, hard, and though her voice came out muffled and hiccupping, she managed to finally wail, “She got BIG!”

Aymeric blinked, his mind screeching to a halt. Blinked again. Blinked a third time, attempting to process Synnove’s statement.

Unbidden, his mouth twitched, and he fought down the absolutely inappropriate urge to giggle. His shoulders shook, just once, and he ducked his head to press his face into Synnove’s hair before a snicker could escape him.

Of course. Synnove wasn’t one for such excessive displays of emotion, unless she was so overwhelmed it bubbled over beyond her control… And in such cases, it was usually due to some overwhelming positive emotion. For negative emotions, she usually turned quiet and withdrawn, except in rare instances. Thankfully, with a declaration like that, this wasn’t one of those rare cases.

In fact, he had rather a hunch about whom his lady was talking.

“Do you mean Ehll Tou?” he said.

“YES!” she wailed again. “Hautdilong came by and said it had been days since Ehll Tou had gone to the Churning Mists to share her sandwiches with her friends and she should have been back and he was worried and I was worried and so I went to Zenith to find her and deliver the hammer Arvide made for her and one of her friends said she wasn’t ready to be seen and—”

Aymeric ran a firm hand up and down her spine and murmured, “Sweetheart, breathe.”

Synnove sucked in a deep breath and let it out again, shakily. “—and I gave the hammer to Ehll Tou’s friend to deliver but I wasn’t going to leave until I saw Ehll Tou myself and then Arvide and Haudtilong arrived and then Ehll Tou finally came and she was BI-I-I-I-I-I-G.” The last word came out as one of those heaving, hiccupping sobs, drawing it out to multiple syllables.

He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and pulled away just enough to offer it to his lady. “Blow,” he said, fond.

She accepted the handkerchief and obediently blew her nose, balling the cloth up in her hand after she was finished. Another sniff and she wiped at her eyes.

“Now,” Aymeric said, “what precisely do you mean by she was ‘big?’”

Synnove’s lip wobbled again, but she held onto her composure—barely. “She grew up,” she said, voice watery.

Aymeric blinked.

“It’s—it’s how dragons mature,” Synnove said. “Apparently it’s one big change and its affected by both internal and external factors. ‘Sometimes it’s dramatic,’ Ehll Tou said to us.” She sniffled. “And—and she also said hers was fostered b-by learning how to craft, by ‘peace and fellowship’ and not warped by the needs of a war of vengeance.”

Aymeric had the peculiar situation of experiencing the world tilting even as he knew he was still upright as he just stared at Synnove, mouth going dry.

Synnove didn’t seem to notice that she—and Ehll Tou herself, with her freely given explanation—was effectively rewriting all the knowledge Ishgard had of dragons as she continued in a babble, “She’s not as large as Vidofnir or Vedrfolnir…maybe about the size of aevis?” His lady had begun to fret with her hands and he reached out to grasp them in his own, stilling them before she fell into the old habit of picking at her nails. “And—Aymeric, she has hands. Well, not as a man would know them, she still has three fingers as she did when she was a dragonet, but one is as dexterous as a thumb and she can do such fine work with them, as well as any master craftsperson! HANDS!”

And she devolved into more sobbing again, tucking herself close to soak his shirt anew with her tears. He wrapped his arms around her again, rocking her to soothe her and propping his chin on her head as he did. He smiled and said wonderingly, “All reasons to be overwhelmed, I’m sure. But what specifically as you so out of sorts, my love?”

“I’m s-s-so proud of her!” Synnove wailed. “She’s so excited to continue forges ties between man and dragon by creating things and teaching her fellows and she grew up and I’m so proud of her!”

Aymeric didn’t bother to hide his quiet laugh and kissed her hair. He was absolutely going to have to give in to her requests that Ehll Tou come to dinner, though perhaps it would need to be a luncheon held in the garden…

A knock came at the window, and Aymeric jerked his head up in surprise, whipping his head around in the direction of the sound. Synnove hadn’t heard, as her face was still buried in his shoulder.

A dragon peered in through the panes, her brilliant ruby face framed by cream spines. She smiled, huge and toothy, her equally huge brown eyes sparkling, and she waved at him. A pair fo black horns curved up from her head, and carefully pinned in place to the bottom of the left horn was a jaunty, feathered, familiar hat.

Aymeric stared, but lifted one hand to wave back.

Ehll Tou’s growling purr of a laugh was just barely audible over Synnove’s hiccups, and then with a flap of her wings she was pushing away and wheeling back towards the Firmament, a whooping Hautdilong on her back.

#ffxivwrite2020 #final fantasy xiv #aymeric de borel #aymeric x wol #aymeric x synnove #oc: synnove greywolfe #dt's writing #synnove's heart is too full for words right now #that she's this articulate at all is kind of a miracle #also: BEST DRAGON DAUGHTER #*SOB*#spoilers #ffxiv spoilers #custom deliveries #custom deliveries spoilers

48 notes · View notes

dearophelia · 4 years ago

Text

gonna set your flag on fire - chapter 9

chapter 09: the house don’t fall when the bones are good

operational security [read on AO3]

it’s been a hot minute with this one, whoops. eternal and forever thanks to @tarysande and @nightingaleseeking for their cheerleading through this.

“Olivia?” Garrus calls. The audible panic in his subvocals makes him wince.

“Bedroom!” comes the answer.

Garrus takes a moment to breathe. The Normandy won’t be here for hours yet and packing won’t take long. He can spend these thirty seconds to breathe now, before walking upstairs and seeing Olivia. He might not have them later.

Good air in, bad air out.

He allows himself to take a full minute in the silence of their home for a moment of calm and quiet. The hour since Olivia called him has been pure chaos: reschedule his week, call the Primarch, don’t forget the dinner party tonight for the new quarian economic delegation or tomorrow's breakfast with the forensic auditors from Irune Galactic, find suitably-important people to replace him at both events (and everything else this week), have someone pick up his gear, avoid looking panicked while doing any of this.

The silence is overwhelming and welcome. He closes his eyes and takes another breath before going upstairs.

He finds Olivia kneeling on the floor of their bedroom, packing.

Thirty years ago, chasing Saren across the galaxy, he’d watched in awe as his commanding officer stood firm and stoic in the face of utter mayhem. Nothing rattled her, nothing shook her steady posture. He’d never had a CO before who was that calm.

He knows her better now. The calm is how she gets through things. The calm is how she’s made through to the other side of trauma and crisis in one piece over and over again. Her voice doesn’t shake and neither does her resolve, but there’s a certain fragile steel in her spine that betrays the façade.

She may look calm to anyone else, but Garrus knows that Olivia is fucking terrified.

She’s thrown a sheet on the floor and laid her armor out on top of it. Shiny black and purple, with a scratch she never bothered to buff out on the left thigh. Her Black Widow and Avenger lay next to it.

“Vega’s letting you on the ground team?” It’s not the first thing he anticipated saying to her. He’d planned to say something idiotic, like are you okay. Of course she isn’t. He’s so far from okay that it doesn’t sound like a real word. Olivia can’t be closer.

She pauses, hand on her visor. “I’d like to see him try to stop me,” she says, slow and low and even.

Garrus would too, but Vega’s not that stupid. Olivia may not have seen any action outside the Arena in twenty years, but she has standing platinum matches three times a week; if he’s available or any of their friends are on the station and willing, she’ll pull them into it – otherwise, she goes solo. Last he checked, her stats were 7:1 extracting.

His are 6:1 and his assistant picked up his armor this afternoon. “He’ll have to go through both of us.”

She finally looks up at him.

He swallows. The expression on her face is identical to the one she wore while staring down a reaper. “I’m going.” Olivia isn't the only unstoppable force in their family. There are a million reasons he shouldn’t even be on the ship, let alone groundside, but not one of them stands up against Cerberus having control of his daughter. This mission is too important to leave solely in the hands of other people.

Olivia sits back on her heels and sighs. “Wasn’t gonna stop you, Garrus,” she says softly. “Vega's meeting us at Soyuz-Janiri tomorrow with whatever resources he can scrounge up.”

Garrus steps around her, letting his hand briefly brush against her shoulder. He ducks into the closet to change out of his robes. “Good.” That was the last part of the plan, the only piece she didn't have locked into stone when she called. He exchanges his council robes for a pair of comfortable loose pants and a tunic. “When does the Normandy arrive?” he asks, stepping out of the closet. She told him the rest of the specifics this afternoon, but everything is a dull roar after Cerberus has Nora, Garrus: they activated the chip. Some part of him thinks he should be upset that she waited to tell him last. Another part of him knows that he'd call her last, too.

“4:45 in the morning.” She closes and locks her armor trunk and then stands, gathering the sheet. She balls it up and drops it in their laundry basket. “So we have,” she checks the clock, “ten hours to kill.”

Garrus takes a step forward and draws Olivia close into the hug he’s needed to give her – and needed to get from her – since she called. He wraps his arms tight around her, flattening his hands across her back as she tucks herself against him. He feels her breath shake and her arms circle around him just as tight.

After a few moments, he bows his head and kisses the top of her head. “We’ll get her back,” he whispers into her hair. They have to. They’ll rescue Nora and her team from that facility. And then they’ll turn the chip off again, this time for good. There is no alternative.

“I know,” she says quietly.

Tugging her closer, Garrus hums softly, a low, gentle, calming rumble he knows she likes. He ghosts his hands over her, slowly rubbing her back in soothing circles.

After a few moments, Olivia briefly tightens her hug and then takes half a step back. Garrus looks at his wife, keeping his arms still loosely wrapped around her. His heart twists in his chest. The lines on Olivia’s face, earned from decades of smiles and laughter, now look hollow and haunted.

He remembers the night in their quarters after Thessia, when the light hit just right and he thought for the briefest of moments that she was becoming a ghost before his eyes. She’d shattered in his arms, wild and feral and desperate, in a way he’s so grateful he hasn’t seen since. But as Olivia looks up at him tonight, twenty-five years of motherhood in her spine, Garrus knows that the night after Thessia fell will pale in comparison to how both of them will shatter if this doesn’t work.

So it's going to work.

Leaning down to bump his forehead against hers, he lets his subvocals shift a little deeper into a tone that will settle them both. “Let’s get some food.” Ten hours is a long time to have nothing to do. Neither of them will spend any of it sleeping.

As if on cue, her stomach growls. She laughs softly at herself and steps away.

“Have you eaten since breakfast?” Garrus asks as they walk downstairs to the kitchen. Food is the first thing Olivia always forgets during a crisis, followed very quickly by sleep. He can’t change that about her, but he can encourage her to get both.

“I had coffee?” she says, half a question, as if the whipped cream on her afternoon frozen coffee might qualify as food.

“Coffee hasn’t counted as food in the thirty years I’ve known you, Liv,” he gently chides. “It’s not suddenly going to start counting now.”

Olivia ignores him and opens the refrigerator, only to stare blankly at the levo side. "Takeout," she decides. Neither of them are in the right headspace to make anything. She sits down on the middle stool at the counter and opens the delivery app on her omnitool. He sits beside her and does the same.

“Oh,” she says after a moment. “You should order for two.”

Garrus raises a brow plate.

“Nico’s coming.”

The plate rises higher. Nico’s been working at the bakery for the past eight years. He officially took over from Hannah two years ago when she and Zaeed moved to Earth. Out of their two sons, he is not who Garrus would guess if asked who was coming on this mission.

She sends her order off. “We need a decryption specialist and he’s the best one I know.”

Garrus can’t fault that logic; Nico’s knee kept him from an active combat position and his entire deployment was spent in intelligence programs so classified Garrus didn’t even know they existed until he became councilor. He quickly orders for himself and his youngest son and then looks back at Olivia. “He’s staying on the ship though, right?” While their other two children took to combat like it was in their blood, Nico counted down the days until basic was over and he could get away from gunfire.

Olivia nods with a smile. “That’s the first thing he asked me, too. Yes.”

“Good.” Worrying about one kid is enough; he’d rather not have to worry about two. Or three. He wonders if Quentus has somehow found out and is currently badgering Solana to divert their current mission to Zorya.

***

James blinks as the airlock door opens to reveal not only Liara, Miranda, and Wrex, but also Deck and her entire team. “Thought you were on the other side of the galaxy,” he says, stepping aside to let everyone past him.

“I cashed in a favor,” Deck says. “Incidentally, the Blue Suns have some pretty wicked experimental quantum drives.”

He holds up his hand before she can continue. “I don’t want to know,” he says. “Find a bunk downstairs. Briefing’s in thirty. We’ll debrief on your thing once this is over.”

“Roger,” she says and gestures for the other three to follow her through the CIC to the elevator.

Wrex nods as he passes, revealing Jack and Tali standing in the space behind him. James looks over at his wife. Liara shrugs and gives him a small smile. He’s not sure whether the extra reinforcements are a good thing, but he’ll never turn down help. Tali hugs him, Jack gives a curt nod, and then he’s finally alone with Liara.

“Hi,” he says, drawing her into a hug. He wraps his strong arms around her shoulders and kisses her forehead. Nora’s family to him, but so are the other five trapped in that base. He’s had to mount rescues before, but this keeps getting worse the more he learns about it.

Liara hugs him back, just as tight. “Hello,” she says, giving him a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I thought you might need the extra backup; I did not realize you’d have Anubis back.”

“Neither did I,” he says, walking side-by-side with her through the CIC to the war room. “The more the merrier.” He nods at the crew they pass. Everyone looks so young. He supposes he’s gotten old.

James feels the Normandy shudder as the docking clamps release, followed by a brief wobbly moment before the inertial dampeners kick in. He gestures for Liara to go through the war room security checkpoint first. Three days. He takes a deep breath. He needs his guys to hang on for three more days.

“You’re the reason I have children,” Wrex is saying when James enters the room. “You think I’m not gonna come help you get your kid back?”

Shepard looks like she’s about to cry.

Jack crosses her arms and shifts her weight; the red holographic display casts angry shadows across her face. “Cerberus doesn’t get to fuck with kids as long as I’m alive.”

“You’re my friend,” Tali says. And then she shrugs. “Plus, I was already on the station.”

At that, Shepard laughs. “I’m glad you’re all here, thank you.” And then her eyes settle on Liara.

James doesn’t know what it is that Liara sees, but she lets out a soft, sad sigh before making her way down the stairs and over to Shepard.

Liara hugs Shepard tightly and doesn’t let go. Everyone talks around them, letting the two of them fade into the background and share their quiet little hug in the corner alone.

Out of the corner of his eye, James sees Garrus step into the room and stand beside him. He turns. Garrus is watching Shepard and Liara in much the same way he was.

“How’s she doing?” James asks. He wishes he could just ask as her friend. But Shepard's on the ground team and he needs to know.

“Not good,” Garrus says.

The understatement in Garrus’ voice is crystal clear and James looks up at him. “How are you doing?”

Garrus slowly turns and looks at him. “Not good,” he repeats, with the same clipped tone.

Exhaling, James nods. If their positions were reversed, not good would be an understatement for him, too.

***

“Why do I always have to be the one to do this?” Rachel asks with a sigh. It’s almost time for them to come collect the empty lunch trays. She’d actually enjoyed lunch today; there was an apple.

“Always?” Micah asks. “You mean this is not the first time you’ve done this?”

She shakes her head.

“It always has to be you because you look the least intimidating,” Jonah says.

“People underestimating me is largely how I've gotten this far,” Rachel says cheerily. The door opens and a single guard enters while another stands at the door. “I hate this part,” she murmurs to herself.

Rachel waits until he’s deactivating her forceshield and then bends over, her hair hiding her face from them. She dry heaves a few times and then makes herself throw up the remnants of lunch. She stands up straight, stumbles a little and pushes her hair back out of her face. “I don’t feel good,” she tells the guard.

“Sorry,” he says.

She gags again, making sure to aim in his direction. She wipes the back of her hand over her mouth when he looks up at her in disgust. “Told you.”

The other guard sighs. “We should take her in to medical. Turner says we need these guys alive for the time being.”

“Fine,” he says, gesturing for her to come out of the cell.

Keeping her hands up, showing that she has no intentions, Rachel follows the guards out.

“Hey!” Carlos shouts after them. “Send someone to clean this up! It’s gonna smell!”

Rachel counts guards and doorways and turns, making a mental map of the immediate area around the cells. They pass a stairway marked roof access, and there’s noise coming from the closet next to the stairs. It’s quiet, but definitely music. She listens as hard as she can without revealing herself.

Love beyond moons, love beyond stars!

They walk past the closet and take another turn to the left, but Rachel bites back a smile as the song fades. She’s found their gear.

***

Her caffeine load inevitably crashes and Olivia stumbles into bed beside Garrus. Though she’s exhausted, and even took a sleeping pill, sleep eludes her. Olivia rolls onto her side, then her stomach, then her back. She waits twenty minutes and then tries the whole cycle again. After three attempts, she gives up and stares at the ceiling while Garrus snores softly beside her. He's always been able to sleep anywhere, anytime, as long as he knows someone's keeping watch.

She could lie here in bed and get increasingly more annoyed about being awake, or she could do something useful. She brushes a kiss to Garrus’ forehead and then noiselessly slips out of bed.

Tugging a blue Alliance-branded sweatshirt over her head, Olivia stuffs her feet into her boots. Her black pajama pants get stuck in the cuffs and she pulls them out, wishing she’d had the foresight to bring sneakers. She really ought to change into BDUs since she’s going to be out of quarters, but she’s a civilian now and it’s the middle of the night.

She and Garrus are in a two-bunk officer’s quarters, sharing only with James and Liara. It’s small, but it isn’t sleeper pods and it isn’t the barracks-like atmosphere downstairs: with fifteen extra passengers, there aren't enough bunks for everyone and they've thrown every spare couch and chair and pillow into the lounges for impromptu sleeping space. Olivia tiptoes around the other bed, noting that James is the only one in it, and grabs her tablet before slipping out.

Yawning, Olivia steps onto the elevator and presses the control panel for Deck Four. If she’s not going to sleep, she’s going to need coffee. They still have two days; she’ll properly crash later. She runs her fingers through her hair and yawns again before the elevator doors open. The Normandy’s nighttime lights are dim and soft, and she’s in the galley with her hand on the coffeemaker before she notices the figure sitting at the table, hunched over a glowing tablet.

She starts a fresh pot and then walks over to him. “What are you still doing up?” she asks quietly, softly rubbing her son’s back.

Nico sighs and looks up at her. “Trying to break this. I think I’m close to the second decryption level.” He blinks. “Didn’t you and Dad go to bed?”

Olivia slides into a chair opposite him. “He did,” she sighs. “I gave up.”

He looks at her, then over at the coffeemaker burbling happily as it drips into a mug. “Going the Nora route of staying up until your body can’t take it anymore?” He lifts a browplate.

She shrugs and curls a little into her sweatshirt; she’s not proud to say Nora didn’t develop that habit in a vacuum. “Works every time." She reaches across the table and clasps his hand. “I’m sorry I pulled you away for this.” Nico chose a non-military life and it was for a reason. Desperately needing his decryption skills doesn’t change that she feels guilty pulling him away from his own life and back into one he left.

He smiles as she stands to get her coffee. “She’s my sister,” he says simply. “I have people who can handle the bakery for a few days and Lucien can feed my fish.”

Smiling, Olivia returns to her seat, steaming mug in hand. She takes a sip; Alliance coffee hasn't gotten much better in the years since she left, but it’s still tolerable. “Have you two found a place yet?”

“We have a few in mind,” Nico says. “But trying to find something that’s close to the bakery and his precinct and in our price range is harder than we thought.”

Olivia nods. “Apartment hunting sucks,” she commiserates. She does not miss it; designing their home from scratch was one of the best decisions she and Garrus ever made. “What are you going to do with the one above the bakery?”

His tablet beeps with a sad noise and he sighs. He types a few thing and then looks up at her. “I’m thinking about keeping it for when my brother needs to drink himself silly again.”

Olivia winces. “How’s he doing?” She’s had a few emails from Quentus since he left the Citadel. He’s excited about his new assignment, but rejection has always stung strong for her eldest.

Nico shrugs and pushes his tablet aside while the program runs. “He’s upset. But the new assignment’s helping. Solana has him leading a ground team and they have some crazy new tech he can’t tell me about.”

“It’s stealth,” Liara says around a wide yawn. She drops into the chair next to Olivia. “The Hierarchy’s working on no-discharge zero-emission stealth drives.” She picks up Olivia’s mug and takes a sip.

“Get your own,” Olivia says, sliding the mug out of Liara’s reach once she’s set it down. “What are you doing up?”

Liara yawns again. “Talking to vorcha.”

Olivia silently slides her mug back toward Liara. She gets up to pour herself another. “Anything useful?”

“Updated topographical maps, a weather report, and a headache.”

Nico’s tablet beeps, happy and successful this time. “Finally.” He looks up to find both his mother and Liara looking at him expectantly. “Updated base schematics, guard rotations, rolling door codes.”

“Nicely done,” Olivia says, leaning against the counter.

"The base is definitely central ops for Project Damocles, but I'm also finding something about a Project Gemini. No assets on base, just some bio metadata in cached email."

Olivia glances at Liara. "What are the chances that's not what I think it is?" Under normal circumstances, hearing about a Cerberus Project Gemini would cause her stomach to drop all the way through the ship and out into space. As it is, she's not sure her stomach has been inside her body since she got the call from Vega.

"Slim," her friend confirms.

Sighing, Olivia shakes her head at Nico's raised browplate. "Way above your clearance level," she tells him. "Forward all of it to Alliance Central Intelligence." Leave it to Cerberus to keep that particular project going. She never thought she'd label her clone a Tomorrow Problem, but a lot of things she never thought would happen have happened in the last 48 hours.

"And me," Liara says.

"And her."

The observation bay door opens, and loud, excitable indistinct conversation filters out before being silenced again as the door closes. Ashley walks into the mess and straight for the coffee. “We’ve officially given up on stealth,” she says, pouring herself some coffee and setting it to brew more. “Just rush the gates.”

“Blowing the door down has always worked well for us,” Olivia muses.

“That’s what I thought,” Ashley says, sitting down beside Liara. “They’re still working on a way past the AA guns that doesn’t involve a two-day hike through the jungle, though.” She looks at the clock and then back in the direction of the observation bay. “Were we ever that young?"

"No," Olivia says.

“Speak for yourselves, please,” Liara says with a grin.

Laughing, Ashley lightly shoves Liara’s shoulder.

“Uh, Captain?” Joker’s voice crackles over the comm.

Ashley sighs with a distinct tone of I don’t want to hear it. "Yeah?"

“We’ve got a ship on intercept course. Unknown configuration.”

“Keep us quiet,” she says. “I’m on my way.” She gestures for Olivia to follow her.

Olivia stands and takes one last sip of coffee. "Keep working on the AA guns," she tells Nico before following Ashley.

“What’s the likelihood this is just a coincidence?” Ashley asks once they’re both in the elevator and rising.

There’s math she could do to figure out the exact probability, but Olivia knows a rhetorical question when she hears it. “First time for everything,” she says.

“They’re hailing us,” Joker says when they walk into the cockpit. “Unknown frequency.” He turns in his seat and looks at Ashley. “What do you want me to do?”

"They shouldn't even be able to see us," Ashley says.

"And yet." Joker gestures to the communication panel and its blinking light.

Ashley waits a moment, shares a long look with Olivia, and then shrugs. “Here’s hoping no one’s dumb enough to fire on us,” she says. “And here’s hoping today isn’t the day that logic runs out. Answer it.”

The viewscreen flickers on. Olivia smiles.

“Heard you were on a rescue mission,” Solana says, Quentus standing behind her. “Anything we can do to help?”

#oh lord on high how was i tagging this #s:set your flag #i know that much???#anyway it's been a hot minute since this got updated so whoops here we are

19 notes · View notes

meg-noel-art · 4 years ago

Note

Glimber

Ash I already loved your Glimber one, so I’m going to do this for NSA (Modern AU, specifically) Glimmer:

2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod: Literally just Every Avril Lavigne song. Every single one. the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep – where they’re not supposed to: I’m going to count crashing on Bow’s couch as a place she shouldn’t fall asleep. Defiitely also a couch sleeper--watches tv until she passes out and then sleeps in a terrible position until Adora comes to take her to bed properly. I like to think NSA Glimmer will also just dump freshly dryed laundry onto the foot of her bed, lay down in the warmth and fall asleep there too. the game they'd destroy everyone else at: Every viddie gaym ever. She’s so good at Smash Ultimate oh m god. She mains Isabelle and makes everyone want to stop playing because it’s just unfair and she starts calling people names. the emoticon they’d use most often: The Dildo one with crocs and a cowboy hat. Iykyk. Eggplant if she’s lazy. what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep: The grumpiest motherfucker you ever did see. Adora has the magic touch however. Gets her to calm down and turn into a puddle with a gentle shoulder rub. Also puts her to sleep faster than the blink of an eye. Two birds, one stone. their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever: Hot coco (with whipped cream and sprinkles like Micah liked it), or tea--her mom used to make it for her special when she was growing up. Coco for nights, tea for mornings. Coffee of course too. how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump: While it USEd to be drinking and smoking :---)....Glimmer has taken up healthier habits. She now take full advantage of a good bath. Spends hours soaking in the suds and warm water. Will also cocoon herself in a burrito blanket and eat junk food as she binges trashy television. what they wanted to be when they grew up: A musician. Micah always pushed her to pursue her passions, while Angella wanted her to get a more practical degree. Business or something alike. their favorite kind of weather: Any weather that lets her spend most waking moments snuggling her girlfriend. Adora is a human furnace so.. cold is good. And learning to disassociate snow with her trauma is important to her. thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?) She sings beautifully. Plays guitar and writes songs for Adora. Adora particularly loves listening to her sing in the shower, where she’s most uninhibited. how/what they like to draw or doodle: Definitely doodles little things here and there (little hearts on notes for Adora) but she doesn’t ‘draw’.

I love NSA Glimber and miss her dearly, thank you Ash ;;

#glimmer #asks #athetos #ash #she ra #spop #nsa #nsa glimmer

7 notes · View notes

hookedonapirate · 5 years ago

Photo

A Glimmer of Hope

Banner by: @resident-of-storybrooke. Thank you so much for making this, Tori! You are the sweetest!

Summary: Killian returns home from visiting his brother, looking forward to asking a question that will change his life. That day, his life is indeed changed. Just not in the way he expected.

A/N: This ended up being really long, but there was not a good place to split it up, so here's the last chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

Rated: M for violence, language and smut

Catch up: Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4 I Ch 5 I Ch 6

Also on: A03 I FF.N

Chapter 7

Cake flour, unsweetened cocoa powder, butter and oil, eggs, buttermilk, red food coloring. These are just a handful of the ingredients he needs to make the perfect red velvet cake. The perfect red velvet cake Mary Margaret has been kind enough to help him make. He’s never made a cake before, so she gave him her recipe and offered to come over and help him with it. But he was determined to make it himself, so he took down several notes as she explained the specific techniques she uses, like how she separates the egg whites and whips them before folding the whites into the batter, and how she uses both butter and oil for a moist, soft, cakey texture, and a buttery flavor. She also explained how to make the frosting that pairs nicely with red velvet cake—cream cheese frosting. She told him to add a pinch of salt to offset the sweetness and to chill the frosting for twenty minutes so it will hold its shape before he slathers the white sugary goodness on the cake. He also watched several cake-making tutorials on YouTube to see how cakes are put together.

When the cake is finished, it looks nowhere near perfect, and he’s sure it doesn’t taste nearly as good as Mary Margaret’s, but he sure as hell tried. While the cake is setting in the refrigerator, he cooks the lasagna, another recipe Mary Margaret had gladly handed over to him. She even gave him some fresh tomatoes she picked from her own garden for the sauce, which he found out is her secret ingredient. Fresh garden tomatoes. Who would have thought that would make a huge difference, but it really does. And now Killian gets to replicate it. Okay, maybe not exactly, but he’s sure it will be a close second.

So, why did the lasagna have to perfect, or at least close to perfect? Why did he want to use Mary Margaret’s fresh garden tomatoes to replicate the best lasagna dish that ever existed? And why did he need the cake to be perfect? Why did the cake have to be red velvet, why did it have to have the perfect, light, soft-crumbled texture, why did the frosting have to be silky and sweet, but not too sweet? Why did he have to combine the perfect dinner dish with the perfect cake? Why did he have to go to the jewelry store and pick out the perfect piece of jewelry? Why did the apartment have to be neat and tidy, and why did he have to be so finicky about his outfit for the evening, even though he’s not dressed up per se, but wearing his best pair of jeans and his red dress shirt with a black vest? Why was he so nervous about tonight?

Easy. It’s his best friend’s birthday. And he wants tonight to be perfect. Hence, he made her favorite dish, baked her favorite cake, and he picked out a bracelet that fits her style perfectly. He did all of these things because she is perfect. The perfect roommate, the perfect best friend, the perfect woman. She told him not to make a fuss about her birthday and that she just wanted to come home and relax after a long day at work, so he decided to throw a party of two. He knows she won’t mind if it’s just the two of them.

He and Emma have been roommates and best friends for six months. Six. Amazing. Months. The decision to move in together was easy. They both needed a place to live and they had both agreed to remain friends since they didn’t want to be each other’s rebound. That would have been an ugly situation, and Killian didn’t want to take advantage of Emma. It’s the very last thing he wanted to do. So he settled on being friends. Okay, settled is not the appropriate word. He thoroughly enjoys their friendship.

They talk about everything and do everything together; they go out to lunch and go shopping together. They share the chores around the apartment, they cook together, they’ve spent many nights binge-watching t.v. shows and having movie marathons on the sofa together. Some nights, they even share a bed together, but it took Killian a few months to trust himself enough to not molest Emma in her sleep after the whole incident at her brother’s place.

He’s surprised he never received a fist in the face from David for that. He’s also surprised the Nolans forgave him when they learned Emma and Killian actually met the day they agreed to let him stay at their place. But they couldn’t blame him because he’d told Emma he didn’t want to impose on them, and she was too stubborn to listen. He doesn’t blame her though because she was trying to help him. And he’ll appreciate that gesture until the day he dies.

When neither of them is working, he and Emma are inseparable. The only things they haven’t done together is shower and engage in other enjoyable activities in bed, but he’s totally okay with that. He’s completely in love with his best friend, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s not about to fuck up what they have by admitting his feelings to her, because what they have is too damn good.

Killian grabs two oven mitts and takes the pan of lasagna out of the oven once it’s done. The cheese is bubbling as he sets the pan on the counter. He inhales through his nose, taking in the delicious aromas of fresh tomato sauce, Italian sausage and a mixture of different types of cheeses. If it tastes half as good it looks and smells then he’ll be extremely happy.

He’s smiling in success as he hears keys jingling outside the apartment and the sound of the door opening. He pulls off the mitts, setting them on the counter and strides across the kitchen to meet Emma at the door.

When she steps inside, she looks completely drained from working at the station. She immediately pulls off her boots and when she rises, he can see the tiredness in her jaded, green eyes, which seem to spark to life when she catches a whiff of the lasagna, a weak smile pulling at her lips.

“You made lasagna?”

“I did.” He graces her with a warm smile and leans in, kissing her on the cheek. “Happy birthday Emma.”

Her smile widens and she draws him into a hug, their arms wrapping around one another. “You know you didn’t have to, right?”

Killian chuckles against her, murmuring in her ear. “I knew you would say that. I also knew I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”

She squeezes him tightly, and he groans playfully, pretending to be squeezed to death. She laughs and swats him playfully. “Thank you, Killian.”

He pulls his lips away from her ear to face her, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome, love.” He lifts his head to press a kiss to her forehead. “Now go and get dressed into something comfortable. You look beat.”

Emma smiles as they pull away, and she lowers her gaze, taking in his outfit before returning her eyes to his. “But if I wore something comfortable, I’d be in my PJs. And you’re all dressed up, I’d feel underdressed, but honestly my PJs sound so good.”

He chuckles. “Love, you are not allowed to eat your birthday dinner in anything other than your PJs. How does that sound?”

Emma laughs and doesn’t seem to be opposed. “Sounds perfect.”

“Good, now go before I eat all the lasagna myself,” he teases.

She starts making her way past him. “I’m going,” she says and spins around when she’s halfway across the room, pointing a finger as she continues to walk toward her bedroom. “Don’t you dare start without me,” she warns with a big smile.

He smirks playfully, his eyes flashing with a bit of mischief. “I would never dream of starting anything without you.”

“Good.” She turns around again and disappears into the hall.

Killian goes into the kitchen and grabs two plates and a spatula, dishing out the lasagna. He takes the food to the coffee table and returns to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of red wine and two glasses. He sits on the couch, lighting some candles, and he’s filling the glasses with wine when Emma appears in the room, donning a frail smile.

She looks absolutely stunning.

She’s wearing a pale pink tank top and a pair of white pajama shorts with pink hearts, her long, golden curls spilling over her shoulders as she plops down on the couch next to him, her eyes widening as she takes in the view of the lasagna, the wine and the candles. “Wow, I really feel underdressed now.”

He sets down the wine bottle and turns his head toward her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple. “You look perfect.”

Emma’s blushing as he pulls away. “Thanks.” She gazes at him wistfully, and her eyes start to well up with tears. She looks like she might cry as her eyes return to the display on the coffee table. “Thank you, Killian, this is so great.”

“This is just the beginning, love.”

She lifts a thin brow in bewilderment. “There’s more?”

Killian chuckles and leaves the room to retrieve the gift he got for her. He was going to wait until after dinner, but now’s as good a time as any. A minute later, he’s reclaiming his spot next to Emma as he hands her the gift.

Her eyes widen as she sees the rectangular-shaped gift encased in gold wrapping paper. “Did you wrap this yourself?”

He nods. “Aye.” He smirks and holds up his hands. “You’d be surprised what I can do with these hands.”

Killian notices the light tint of pink in her cheeks and a hint of a smirk on her lips, as though she wouldn’t mind finding out what exactly what he’s capable of doing with those hands. She carefully peels the wrapping paper away, not wanting to ruin the beautiful wrapping paper. She opens the slim black box to find the beautiful, silver charm bracelet inside. Her eyes widen, a gasp leaving her lips as she takes the bracelet out of the box, fingering the different charms.

Emma laughs once she realized what he’s done. “Each charm fits my style.”

He grins, “Aye, it has all your favorite things.”

He had chosen each charm specifically to mirror her tastes. A buttercup, which is her favorite flower, a horse, her favorite animal and a pair of Uggs, which are her favorite type of boots. The bracelet has a Volkswagen bug for the vehicle she drives, a deputy badge for her new job and a swan for her last name. It also has a heart-shaped charm inscribed with her name. But his favorite charm is the one she’s currently looking at, her thumb brushing over it. A tear slides down her cheek. “You included our friendship…”

Killian’s heart flutters. He loves that she noticed what the pair of hands holding onto one another meant. It symbolizes their friendship, and Emma only had to glance at it to know that. “Aye, love, I did. How could I forget such an important aspect of your life?” he asks playfully, hoping she agrees.

Emma laughs. “No, we can’t forget that.” She leans her head on his shoulder, her voice more sincere. “Our friendship is really important to me. Thank you for this. It’s beautiful.” She peels her eyes away from the charm bracelet and leans in, kissing his cheek. Her lips are soft against his skin as she lingers a bit longer than he’d expected. She pulls away and drapes the bracelet around her wrist.

He helps her with the clasp and brings her wrist to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss there. “You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks tinge with blush, a bright smile curving her lips, as she playfully swats his shoulder. “Stop, you’re making me blush.”

He cocks a brow, smirking vibrantly. “I fail to see the problem. It’s a good look on you.”

She laughs and cups her cheeks in her hands to hide them. “You’re making it worse.”

“Still don’t see the problem, love.”

She shakes her head, still smiling as she leans over, grabbing her plate of lasagna. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

He retrieves the other plate from the coffee table, and the room grows silent for a moment, apart from the noises she makes while she eats. “Mmmmm.”

A hint of a smile plays at his lips. He enjoys watching her as she enjoys the food he made her. Several mmmms later, he finally asks, “I take it you like the lasagna?”

She nods and swallows the food in her mouth with a sip of wine. “Are you kidding? It’s sooo good, it tastes like Mary Margert’s lasagna, maybe even a little better.”

Killian smirks against the rim of his glass as he takes a sip.

Emma turns her head, eyes narrowed at him. “Did she help you make this?”

He swallows the liquid in his mouth and nods. “Aye. She gave me the recipe and her garden tomatoes.”

“When was she here?”

“She wasn’t. I called her and wrote down all of the instructions she gave me.”

“So, you made this by yourself?”

“With her recipe and a bunch of notes, yes.”

“Well, you follow directions well because this is amazing,” she compliments, licking her lips.

“Thank you, love.” He grins proudly, his heart bursting with relief. She said his lasagna was better than Mary Margaret’s!

When they’ve finished the lasagna, Killian brings the plates to the sink and retrieves the cake from the refrigerator. He grabs a candle and a lighter from the kitchen drawer, lighting the candle. He hasn’t mentioned he made her a cake yet.

“That was so good,” she calls from the living room. “I’m ready to sleep now.”

He grabs the platter of cake and carries it into the living room. The sofa she’s sitting on is facing away from him, so she can’t see when he enters the room.

“Not yet, love. You have to try the cake.”

She turns her head around, her eyes widening as she sees the red velvet dessert. “There’s cake, too?”

He chuckles. “What birthday is complete without a cake?” He walks slowly across the room, singing happy birthday, and Emma’s laughing as she watches him. He takes a seat next to her, facing her as he holds the cake, shifting it over slightly so he can lean in and kiss her on the cheek. “Happy birthday, love,” he whispers softly. He pulls away and holds up the cake in front of her face. “Now, make a wish and blow out the candle.”

She’s more serious now, although there’s still a hint of a smile on her face and her eyes are locked on his as she blows out the candle.

“What did you wish for?” he asks, setting the cake on the table.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout but accepts her answer, hoping whatever she wished for does come true. He goes to the kitchen and returns, cutting a slice of cake and transferring it to a small plate.

Emma’s eyes are wide as she looks at the tall slice. “Wow, not only is red velvet my favorite, but it looks amazing. Don’t tell me you made this too?”

He nods, grinning smugly. “Oh, but I did,” he replies, handing her the plate. “Again following your sister-in-law’s instructions.”

“You really shouldn’t have.” She takes the fork he offers her and takes a bite of it. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, a low moan crawling from her throat. “Oh my god, this is sooooo good,” she mumbles with a mouthful of cake. “Like really, really good.”

“Really?”

She nods profusely and takes another bite. “Like better than sex good.” She moans again, filling his mind with unbidden imagery as he watches her.

He lifts a brow, a cocky smirk curving his lips. As happy as he is to hear how much she likes his cake, he has to wonder if it’s really as good as she says it is or if she doesn’t have much to compare it to. “Maybe you just haven’t had great sex, love,” he muses, a warm blush spreading through his cheeks.

She licks her lips, staring at him, as though he might be right. “That’s very possible. He who shall not be named wasn’t very good in the sack.”

“And yet, apparently he was good enough for she who shall not be named.”

“Or maybe she was only faking it,” Emma conjectures, piercing another piece of cake with the fork and offering it to him.

“That’s a possibility,” he replies, wondering if Emma faked her orgasms with him. But he doesn’t wish to dwell on the subject and banishes the thought. He opens his mouth, closing his lips around the fork prongs to scoop up the cake. “Mmmm.” He nods and licks his lips. “That is better than sex.”

“See? I told you.” Emma sits back against the couch, continuing to eat as he grabs a plate for himself and they both eat in silence. “Oh, crap.”

Killian looks over to see what happened and immediately regrets it.

A small amount of frosting had fallen from the fork and landed in her cleavage. He takes one look at her and has to refrain from groaning as he quickly faces forward again. He sets the cake down and is about to get up to retrieve a napkin, but before he does, she scoops up the frosting with her finger and brings it to her mouth, sucking on her digits. “Mmmm, it’s still good,” she comments, licking her lips.

Fuck.

He’s sure it is good. He wonders if she tastes even better than the cake. Killian tries to rid the thoughts from his mind as he grabs his plate of cake again and continues to eat.

Emma finishes her slice and sets the plate down, holding her belly as she slumps back into the couch. “I’m so full now.”

He cranes his neck to look at her and he can still see remnants from where the frosting fell between her breasts.

She catches him staring and furrows her brows in confusion. What?”

“You still have some frosting there, love,” he says, pointing to his chest.

She peers down at herself and laughs, looking up at him again. She must sense his uneasiness because she gives him a lazy smirk. “That doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does it?”

He chuckles and looks away. “Nope, not at all.”

“Mmhmmm,” she nods. “Then I guess you won’t mind if I just leave it there…”

This woman is trying to torture him.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Fine by me.”

He plans to avoid looking at her at all costs, but the little minx sits up and reaches for the remote, which is on the other side of the cake, and she makes sure to give him a better view of her breasts with the frosting still smudged on her soft skin. He tries not to look, but it’s very hard not to. It’s indeed very hard.

He shifts in his seat, realizing the effect she has on him and he shoots up from the couch as she turns on the television. “Let me get you a napkin.” He flees from the room and grabs some napkins, releasing a heavy sigh. He looks down at himself and he’s as hard as a fucking rock.

Bloody hell.

Reluctantly, he heads back to the couch and sits next to her, handing her the napkin. She takes it and looks disappointed that he’s ruining her fun. Just as she’s about to dab the frosting with the napkin, he reaches out and grabs her hand to stop her before he even thinks about what he’s doing.

Emma’s eyes snap up, meeting his heated gaze. He can see the longing in her eyes. She is the one with the ability to read people, but after six months he’s able to read his best friend pretty damn well.

She wants him.

Hopefully just as much as he wants her. When her eyes drop to his lips, it only proves his theory to be true.

Slowly, he brings his hands to her face, his left thumb brushing over her cheek. When she lifts her eyes and stares directly into his soul, his heart starts pounding mercilessly. He leans in and catches her eyelids fluttering before he closes his eyes, softly capturing her lips. It takes her no time at all to react. She drops the napkin on the floor and curls her hands around the collar of his shirt as she moves her lips against his.

He can’t believe he’s actually kissing his best friend, and it hasn’t really sunk yet. They’ve shared pecks on the cheeks, on each other’s forehead and other innocent parts of their body, but never once has he kissed her on the mouth until now. Those were all friendly, chaste kisses meant to express their affection toward one another, but this is vastly different. This kiss is hot and volcanic, every inch of his skin exploding as he savors the delicate press of her lips; they’re soft and pliant against his own, his tongue darting out to trace the taste of cake at the seam blocking the entrance to her mouth.

She parts her lips, allowing his tongue to swoop in and taste her. She’s more delicious than he’d imagined. Her mouth is soft and tastes like red velvet and cream cheese, and he sucks on her tongue to get more of her flavor. Once he tastes her, he can’t enough. The slowness of the kiss is gone, rapidly heating up, his hands sliding into her hair until his fingers are entangled in her soft curls. Kissing her is everything he imagined it to be. Her mouth is everything he imagined it would be; it’s an intoxicating mixture of soft lips, a warm, eager tongue, playful nips and her sweet, decadent taste.

Emma climbs atop him, straddling his lap, their lips never disconnecting as his arms snake around her. His palms are on the small of her back, fingers digging into her as he pulls her to him until her breasts are flush against his chest. He becomes infused with the couch beneath him, melting in the cushions as her body molds into his.

He kisses her with the intensity of the feelings he’s held for her over the past six months. He’s waited all this time until it was the right time for both of them. He wanted to rebound after what that wretched bitch did to him, but truth be told, he couldn’t stomach the idea of being with a woman who wasn’t Emma. He tried going on dates, but none of the women was his Swan, so he never went further than dinner with them. Emma had the same issue, although she’d never said, or at least never admitted out loud that it was because of him.

He releases her lips, leaving them both panting for air, his breath ragged on her skin as his lips drag across her jaw. He takes some of her hair in his hand, gently tugging her head back so he can kiss down the column of her neck, his lips moving in a blazing hot pursuit. Her mouth is so heavenly, he didn’t want to stop kissing her, but at the same time, he’s eager to taste other parts of her.

His hands slide underneath the hem of her shirt, fingers wrapping around her slim waist as he kisses the tops of her breasts, licking off the remaining frosting off her skin. Both of them moan at the contact, and her fingers scrub through his hair as he savors the added sugary sweetness mixed with the tangy sweetness of her skin on his tongue. He kisses her there with the hunger of a man who’s been fasting his whole life. He’s tasted nothing so delicious, and he’s dying to taste her most secret place because he can only imagine what he’s doing to her and what that tastes like.

He’s back at her mouth, but only long enough to find her tongue again, getting another taste. He tears his lips away to pull off her shirt and sees that she’s not wearing a bra. He growls, his cock twitching in his pants as his eyes glide over her beautiful bare breasts, her pink nipples stiffening under her gaze. He’s touched them before, six months ago while he was half asleep… while he was dreaming of she who shall not be named.

Killian lifts his eyes to Emma’s as he remembers the promise he made to her. His hands are on her hips as she’s unbuttoning his vest, and apparently she can read his thoughts.

“You’re not thinking of Milah are you?” she asks playfully.

He lowers his head and moves in, kissing the valley of her breasts. “Who the hell is Milah?” He breathes in Emma’s intoxicating scent as he wraps his arms around her back and kisses along the curve of her breast, eagerly drawing a nipple into his mouth.

Emma moans, melting into him as her fingers curl around his dark locks of hair. He sucks on the hardened bud, taking her other breast in his hand, squeezing and pulling her nipple. He licks her, twirling his tongue around her areola, and sucks her bud into his mouth, groaning several times at how good she tastes. How good she feels in his mouth. His hands and lips take turns exploring her lovely breasts, switching back and forth between each one. Both of her breasts are perfect—the perfect size, the perfect amount of softness, the perfect nipples colored with the perfect shade of pink—he couldn’t pick a favorite from the two of them if he wanted to.

As soon as he pulls away, Emma’s shoving off his vest, and together they pull off his shirt. Her eyes light up as takes in the view of his body, her hands gravitating to his chest like they belong there, fingers combing through his chest hair. Her touch ignites his skin.

“Do you want to know what I wished for when I blew out the candle?” she asks, lifting her eyes to his.

Killian raises a curious brow. “I thought it wouldn’t come true if you told me, love?” he asks, his voice completely wrecked.

Mischief laces her little smile. “It already did.”

Killian’s heart pounds in his chest. Her statement could only mean one thing.

“I wished for you to kiss me.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around her back, pulling her to him. “Well, then you were wrong in assuming your wish wouldn’t come true if you told me… because I would’ve kissed you either way.”

Emma grins happily, wraps her arms around the back of his neck and smashes her lips against his, kissing him breathlessly. He groans in her mouth when her breasts are pressed against his chest and he can feel how hard her gorgeous nipples are through his hair. With their lips attached, Killian scoops her up in his arms and lays her on the couch, her head resting on the arm of the sofa as he explores her body, his fingers kneading her breasts before trickling down her body. When he reaches her core through the thin fabric of her shorts, he can feel the heat of her dampness gathering at the crux of her thighs.

Emma moans, writhing underneath him. “Killian… I want you…”

Oh, gods.

He didn’t think it was possible to want her more, but hearing her beg for him causes something to snap inside him, and he’s desperate to grant another one of her wishes. He tucks his thumbs under the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down as she raises her hips to allow him to remove them, and once again he growls. She’s not wearing knickers either.

He pulls the shorts the rest of the way down her long, silky smooth legs and throws them carelessly on the floor, his eyes sweeping over her gorgeous, glistening folds as she spreads her legs for him. “Fuck, Emma,” he groans, wrapping his hand around her foot to plant a kiss on the tops of her toes. “You’re trying to kill me.”

She’s grinning devilishly at him from where she lays. “That was the plan.”

He lifts both eyebrows and smirks. “So you put on these pajamas with no underwear, hoping I would find out? Hoping I would see you without them?”

Emma nods slowly, biting her smile. “That was my other wish.”

Fuck.

Knowing she came home and dressed specifically for him, purposely not wearing any underwear with the anticipation of having him see her without them makes his head spin. It’s so fucking hot, he could explode from merely looking at her from his current angle.

His fingers move, finding her where she’s dripping wet, his touch ghosting over her clit, making her back arch. She sucks in a shallow breath and he looks up at her face, seeing her eyes glowing in anticipation.

A low growl crawls from his throat. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already fucking soaked for me.”

“Told you, you’re what I wished for.”

“So, this is all for me?”

She nods, unashamed of herself. “God, yes.” Her voice is wrecked, and it’s clear how deprived she truly was of him.

His hand falls to her entrance, her nectar coating his fingertips. He wants to lick up her goodness and tongue her into oblivion. His cock twitches at the thought.

Gods, he can’t wait to taste her. He presses two fingers inside of her cunt, her muscles tightening around him, begging for more contact.

Without warning, he pushes the two teasing fingers deep inside her, watching as Emma’s mouth opens, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she rocks her hips into his touch. Her cheeks and chest are already flushed red, her chest lifting and falling sporadically as he rubs that little sweet spot inside her wet heat. She’s completely naked and her lips are swollen, her eyes darkened with lust. It’s a glorious sight to behold.

She’s so tight around him, and he can’t wait to feel her around his cock, but first, he’s dying to taste her. He climbs atop her and begins kissing his way down her beautiful, writhing body. Her breasts, her nipples, her stomach. As he thrusts his fingers deep in her cunt, he makes his way lower and lower until he’s off the couch, kneeling on the floor. He’s leaning over her, planting soft kisses on her nub, which is clean-shaven and smooth under his lips. Her legs are spread wide for him as he tenderly kisses each of her inner thighs, inhaling her lovely feminine scent. He growls in anticipation of having her in his mouth.

He wraps his arms around her thighs and lifts her legs over his shoulders for better access, his teeth biting along her soft flesh, indelibly marking her skin as her dripping pussy is only centimeters away from his mouth. Not wasting any more time, he swipes his tongue out to lick her. Even though she knows it’s coming, Emma lets out a small gasp of surprise as he drags his tongue from her soaked entrance to her clit. He smiles to himself at the sounds she makes before capturing her clit with his lips, his tongue flicking over her flesh, sucking softly, making her hips jolt.

He’s so glad to realize he was wrong before when he thought she tasted as good as the cake. She tastes much better than the cake. He groans against her sensitive flesh, already in love with her flavor as he tongues her with long, languid strokes, eagerly laving up her arousal. He sucks at her lips, experimenting with different techniques around her clit. But it doesn’t matter how he licks her; the results are the same. A slew of moans pour from her lips as her hands are buried in his tousled hair, her knuckles probably white from how tightly she’s gripping onto him as she rolls her hips into him, desperately riding his face, and presses firmer and closer until he has to regulate his breathing, surrounded by the taste and smell and feel of her cunt.

Killian doesn’t let up, his mouth and tongue exploring her thoroughly, working wonders on her. He can tell Emma is completely helpless on the other side of the couch, her breathing accelerated as she feels one of his hands slide away from her thigh, to her opening. Two fingers dive deep with little effort, her own slickness and how soft her inner walls are make a perfect combination in aiding him in his endeavor of making her cum in his mouth.

His cock is aching to take her, but he’s too focused on her pleasure to do anything about it. He knows she’s close to coming when her legs start to shake on either side of his head. Killian increases his ministrations, tonging and finger fucking his best friend into submission.

“Killian… oh god…” The nails of her fingers dig into his scalp, but not deep enough to hurt him. In fact, he loves how restless she is, how much she craves his tongue whenever he pulls away slightly, making her squirm for more. “Killian, please… I’m so fucking close,” Emma whimpers, her muscles twitching around his talented tongue.

When he curls his fingers inside her, she flies over the edge, her delicious ambrosia exploding in his mouth. Her entire body wrenches, her moans dying down as she falls from the precipice of her orgasm.

He’s not finished when her body goes limp from her climax and keeps torturing the sensitive bud between his lips with a slow, circling tongue. Soft whimpers pour from her lovely lips, her eyes closed, mouth parted slightly as she basks in the afterglow of her orgasm. His fingers keep working in and out of her, coaxing more stimulation with each coordinated stoke.

He doesn’t want to stop, he could do this all night, but he knows all good things must come to an end. He leaves a lingering lick along her slit and a gentle, wet kiss to her nub, making her wince with sensitivity. He groans as he removes his fingers from her core, sliding them into his mouth, eyes fixating on the eyes smiling over at him. She lifts her hand and croaks a finger, beckoning to him. He responds to her summons and climbs on the couch, gently laying on top of her. She cups his cheeks in her hands, bringing his lips to hers, pressing his wet scruff against her lips so she can taste herself. She moans into his mouth as he brushes his tongue against hers.

She reaches between them and undoes his pants, slipping her hand inside his boxers. He lifts himself up just enough to allow her to wrap her hand around his cock. They both moan at the contact.

“Take your pants off,” she demands, giving his shaft a few firm pumps. He groans and thrusts his hips into her touch. “That’s another one of my wishes.”

He chuckles against her lips. “You’re a demanding little thing, aren’t you?”

She smirks slyly. “It’s my birthday. I’m allowed to be demanding. I want your pants off and your dick inside me.”

Killian growls and wastes not another second, practically leaping off the couch and lifting her up. He tries to navigate across the room with her lips latched onto his and her legs wrapped around his waist as he carries her to his bedroom and lowers her feet to the floor once they’re past the threshold.

They’re still kissing as Emma pulls his pants down, and he removes his shoes and tugs off his pants, tossing them aside. Emma tears her lips away, her eyes scanning over his throbbing erection, tongue sweeping hungrily over her lips. This is the first time they’ve seen each other naked, and it’s glorious. Killian doesn’t wish this night to end so quickly and he’s afraid once he’s inside her, he won’t last long. So, he pulls her into his arms, his hands sliding down her backside and over her butt, squeezing firmly as Emma’s lips make a trail down his neck and over his chest, every kiss burning his skin. She moves her hands up and down his body, both of them exploring each curve and contour of the other. Emma curls her hand around his cock and strokes him as he fingers her. The noises they make fill the room, and before he explodes in her hand, he lifts her up and brings her to the bed, depositing her onto the mattress.

His mouth is back on hers, and they’re kissing again, their bodies writhing, hands continuing to explore each other until they’re panting profusely, heartbeats slamming against their chests.

“Shall we use protection?” he asks, remembering he has an old pack of condoms in his sock drawer. “I have some condoms, but they’re more than six months old.” He hasn’t used them since he was with what’s her name? He honestly can’t remember, he’s too enamored with the woman beneath him.

“That’s okay, I’m on birth control and I’ve been tested since I found out that asshole was cheating on me.”

“I got tested as well.”

Emma smirks mischievously. “Good, because I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel it when you cum inside me. That’s my next wish.”

Killian groans and crushes her lips with his. He’s so fucking hard, he can’t wait a second longer to have her. In one fluid motion, he maneuvers the head of his cock at her entrance, pushing himself into her. Emma moans and wraps her legs tightly around him. She reaches behind him and grabs his ass, her fingers squeezing him, pushing him in deep so he’s stretching her wide. He groans, finally feeling those soft, slick walls around his cock and he thrusts into her, his eyes rolling back in his head. She’s so tight and warm and it doesn’t take much for him to feel like he’s on the verge of his climax. He lowers his head and mouths her breasts, hoping to distract himself from coming too soon, but it’s not working very well. She feels too damn good.

“Gods, you feel incredible,” he groans, pulling away from her breasts, his fingers clutching at her soft thighs. “I’m so close already.”

“Me too. Fuck me harder, Killian. You feel so good inside me,” she moans, her voice completely wrecked as her hands move to his biceps, fingernails digging into his skin.

His heart is pounding erratically in his ear but somehow he manages to make out her reply, changing the angle of his hips in answer and snapping into her. He reaches between their bodies to where they’re joined and he strokes her clit to take her with him. A string of curses and moans pour from her mouth as he fingers and fucks her at the same time, bringing them both closer and closer to the edge.

He can feel it; the pleasure that had been roiling low in his belly since they started kissing, finally releases. It spreads through him, burning away anything else, the outside world fading away until the only thing that remains is them here together, making love. He looks deeply into her eyes, which are full of warmth and perhaps something else as she gazes up at him, and he can think of nothing but the two of them. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and she places her hands on his back as he moves inside her.

“Emma… oh, gods,” he whispers in her ear, his words shattered. The building pressure spreads inside him until it becomes unbearable and he rocks into her relentlessly until he explodes inside her, filling her up with his cum, just as she’d wished for. Emma cries out and shudders beneath him as her own orgasm catapults through her body, fingernails digging into his skin, her toes curling against his thighs.

When they finally come back to themselves, Killian collapses into the mattress beside her, pulling the blankets over them. Emma lays her head on his chest, placing her hand on his stomach as he presses soft kisses through her hair.

“Gods, Emma, that was…”

“About bloody time? Worth the wait? Fucking incredible? Better than cake?” she laughs languidly. “Did I forget anything?”

“Agreed, agreed, agreed, definitely agreed. And nope, I think that about covers my thoughts exactly,” he chuckles, running his fingers up and down her arm. Although, there is one thing she didn’t mention that he wonders about. “I’ll be sure to tell Mary Margaret, my replications of her recipes were a complete success.”

Emma laughs. “She’ll be happy to hear that. Though you may not want to tell her just how successful they were,” she adds, combing her fingers through his chest hair.

“Ah, so you’re saying my cooking abilities determined how the night played out?” he teases playfully.

She shakes her head against his chest. “No, I think we’d end up here in bed regardless of how you cooked lasagna and baked the cake.”

He cocks a brow, peering down at her. “So, I would have been able to lure you into bed without my cooking skills?”

She swats him playfully. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’ve got some talent in the kitchen. In fact, I think you’re in the wrong profession and should’ve been a cook instead. But let’s face it…” Emma pauses in hesitation as her soft, green eyes look over at him, “we would have ended up together regardless of how tonight panned out.”

Killian’s heart flutters underneath her hand. “You’re sure about that, huh?”

“Yeah, why do you think I never went on those dates Mary Margaret tried to get me to go on?”

“Because I know you have a hard time trusting men after being burned twice.”

She nods. “I do, but I couldn’t even talk myself into having a one night stand with anyone,” she confesses, her eyes flicking to his. “You’re the one guy I do trust. You’re my best friend.”

Killian is relieved to hear her say those things. He’d imagined that’s how she felt, but hearing her say it out loud and knowing he wasn’t alone in his feelings, gave him a huge sense of relief. “Well, love, I haven’t been able to be with anyone else either. How could I when I’m in love with someone else? You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. The feistiest woman, the most beautiful. No one else could possibly compare,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to her face, his thumb caressing her cheek.

Emma lifts her head from his chest. “Killian, did you just say you loved me?”

Shit. He did. He didn’t even realize he’d said it.

Taking in the embarrassed look on his face and the rosy blush crawling up his cheeks, Emma can’t help herself and starts giggling. As to be expected, this doesn’t improve the situation and, if possible, he blushes even more.

He gulps thickly, clearing his throat. Is she laughing because she finds it funny that he could be in love with her or is she laughing because she thinks he’s joking? He guesses it’s better than if she had a negative reaction. But, if she finds out that he’s not joking, will she run? Will she be scared or mad at him? Does she even feel the same way he does?

“I didn’t… I… no, ugh...” he stutters, sinking his head into the pillow, and runs his hands over his burning red face. He’s not actually embarrassed by his confession, but he’s afraid if he tells her the truth, he’ll lose her.

“Oh, come on, Killian,” she tries again, completely flustered, burying her head under the pillow.

This is not how he wanted to express his feelings for her. He also hadn’t planned on taking her to bed before he told her. He would have been content on spending the rest of her birthday cuddled up on the couch and catching up on The Good Place on Netflix while trying to build up the courage to confess his love for his best friend.

So much for that.

Emma replaces the pillow under her head and takes his hand into her own, intertwining their fingers. Her giggling slowly fades into a whole-hearted smile as her eyes with his and places a soothing palm on his cheek to calm him. He stares into her eyes trying to read what she’s thinking, but maybe he’s not as good at reading her as he thought.

“I love you, too, Killian,” she says with a grin.

“You do?”

“Of course I do.”

Killian breathes the longest sigh of relief he’s ever breathed before. “Thank God. I was afraid that after my Freudian slip of the tongue, I’d lose you.”

She shakes her head against the pillow, still donning a smile. “You could never lose me.”

He turns on his side to face her and plants a brief, but tender kiss on her lips, all the frustrated tension he’d built up during the conversation easing up. He takes a deep, shaky breath and looks her straight in the eye, the tranquility in her emerald orbs giving him the courage he needs to tell her the truth that he’s spent the last few months trying to tell her, and apparently already has. But she needs to know his slip of the tongue wasn’t a mistake. “I love you, Emma.” He smiles and lifts his hand to stroke her hair. “You are my light and I am so glad we met. So glad you were at my door that day six months ago. You stopped me from making a big mistake by going into that apartment. And you’ve stayed by my side ever since.”

She smiles and raises her hand to his cheek, her thumb gently caressing his skin. “Well, you know what they say… sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.”

He nods. “This is definitely better. Much better. And it’s only the beginning.” He kisses her again, his heart exploding with joy. He feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders since he told her. Since he knows she feels the same as he does. Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead against hers as she licks her lips. “So… anymore wishes for your birthday?” he asks with a mischievous smirk.

Emma laughs and presses her body into his, hooking an arm around his waist and nuzzling her face into his chest. “No, I have everything I need right here.”

Her words warm his heart, and he wraps her up in his arms, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’m glad. Happy birthday, Emma.” He’s lulled to sleep by the sound of her soft breathing and thoughts of how much his life has changed over the last six months.

When he arrived at his flat in Boston six months ago, after the flight from England, the woman he thought he would spend the rest of his life with was betraying him on the other side of the door. Little did he know the woman he would actually spend the rest of his life with was on his doormat. When his plans all went to hell, when everything around him had a crack in it, he found the light that shone through. When he should have been hopeless, falling down an endless spiral of misery and sorrow, he instead found a glimmer of hope.

He found Emma and never looked back.

@onceuponaprincessworld @ilovemesomekillianjones @artistic-writer @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @followbatb @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @nikkiemms @mariakov81 @kingofmyheart14 @kday426 @withheartfulloflove @takhisismb @ohmakemeahercules @bugheadswanjones @tiffanyyy-ma @authorarsinoe @idristardis @balckwolf98 @xarandomdreamx @thejollyroger-writer @mamegank @whatthehell102082 @myswan-myhappyending-mylove @yasbio2015 @squidvisious @leftbeyondthestars @hallway5 @andiirivera @spartanguard

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #cs smut #a glimmer of hope #my fic

60 notes · View notes

queenmylovely · 6 years ago

Text

Just My Luck; Part 3

Summary: John deacon x fem!reader. John and Reader make plans to see each other

Warnings: cussing, slow burn

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: There’s more of Queen in this one, especially of the Chaos Duo. It’s kind of a filler chapter, but there are a lot of cute little moments. Most likely, I’ll be posting on weekends from now own. As always let me know what you think!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14 (Epilogue), Masterlist

🍀🍀🍀

Exactly three weeks after John sent the letter to you, he received one and sent another.

Receiving your letter was a godsend to him. To all of the boys. Not only did it save Deaky from his own worrisome mind, but it also saved Brian from constantly having to patrol Freddie and Roger, and saved Freddie and Roger from coming under the wrath of over protective Brian or manic Deaky. Not that the cycle wouldn’t repeat itself as soon as a week passed with no reply.

In the aftermath of your letter, Roger and Freddie figured they had an about two day grace period where they could talk about you and tease John as much as they wanted.

“Well it’s official, you two are now properly each other’s,” teased Freddie, referencing the way each of you signed off your letters. This got an eye roll and beginnings of a quick response from Deaky but he continued anyway, “Why don’t we call you Johnny? Where the hell did Deaky come from?” He questioned. “Johnny is much more traditional.”

“Are you joking? Fred, you’re the one who started calling me Deaky, because Johnny was too traditional,” replied a flabbergasted John.

“Oh that’s right, because fuck how things are traditionally done. Although I thinks it’s absolutely precious that your girl has a special nickname for you,” Freddie remembered, giving Deaky a cheeky smile. Deaky just ignored the comment about you being his girl and tried to focus on tuning his bass.

Since the band was in the studio before noon, John had gotten the letter early and decided to mail his response on the way back home. For now, he, Freddie, and Roger were in the control room while Brian was working some guitar part in the sound booth.

“In any case, I think the best course of action for you, Deaks, is to meet on your turf. If she comes to London, you can show her around, take her to all the fanciest places, have her stay with you, in your bed,” Roger said into the silence. His last remark was solely for Deaky’s embarrassment, and he knew his mission was accomplished when he saw the red on the other man’s cheeks. He didn’t allow Deaky time to object as he continued, “Plus, we only went to Brussels in Belgium, not this Tourn-ey place, wherever the fuck that is. You wouldn’t be any help there.”

“Tournai,” John mumbled with the correct pronunciation. “It’s part of the French region in Belgium called Wallonia.”

“Well I’m glad to see that college education and those research skills haven’t gone to waste,” Roger joked, drawing laughs from the other two.

“French, you say, Deaky?” Freddie asked and John nodded. “You do know that French is the language of love, don’t you, dear? I bet Y/N is quite fluent and would jump at the chance to teach you.”

Again, Deaky just flushed at the implications of Freddie’s somewhat convoluted metaphor and focused on his bass.

After a while, they went back to working and got consumed by it. At around 4:00 p.m., when they finally had their lunch, Deaky remembered to write the letter, relying only on himself this time. He dropped it in a post box on their way home, this time around 9:00 p.m.

_____

Ten days later, after driving back from an early shift at the café, you were checking the mail in the lobby of your building and saw the now tell-tale sign of a letter addressed to you but without a name on the returning address. You sprinted up your stairs, seeing the long line outside of the elevator and knowing it would be faster to run. Reaching your apartment, you slowed down and grabbed your keys but picked right back up again once inside and ran into Jeanne’s open room. Even though it was half past noon she was still in bed, as she didn’t have class at all and didn’t work until much later. As you ran up, you grabbed her shoulder, giving it a small shake. She jumped awake then saw it was you and groaned, “Ugh, why did you wake me up? Why are you breathing so heavily? Wait, what’s in your hands? Is that another letter from John?” her questions becoming less annoyed and more excited as she went.

“Yes. But I can’t read it, I need you to.”

“Too nervous?” she asked, grabbing the letter from you as you nodded. “You know he’s going to say yes. Of course he wants to meet you in person.”

You just waited for her to start.

“Okay, here goes: ‘Dear Y/N, Your time at uni and your career plans sound brilliant. I’m sure you’ll be an amazing professor. If only I would have been so lucky to have someone like you for a communications professor, I might be better at it.’ Oh that’s cute,” Jeanne remarked and you smiled but looked down to hide the way his compliment made you feel.

She continued “‘I have been to Belgium, Brussels to be exact, but I haven’t ever been to Tournai. Since you’re teaching English there, do you speak French? Didn’t your best friend from high school speak French too?’ Yes, that’s right, John! Her lovely best friend, Jeanne, is the entire reason any of this reconnection is possible,” Jeanne laughed, delighted at this new revelation, causing you to groan and put your head in your hands. Jeanne remained content in her moment, pausing to do a little dance.

“What next, Jeanne? I’m sure the letter doesn’t stop at the mention of you,” you prompted when she took too long.

“Oh, right, just got a little distracted. Hmm, he says, ‘Although I did enjoy my time at Chelsea College, and did earn my degree, I’m not an engineer. I’m not sure that you would remember, but when we were in high school I was in a couple bands, which is what prompted my current career path. I’m working in music right now, which is what has allowed me to travel so much, to answer your other question.’ Wow, you didn’t tell me he was a musician!” Jeanne scolded with admiration for John in her eyes.

“I did, actually, it was just like, 7 years ago.”

“Ha, I keep forgetting that this is the same John as all those years ago. Okay, let’s see, next he says, ‘I absolutely would love to meet you in person! There’s no way that I would let you get within 300 km of me without seeing you.’ Hoo! That was too much. That just about took me out, how are you?” Jeanne said, fanning her face at his comments and looking at you to gauge your reaction. Your lips were pursed, eyes were wide and staring at the floor, and you felt your ears and cheeks heat up. Shaking your head, you motioned her to continue.

“‘If you wanted to come see London, I could show you around, being a local and all. I’m going to be in London all summer, so if you had any specific dates, I’m sure I’d be open.You could stay with me if you would like so you don’t have to pay for a hotel. Through my work I have access to discounted aeroplane tickets, if you would rather fly than take a 5 hour train ride. I honestly can’t wait to see you now. Ever Yours, Johnny.’ That’s so nice, you should take him up on his offer!” Jeanne said, referring to the plane tickets and extra room.

You were stuck on him wanting to see you so badly so it took you a second to respond, “What? Oh yeah, I’ll look into it.”

“Can’t focus because you’re smitten, huh?”

“Hmmm? What about a cat?”

“Smitten, not kitten. Geez, you’re gone,” Jeanne said as she laughed at the far-off look in your eyes. You remained in this state as you wrote back to him. Writing the letter, you probably poured in too much emotion, but Jeanne wouldn’t let you edit it any further. You had to trust Jeanne to drop the letter off on her way to work since you were busy with the final bit of paperwork you had before leaving for Tournai, which was just over one week away.

_____

You spent the rest of that week packing, carefully choosing what clothes you would bring with you. It was tricky because you were going there to teach but also to travel. This meant you had to have a lot of business casual clothes but also a wide array of layers in case you traveled somewhere colder. The most difficult choices were for the clothes you thought you would take with you to London. You wrestled with yourself because you didn’t want to stress out so much over clothes and definitely didn’t want to choose clothes specifically for one boy. Still, you kept thinking What will impress John? What will John like? despite yourself.

However, there was only so long you could agonize for and only so much you could fit. Eventually, all of your clothes and necessities were packed and you were spending your last night in the States much as you had the first night you had heard all of A Night at the Opera, with Jeanne and your mom.

The three of you talked during dinner then watched a movie, and closed out the night with another listening of the album, but paired with ice cream this time. It was an early night because you had to get up extremely early for the airport the next morning. Also because of this, your mom stayed over and slept in your bed with you.

After getting ready and getting into your bed, you were laying on your back staring at the ceiling. Your mom was facing the other way on her side, about to turn the lamp off when you spoke, causing her to turn to look at you “I’m nervous, Mom.”

“I know, honey. But you’re going to do great. Everyone in your class will learn English quick as whips, and I bet transitioning to life in Belgium will be easier than you think,” she said reassuringly. But that wasn’t all that was on your mind.

“Is it stupid that I’m actually more nervous about meeting John than I am about leaving the country for three months?” you questioned, grimacing at your own words.

“Nothing you feel is stupid. And I know you’re feeling vulnerable and scared, but there’s no way that you and John won’t get along. You wrote letters to each other for five years and never ran out of things to talk about. As soon as you get over the initial awkwardness, you’ll be thick as thieves.”

“Thanks, Mom. Love you, goodnight.”

“Love you too, goodnight, sweetie,” she said, turning off the light and rolling back on her side.

The alarm rang out all too soon, before the sun was up, and before you actually fell into a deep sleep. The three of you got up and got dressed in silence, eating toast and fruit with eyes half-closed. Jeanne drove your car to the airport with your mom and you leaning on each other in the backseat. The only sound was the soft music playing from the radio, a song you vaguely recognized as early Queen, called “Some Day One Day.”

Walking into the airport, to the luggage drop off, and to the gate, you were all chatting and making sure you had everything that you needed in your carry-on. The three of you sat at the gate to wait and soon enough, the first group was called to board. You were in the second group, so you started saying your goodbyes right away, hugging Jeanne first.

“I’m going to miss you so much! What am I going to do alone for three months? How am I going to handle having our entire apartment to myself? Without you reminding me constantly about dishes and vacuuming and dusting and eating all of my food?” Jeanne’s tone was turning from sad to gleeful as she realized all of the good things about you being gone.

From your place next to her head, you tried to turn and look at her, “You sound suspiciously happy that I’m leaving.”

“Happy? No, not me! Just a little liberated, heh,” she admitted and you both laughed.

“As I’m sure you just realized, you’ll be fine without me. Plus, the university gave us those vouchers to give to the phone company so international calls won’t charge extra, so you can call me anytime. Anytime that I’m awake that is.”

Then it was time to say goodbye to your mom. You both got misty-eyed and gave each other a long hug. It was times like these that you were glad you never got taller than your mom, happy for the extra comfort and protection her height gave you. After a minute, you both pulled away, and she held onto your arms, “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. This is a big step, and I know you’re going to do great. Remember to call me as soon as you get there and every Monday after that.”

“Thank you, Mom. Don’t worry, I will,” you replied. Then the intercom came on, calling for your group to board, “Love you, Jeanne,” you said, pulling her in for another quick hug before doing the same with your mom and kissing her on the cheek, “Love you, Mom. Keep each other company while I’m gone!”

They nodded and waved, as you walked right up to the desk, the last goodbye making you the last in your group. They stood together and watched the plane until it took off before heading back to the apartment to go on about their days.

_____

Deaky was asleep on the couch of the control room when the studio received your letter the day after you left Seattle.

Roger and Freddie, however, were wide awake, waiting for Brian to return with coffee when an intern came in with the letter and they maneuvered it from the unknowing college kid. They were quick to convince each other to open and read it without waking up Deaky.

Deciding to take turns reading it out loud, Freddie started, “‘Dear Johnny, Oui, je parle français.’ Oh she does speak French, astounding! ‘And yes, my still best friend, Jeanne, is the main reason that I can speak it at all. We’re roommates now and we still spend every Saturday just speaking French so we don’t lose it since her parents moved back to Montreal.’”

“This Jeanne girl sounds interesting. She can talk in English and French,” Roger said in a thoughtful voice, biting his lip. “They live together, too. Two girls speaking to each other in French…”

“Yes, that’s what it means to be bilingual,” Freddie replied dry-pan, ignoring Roger’s snort at the word “bilingual.” With a sigh, he continued, “‘Jeanne made it clear that she thought it was important to note that she’s the entire reason I’m even travelling to Tournai. But I can’t be too annoyed because that’s the reason I’m getting to meet you.’ My heart! I’m not sure I can keep reading this, you better take over.”

“Sure, you know I like a confident woman,” Roger smirked, earning an eye roll from Freddie. He found where Freddie left off on the page, “‘Of course I remember your bands! I always wanted to hear you play. When I’m in London, you’ll have to play me some of your old songs so I can experience it live!’ Ha, little does she know she’ll be staying with bassist of Queen. This is going to blow her mind!”

“Rog, love, do try to stay a little humble. She’s American, we’re not as well known over there. She might not even know who we are,” Freddie reminded him before joining the other man’s laughs. Although Freddie could be shy and wasn’t one to make other uncomfortable with his newfound wealth and fame, he was never less than proud of Queen, and wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Okay, okay, ‘If you’d be willing to have me, I would be delighted to stay with you and see London! You’re so sweet to extend your home to me. You’re way too kind to offer those vouchers, I’m fine taking the train. I have a week off from June 1-9, so I could come for a couple days if any of those work for you. I’m actually leaving for Tournai this Wednesday, so you can send the next letter to the address on the index card. Looking forward to seeing you more and more everyday! Very Truly Yours, Y/N. p.s. You seem very capable at communication to me, but the real test is in person.’ Oh-hoh-hoh, getting a little flirty aren’t we there,” Roger remarked, smirking.

“Ooo, very suggestive. Sounds like Deaky here is going to get himself a girlfriend by the first of June!” Freddie replied, both of them laughing.

“Deaky and Y/N sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S…,” one of them started and the other sang along. It was this that woke Deaky up. He rose to sitting on the couch and watched them dancing around with their backs to him.

He rubbed his eyes sleepily while asking, “What are you two on about?”

This stopped them in their tracks. They quickly put the letter back in the envelope, and whipped around, Roger holding the letter behind their backs. Unfortunately for them, Deaky had seen the flash of white.

“Nothing…” they replied in unison, trying to sound innocent.

“If you’re not up to anything, what are you hiding behind your backs?” Deaky questioned in a serious tone.

“Oh this?” Roger asked as he held up the letter and Deaky gasped. “It’s nothing important, just a letter from Y/N,” he said, tossing it to him.

“You opened it without me?”

“Not without you, darling, you were right there on the couch,” Freddie defended.

“I was asleep,” Deaky said half paying attention as he reopened the letter. As he started reading, his full focus stayed on what you wrote, not noticing the other two men staring intently at him. They exchanged glances when he visibly reacted to your words, grinning at you wanting to hear him play, frowning when you declined the vouchers, and giggling at your post-script.

Brian walked in as Deaky finished reading and looked at the scene in front of him before clearing his throat and holding up four cups of coffee. The other three heads snapped up, eyes zeroing in on the coffee. As they drank, Deaky filled Brian in on the details.

“You should definitely send the vouchers anyway. You should also tell her to stay the entire week. You can’t see all of London in two or three days,” Brian persuaded him, with encouragement from Roger and Freddie.

Deaky wrote another letter, including the vouchers and inviting you to stay the whole time.

_____

After arriving in Tournai, you got set up at an apartment with another graduate student from your program. As soon as you could, you called your mom and then Jeanne to check in.

Because of the day it took to travel, and the night stay at a hotel for orientation, you got John’s letter your second day at the apartment. You were surprised, but quickly remembered that mail would be much quicker within Europe.

You were so happy to see that he wanted you to stay the whole time and in your own letter gladly accepted. Although you thought the vouchers were too generous, some time on the phone with Jeanne convinced you to accept them anyway. Her talk didn’t stop you from thanking him over and over in your next letter, though.

_____

Over the course of the next week, you got settled in at your job teaching, too. Your new roommate, Eileen, was from France and was in Tournai to teach public speaking in the student’s native language. You thought you were lucky to be able to speak to her easily. She was nice, but reserved, and you soon developed a routine of eating breakfast together at the apartment and lunch together at the school, but had separate dinners.

On weekends you didn’t see much of her, so you explored much of Tournai on your own, quickly finding a cafe you loved and becoming a regular at the Museum of Fine Arts. Each week on Saturdays, you would spend the entire afternoon taking in a different branch for hours. You had completed three before your first four weeks were over and it was time to travel to London.

You packed your carry-on for London on the Friday night before, Jeanne on the phone to give you advice the whole time. You decided on two pairs of pants, two skirts, two dresses, five shirts, two jackets, and two pairs of shoes, including what you would wear on the plane. One of the dresses was pretty fancy, a choice made by Jeanne “just in case.”

You had told Eileen you would be gone during your week off a week earlier, and Saturday morning she asked you more about where you were going. Always polite and never prying, she accepted your description of your pen pal with understanding and offered to walk you to the train that would take you to airport. Walking with her, you confessed your nerves, and she turned to face you.

“We don't know each other that well, and I like you. He knows you very well,” she offered. You knew what she was implying, even if she wouldn’t go that far herself. That strengthened your resolve and thanked her, coming up on the train station. You kissed each other’s cheeks, as the French were wont to do, and stepped on the train, waving goodbye.

At the airport, you walked quickly and got to the gate forty-five minutes early. You sat, reading the book you had brought with you, Murder on the Orient Express. You had been inspired to read Agatha Christie’s books after her death reminded you of how much you liked the movie of the same name that came out a couple of years prior.

When your group number was called to board, you took a deep breath and stood. With no one to say goodbye to you walked straight to the forming line without hesitation.

🍀🍀🍀

taglist: @eylulclsr, @roger1na, @deakyfordays, @painkiller80, @sunflower-borhap-boys, @awkwardangelshezza, @obsessedwithrogertaylor, @bensrhapsody, @tardisgrump, @ahsoknarwhal, @fatheadtheroger, @happy-at-home, @achallsplants, @red-firelight, @marvellouspengwing, @randompotato1234, @windmeupandletmeplay, @ixchel-9275

If you’d like to be on the taglist, just send me a message or ask!

133 notes · View notes

disaster-dan · 5 years ago

Note

Can I request some Mafia boss! Tony and his sweet baby boy Peter who he is like never mean to but can be? (Peter can also shot a gun) but while tonys out of the room someone starts coming up on peter and flirting, kissing or molesting. Peter says No very clearly and then peter starts crying and then tONY WALKS IN AND MUST PROTECT HIS BOY. Ty Ty Ty if you can do this. 🙏

Hey love, here you go

WARNINGS: Violence, some gore, unhealthy relationships, non-con (does not get graphic)

Being associated with the Mafia was not Peter’s outermost desire. Being Tony Stark’s partner wasn’t either. None of that was planned until months later when the two met in an alley. Tony had saved Peter from getting surrounded by a few gang crew members. They all ran when they saw Tony stark. Peter then understood Tony was far more than just an association with dangerous groups. He was the fucking Mafia.

Peter soon learned to adore Tony the way Tony did to him. He learned very quickly.

His heart ached and pumped for Tony, the man who saved him and gave him the countless amount of love and care, who spoiled him. The man who at the same time made Peter shiver in his arms and tremble in fear. With months, Peter began to think that being Tony’s (belonging to him) wasn’t as bad as the initial fear he first had.

Tony protected him, cared for him, watched over him, loved him and cherished him. Despite his hands being covered in blood, metaphorically and physically, Peter grew to adore them. To love them roaming his body, love how they easily wrapped around his throat, caressing his hair and face, touch him in the most warmest intimate places of his body.

Peter belonged to Tony Stark. Tony made that clear to everyone.

There was visitors one day, new recruiting and something with transferring Peter didn’t entirely understand. Tony’s mob would be collabing with a distant group for a while. That required Tony to leave. And that inspired some dare in one of the visiting men. They clearly didn’t know Tony Stark well enough. Or didn’t know Peter was property too holy, too sacred, anyone who dared lay a finger or lift an eye never left with a beating heart.

Peter was deeply sated with the previous night he and Tony had. The older man had made love to Peter long and hard enough to leave behind loving soreness until he came back. Peter bid goodbye and promising to call later when the call line signal was clear for both. The place was rather big, the common room vacant. Tony kept watchdogs (he called the men that) outside, in case one of his sexual cravings would occur throughout the day. There likely isn’t a surface that Peter had not been fucked on by Tony.

Roaming the common room, running his hand along the expensive furniture. The boy wore the silky clothing Tony had gotten him. Silk red very short bottoms pairing with the slim fit top. The robe was very complimentary. Peter did not notice one of the supposed collab members enter, much until a cough made Peter whip around and stare at the man mere feet away.

“You’re one of the recent members?” Peter asked, slightly raising his voice. He had some authority among the watchdogs, not allies though.

“I am.”

“Well you’re not supposed to be here.” Peter snapped as he brought the robe snug around himself, “The crew left already. Nobody in the recents was supposed to stay.”

“Am I supposed to care?” he stepped closer and Peter stepped back.

“Yes,” he snapped, “You’re in Tony’s property.”

“Nothing tells me you are, though.” something shined in his eyes and Peter felt something nudge his throat. “Are you his toy?”

“No.” Peter bit back, though his voice began to show his nervousness. He hated that vulnerability of himself.

“I know you, Peter.” he said, stepping closer and Peter taking steps away again. “You didn’t end up here because you wanted.”

Peter hit a table behind him and he flinched. He ran out of space and going further back would only take him further from the watchdogs. However, he was close enough to something he kept hidden.

“You need to leave.” he demanded, trying to step to a specific furniture where he hid his .22 pistol. “I’m calling the men in here.” his heart was pumping nearly out of his chest.

“We know they’re called by remote,” his grin reminded Peter of a shark. “They won’t hear you.”

His larger hands trapped Peter’s arms and slammed him to the closest wall. Peter was about to kick when his legs were separated and locked by the larger, clearly stronger man.

“Stop it!”

“Tell me, Parker, did you really want Tony like that?” he sneered, “Did he take your stupid virginity?”

Peter whipped his head attempting to wack his face but that only got him to get slammed harsly into the wall a couple of times.

“I can get you out of here.”

“I don’t want to!” Peter pushed, efforts useless. He wanted Tony. He wanted his man to be there. To save him like all the countless times before.

“I’ll leave with a condition.” the man grinned, leaning closely to the smaller male. Peter’s heart accelerated and breathing rigid.

“I’m not doing anything! Let me go!”

The moment he felt lips against his, Peter knew it was over. He whimpered weakly as his hands were pressed to either side of his head. The guy was rough, and Tony was too. But Tony cared. Tony cherished what he deserved, all of Peter.

Peter slacked his body, if he struggled any further he’d weaken. But as soon as the man was distracted enough, Peter slammed his head into the man’s face and kneed him right on the groin. It worked enough for Peter to lunge after a small coffee table and his hand to catch the handle of the pistol.

Hands pulled him back from the ankles, dragging him and he was pinned down. His ass straddled by the opponent Peter couldn’t shift to shoot.

“That’s not polite.” he growled, reaching for the weapon and throwing it across the room. Peter’s eyes watered as he saw it clatter far from him. His robe was beginning to get ripped off and he cried futilely.

Where was tony?

“Stop.” he begged, “Tony…”

“Tony has had enough playtime with you.” he flung the silk red robe and he gripped Peter’s shoulder harshly. Peter only shook his head and his vision blurred. It was over, wasn’t it?

A gunshot startled Peter and he ducked with instinct. The man on him didn’t budge until moments later. Slowly and carefully.

“You’ve made the worst mistake.”

Peter craned his head and went light headed to see who was there.

“Tony.”

Tony flicked his eyes to Peter, acknowledging his calling before turning to glare at the man.

“Get off.” he demanded using his gun. “I will empty this on your family.”

The man raised his hands and moved away from Peter. The boy scrambled away and pressed himself to the opposite wall.

Tony walked to the offender, no warning pulling his arm back and slamming the gun handle against the man’s face. He fell back with a loud thud and Peter winced as he watched.

“You will regret everything you stand for.” Tony snarled, kicking him in the face hard and drawing the weapon. “Do you know who I am?”

“Sir-”

“Answer the question before I blow your brains out.” Tony hissed and Peter pulled his legs to his chest, mentally pleading Tony to stop and let the man go.

“Tony Stark.” his voice sounded horrible, his mouth already drooling blood.

“Tony Stark has property. Did you know that?” Tony aimed at the man’s legs and before Peter could yell for him to stop, Tony pulled the trigger and the loud screaming of the man and the shot sounded the room.

“Who am I?!”

“Tony Stark!”

Another bullet to the opposite leg. Peter whimpered and he did his best to cover his ears from the sounds, not knowing to keep looking or close his eyes.

Tony leaned down to the man’s face, no emotions read. “It would be much easier to kill you off, but I’ll make my amends.” he whispered. “You learn to never touch what’s not yours again.”

Peter gasped when he saw where Tony pointed the gun next and he yelled.

“Tony, no!”

Gunshot.

Peter immediately broke into sobs, hands covering his ears and shutting his eyes from what he had seen.

He couldn’t block out the guy’s creams and shrieks, he couldn’t burn the image of a gun straight to the man’s groin. The splatter of blood. Everywhere.

Tony’s watchdogs and some men from the collaborating group walked in. The leader of the other group went pale, the watchdogs wrinkled their nose in disgust. They’ve seen their Tony do worse, but the sight was still horrid.

Tony turned to the men in the room and he placed away the dirty weapon. He ignored the still bleeding and suffering man on the floor.

“Get your tramp out of here.” he demanded to the other men, “Some new configurations and deals will be made for offending me.”

The leader ordered his men to carry out the wounded, Tony mindlessly demanding he be further punished. He received a nod from the leader.

Nobody fucked with Tony.

Tony then turned to Peter crying on the floor, trying to muffle his sobs as he stared wide eyed at the mess, the memory replaying in his head over and over.

“Baby, my princess.” Tony purred, kneeling down before his boy and laying a hand softly on Peter’s shaking knee. Peter flinched to see there was some red. “Come here, princess, let daddy hold you.”

Not having much of a choice, Peter sobbed as he uncurled from himself and went to his Tony’s arms. Big, secure, violent, protecting.

“I’m so sorry.” he sobbed into his chest, hugging Tony as hard as he could, afraid of what he’d see if he let go or opened his eyes.

“You have nothing to apologize for, baby. It’s okay now, I’m here.” Tony whispered, a hand running along Peter’s back. “I’m here, baby.”

Peter nodded, his cries muffled into the older man’s chest. Tony demanded the room be cleaned as he comforted Peter and to lay off his leave for another day. Peter would be fine to be left alone, but he would have to struggle with the recent image burning his mind. But his Mafia boyfriend cradled him, kissed his forehead and whispered sweet nothings lovingly. Tony made him feel safe. And loved. He wasn’t sure he could ever leave Tony’s side.

Peter relaxed soon enough, he kept himself plastered against his man and sniffled. With his robe off, he felt some chill crawl up his thighs and he tightened into himself.

“You okay, princess?”

Peter nodded, moving to hide his face into Tony’s neck.

“You’re okay, baby.”

“Thank you.” Peter whispered, knowing he should’ve thanked Tony from the start when he pulled the first trigger. Peter laid a soft kiss along his throat and slowly he lingered more on the side of his neck and to his jaw.

He heard Tony chuckle lightly and pulled away to look at him in the eyes. Peter’s eyes still had tears in them, red rimmed.

“I’m proud of you, Peter.” Tony said with earnest, smiling at his boy.

“But-”

“No, let daddy talk, baby.” Tony tapped Peter’s nose lightly. “I know you tried your best to keep him off and I’m sorry I didn’t walk in sooner.”

Peter nodded, because he did give it his all. He was weak, and scared, but he did his best.

“You’re mine, Peter. Only mine. And if I have to empty my case on a man to show it then I will. You know that.”

Peter nodded again, lowering his face, holding back his tears. He still didn’t like it when Tony got violent. Tony got violent with him, but there was Limits, there was Remorse, it was nothing more than a power play in the bedroom. But when Tony was busy being the head of a Mafia Mob, that all went away. And it scared Peter sometimes.

“Peter, look at me.” Tony called, lifting the boy’s face by the chin. Peter flicked his teary eyes at him and breathed shakily. Tony leaned in to kiss the softer lips, filled with sweetness and adoration. Peter kissed back, pressing closer to the man and a whimper sounding in the back of his throat. He loved Tony kissing him.

Tony pulled back and smiled sweetly.

“I love you, Peter. You know that?”

“I do.” Peter answered with a nod. “I love you too.” He meant it.

“Let’s go take a nice warm shower, hm? Would you like that?”

Peter nodded, sniffing and blinking away the tears in his eyes,

“I’d like that, papi.”

“Come on then, princess.” Tony kissed him again, warm yet with a sense of dominance. He loved his boy so much. Peter was his all.

Tony owned Peter, and no one else could change that.

#starker #tw: violence #tw: noncon #mafia au #answered #request #danletters

23 notes · View notes

lurafita · 5 years ago

Text

Petvengers Chapter 2

I just realized that I forgot to post the other chapters here as well.

Read Chapter 1 here: Chappy 1

Again, this is also on Ao3, but I want to have duplicates, just in case.

here is the link if you want to read it on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139326/chapters/45486811

The Ao3 version has pictures of the pets!

Bucky & Sam

When Peter had invited her over to Stark tower, so that she could meet Cap's new dog Colonel, and help him brainstorm for the next step of his mission (Ned had also been invited, but had had to decline due to a surprise weekend family trip), Michelle certainly hadn't expected that they would end up sitting cross-legged and drinking hot chocolate on Natasha Romanoff's bed. Said redhead, also known as Black Widow, was sat across from them in her desk chair, sipping on her own cup of the chocolaty beverage.

Her and Michelle had chosen a simple version of the drink; dark chocolate, some milk, a pinch of cinnamon. Nothing fancy and not too sweet. Whereas Peter had doctored his cup with extra sugar, mini marshmallows, whipped cream, vanilla extract, and sprinkles. Michelle was pretty sure that that monstrosity of a drink would cause diabetes in anyone else but Peter. Looking at it alone made her teeth ache.

Hope, Peter's most loyal companion, was for once not curled up, around, or all over his owner, and had instead laid his head on Natasha's thigh, while the former Russian spy was absently scratching his scalp.

"The key to manipulating others is to know what makes them tick."

The Black Widow had found the two teens in the common floor's living room (because even though everyone living in the Stark tower had their own floor, they all somehow gravitated to this one), discussing various ideas on how to get Bucky and Sam into the animal shelter. She had lightly scolded them for talking about a mission in such an open and unsecured place, ordered them into the adjoining kitchen for hot chocolate acquisition, and then corralled them (plus pitbull) down to her own floor and into her bedroom. Satisfied with their new location, Natasha then started to give the teen's a lesson in 'Spy Work 101'.

Peter was devotedly writing everything down, though Michelle had no idea where he had procured the notebook and pen from.

"Every person has a different emotional and psychological makeup and is, therefore, susceptible to different tactics."

She took a sip from her drink. Peter specifically made a note of that.

"So, before you start with your scheme, take your time to study your target. Learn to read them and see the best approach for getting them to bend to your needs."

Peter stopped scribbling for a moment, and looked at the redhead with a frown on his face.

"Couldn't I just do what I did with Steve?"

Natasha raised a single eyebrow.

"Have you heard about the boy who cried wolf?"

Peter nodded insightful.

"Good point."

And then he wrote that down, too.

Since the chance to learn from probably the best spy/secret operative/assassin didn't come by often, Michelle decided to make the most of it.

"Do you have any tips on how to best observe our targets?"

Natasha smirked.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The first time that MJ and Peter observed the two men, Sam and Bucky were running through an elaborate obstacle course in the Danger Room*.

To be on a more even playing field, Bucky had taken off his vibranium arm and Sam his wings.

"You know, no one will judge you if you just give up. I mean, I will judge you... As will everyone else. But the option is there."

"Please. I'm just trying not to embarrass you too much. I could have already finished if I wanted to."

"You wanna put your money where your fucking mouth is?"

"You fucking asked for it!"

Peter and MJ made extensive notes while the other two sped up.

The next time that found the duo alone, they had somehow been ganged up on by the other Avengers into cooking for every one.

"Don't add pepper to that, it's gonna be too hot."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot that people your age have trouble handling spicy food. Want me to get out some prune juice for you? Should I puree your steak?"

"Maybe I should make some extra spinach for you, chances are you will finally put on some muscle, then. How about a glass of milk to strengthen your bones?"

"How about you shut up and give me a hand with peeling the potatoes?"

Since a picture said more than a thousand words, MJ took great care to draw the exact look on Sam Wilson's face when a detached metal arm landed right beside him.

The third time saw Bucky and Sam playing Mario Kart.

"I'm not at all surprised you chose the dinosaur. Feeling a special kinship with the fossil?"

"No more than you do with Princess Peach. What with you both being on your period."

It seemed that neither man was even out to win the race, but far more invested in hitting the other's character with an item, or pushing them off the track. When they finally crossed the finish line (after many, many swearwords; it was a good thing that Laura and Clint had taken their kids to visit Laura's parents), the two men sat back on the couch and took a long sip from their beer bottles.

Then they simultaneously turned their heads to the love seat beside the couch. The love seat that was currently occupied by one Spiderkid and one Spiderkid's friend who 'was a girl but not his girlfriend'. Who both had notebooks in their laps and pens in their hands and were staring at the men. Rather creepily.

The two pairs held eye contact for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"Did you two want to play?"

The teens shook their heads.

"You need help with... homework or something?"

Peter smiled.

"Nope, we are good."

The girl waved her hand at the pair.

"Carry on."

It was 1:45 am at night when Michelle was roused from her sleep by her buzzing phone. She opened up the screen to see that she had gotten a text message from Peter.

DefinitelynotSpiderman: Calling in mission report. I'm not getting any new information. Awaiting orders.

MyfriendscallmeMJ: ... Peter, are you currently sticking to Sergeant Barnes ceiling and watching him in his sleep?

DefinitelynotSpiderman: Of course not! Ever since Bucky and Steve started dating, they moved in together on Cap's floor. Not trying to get an eye full of that! What kind of creepy stalker do you take me for?! DefinitelynotSpiderman: I'm observing Sam. DefinitelynotSpiderman: While sticking on his ceiling. DefinietlynotSpiderman: In the dark. DefinietlynotSpiderman: While he is sleeping. DefinitelynotSpiderman: It's super boring.

MyfriendscallmeMJ: Peter, go to bed.

DefinitelynotSpiderman: Roger that.

After another week of close observation (to which the men had by that time caught on and were slightly freaked out by), Peter and MJ presented their findings to Natasha.

"They are like the worlds best frenemies."

Peter had once again made himself a cup full of 'Death by sugar', while Michelle and Natasha were enjoying some very nice tea, that Peter had 'borrowed' from Dr. Strange. (It was part of the training program Natasha had thought up for him to work on his stealth abilities. He had also 'borrowed' 15 single socks from Tony, Clint's fuzzy bathrobe, two pairs of Sam's sunglasses, and just an hour ago, Steve's running shoes. He had so far not been able to slip under the guard of the Winter Solider, and flat out refused to 'borrow' anything from Bruce. Dr. Banner was the god of science and shall not be used for training exercises.)

Natasha, who was at the moment wrapped up in Clint's fuzzy bathrobe, motioned for Michelle to elaborate on Peter's statement.

"They don't miss an opportunity to poke fun at, or insult the other, but even though it may seem as such at first glance, they are never actually hurtful to each other. Mr. Wilson holds regular counseling sessions with Sergeant Barnes, which we respectfully did not intrude on, but are likely about his fighting in a war and other trauma. And Sergeant Barnes helps out with Mr. Wilson's training and helps him to figure out new strategies and maneuvers for aerial combat."

Hope hadn't joined the teens in Natasha's room this time around, as he and Colonel were currently playing with Cooper, Lila and Nathaniel on the Barton's floor, under the watchful eyes of their parents (though Clint was most likely just as excited about having the dogs for some playtime as his kids were. He was fooling no one.)

"Sam has a bit of an inferiority complex, what with both his best friends being enhanced super soldiers, and is constantly trying it one-up Bucky."

Peter continued.

"And Bucky still sometimes struggles with understanding how the present, or in his view, the future and it's course of conduct works. He wants to learn to adapt on his own terms, and doesn't like having these things explained to him like he wouldn't get it otherwise."

MJ finished their report.

"They are both headstrong and independent. They like to help others, but don't like to be in a position where they themselves need help. They are very alike in that. Which leads to everything pretty much turning into a competition between them."

Natasha smiled proudly at them.

"Very good."

They smiled back.

"Thank you, Sensei."

Cue the raised eyebrow.

"Sensei?"

Peter shyly rubbed the back of his head.

"Well, you are teaching us some of the tools of your trade. Which makes you the Obi Wan to our Skywalker. But MJ voted against calling you Master, since that title caters to a patriarchal system. But the female form 'Mistress' sounded a bit too much 'Dominatrix'. So we settled on the more respectful Japanese term of Sensei. But we will totally stop calling you that if you don't like it, Tasha."

He nervously bit his lip as they waited for Natasha's verdict, and even MJ subtly shifted a little in her seat.

"No, I like it. Feel free to use it as much as you like. So now, my prodigious students, after having studied your targets, what have you come up with?"

Her smile widened more and more as the teens told her of their plan.

---------------------------------------------------

Stage 1: Divide

Michelle found Sam in the common floor's kitchen, seemingly enjoying a cup of coffee. Peter had used the terrible combined powers of his and Hope's puppy eyes, to convince Sergeant Barnes that he wanted to go get ice cream with the teen and dog, about fifteen minutes ago. Which led into the next part of their plan.

Stage 2: Conquer

She casually strolled up to the table and sat down across from the infamous Falcon. He gave her a welcoming nod.

"Hey there, Michelle. You didn't want to go with the others to get ice cream?"

"Have you ever seen the absurdly sweet things Parker orders? I didn't feel like getting second hand diabetes today."

He snorted.

"Tell me about it. I swear I could feel my teeth starting to rot, the last time he made himself a snack. And by snack, I mean a deep fried mars bar, covered in whipped cream and wrapped in a chocolate chip pancake."

He shuddered at the memory. Then Michelle went in for the kill.

-Hook.-

"And also, I don't need to listen to Sergeant Barnes rant about your inability to let yourself appear emotionally open or vulnerable."

The man almost chocked on his coffee.

"I'm sorry, what?"

With a casual shrug and a dismissive hand gesture, the girl elaborated.

"I mean, it's not a big deal or anything. We were talking about Hope and Colonel the other day, and how Peter tricked Captain Rogers. Peter thought he should do it again, you know, with someone else from the team. That loser is absolutely certain that everyone needs a pet because, and I quote 'Animals just make everything better, MJ.'."

The statement was followed by her trademark eye roll.

"Well, in the kid's defense, there are quite a few studies about the mental and psychological benefits a close relationship with a pet can have on a person. Especially those dealing with trauma. Many of the veterans I counsel have a therapeutic companion, or emotional support animal, as they are more commonly called."

Sam couldn't help but inject, but quickly got back to the matter at hand.

"What's that about Barnes spouting bullshit, though?"

-Line.-

The teen across from him shrugged her shoulders.

"He simply stated that something like this wouldn't work on you. Since Peter's ploy heavily depended on the Captain being a 'pushover with a hero complex', and therefore unable to turn away from a 'little critter in need of love and affection'. You, on the other hand, were 'too insecure about your manliness, and wouldn't allow yourself to be seen as someone doting on an animal'. His words."

The coffee cup was set down harshly on the table, as Sam pushed himself upwards.

-And sinker.-

"He did, did he." He growled. "Insecure about my manliness, my ass. I'm gonna show that bastard... Say, do you know which shelter Pete got the dogs from?"

Michelle easily suppressed a victorious smirk, and quickly typed out the signal message on her phone for Ned to be ready with his camcorder.

"I will show you the way." He nodded in acceptance. "Great. If we come across a shop selling sunglasses on the way there, remind me to get a pair. I seem to keep misplacing mine."

------------------------------------------------------

They had taken Hope to the park first, and thrown around a Frisbee for the dog to chase after and catch. Natasha had told Peter to spend about thirty to forty minutes in the park, and after that approximately the same amount of time at the ice cream cafe, that was conveniently located halfway between the park and the shelter. (What was even better, was that this particular cafe had ice cream specifically made for dogs. So he had ordered Hope three big scoops of the dogs favorite flavor.)

While Hope was happily licking up his cold treat, and Peter was demolishing his triple banana split with extra toppings of everything, Bucky serenely drunk from his glass of frappuccino. The tranquility of the moment was only disrupted by the vibrating buzz of Peter's mobile phone, which he quickly took out of his pants pocket.

MyfriendscallmeMJ: The Falcon and his new companion have left the building. Ned is awaiting your arrival. Initiate phase 'Lonely Winter' now.

-Alright Parker-, he gave himself a mental pep talk, -your turn. Tasha and MJ have coached you through your lines all yesterday evening, you totally got this.-

"So," -maybe put a little less squeak into your voice!- "Hrm, I mean, so... You know, I think Sam is wrong."

Bucky grinned at him.

"Wilson is wrong about a lot of things. But what in particular are you referring to?"

-Get it together, Spiderman! You can totally do this! Look him in the eye and lie right to his face!-

Peter fixed his stare resolutely on the coffee table and spun his spoon around his now empty bowl.

-Coward!-

"Just something he said. Me and MJ were talking the other day, you know, about how great it would be if the others on the team would maybe adopt an animal from the shelter, too. I mean, the tower is more than big enough for it, and you can't deny that Steve has been a lot more relaxed ever since he got Colonel. You too, actually."

Bucky nodded to that. He had always had a soft spot for dogs, and really anything with big eyes and soft fur that needed his protection. He was always happy to volunteer taking both Colonel and Hope out for a walk, if Steve or Peter were busy. Just like this morning when he went jogging with Colonel, because his boyfriend refused to leave before he found his running shoes. (He hadn't found them. Bucky could have told him that the kid had them, but he was no snitch. Also, he knew very well that this was part of Natasha's stealth training, and since Peter never took things that held emotional value to their owners, Bucky was very satisfied with silently cheering the kid on.)

"Sam overheard us and said that you probably wouldn't go for it."

The Winter Soldiers eyes narrowed slightly.

"Oh?"

-Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic! Lie your heart out you french frying licorice!-

"Yeah, like, you know, he was just like 'Nah, that relic wouldn't even know how to handle all the paperwork that comes with adopting a pet. Bet they didn't have that back in 1920. Probably just ran out on the street and took home the first thing that let itself be cuddled.' Well, something along those lines, I don't remember his exact wording (-because he never said that, you lying liar who lies!- ) and he said that you would be way too proud to ask for someone to explain it to you and stuff..."

He risked glancing up from the table to gauge Bucky's reaction, and holy mother of science! If the stormy look on the man's face said anything, he had totally bought Peter's bullshit!

-Whoohoo! Good work, Spidey!-

Feeling emboldened by this, he tried his best to adopt a casual, earnest posture.

"But, I don't think Sam is right. I mean, you know how to file your taxes and stuff, and I'm pretty sure that more than half the people in New York don't know how to do that correctly. Tony always just lets Pepper handle them. And besides, you are totally awesome with Hope and Colonel, and I don't think you would let something like pride stand in your way if you wanted to adopt a pet."

Another quick glance at the Sergeant revealed a mix of fondness, contemplation, and determination.

"You know what, kid? How about we make a little detour to that shelter of yours and show Sam how very, stupidly wrong he is?"

--------------------------------------------------------

Ned had opted out of accompanying the now foursome back to the tower, as he wanted to save the new video he had made to the file he had on his computer at home. Bucky had either not cared about Peter's friend filming him, while he went through the process of adopting an animal, or hadn't realized that he had been the sole focus of the camera.

When they entered the common floor, Hope tiredly trotting over to where Colonel had laid himself down beside the love seat, they were greeted by the sight of Steve, Sam, Michelle, Natasha and Pepper readying the room for a movie night.

Peter quickly ran over to Pepper and took two of the three huge bowls of chips she was trying to balance.

"Thank you, sweetie."

"No problem. Where are the others?"

Steve answered, setting down two huge jugs of iced fruit tea on the table.

"Clint and Laura are making sure that Cooper and Lila have finished their homework before we start with the movie. Bruce wanted to go over the latest results of some kind of experiment he was running one more time, but promised to be here in half an hour at the latest. May had to fill in for a colleague, and said to tell you to eat something healthy before you stuffed yourself with junk food. Speaking of which, here."

Steve had somehow procured a plate with steamed vegetables and some rice out of nowhere, and was shoving it into Peter's hands.

The younger looked at the food suspiciously.

"Did Aunt May make this before she left?"

Steve smirked.

"No. She tried her hand on a casserole... the smell was a little... pungent, to put it mildly. And Colonel kinda buried it in the flower field on the terrace. So I whipped this up for you."

Then he held out a fork for Peter to take, while the teen smiled in relief.

"Thanks Cap!"

He quickly sat down next to MJ and Natasha and began to eat.

"Where's dad?"

Pepper laughed lightly.

"He is busy disassembling the dryer. Said the machine keeps eating his left socks. How he figures they are his left ones is beyond me, though."

Natasha helpfully slapped Peter on his back, as he valiantly tried to not choke on his food.

Sam and Bucky meanwhile, had kind of squared up against each other, both standing opposite the other, with about three feet between them, and fixing the other with a snarky, triumphant kind of expression.

Sam broke the silence first.

"So, finally made it back, did you? Did the kid and the dog have to slow down for old man Barnes?"

"We took the scenic route, something you wouldn't know about, having so little stamina."

Then, as if they had planned it, Sam whistled sharply at the same time that Bucky stuck his hand in his hoodie pocket.

The human hand came out holding a little raccoon securely in its grasp.

"This is Arthur. He can't be returned to the wild, because one of his hind legs got stuck in a trap and they had to amputate it. And just so you know, I had no problems at all filling out his adoption forms."

At the same time a white cockatoo came flying into the room and landed on Sam's shoulder.

"This is Eames. He used to belong to a very ill mannered Londoner, and randomly spouts British swearwords, which is why no one wanted to adopt him. We bonded over calling you a bloody bastard." The "Bloody Bastard" was directly repeated by Eames. Sam smiled at his bird. "See? And for your information, I have no trouble at all with showing my emotional side."

The two stared at each other for a moment, processing what had been said.

"Why would I want to know that you filled out his papers by yourself?"

"Why would I care that you are not afraid to show your feelings?"

A stretch of silence followed, as everyone in the room was now staring at the two men and their new pets. Then, again creepily in sync, both men turned their gazes to the couch where two teenagers and one redheaded super spy were sitting.

"Pete..."

"Michelle..."

Natasha helpfully took hold of Peter's plate as the two teens stood up from the couch, quickly bowed to her, "Thank you, Sensei.", and then ran out of the room like the hounds of hell were behind them.

5 notes · View notes

mayquita · 6 years ago

Text

Pictures of Reality (10/16)

Hi everyone! Here we go again. I’d like to express my gratitude to all those who have given this story a chance, thanks for your likes, comments, kudos and reblogs. It means the world to me.

Summary: Emma Swan returns to her birthplace, Storybrooke, in search of a fresh start after a life marked by abandonment and betrayal. After a year there, she finds the stability she needed and also the possibility of learning about one of her passions, photography. Killian Jones, a former British war reporter with a tragic past, establishes himself in the same town as an instructor of photography, following in the footsteps of his best friends, the Nolans. What will happen when their paths cross? Will their common passion for photography help them heal old wounds?

Rating: M (Language, mature themes, implied sex)

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, mentions of the loss of a limb in an armed conflict.

Other ships / Characters: Although, obviously, this is a cs fic, Snowing plays a major role here, mainly David. In fact, the story contains three different points of view, those of Emma, Killian and David. Also, Henry appears in the story as Regina’s adopted son but he is not Emma’s biological son.

Beta: I’d like to express my gratitude, as always, to my beta @jarienn972 I’m aware that you have had to deal with a monster of more than 100k words and English is not my mother tongue, so I value your effort even more.

Artist / art: Go visit @imagnifika’s blog and enjoy her amazing art. There is no specific art for this chapter but the photo from Emma’s Instagram account will be part of the fan art that Kate has created for an upcoming chapter.

Art for the prologue/ Art for chapter 1 / Art for chapter 2 and banner / Art for chapter 3/ Art for chapters 4-5 / Art for chapters 6-7/ Art for chapter 8

Special mention to @saraswans , thank you so much for your perpetual support, for believing in me when I doubted myself and for offering ideas to make this story grow.

Don’t forget to go read and enjoy the rest of the amazing csbb stories and art.

Word count: ~ 5300 (116k total in 16 chapters)

Also on (From the beginning): Ao3 / Ffnet (Current Chapter) Ao3 / Ffnet

Tumblr: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

What to expect from this chapter? Things get a bit complicated… Emma talks to Mary Margaret, Mary Margaret talks to David, David talks to Killian… And the Nolans make a decision but, before carrying it out, they have to celebrate Killian’s birthday.

CHAPTER 9

My dearest Emma,

It's happening! We got the news a few days ago, but I still have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. No, this time it's real. You, my dear daughter, found us, or rather you found your way back home.

I still can not believe that I'll have the possibility of delivering these letters to you in person in a few months. I would have taken the first flight back home, but there are some things that we need to take care of first. We must convince Killian that he should travel with us. We can not leave him here alone, buried under layers of misery, so we will do our best to continue helping him move forward, and if he has to cross the ocean in search of a new beginning, so be it.

You can not imagine the joy we felt when we saw you for the first time in photos, when we were able to finally put a face on our beautiful daughter. You got your chin and eyes from your mother, but the blond in your hair comes from me. You are the perfect mix, the product of our deep love.

I'm aware that the road will not be easy from now on, that there is a possibility that you don't want to know anything about us. And we will understand and accept it, but now that you are so close, or at least you will be when we arrive at Storybrooke, I will settle for knowing that at least you are happy, even without us.

I want to know everything about you. What experiences you have lived, what cities you have visited, your hobbies, your aspirations, your fears, your desires. Will you let us, Emma, be part of your life?

Just a few more months and we can reunite as a family forever. Until then, be happy, Emma on this new journey you have undertaken,

Your father who loves you and never forgets you,

David.

Emma Swan. Storybrooke - February 21, 2018

Emma arrived at her apartment that afternoon with a strange sensation in her gut, as if a bad omen had begun to haunt her. She dropped down on the couch, letting her thoughts run free instead of bottling them inside. Maybe it was not the most appropriate way of acting, but she felt that if she kept blocking everything that disturbed her, sooner or later, everything would end up exploding.

It was the first time in a long time that she felt that recurring uneasiness tightening her stomach into knots and what hurt her most was that everything had happened just when she had finally got enough courage to bare her soul and reveal to Killian her ghosts of the past.

There was something that confused her. Everything had gone well. He had offered her security and confidence, although perhaps his choice of words hadn't been the most reassuring — she didn't miss the deliberate use of the verb try — but the softness of his lips, the tenderness of his kisses and caresses and his proximity had acted as a balm.

Everything had gone to hell suddenly, when he had pulled away from her abruptly, muttering an excuse that hadn't been convincing at all. Until then, she had blamed those sudden changes of attitude to his own demons that kept harassing him. But that had never happened when they were in the middle of an intimate moment.

Maybe she had read it all wrong. Maybe Killian's feelings towards her were not as deep as she thought or maybe he was having second thoughts... Stop! Emma took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an effort to calm down enough to think more clearly. She wasn't going to be carried away by her insecurities now. Instead, she should act and find the answers she needed.

And what better way to get those answers than by asking the people closest to Killian? The Nolans might offer her some light regarding his strange behavior. Emma grabbed her phone with determination and started typing.

Hey! How are you doing? Are you free to see me today? - ES

Hi Emma! Is everything alright? - MM Nolan

Yeah, but I'd like to talk to you about something. - ES

Sure, meet me at Granny's in 20? - MM Nolan

On my way. Thanks :) - ES

Mary Margaret was already waiting for her, sitting in one of the booths when she arrived a little later at Granny's. She waved at her while her lips drew a warm smile to which Emma responded with one on her own.

She liked Killian's friend. She exuded a halo of composure with that always sweet expression and her soft voice. But there was also something intimidating in her attitude, although Emma hadn't yet managed to discern exactly what it was. Maybe it was the fact that she belonged to a different generation, or maybe she was the closest thing to a family Killian had, and that made her always feel somewhat under scrutiny, as if they were assessing whether she was worthy enough.

Emma shook her head in an attempt to make those inopportune thoughts disappear. Instead, she sat in front of Mary Margaret trying to muster enough determination to bring up the issue that worried her.

"Hi, Emma!" The way Mary Margaret addressed her, all joy as if she were really glad to see her, was something she still had to get used to.

"Hi, thanks for coming."

"Of course. Are you sure everything is alright?" Mary Margaret asked gently, although Emma could detect how her cordial expression morphed to one of slight concern at the edges.

"Yeah, I guess."

Before she could offer any explanation, Ruby approached the table, placing a cup of cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon in front of her. A warm sensation hummed under her skin, spreading to her heart. Emma still found it hard to believe that this was her life now, with friends who remembered her favorite drink or with people she had only known for two months who were willing to meet her no matter the reason. Emma's lips curled upward, sending a grateful smile to her friend.

"You know?" Mary Margaret's chin pointed to her cup, while she held her own in her hands. "This's one of the things that I missed the most in London, the closeness, the small details, like a waitress remembering your favorite order without needing to mention it." Her gaze took on a nostalgic glow, but she recovered quickly, focusing again on Emma. "Anyway, the important thing is that we're back. And now tell me, what can I do for you?"

Emma swallowed as she stirred her cocoa, gathering her thoughts in an attempt to find the best way to expose the subject. "It's about Killian." She finally snapped, maybe a bit sharper than she intended.

Mary Margaret's brows furrowed with concern. "What's wrong? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine, Well, I hope so." The wrinkles on Mary Margaret's forehead became more pronounced, causing Emma to groan inwardly. She definitely had to improve her social skills. "I mean, there's something that worries me about him." She wasn't sure that would ease the worry, at least that which was indicated in Mary Margaret's expression, seemingly far from relieved.

"Maybe it would be helpful if you were a little more specific, Emma." Mary Margaret suggested tentatively, the corners of her lips rising slightly, drawing a smile of encouragement.

Emma cleared her throat and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves. She was probably being ridiculous and imagining things, but it was better if she expelled the thoughts that disturbed her. Only then would she be able to loosen the knot in her stomach. "It's just that... Killian sometimes acts in a strange way. Sometimes he seems fine, but suddenly his attitude changes and he goes into a kind of silence, as if he were shutting himself up."

"I see..." Mary Margaret looked thoughtful for a moment, but then continued. "I'm not sure how much Killian has revealed to you from his past, but I guess you already know that he has not exactly had it easy."

"Yes, I know. I've always thought that the reason was precisely that - the struggle he was still carrying out against his own demons, but there's something else." Emma paused for a moment. God! Keeping a conversation about her intimacies was proving to be more difficult than she would have thought. "We were kissing today... you know." Her voice trailed off, as she averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks flush. "And suddenly he pulled away from me, as if I was burning him or something." Emma glanced at Mary Margaret, holding her breath as she waited for her reaction.

"Oh." It was everything she said for a moment, her cheeks tinged with a slight pink hue, probably matching her own.

"There's this other stuff..." Emma exhaled deeply while trusting her voice to sound carefree enough. "We... we haven't slept together, yet."

"Oh." Mary Margaret repeated as her eyes widened slightly, her cheeks now tinged a furious red. Emma realized later that this conversation should be equally mortifying to both of them because it was as if Mary Margaret was hearing about sex —or the absence of it, to be exact— practiced by her little brother or something.

"It's not that I really care about not having... well yes, I mean, I want to, at some point... but..." Emma was aware that she was rambling, but she was unable to stop herself. "What really worries me is what might be the reason for that attitude. Maybe it's because of me? Am I understanding everything in the wrong way? Maybe he doesn't feel the same about me?" As she expressed her concerns aloud her voice became weaker until it sounded only as a soft murmur.

"Oh, Emma." She dared to cast a sidelong glance at Mary Margaret. To her surprise, she found a sad expression while a shadow of what looked like regret crossed her gaze. Mary Margaret reached out and placed her hand on hers, giving her an affectionate squeeze. "Whatever is going through Killian's mind at this moment, it has nothing to do with the depth of his feelings towards you, I can assure you."

"Do you really think so?" Emma hated how vulnerable her voice sounded. That was one of the reasons why she had protected her heart for so long, to prevent these kinds of sensations from taking control over her.

"Believe me, sweetheart, I've never seen Killian as happy or as excited about something as he is with you, not even with photography, which has been his only refuge for a long time." Her emotions were evident both in her voice and in her expression. Emma could not keep her heart from fluttering as she silently thanked the couple for taking care of Killian all these years.

She let out a sigh of relief as she leaned her back on her seat. "I... I just have this need to help him, but I'm not sure how to do it." She recognized, while her lips drew a small smile.

Mary Margaret gave her hand another squeeze. "I'm sure if we all work on it, everything will be solved eventually. Meanwhile, the best thing you can do is support each other. That's what David and I did when we went through our worst moments." The sparkle of nostalgia returned to Mary Margaret's eyes as Emma wondered what painful experiences this couple — the perfect representation of true love— would have experienced.

"Thank you, really. I'll do my best to help him, he... I also care about him a lot." It was there, at that precise moment and in that random place, when her feelings decided to leave their prison inside her heart and come to the surface. She could not deny it any longer. She was falling hopelessly in love with Killian. That certainty hit her hard, causing her to suppress a gasp as she shut her eyes closed for a moment in an attempt to regain her composure. That gripping sensation didn't leave her, though. She felt about to be pushed into the void without the security that there was a net to cushion her fall.

"I know, Emma, I know." There was something in Mary Margaret's intense gaze that made Emma's heart tighten in her chest, as a strange sensation overwhelmed her, as if she could read beyond her facade and reach deep into her very soul.

David Nolan. Storybrooke - February 21, 2018

Don't you think it's about time for Emma to know the truth? - Regina

Honestly, it's none of your business, madam mayor. - David

Well, when it comes to my employee, it is. How do you think she will react when she finds out? - Regina

That's one of the reasons why we are not revealing the truth yet. - David

I see... but that doesn't stop you from involving your friend in this dangerous game, even though he is now your daughter's boyfriend. A very smart movement, David... - Regina

I don't have time for your sarcasm. I have a newspaper to run and you a town to govern. Good evening, Regina. - David

David locked the screen of his phone while taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm the feeling of annoyance that Regina had caused him. The woman had always been characterized by trying to control everything, but this time he wasn't going to allow her to interfere. In an attempt to forget the irritable mayor, he focused on Killian, though he assumed that his friend's unexpected visit was also related to Emma.

He watched as Killian paced up and down his office, stopping now and then to look out the window, or paying attention to any random objects on the shelves. There was something that was worrying him, clearly, and David suspected what it might be, but he waited until his friend was ready to share whatever was troubling him, while pretending to be busy typing on his computer.

After a couple more minutes, Killian seemed to gain enough courage and sat in the chair in front of the desk. Still reluctant, he rubbed his hand over the scruff of his chin until finally, he decided to speak. "So, have you guys already thought about when are you going to tell Emma the truth?"

Never? David pressed his lips together, trying to keep his composure, but the fact that in an interval of just a few minutes two different people had asked him the same question was beginning to take its toll. He had expected Killian’s question, though, at least since they discovered that Killian had feelings for Emma and that they seemed to be reciprocated.

If the circumstances had been different, David would have settled for this connection they had made with Emma. It was not enough, it never would be, but at least it served to keep her close, to know about her life, to support her in bad times. If he could not be a father to her, he would be a friend.

But neither he nor Mary Margaret had expected that there would be other feelings involved. Their somewhat selfish and desperate actions might hurt deeply, and irreparably, the most important people in their lives.

"I... I don't know." He breathed while rubbing his eyes with one hand, racking his brains in an attempt to find a magical solution. There wasn’t any, of course. In fact, they should not have even considered embarking on this path of lies in the first place.

"I'm not sure I can do this much longer, Dave." Killian's desperate tone caused his heart to constrict with regret. David gave him a sidelong glance and what he saw did not help at all to mitigate that gripping sensation. Killian looked devastated, on the edge of the precipice, a crease of concern between his brows, his shoulders tense, a twitching muscle in his jaw betraying his tension.

He took a shuddering breath. "I know, Killian." A wave of guilt curled around his gut when, for the first time, he fully realized the implications of their rash plan. If Killian was already in a precarious position, he had taken advantage in some way of his vulnerability to get his help. He could not forgive himself if Killian ended up even more broken after this.

His friend had not even dared to confess his feelings towards Emma. He could only imagine the storm that Killian was suffering, feeling the pressure on both sides. What kind of person was he, using his dear friend for his own interests?

"She trusts me, Dave, she has opened up to me, confessing her worst experiences of the past." Killian continued, each of his words acting like a dart of guilt piercing his heart. "When she told me about Neal, I just wanted to strangle him with my own hands, well hand…” He raised his prosthesis in a gesture of contempt, ” If I had him in front of me..., or punch the other bloke, Walsh, in the face. She trusted those two assholes and they took advantage of her, lying and betraying her in the most atrocious way. But then, I realized that I was acting the same bloody awful way."

"It's not the same, Killian." David replied weakly, feeling the hole in his stomach deepen when he saw his friend in such a state.

"Are you sure, mate? Because as I see it, I've taken advantage of her with the aim of bringing her closer to you and I've been lying to her all this time."

"You love her, don't you?"

Killian pressed his lips together before answering, while squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "I do." He confessed through a shaky whisper.

David almost had to repress a gasp at the irony. If they had been in other circumstances, he would have been the happiest person in the world to know that his daughter had found the best possible companion, a devoted, loyal, honorable person. And yet now, due to his own selfishness, two people who were meant to be together might have their future endangered.

"I'm going to talk to Mary Margaret. We'll find a way to fix this, Killian. I promise." He assured, his lips drawing a smile that he hoped would be reassuring enough, though he was actually dying inside, wondering how the hell they were going to get out of this.

Killian had left just ten minutes ago when David received another visitor in his office. Mary Margaret hurried inside, taking the chair Killian had left free. The moment his gaze met his wife's, he noticed her creased forehead, her face pale, her eyes lacking their usual brightness. "What's wrong, darling?"

David held his breath, his stomach tightening into knots. He was not sure he could handle a new addition to his problems. Before answering, Mary Margaret twisted her ring while biting her lower lip. "We have made a terrible mistake, David."

He massaged his temples, letting out a deep exhale. He suspected what Mary Margaret was referring to, but that did not make it any easier, not after his previous conversation with Killian. She must have understood his silence as an invitation to continue, since, without waiting for a reply, she spoke again.

"I met with Emma today. She texted asking me to see her." David's heart skipped a beat. This was the first time that Emma took the initiative to see one of them alone, without Killian being present.

"That's a good thing, isn’t it?" He tentatively suggested, still reluctant to hear that such a meeting might be the cause of the state of uneasiness in his wife.

"Yes, it was good. She trusted me, David." Her voice came with a hint of emotion, while her eyes regained some of that spark of hope so characteristic in her. "I'm so glad that she opened up to us. We got a brilliant daughter, brave, small, caring."

"But..."

"But... she was so worried about Killian's attitude. She thought that his sudden mood swings could be her fault..." Her voice trailed off as she ran her hands down her cheeks. "They are so in love and we're ruining everything, David." Mary Margaret's eyes filled with tears, though she blinked a couple of times, holding them back.

His chest constricted in agony. He couldn't bear to see his wife cry. From that day when he had had to say goodbye to his newborn daughter and then found Mary Margaret crying silently for her lost daughter, lonely, and desperate in a hospital room, he had sworn to himself that he would do everything in his power to ease her sorrows and keep suffering away from her. It was evident that he had done a poor job because the tribulations had not stopped hitting them in one way or another.

He got up and reached for her, kneeling by her side as he held her hands in his. "She told you that? That she was in love with Killian?" He asked in a soft voice, feeling his heart pound against his ribcage.

She shook her head, her lips drawing a tiny smile. "Not with words, but anyone who sees them together can deduce it."

"Killian was here a moment ago, he did recognize that he was in love with Emma. He's about to break up, sweetheart." David confessed, looking for his wife's gaze, in an attempt to find refuge and comfort in the serenity of her eyes. He could only see Emma's eyes reflected in her mother's, causing the tug of guilt to tighten his grip on his stomach.

"We must confess the truth, David." Her tone was urgent, but also determined. "Who knows? Maybe there's a way to expose the reality that doesn't make her run away. We should also try to reduce Killian's participation to the minimum possible."

Although Mary Margaret was right, the possibility that they had already lived through their last moments of happiness with Emma caused a gripping sensation to crawl to his heart, squeezing hard. No, he needed one last chance to treasure a handful more of memories with his daughter. "You're right, we'll do it after Killian's birthday." They were not going to ruin Killian’s day even more. This gave them three more days to figure out how to approach the subject to Emma in the best possible way.

Mary Margaret accepted with a small nod of her head while the corners of his lips raised forming a tiny smile of resignation.

He consoled himself with the idea that they would still have three more calm days before the storm. Because if he was sure of something, it was that there would be a storm the moment in which the truth was revealed, either in the form of a light wind, leaving small damages in its wake, or possibly like a tsunami with the capacity to devastate everything around.

Killian Jones. Storybrooke - February 25, 2018

Killian had not celebrated his birthday for ten years, since that day was a constant reminder that he was able to add one more year to his marker while others, who perhaps deserved it more, hadn't been so lucky.

David and Mary Margaret had accepted it at first, the loss of his brother and their friend still too fresh in everyone's memories, but gradually, they had tried to go back to the old habits of making a special event for each of their birthdays. He had appreciated the gesture, he really had, but his birthday would never be the same without his brother by his side.

During the first twenty-two years of his life, but especially after the death of their mother and the abandonment of their father, Liam had been responsible for making that day something special, a unique event. He just could not bear the thought of never having him next to him on that day, so he had chosen to ignore it, which meant no gifts, no birthday cake and, obviously, no happy birthday song.

Even with Milah, he hadn't recovered enough strength to start celebrating his birthday again. Moreover, when that mortal accident ripped her out of his arms forever, his resentment towards that date only increased.

Still, his friends always managed to be with him on that day, even they had traveled once to Spain where he was covering a news event. " We have never been to Madrid ." It had been their excuse, which he had accepted because, deep down, he had always been grateful for those little gestures of affection that reminded him that he was still important to someone.

Today was different, though. His uneasiness still lingered, accompanied also by the weight of guilt and regret. But that did not prevent him, for the first time, from feeling some eagerness for spending the day with his friends and, of course, with Emma.

He had spent the morning making arrangements to start a new course and he had not even mentioned to Emma that today was his birthday, but he would meet her and the Nolans later, for dinner at Granny's. Those were his thoughts - spending a nice evening surrounded by the people he cared for - while he walked to his apartment to take a quick shower and then meet them. What he saw when he opened the door though, caused his heart to drop into his stomach, any excitement for the celebration suddenly vanished.

The image of a perfect family was in front of him, a happy daughter surrounded by her caring parents while all of them watched a family photo album full of memories, all peppered with loving comments.

The reality was slightly different, though. For Emma and the rest of the world, they were no more than three acquaintances, waiting for him to arrive. And this photo album did not keep shared memories, rather his own memories of the past.

There was another element present in that image that, under other circumstances, would have been idyllic, a secret hovering over them, extending its invisible tentacles with the threat that that scene might never happen.

Killian was not entirely sure why the scene had affected him so much, almost to the point of getting sick. They were there for him after all, to accompany him on his special day. And most importantly, they seemed happy, so engaged in both the photos and the conversation that they did not even realize at first that he had already arrived.

But he couldn't bear the thought of Emma losing her parents when she had just found them — even if she did not know it yet — or they losing their beloved daughter they had always longed for. He felt responsible for maintaining that opportunity they deserved so much.

He was already on edge, unable to control his inner turmoil, experiencing an ongoing roller coaster of emotions that left him exhausted and frustrated, all his energy and strength drained from his body. He was the real threat here. Maybe the best thing for everyone would be for him to disappear for a while...

"Killian! We didn't hear you arrive!" Mary Margaret's excited voice brought him back to reality.

"Hey!" The moment Emma realized his presence, it was as if his entire living room lit up thanks to her bright smile and the flash of her eyes. He just needed a brief glimpse of her emerald gaze so that his heart would calm down, such was the power she had over him.

She got up then, walking towards him, causing his skin to tingle, craving for her touch.

She made him feel alive, making him rediscover feelings that he thought were long buried, challenging him constantly, both with her talent and with the promise of a future - with the possibility that not everything was lost for him. She managed that at least during the instant their eyes met, everything else would no longer matter.

"I hope you don't mind..." She offered him a small tentative smile before continuing. "We thought it was better if we waited for you here, since today... well, you know." She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. His heart shrank a little as he realized that he was the cause of her nervousness. David and Mary Margaret might have warned her beforehand and she was acting cautiously for him.

He cast a sidelong glance at his friends, who had decided to stay in the background, still sitting on the couch. David shrugged while the corners of Mary Margaret's lips rose slightly in encouragement. "You can say the word, love." He offered her a reassuring smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her toward him, his eyes never leaving hers. She tilted her head and studied him from underneath her lashes. "I just... I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable."

"With you? Never." He could not resist it anymore, and closed the distance between them, burying his head in the gap between her shoulder and her neck in a hug so tight that he feared he might hurt her. She did not complain though and returned the embrace with the same enthusiasm.

It was at times like this that he would have given everything to keep his left hand, such was his need to feel her on all levels. He sought refuge in her arms, letting her scent intoxicate him, the warmth of her body against his acting as a balm for his poor soul.

"Happy birthday, Killian." She whispered into his ear, her warm breath sending electric shocks up his spine, causing him to tighten the hug even more.

He swallowed the lump growing in his dry throat before muttering in a broken voice, "Thank you, love."

It was like this, in the middle of his living room, with his friends as witnesses while he clung to Emma for dear life, when he realized that he could not continue like this. He could not force his friends to confess. They were the ones who should tell the truth to their daughter when they thought the time had come, not because of fear that he would explode. He was interfering with the whole process, becoming a real threat.

No, he had to make a getaway as soon as possible, take distance and figure out a way to solve all this without the need for too much collateral damage. Maybe it would only take a couple of days, he tried to convince himself, although he was aware that he was not going to find any magic formula. Still, perhaps the distance allowed him to recover enough strength to face everything that was to come.

He’d look for the first flight to London tomorrow, and would only tell his friends about his improvised trip at the last moment, to prevent them from trying to change his mind. Even so, the idea of separating from Emma dug a hole in his heart so deep that he did not know if he would be strong enough to take that flight.

TheLadySwan: There is something exciting when you give away a blank photo album. You are not only delivering a material object, a handful of blank pages bound in leather. You are actually offering a promise in the form of trusting that the person who receives it will be able to live experiences that deserve to be immortalized, filling in this way, those pages of memories that will last forever. There is also something a little more selfish in the act, that is, the hope that your image occupies a place between those pages since that would mean that you too will be part of those memories ... Happy birthday.

I'm sorry... Thanks for reading. Let me know what did you all think :) What to expect from the next chapter? Will Killian be able to go to London to give the Nolans more time? We'll find out next week...

#cs ff #cs au #captain swan #csbb #captain swan ff #mayquita writes #my cs writings #pictures of reality #cs au ff #csbb 2018

49 notes · View notes

svtntntn · 6 years ago

Text

jukebox!!

greaser!seokmin x waitress!you

THE PERFECT GIF

inspo: seokmin during booseoksoon's 'just do it' and call call call promos

seokmin studies at the diner on the corner of the street, ordering a single milkshake everyday he’s there and choosing his favorite song from the jukebox

tbh, lee seokmin shouldn't even be in the SVT gang to begin with

he fell into it by accident bc he was jeonghan's assigned mentee from a mentorship program at school and jeonghan called him as a last resort when he and joshua needed help with something

so he did so, and when seungcheol offered him a spot in SVT, he accepted it bc he's loyal and devoted to his mentor and friends, no matter what trouble they're causing

bc now they're in it together!

SVT are the greasers that run the eastern part of town, organizing bike races, causing mayhem and chaos, basically acting as delinquents in school and in town

it's kinda a surprise to everyone at school that seokmin's a part of SVT, but with SVT second-in-command yoon jeonghan as his assigned mentor and his friends being in SVT as well, it was only a matter of time

seokmin's typically tagging stuff with hansol and soonyoung or riding his bike into the school parking lot with mingyu and minghao

he's tried to study with the rest of the guys before their meetings but they're all so loud and rambunctious that he needs his own study space

after classes, seokmin frequents this one specific diner near the eastern/western border of the town for one thing and one thing only: strawberry milkshakes

he gets his favorite strawberry milkshake with the perfect dollop of whipped cream and a shiny red cherry on top while he studies in a corner booth right next to the jukebox, where he can easily slip in a quarter into the machine and request his favorite songs to hum as he does his homework

the diner's patrons love love love hearing him sing as he re-writes his chem notes, his own high notes reaching every corner of the diner till he's met with a small chorus of applause

it's not until afterwards when they notice the back of his leather jacket do their breaths hitch and the whispers start circulating around the room

you don't really know why that happens tho

you just notice no matter what, the man who always orders the same strawberry milkshake everyday wears his leather jacket with pride everyday

you’ve been working at the diner for awhile now, since you just moved into town with your family

and your eyes always catch the handsome man sitting by his lonesome in the same booth by the jukebox

and you want to say something to him, but nothing comes to mind when you stop by his table except, "enjoy your milkshake" and he gives you a small smile and a grateful "thank you" back

your co-worker seungkwan always tries to hype you up to get you to say anything to seokmin

bc he's in seokmin's choir class and knows that he's a super sweet guy who would like you back

so bc you're not very good at articulating your words, you decide to write on the back of his receipt instead

you decide write something simple: 'you have a beautiful voice:) -(y/n)'

you give seokmin his receipt after he pays and he thanks you, pocketing the scrap of paper and exiting the diner with his backpack

when you walk back to seungkwan, he just scolds for you being too subtle whilst saying you have to do something bold and get his attention

but you're not all into being bold and brash (hahahaha) so you brush off your crush as just being that: a harmless crush

it's not until seokmin's at home and he's emptying his jacket pockets does he notice your note

he saves it in his notebook and it definitely sets his mood for the entire day:)

when he ventures over to the diner the next day, he recognizes you standing at the jukebox with a quarter in your hands

you're perusing the jukebox's library when someone taps your shoulder, scaring you and making you drop the coin

"sorry!" seokmin drops down and gets the coin for you, handing it back to you

he glances at the catalogue set on the very last page, "hard time choosing a song?"

you nod, "especially since I have never heard of most of these"

"you've never?" seokmin's surprised, but he smiles warmly at you, "I guess we're gonna have to fix that!"

he fishes around in his backpack and pulls out a little coin purse, entering his own quarters in the machine and pressing in combination after combination for several songs, "these first few are my personal favorite, then I'm just setting the jukebox to play other tracks I like"

you nod and you ask him what song to use your quarter for, "save it for when you find a song you really like"

he slides into his usual booth and you pocket the quarter, choosing to take his advice

"so, just a strawberry milkshake then?" you ask him expectantly, shooting him a wide smile

"yes please" seokmin nods as he pulls out his notebook and study material

you put in his order and wait on other tables, helping an elderly couple two booths down and a rowdy bunch of guys seokmin recognizes from another school at a table near his own

the group of rowdy guys continue to shout above the music from the jukebox, jeering at each other and catcalling at you when you walk by

you try to your hardest to be polite and tell them to keep it down as to not disrupt the other diners, but they brush off your warnings

and seokmin's just trying to study and listen to the music, especially since he wanted to you to listen to the songs he loves too but he can clearly see that the boys are making you v uncomfortable

so he goes up to the table and asks them to either keep it down and stop catcalling you or apologize to everyone and leave the diner asap

seokmin pulls all his moves from when he's seen seungcheol and jihoon act intimidating to other rude ppl when they're out and about

he also makes sure to take his time walking back to his own table, letting the boys stare in shock at the SVT initials on the back of his jacket

needless to say, the boys pay their bill and leave right when you come back from the kitchen with seokmin's milkshake, all the boys bowing to you in apology and cowering from seokmin's glare

when you appear at his table, his glare melts into a cheerful smile, "thank you (y/n)!"

you then help the elderly couple at their booth, who both have been watching everything go down, "excuse me miss, can I pay for that boy's milkshake? tell him that the world needs more people like him" the old man smiles

you nod to him, "sure, let me fix your bill for you"

on the couple's way out, the elderly man tips his hat at seokmin, who gives him a bright smile but is terribly confused on the inside

when you venture back to seokmin, he's ready to pay for his bill when you show him the paid receipt and relay him the man’s message to him, "they said that the world needs more people like you"

the message clicks in seokmin's head and he looks down at his notebook modestly, "oh"

and of course, you've already caught on to what the old man meant, "thank you for helping me deal with those boys"

he immediately shakes his head, "oh! no no no, it's no big deal! you just looked uncomfortable and they were being jerks to you and—"

"no, it really means a lot to me, thank you..." you assure your gratitude to him with a kind smile and you pause for his name

and now seokmin's just staring at you bc wow your smile is really beautiful and the sunlight from the blinds make your hair shine and your eyes sparkle and wait, were you asking for his name? shoot—"oh! sorry, I'm seokmin!"

"I'm (y/n), nice to meet you"

a light bulb goes off in his head, "(y/n)! you wrote me that note!" he pulls out the receipt from his notebook and you blush now

"I did write that, yes"

"I'm sure you have a beautiful voice too" you shake your head no, but seokmin disagrees with you, "you do! just listening to you right now, I can tell you have a beautiful voice, are you sure you're not an angel?"

okay, that was something he definitely learned from his mentor jeonghan and now you're DEFINITELY flushed

you don't know what to do at this point but you hear the jukebox stop playing music, "ah, the jukebox! it stopped! I-I should play something!"

seokmin chuckles at you and helps you choose more songs to play, using his own money again and packing up his things

"I'll see you tomorrow, (y/n)?"

you smile at him, "with one strawberry milkshake ready for you"

seokmin's on cloud nine the rest of his night

even when he's out with hansol and joshua tagging buildings and whatnot, all he can do is draw little hearts as you cross his mind

as the next couple of days roll by, you've developed a love for a lot of the songs on the jukebox

specifically all of the songs that seokmin recommends

and all the love songssss;)

seungkwan notices the little skip in your step as you wait on tables while the same five songs from the jukebox play

he nudges your elbow as he punches in another receipt on the register when you're next to him, "you're staring at the door again"

you straighten up next to him, trying to find something to fuss with instead of staring at the entrance for seokmin to come in, "am not"

"you are too, and I'm getting tired of the same songs playing, would it kill you to change it up? I get that they're all seokmin's favorites, but he's not here right now"

"fineeee"

when seokmin does come in, seungkwan tries to joking go to his table to serve him, but you race over instead

seokmin's order is still the same and you try to stop by his table as much as you can without getting in trouble or neglecting other customers

he always sings out loud to the songs you've tuned on the jukebox and it brings such a smile to your face to hear him sing

gosh you love his voice

you both bond over music really well and when the diner's empty and it's just you and seokmin (and seungkwan occasionally), you all sing out loud and dance around the diner

you always write on the back of seokmin's receipts still, trying to make the note different each time

'how much does a polar bear weigh? enough to break the ice! I hope this makes you smile! -(y/n)'

'the ladies at the counter are talking about how handsome you are, and I have to agree ahaha -(y/n)'

'you sing everything so well, how!! -(y/n)'

'have you ever tried anything different at this diner? hahah -(y/n)'

'these milkshakes are as sweet as you -(y/n)'

gosh, who is the actual greaser? him or you?? who knows ahah

seokmin saves all of these receipts in his notebook and they've become one of his most treasured items

his small crush on you during the beginning of your relationship has developed into a major major crush on you

and your so-called harmless crush has snowballed into you liking seokmin so much you can’t get him out of your head

and bc you’re way more confident on paper than in person, you decide to ask him out through your receipt notes!

that same day, you deliver your receipt to seokmin just as one of the members from SVT rushes past you and grabs his arm

seokmin is surprised to see chan at the diner, but all he mutters is "emergency meeting!" and he packs up his papers, stuffing your receipt in his notebook quickly

"sorry (y/n)!" he waves to you and leaves abruptly with his friend, making you slightly worried, but seungkwan assures you it's probably nothing serious

and honestly, it is nothing bc mingyu and wonwoo got into a fight with some guys of the west side gangs, but they're all well-rounded fighters so no major injuries occurred

but now there's a bike race going on between them and the other gang

"seokmin, are you listening?" seungcheol asks him, waving his hand in front of his zoned out state

"yes! I'm listening!" seokmin tunes back in and seungcheol continues on, "does anyone have a piece of paper I can borrow?"

seokmin pulls out his notebook and doesn't even notice your most recent note fall out, tearing out a clean sheet for seungcheol and stuffing his notebook back in his backpack

for awhile, seokmin doesn't return to the diner bc of the preparations for the race, making you even more worried that your note scared him off or made things awkward between you two

but when he does come back, everything is in perfect harmony like it was before, making you think he did read your note, but he obviously turned you down

so you try to move past it as best as you can, but you're still sad on the inside, which seokmin can kinda tell just by looking into your eyes

seokmin is super surprised to see his mentor sitting in his usual booth when he enters the diner, "jeonghan! what are you doing here?"

"just wanted to see where you get away to everyday before our meetings" jeonghan fusses with a toothpick, "why do you come here everyday?"

"I study here, that's it" seokmin answers, "I come here for the peace and quiet"

jeonghan raises an eyebrow at the words 'peace and quiet,' wordlessly pointing out the noisy jukebox next to him belting another song (his favorite song actually) and the sizzle and hissing of the grill behind the kitchen, while seungkwan and you take the orders of other customers in the diner with such vibrancy and pep

"okay, I come for the milkshakes"

"hi seokmin, your usual" seokmin beams a smile at you as his milkshake is set down on the table

"thank you (y/n)" his eyes trail after you as you go to other tables, jeonghan clearing his throat with a obvious cough, "so you come here for that cute waitress?"

"(y/n) is just a friend"

"do you like her?"

seokmin ponders it for a moment before a smile spreads on his face, he can’t lie to his mentor, his older brother figure, "yes, yes I do like her"

"do you think she likes you?" seokmin shakes his head, mumbling a "no" before changing it to an unconfident "maybe?"

"seokmin, she definitely likes you" jeonghan plucks the cherry off the whipped cream and into his mouth

seokmin frowns and pulls his shake closer to him protectively

"no other waitress writes little notes on the back of receipts for you. I saw all the receipts in your notebook, they're cute and affectionate love notes" jeonghan flicks the small piece of paper towards him, "you probably didn’t even read the back of this receipt"

seokmin reads the note from you asking him out and his mouth forms the shape of an 'O'

'seokmin, would you like to go out on a date? possibly, tomorrow night? if not, that's okay! you can ignore this and I'll forget I even wrote this! -(y/n)'

"don’t come to the meeting tonight" jeonghan removes the cherry stem (a perfectly knotted stem) from his mouth, "I'll tell seungcheol you're studying for an exam"

he claps seokmin on the shoulder and exits the diner as you go over to seokmin and ask if he's alright bc this boy is still in disbelief

"yES! uh, yes! I'm alright!" seokmin clears his throat, "(y/n)! will you go out with me tonight?"

"huh? yes, of course, is something happening?"

the bells go off in seokmin’s head as he grins madly, "perfect! meet me outside the diner at 7! what you’re wearing is fine!" he rushes out the door and now you’re the one in shock and disbelief

by the time 7pm rolls around, the sun is setting and you’re kinda getting cold just standing outside for seokmin to arrive

and without avail, the man of your dreams the hour rolls into the parking lot on his bike, taking off his helmet (safety first!) and offering you a helping hand on his bike

you climb aboard and hold on to seokmin tightly as he brings you to the more abandoned part of town, where there’s plenty of tagged buildings and such

seokmin pulls up to one particular building and covers your eyes as you get off the bike, "I obviously sing better than I draw, but ta da!"

and on the side of the building is a picture of what looks to be the outside of the diner? complete with a little ‘open’ sign and everything??

he guides you along to another wall where he painted a fake jukebox and his fake corner booth complete with a milkshake on the table but with two straws in the shake

and there below the faux jukebox is a picnic set for two ppl with candles set up on the concrete and a small stereo with your favorite songs playing

"I wanted to stay inside the diner, but you must get tired of being there everyday so, I re-created it here! it’s not exactly the same—I mean this might be illegal? and the paint is still kinda fresh—but it’s drying and I tried fixing us up something but it’s not exactly perfect—"

you laugh as seokmin rambles on, "seokmin, this is wonderful!" your heart is racing bc my goshhh it’s like a scene from a film! "no one’s ever gone through the trouble of doing all of this for me, thank you"

seokmin grins and you two eat the picnic dinner with all the romantic songs playing in the background, eventually laying down on the blanket together and staring up at the stars

you start singing along to the music and seokmin nearly falls asleep bc your voice is so soothing

a small snore escapes his lips and you nudge him bc you think you’re boring him with your singing

"just the opposite, told you you had the voice of an angel, angel" he winks just as you roll your eyes

he shrugs off his jacket and put it on your shoulders as you shiver, making you drown in his warmth and smell of his cologne

when seokmin takes you back home, he wraps his hand in yours and lingers on your doorstep for the longest time

he pouts as you try to pull away from him even when you don’t want to, "do you really have to go back to heaven?"

"still with the angel stuff?"

"baby, you are my angel"

ending notes: lee seokmin always goes to the diner for the milkshakes, but stays for you and your angelic voice (even if you don’t think so)

#Seventeen #seokmin scenarios #lee seokmin scenarios #seventeen au #seventeen scenarios #dokyeom scenarios #seventeen imagines #lee seokmin imagines #seokmin au #dokyeom au #seokmin fluff #dokyeom imagines #my work #gosh I hope the ending is okay #gosh I hope there's no typos or anything #I've been so busy and had so much writer's block

319 notes · View notes