#anyway. like i said i finished reading this hours ago but i was just recapping to my bro and i started having my joker moment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

definitelynotkatesblog · 4 years ago

Text

Illustrated Man l Spencer Reid Fic

Pairing: Reader x Spencer Reid

Category: Fluff

Summary: Spencer comes home from a particularly difficult case, and begins to doubt himself. Reader helps him unwind and helps paint a picture of all the great things about him.

A/N: Helloooooooo friends! Yet again, I thought of a single line of dialogue I really wanted to make work so I spit a thousand words around it to bring it to life lol. Anyways! This fic is free of reader pronouns and gender identifiers, so anyone can read this and make the “I”‘a their own ☺️

P.S. I’ll see what I can do about not disappearing again for weeks on end, but I make no promises

Content warning: None! Except Spencer has his shirt off? But that’s it!

WC: 2.4k

The sound of the door clicking shut and Spencer vacating his lungs of all air drew my head up from my book.

“You’re home!” I cheered, closing my book and getting up to greet him.

He lifted his satchel over his head and gave me a small smile that didn’t touch his eyes. I nodded, mostly to myself, knowing that this meant the case was harder than most. On nights like this, Spencer was hard to reach. I padded my way across the living room and wrapped my arms around him like he might slip away if I didn’t hold him tight enough.

I pulled his head down to rest on my shoulder as his arms snaked around me, wrapping himself in me, too. We stayed like that a while until he stood up and cupped my cheeks in his hands, bringing my face up for a kiss.

‘Hi,” he said softly.

I smiled into his palms. “Hi.”

I took his hands in mine and kissed his knuckles, then led him to our bedroom to get him out of his work clothes. I helped him out of his cardigan and dress shirt, then left him to do the rest while I got him some water. When I returned, he was laying face down across the bed in a pair of sweatpants. His head rested on his crossed arms, and turned to face me when I laid next to him on the bed. I propped my head up one arm and gave him a half smile.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

He thought for a moment before giving me a recap of the case, leaving out the gruesome details. I listened and ran my fingers across his back, alternating scratches with swirling patterns on the soft skin. Sometimes my hand would find itself at the nape of his neck and work through the hair there.

As he spoke, his voice became more resolved and tired. He worked so hard, but the things he saw, the things this job had put him through weighed on him. He was strong and incredibly smart, but just because he carried it well didn’t mean the load wasn’t heavy.

I took a deep breath and spoke gently, not wanting to offend him. “Maybe you can take some time off?” I suggested.

He shook his head, his chin brushing his hands folded under his chin.

“The team needs me. These victims and their families need me.”

I bit my tongue. I needed him, too. But this was hardly the time to bring that up.

“But this job,” he paused for a moment before continuing, “It takes pieces of me I can’t get back, and I’m scared all I am is the parts I’ve managed to pick up off of the ground.”

I closed my eyes and wished away the tears forming in my eyes. I heard him take a deep breath but he didn’t say anything else.

“I have an idea. Stay there.”

His head lifted and his eyes followed me around the room to our closet where my painting supplied resided.

“I’m going to paint you.”

“Paint me?”

I turned around, a towel in one hand and my box of paints and brushes in the other. “Yes. You’re gonna lay here and talk to me about anything in the world and I’m going to paint you.”

His eyes scanned the contents of my hands. I could see the gears in his head turning for a moment before he shrugged and gave a small nod.

“Okay.”

I ran a hand through his hair and bent down to kiss his forehead before climbing on the bed and straddling his thighs, setting my supplies on the towel beside us. “Talk to me.”

His head cocked to the side as he contemplated his answer.

“Not about work,” I clarified.

I felt his laugh beneath me. “Okay then, what would you like me to tell you about?”

I tapped my bottom lip with the handle of my paintbrush. “Hmmm. Read any good books lately?”

I could feel his smile without seeing it. If there was one thing Spencer loved more than saving lives and doing crossword puzzles in pen, it was reading. “I revisited some Ray Bradbury on the plane home,” he said.

“Mmm, tell me about it.”

He took a deep breath beneath me and began. “I re-read The Illustrated Man. It’s a compilation of short stories told through interactions between an omniscient narrator and a man covered in tattoos that each tell tales of events that have not happened yet. The tattoos are magic, and they come alive to tell the stories they depict. The stories are mostly science fiction, but have elements of pretty universal truths that Bradbury is famous for addressing.

For example, in one story explores the deep seeded longing of one man to take a trip to outer space. Something that, in this story, is attaintanable. He works his whole life to be able to fulfill this yearning, but he is torn between going or staying with his family, whom he also loves. It begs the question of the existence of duality of desire and duty.

Then, in another, there’s this incessant rain. And this group of men are searching for cover and sunshine, but it’s wearing them down and breaking them. These small raindrops, just water, becomes torture. It’s interesting how something as small as raindrops can break both canyons and men.”

I listen as he tells me about each story behind the man’s tattoos, about how they’re all different but important and lend themselves to portraying the then-futuristic perception world around us. Sometimes, his voice gets sad at the implications of the stories, but other times he seems to appreciate the sentiment behind them.

I dip my brushes and admire the way they drag across his soft skin, leaving a wake of vibrant pigments behind. I hmm and ahhh at appropriate times, partially paying attention but mostly glad that he’s able to enjoy himself and is able to think of something other than the darkness in his world.

We stayed in our respective positions for the better part of an hour- him laying on the bed with his head on his hands while I straddled the back of his thighs, stroking brushes across the lines of his back.

When I’m finally finished, I roll my neck and place my hands on the small of his back, taking a moment to take it in. The idea of creating a universe compelled me; there was so much beauty and so much unknown in the expanse of space. The concept seemed fitting for what I hoped to help him understand. I’d mixed a navy blue paint for a base, and created swirls of light with yellows, creams, and whites to create a brighter contrast and background for the more intricate featured parts. One section had books, a coffee cup, a molecular model I’d hoped was an actual chemical, and a small red apple.

The next was a canyon, modeled after one of the scenic drives we’d taken the last time we visited Vegas to see his mom at her new care facility. We parked at a lookout spot and watched the sun set- gorgeous oranges, yellows, and pinks painted the sky over the rock. It was at that moment I’d never been more jealous of Spencer’s perfect memory.

Another section, closer to the bottom curve of his spine was a silhouette outline of the Christmas card the team had sent out two years ago. Spencer had a copy hanging by a CalTech magnet on the fridge, another on his desk, and a folded and fading copy in his wallet.

He loved that photo – the way it captured their joyous spirits and ability to be carefree despite the things that initially brought them together.

I took a deep breath and playfully patted his bottom. “All done!”

He threw a boyish grin over his shoulder and handed me his phone.

I snapped a few pictures, holding the phone up by my chin to capture the expanse of his back, then a bit closer to the individual parts. I passed the phone back over his shoulder and brought my clasped hands up under my chin. “Okay, so, if you don’t like it, that’s okay you can wash-” I rushed, but stopped short when I felt his breath hitch from underneath me.

He was silent for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand.

I took a deep breath. “Spencer, you contain multitudes. You’re a loving son, an amazing friend, a brilliant profiler, a great cat-sitter, an instant mashed potato extraordinaire, and my favorite boyfriend.”

I dusted an invisible speck of dust off his shoulder before continuing, giving my words a moment to sink in. I needed him to hear me, and to know these truths. “You are so much more than the things you don’t love about yourself. You are more than this job, you are more than the obstacles you’ve had to overcome. They’re a part of who you are, yeah, but they’re not all that you are.”

I shook my head, though he couldn’t see it. The knowledge of the man beneath me not knowing he was deeply loved seemed so wrong.

“You are so incredibly loved, Spencer. The people in your life are so lucky to know you and to be loved by you. Each and every one of your friends is changed and is better for having known you, believe me.”

He was silent for a short while, pinching and zooming in on the screen to see the different parts of him illustrated in his skin. He cleared his throat a few times. Part of me was grateful I couldn’t see his face, and he couldn’t seem mine. Though, I didn’t need to see the way his mind was working to know he was trying to find a flaw in my logic.

The amount of love I had for the man beneath me threatened to spill over in the form of tears.

“Favorite boyfriend?” he asked finally, feigning insult.

I laughed. “So far, yeah.”

I knew that wasn’t the only thing he’d heard, but probably was the only thing he could bring himself to comment on.

I scrambled off of my perch unceremoniously, stretching for a moment before straightening up and offering my hand. He laid with his chin resting on his fists stacked, staring at me for a moment.

“What?” I asked with a small huff.

“Being loved by you is one of the greatest joys of my life.”

I felt my mouth pop open, a bit taken aback at such a bold admission. A sweet smile touched his lips while he watched me try to scoop my heart back into my chest. He climbed off the bed gingerly, careful not to rock the tray of paint and brushes with his long limbs.

His large hand wrapping around mine grounded me from cloud nine and I could feel the smile forming on my lips. I turned and started heading towards the bathroom.

“Come,” I said, pulling him along behind me.

When we arrived in the small room, I halted and spun him so the back of his thighs were resting against the porcelain countertop and I was flush against his front. My hands came to rest on the edges of the countertop, caging him between my arms. I looked up at him, squinting slightly.

“I’d like to take a picture, is that okay?”

I knew Spencer was wary of having his picture taken; most of our pictures together were candids I’d puppy eyed my way into him letting me keep.

He narrowed his eyes back at me. My lower lip made an appearance, coupled with a knitted brow and cautious look from under my lashes.

He laughed and shook his head. “Okay.”

Before he could change his mind, I grabbed my phone and rushed back to my place in front of him, pressing my front to his.

I snaked my arms around his torso so our chests were together while his back bearing my painting faced the mirror. My arms poking out from between his arm and torso space made him look like an alien, but placing one hand on his hip while the other held my phone gave the pose a more artistic feel.

I snapped a few pictures, messing with the lighting and exposure, playing with shadows from the vanity and positioning him every which way. Every once in a while, I’d pull my arms from him and show him a few shots I liked but they never felt like the one.

He smiled and nodded encouragingly, taking my direction to tilt this way or arch his shoulder that way. I started to feel for him, we’d been there for 15 minutes at least.

I pouted and let my head fall back dramatically. “I give up,” I whined.

He gave a small smile and leaned down to kiss me. I met his lips with a smile of my own before resting my head against his chest.

“Try one more time,” he encouraged.

I nodded and wrapped my arms around him again. I poked my head out so it was just visible behind his arm, resting my chin on his bicep as I focused my phone camera to capture the two of us and my work on his back.

“Smile,” I said before snapping a few shots. Spencer’s body shook with his laugh as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of my head. My thumb grazed the shutter button, capturing the moment.

It was perfect.

His back was illuminated perfectly by the soft glow of the vanity mirror lighting, the muscles in his back tensed when he bent down, creating dips and curves that separated the focus points brilliantly. My hand wasn’t posed, just gently resting on his hip, a soft touch that lent itself perfectly to the lightness of the moment.

I pulled myself from around him and held the phone between us. His hand found the small of my back and he pulled me closer to him, sealing our lips together. Our lips were unhurried, enjoying the softness of the moment and the love between us. His free hand cupped my cheek as we broke apart. His eyes bore into mine, both pairs slightly glossy.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

I nodded and buried my head into his chest so he wouldn’t see the fresh tears springing in my eyes. His arms wrapped around me as he pressed more kisses to the top of my head.

——

Let’s talk about it!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fan fiction #spencer reid #Spencer Reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #gn reader #criminal minds self insert #Spencer Reid gif #criminal minds gif #my writing

274 notes · View notes

enchantedblackrose · 4 years ago

Text

Flesh Wounds & Somedays

Jay Halstead/Reader

¡!Warnings: Infant abduction/kidnapping. SIDS. Violence against women. Swearing. Fluffy ending.

Still unedited, hoping to have the nice version up soon. Sorry in advance! Happy New Year's Eve, everyone! Please be safe ❤

Upon exiting the very stereotypical "mom van" you're greeted with harsh Chicago air stinging your face and it instantly makes your eyes water. You hastily blink back the tears though it's fruitless. Instead you pull the knit hat you're wearing further down your head and pull your scarf tighter. You keep the door open, huddling near the inside of the vehicle. Anything to stay warm. You scan the parking lot for any sign of your suspect. Anxiety starts setting in. It doesn't matter how long you've been doing this. The moments leading up to a confrontation always send your stomach plummeting

"Easy now," Jay, sporting the store employee smock, whispers as he rolls a grocery cart by, indicating to your foot mindlessly tapping against the cement. Immediately you stop. You give him a small smile. He winks in response. You pretend to dig around in your purse, anything to give the impression you're distracted when in reality all your senses are in overdrive.

Voight's voice barks your last name through your strategically placed com. "Suspect approaching from the east. You know what to do. Everyone else, stand down for now! We don't wanna spook him."

You open the back passenger door before closing the driver's. Your fingers work quickly at unfastening the baby from the seat. You then drape a blanket over the baby for protection against the cruel elements.

It's subtle, but you cannot ignore the feeling you're being watched. The reality is you are. Your whole team is looking out for you. But this is something different entirely, something sinister. You suppress a shudder. Securing the blanket once more, you hoist the baby from the carseat and hold the infant against your chest. With a push of a button, the passenger door slides shut. You fiddle with the keys, making sure the van locks before tossing them in your purse.

You coo at the little bundle snuggled against your chest. Your steps deliberately appear hurried.

And that's when he emerges from a dark blue conversion van parked one whole row over. You spot him out of the corner of your eye and he is unmistakably walking towards you. But you stick to the plan. Your pace slows just barely, not wanting your target to sense the change. You also don't want to actually reach the store entrance and potentially bring harm to the public even with Al and Ruzek inside.

He suddenly appears in front of you, eyes frantically dart around before resting on you. He's disheveled. clothes are wrinkled and slightly stained. His greasy, unwashed black hair is plastered to his head. He smiles which unnerves you. But you return it anyway. His grin disappears. "Give me that baby. And you won't get hurt...much" He removes his right hand from his coat pocket and you notice the blade he's gripping. That's new, you think to yourself. He's growing desperate. Still, you have to get him to attempt an attack or abduction.

"No!" You pull the baby impossibly closer to you. "Leave or I'm gonna yell for help." The threat is feeble on purpose but still seems to evoke rage inside the man.

He lunges at you. His body weight sends you stumbling but you remain on your feet. He wildly pulls at your arms and at the baby, trying to break your grasp. He swings his left arm and his fist perfectly catches your eye.

"Son of a bitch!" You cry. Your foot slams onto one of his and you use that moment to headbutt him square on his chin. He lets out a primal scream before sticking the blade into your upper thigh and you can't help but yelp in pain. He tugs the baby out of your arms. The blanket drops to the ground.

You watch the changing expressions dance across his ugly face: anger, elation at his success, confusion.

"What the hell?"

It's the opening you need. Your weapon is drawn on him. "That's right, you stupid son of a bitch. The baby's fake. Chicago PD! Get down, face down."

Still in his stupor, he obeys. You kick the blade away just as Antonio and Jay come running from opposite directions. Antonio searches and mirandizes him. You return your gun to its inside waistband holster.

As your adrenaline begins to slow, you feel exactly how much pain you're in. It's evident that your eye has started to swell and there's a throbbing sensation in your thigh. You stagger a bit, but a pair of strong arms steady you.

He sighs and you look at Jay. "Don't start," you warn.

"I should have been there. I ended up carrying groceries for this old lady..." Guilt is written all of his handsome features.

"Did she tip you?" You joke, but he stares at you. "Stop. We knew this might happen. He had to attack me." The rest of the team appears and Jay drops his voice to a whisper.

"Yeah, attack like come at you, not actually harm you." He looks as if he's about to argue more when the sound of tires squealing interrupts.

You flash concern. "He wasn't alone." Your eyes meet those of your colleagues.

Voight breaks the silence. "Antonio, get that piece of garbage out of here.Halstead, get her to Med. The rest of you let's head back." You open your mouth to protest, but Hank won't even let you get a word in. "That leg's gonna need stitches. Now go." He stares at you until you move. Jay lends his support as you gently lean into him. It's not as needed as it is comforting.

You were seen and stitched in no time; the wound to your thigh was mostly superficial. Your swollen eye, which was now bruising, was being iced. You would have left Med sooner if your weirdly overcautious boyfriend hadn't insisted that his own brother see you before checking out. It took Will saying it, but Jay finally seemed to accept you were, in fact, fine.

You want in that interview room more than you've wanted anything in a long time.

"Absolutely not," Voight answers when you ask. "This guy doesn't respect women. I don't need you going in there so he can admire his handiwork." He waves a hand indicating to your black eye you're still icing. Hank returns to the observation window to watch Antonio and Atwater interrogate a very non talkative perp.

You remain in the bullpen with Adam, Jay, Mouse and Alvin to stare at that damn board some more.

Alvin recaps; all of you hoping to discover something, anything at all, that could help solve the case.

"Here's what we know. 2 or more suspects working to abduct infants. 1 in custody. Greg Jones. Couple of parking tickets, nothing too serious. Attempted three abductions, not including today's, in broad daylight, over the course of two weeks. Only one was he successful, if you call it that, but the infant was later abandoned at Firehouse 51."

You interrupt. "That baby left at 51, was a boy, right?"

Al double checks before answering, "Yeah."

"The other two attempts were on baby girls," Jay adds, possibly sensing where your mind is going.

You nod. "And today, I had a lavender blanket to cover the doll. One would probably assume it was for a baby girl. Just hold on a sec. Mouse," you holler over to him, knowing he'll pull up what you want faster than anyone. "Check hospital records and obituaries, plesse! Any infant deaths in the last month? Can you look into Jones' social media, too? Girlfriends and such." You've hardly finished the request and Mouse has the information for you. "How many of the babies that died were girls?"

"Two."

"Do you have the mothers' names? Any link to Jones?"

Mouse 's eyes scan the screen in front of him. "Tiffany Young...girlfriend of Jones according to Facebook, lost her baby girl last month."

You nearly hop up from your seat. "Text us her last known." You nod to Jay, asking without words if he's ready. Before you can walk away, Mouse calls your name.

"She was reported missing three days ago."

The whole team exchanges uneasy glances.

In a bizarre turn of events, Tiffany Young had reported herself missing. Jones and Young had been working together to abduct a baby girl with a plan to then flee the state. You and the team discovered that Young was conspiring against Jones going as far as plotting his murder to take place after a successful kidnapping. He would look responsible for her disappearance and his death would appear as a suicide. At least in theory.

It wasn't the best thought out plan, but in these situations they seldom were.

"I still don't understand," said Adam. You were all gathered around a large table at Molly's trying to relax after a long day. Well not all, Antonio made arrangements to see his kids. Al had also rushed off. "Why plan to off Jones?"

"She blames him for their daughter dying." You say taking a sip of your drink. "I read the report, even though it was SIDS, he was the only one there at the time." Everyone is quiet for a moment, presumably lost in their own thoughts. It takes Herrmann coming around, asking who wants another round for the conversation to resume.

Thanks to the refills and a few well timed jokes, the mood of the night has drastically shifted to a much happier one. An hour or so goes by when Jay lightly squeezes your knee under the table. You understand the gesture, surprised that he's waited this long to signal his want to leave. Jay hadn't really wanted to go out in the first place. "I'm gonna head out," you tell the group standing only when you've finished the last of your drink. There's a chorus of goodbyes. As you walk away, you hear Jay excuse himself to use the bathroom. You know he'll leave for your place afterwards. Neither of you know exactly why you keep the fact you're dating from your friends. Maybe the sneaking around is thrilling. Maybe it's just nice having something of your own. Regardless, it's the worst kept secret of the precinct, though no one has any proof and they ultimately leave you alone about it.

You've only changed into a tee shirt when a knock beckons you. You let Jay in. The door has just closed and he's ordered you to take your pants off.

"We need to work on your foreplay," you quip, but Jay's not laughing.

"I'm serious. I need to see again that you're okay."

You sigh, but shimmy out of your jeans. His genuine concern for you was slightly overwhelming in the best way, never having experienced anything like it before. Carefully, you pull back the adhesive bandage exposing your fresh flesh wound, still very bright pink and aggravated.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs.

"It's not your fault," you say, trying to reassure him.

"I hate that you were hurting and I couldn't do anything." He pulls you for a tight embrace while mindful of your thigh. He's completely still for a moment, breathing you in and finding peace in your arms.

Suddenly, he picks you up off your feet. It catches you off guard and you giggle. "What are you doing?"

He doesn't answer. Instead he takes you to the bathroom and sets you on the counter near the sink. He starts rummaging through your medicine cabinet, pulling out gauze, bandages, and rubbing alcohol. He grabs a clean washcloth from the towel rack.

You raise one eyebrow in question. "I thought I had Detective Halstead, not Doctor."

"Tonight you have both." You bit down on your lip to keep from laughing, but the misconstruction of his words hit him. "That came out wrong. That's not at all what I meant." Laughter escapes from you and Jay joins in, shaking his head and telling you to keep your mind out of the gutter.

"Mm, it's difficult when you're around." You give him a quick peck on the lips.

He turns the warm water on, letting it run for a minute. He tests it, making sure it's not too hot before soaking the wash cloth. He rings it out and looks you in the eyes. "I'm not sure this is going to feel all that great.'

You nod your understanding and Jay very gingerly begins to clean your wound. You talk to keep yourself distracted. "I can't stop thinking about the case. Clearly, they're competent for trial and I'm not justifying what they did, or tried to do. But I can't imagine losing a baby. Just the thought…" Your voice drops off. You wish you could leave work at work, and sometimes you can, but tonight when you're struggling to do so, you feel extra fortunate to have someone who truly understands.

Jay has almost finished cleaning your wound, allowing it time to breathe before covering it with a fresh bandage. "I know," he says. "I kept thinking about if that had been us and our baby, what would stop me from going crazy."

Your heart flutters a little faster, "Our baby?" It's the first time he's ever said anything like this.

He suddenly avoids eye contact with you. "Yeah? I mean someday...down the road if we are still...and that's something we...you want...maybe?" His cheeks are flushed and he glances at you, his green eyes full of hope.

"Jay Halstead," you offer him a big smile, "have you been thinking about our someday?" He nods, giving you a smile of his own. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him close to you. One of his hands rests on the countertop, the other lovingly brushes your cheek before you nuzzle into the spot just below his neck. You plant a kiss there. "Tell me more about your plans."

"Well they definitely don't include you getting stabbed again," he pulls away just enough to cover your thigh with the new bandage. A slight pout plays at your lips having not gotten the answer you wanted. Jay, seeing this, chuckles. "C'mon." He lifts you off the counter, carrying to the bedroom.

Gently, he places you onto the bed. You watch as he kicks off his shoes and strips down to his boxers. He catches you admiring his physique and shoots you a wink. But you pretend to still pout and cross you arms. It causes Jay to shake his head, bemused by you.

Pulling the covers back, he slides into bed and brings you to his side. He kisses the top of your head, fingers tracing a nonsensical pattern along your arm. "I see lots for us, love. So many ways things could play out, but it's always with you at my side."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah, definitely," and with that Jay launches into different versions of the future he's envisioned. Some are improbable, others imaginative, many seem possible, but all include you, just as he said.

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you

262 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 282: Aizawa Defeeted

Previously on BnHA: Oh my god do we even care about that at this point. Tomura made a speech; Gran Torino died; Deku lost his shit and tried to strangle Tomura to death with his bare hands; Ryuukyuu came back from Wherever She Was and tried to grab Tomura but he punched a hole through her giant hand; and now he’s grabbing his Quirk-Be-Gone bullets and is ready to cause some mayhem okay?? That about sum it up?? Is anyone even reading this?? CAN WE JUST GET ON WITH IT I’VE WAITED AN ENTIRE WEEK.

Today on BnHA: Well I guess let’s start with what doesn’t happen: Bakugou doesn’t lose his quirk. HE LUCKED OUT!!... for now, anyways. Because, thanks to a near-impossible-to-predict series of events (seriously, raise your hands if you had “Aizawa gets shot but goes full World War Z on his own ass” on your bingo card), Tomura has seemingly regained his regeneration powers, which means that his other quirks are probably back online as well! So we’ll see how that all goes. Anyway so in the meantime Shouto’s back, looking very mad that everyone temporarily forgot he was a main character. And Gigantomachia is back as well! Or almost, anyway. Also, you’ll never guess who broke another one of his arms! Go on, guess. But at least he still has the arm, though, which is more than we can say for certain other people’s limbs. Poor Aizawa is literally on his last leg. He and Tomura really got off on the wrong foot. He chopped his leg off, is what I’m saying. It’s that kind of chapter folks.

you guys I’m losing my whole fucking mind. I straight up deleted the tumblr app off my phone for 24 hours so that I wouldn’t be tempted to log in and risk potentially being spoiled. and I’m happy to say that it worked! so here we are now, completely spoiler free, and let me just say that if Horikoshi decides to cut back to Gunga Mountain now, I will either cry for hours or abandon the series forever and go do something more productive with the rest of my quarantine like learning how to play sad songs on the guitar

all right. here goes

so we’re opening with Deku, who is currently comprised of 100% rage and 0% mercy, and is doing that thing where only the whites of his eyes are visible. and basically he’s just thinking “I’VE REALLY GOT TO HOLD ON TO THIS GUY AND MAKE SURE HE DOESN’T DO ANYTHING ELSE HOMICIDAL.” which is a solid game plan, but perhaps not so easily accomplished

-- oh my god this poor kid is still in denial, I can’t. why are you doing this

is there even still a Gran Torino to tend to at this point? after Tomura bulldozed a hole through his torso, and you went and finished the job with your own fucking attack? sob

but I guess the law of Tragic Shounen Mentor Deaths mandates that Gran’s should be at least as drawn-out as Nighteye’s was, though. so he’s probably only Mostly Dead, which is still Slightly Alive if I remember my Princess Bride correctly, and I think I do

so now the rest of these stooges are finally catching up with us here

yes, my friends. a bullet. WELCOME TO MY LIFE FOR THE PAST FUCKING WEEK. anyways I have a LOT of pent-up energy here just fyi. there may be a lot of unnecessary screaming in this recap

FUCKING WYOMING SMASH Y’ALLSSSS

I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT JUST HAPPENED SOB. DID HE JUST HAMMER FIST TOMURA’S HEAD INTO THE GROUND. DID HE SNAP HIS FUCKING NECK AT 100%. IN AN IDEAL WORLD HE WOULD HAVE JUST CHOPPED TOMURA’S ARMS OFF WHILE SOMEHOW MANAGING TO AVOID BREAKING ANY OF HIS OWN BONES IN THE PROCESS, BUT I HAVE A FEELING THIS SITUATION WILL NOT BE RESOLVED IN ANY KIND OF MANNER ONE WOULD CONSIDER “IDEAL”

(ETA: fun fact: this attack did absolutely nothing except make things approximately 100x worse. but you tried Deku. you tried.)

THE FUCK KIND OF PORTENTOUS BULLSHITTING TITLE IS THIS. OH MY GOD, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT EMOTION I’M HAVING RIGHT NOW, IT’S JUST A LOT OF LOUD THOUGHTS

anyway so if you’re just joining us, Tomura just pulled two bullets out of his pocket, the good guys finally noticed, and then Deku did a smash and everything exploded. the radius of this attack actually looks wide enough to have potentially involved Aizawa, who probably does NOT want to get any debris in his eyes right now, and also Gran, who probably doesn’t particularly want to be hit by another deadly attack for the third time in the past ninety seconds. anyway so I guess what I’m trying to say here is WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THAT YOU LITTLE GREEN LUNATIC

AHHHHHH

he got the one!! the one that was in Tomura’s right hand!! but what about the one in his left ahhhhhhh

(ETA: lmao at Kacchan being the one to blow up the same bullet I was so sure he was going to be shot with. saw the writing on the wall, huh kid? what do we say to the god of foreshadowing?? ‘NOT TODAY.’ ...except that we’re still not actually out of the woods yet so you still better watch yourself lol.)

...

based on the font here, these are Tomura’s thoughts. which he is thinking immediately after getting the lower half of his jaw very painfully cronched by the VERY homicidal sixteen-year-old still clinging to him. anyway so Tomura’s thought processes are as inscrutable to me as ever lulz

and Deku’s arm looks broken again, yaaaaay. but at least it’s his left arm and not his right! so that’s nice. now they can match

[SHRIEKS]

HE YEETED IT. IT HAS BEEN YEETEDED. HE DID A YEET. [sobbing] he DiD a YeEt oH my GOD

DID IT HIT SOMETHING!?!?!?

my reading process here is as follows: 1) scroll down exactly one panel. 2) scream even though absolutely nothing has happened yet. 3) WRITE THAT DOWN 4) REPEAT

DKSFJLKHSDLGKHLI

DID IT HIT HIM!?!? DID IT GET HIM IN THE LEG SOB ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. JUST LIKE THAT?? BOOM GUN BULLET LEG!!?

YOU GUYS IT REALLY HIT AIZAWA AND NO ONE DID A GODDAMN THING?? it wasn’t even drawn out or anything??? it just HAPPENED, within like four pages??? NO SLOW MO?? NOT EVEN A REACTION PANEL WHAT THE FUCK

son of a bitch I would so dearly like to grab Manual and RockLockRock’s heads right now and just conk them together real hard. YOU STUPID FUCKS sob YOU HAD ONE JOB!!! IT REALLY WAS JUST ONE!! AND YOU WERE SHARING IT!! SO IT’S MORE LIKE HALF A JOB!! AND YOU STILL COCKED IT UP IN ABSOLUTELY NO TIME AT ALL OH MY GOD

(ETA: they should blow this panel up and make it into a t-shirt and make Manual and RLR wear the shirts every day for the rest of their lives. half a job, you guys. please go away I cannot even look at you right now.)

FUCK MY EVERYTHING

(ETA: I still can’t figure out if this horrific angle is due to the earlier damage from the Noumu, or if Tomura really just flung the bullet THAT hard. honestly I’m surprised it didn’t just slice right through him with that kind of velocity. “no thanks because then I wouldn’t get to write a scene where he chops his own leg off” oh okay well when you put it that way, Horikoshi.)

if I recall correctly this is the leg that he said was “twisted”, no? yeesh. might just want to chop it off real quick, then. s’not like it’s doing you any more good. does anyone know if zombie rules apply or not with this sort of thing?? shit

?!?!

“THANKS”?? okay what. did it hit him or not??

-- oh my god WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT

I WAS -- I WAS JOKING I -- FFFFFFFFKJK

jesus fucking christ. when I said “might just want to chop it off real quick” literally FOUR PARAGRAPHS AGO, I can tell you that the one thing I did NOT expect was for Aizawa to be all, “you know what, that’s a good idea”, and then YOINK OUT HIS TRUSTY HERO SHANK AND GO FULL 127 HOURS ON THIS BITCH. "LALALA WE’RE GONNA DO IT RATIONALLY TEEHEE” like excuse me, the fuck

anyways. I don’t even know what to say. thank you Aizawa’s leg for your sacrifice, and for always supporting him. literally. oh my god I came here ready for my son to enter a new phase of character development, and for the manga as a whole to enter a new phase of glorious, glorious angst. no one told me I’d be sitting here making puns instead. what a fine, confusing day

anyway though let’s just fucking hope it worked. and side note, if Aizawa Shouta really did chop off his own fucking leg just now and somehow STILL managed not to fucking blink, I think we might as well just go ahead and hand him the Biggest Badass In The Series award right now because no one is ever going to top that. nope. not happening

it is truly a testament to Shigaraki Tomura’s unfathomably mysterious sexy villain energy that he still somehow manages to look hot with only half a face

also no one in this manga actually feels pain, do they. not Deku, not Aizawa, not Tomura, no one. no wonder none of them have any self-preservation instincts to speak of

did someone just randomly explode just now. at this point it might as well happen, right

oh it’s the shockwave from Deku’s Wyoming attack, apparently. how nice of it to have a delayed reaction for absolutely no reason

anyway so Deku’s being flung back, but he’s grabbing onto Tomura again with Blackwhip. but oh shit you guys, if Tomura escapes Deku and Ryuukyuu’s clutches and still has any bullets left in his pocket, we may still be able to salvage this Bakugou quirk situation after all. would be nice to be able to actually do something with all of these “happy quirk losing day” balloons that I ordered

(ETA: actually, believe it or not I honestly like this better. Tomura using AFO was always the more dramatic option anyway. and now that we’ve done the bullet thing everyone has presumably let their guard down again, which, good.)

I love how Tomura apparently hasn’t noticed that Aizawa’s just amputated his own leg? to be fair he’s probably distracted by all the explosions and such

also gotta love how Deku’s arm-breaking attack seemingly just made everything worse for no reason. and also how Manual and RockLockRock are once again just standing there doing absolutely nothing

SO NOW GUESS WHAT’S HAPPENING

I MEAN IT! GUESS. BECAUSE YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE LOL

OH WELL OKAY THEN

just like we all saw coming!! ...

so is this Endeavor’s attack?? Bakugou’s?? either way, hot damn. fortunately for Tomura he is apparently operating under the same guidelines as the U.S. Federal Reserve, in which mutilated bills may still be exchanged at face value if more than 50% of a note identifiable as United States currency is present. basically as long as roughly half of him is still vaguely Tomura-shaped I assume he’ll be fine

(ETA: in hindsight I should have immediately been able to identify this as a Shouto attack based solely on how murdery it was lol.)

OH MY GODDDD

KRANCH?!?

OH MY GOD LOL WHAT. LOL. REMEMBER EVERYONE’S THEORIES FROM LIKE TWENTY YEARS AGO LOL. SHOUTO WHAT THE FUCK. DID YOU STOP FOR DRIVE THRU

AND MEANWHILE DEKU’S BACK ON THE SCENE GIVING ARGUABLY EVEN LESS FUCKS THAN BEFORE, IF SUCH A THING IS EVEN POSSIBLE. SO FAR THIS CHAPTER HAS PRECISELY ZERO THINGS THAT I ACTUALLY EXPECTED IN IT, WHICH IS VERY IMPRESSIVE

IT ALSO HAS A LOT OF SMASHING

a LOT. of smashing, guys. feels like... 60% smashing, 20% severed legs, 20% Kranch

-- oh no oh SHIT oh shit oh shit

(ETA: um so I really can’t tell how far that wound extends and whether or not Aizawa still has his right eye, shit.)

first of all how did Deku get here next to Aizawa when he was just over there with Tomura, what. and second, I think Aizawa just blinked, oh shit. probably on the verge of passing out after CHOPPING HIS OWN LEG OFF which STILL hasn’t been acknowledged yet?? did I just completely misinterpret all of that back there or what

(ETA: there was seriously so little attention called to this that I scrolled back up to confirm it probably like half a dozen times. apparently Horikoshi thinks that THE MOST BADASS THING TO EVER HAPPEN IN THE MANGA should be completely downplayed. whereas if it were me, there’d be an entire two page spread of JUST THE LEG. WITH MUSIC PLAYING. EVEN THOUGH IT’S A MANGA.)

YEPPPPPPP. fuck

look at him though. he’s so happy. this is why I can’t stay mad at you no matter how deranged you get you little maniac

so is quirk-stealing back on the menu then or what. don’t think I’ve been lulled into any kind of false sense of security by any of this lol

-- ARE WE SERIOUSLY CUTTING AWAY

so Todoroki really went after them ALONE. the better to put his dad right back up at the top of the Lose Your Quirk Sweepstakes finalists. well... second-to-top, maybe. like I said I will not be lulled

yuh-oh

why do I feel like the odds of Gigantomachia arriving to herald the end of this chapter just shot up DRAMATICALLY

so the next page is almost entirely just a list of cities that the news anchor is telling people to evacuate because they’re in Machia’s path. along with a bunch of dead heroes lying around everywhere, and Ochako being all ominous

(: weren’t they, though? heh. this is going to be so, so bad (: (: (:

-- fuuuuuuuuuuu

aaaaaand that’s it. hahahaha. okay then let’s summarize

Bakugou defied all expectations and kept his quirk (FOR NOW)!

Aizawa cut his own fucking leg off and it WASN’T EVEN REMOTELY ACKNOWLEDGED FOR REASONS I CAN’T UNDERSTAND (R.I.P. AIZAWA’S PRECIOUS LEG. YOU ALWAYS PUT YOUR BEST FOOT FORWARD)

Kranch showed up after 157 years and is probably wondering why the heck I keep calling him “Kranch” now. THINGS CHANGE WHEN YOU’RE MIA FOR A WHILE MY LITTLE STARBUCKS CHRISTMAS CUP

Deku broke his arm for the 78th time

Tomura regenerated but seems to think Aizawa’s quirk is actually gone for good, which I’m pretty sure it’s not. so if they can keep him from destroying everything long enough for Aizawa to turn it back on again, we might possibly still survive this

and lastly, Machia is about to kill all of these stupid people frolicking around outside of this fitness club who are probably so proud of themselves for not being glued to their phones 24/7 because they prefer to LIVE LIFE IN THE MOMENT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. well that’s on you my friends. at least it’ll be a quick death. ffff

#bnha 282 #aizawa shouta #shigaraki tomura #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry for all the leg puns #it's in my nature #I can't help it if I find this kind of situation humerus #...oh no wait that's arms #dammit

485 notes · View notes

winryofresembool · 3 years ago

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 38

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: A new semester is starting

A/N: We are finally done with the holiday chapters! When it comes to this chapter, I'd like to state that I only have some experience from a couple of Finnish universities so I really don't know a whole lot about how certain things work in practice in the States, so please ignore the possible inaccuracies for the sake of this fic. It feels weird after a couple of 'bigger' chapters to have a bit more 'fillery' one... but... but... there's Caleo in the beginning?? So I hope you'll enjoy nevertheless. I wish I could spread even more love towards this ship because they deserve it but sadly there are only so few hours in a day. The fandom seems so quiet these days...

Anyway, enough rambling! Now let's get to this chapter, and the usual reminder: I love to hear what you think! All comments are much appreciated :)

Words: 2500+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

”Is something the matter? You look quite unhappy.”

Leo felt arms sneak around his shoulders from behind while he was sitting on the common area sofa, staring at his laptop with a frown. Some of the speaker’s reddish brown hair fell in front of his face, the smell of cinnamon drifting into his nose, and for some reason that alone was enough to relieve some of Leo’s uneasiness. The small, pale hands found their way down his biceps and stopped there, but he wasn’t going to complain. If he was honest, he was really happy about Calypso’s growing confidence when it came to the physical affection, because it told him she really trusted him. Sometimes he was still amazed that he out of all the people had managed to break the ice around her.

Before Leo let himself get too lovestruck, though, he reminded himself why he was staring at his laptop in the first place. The new semester was starting and that naturally meant new courses, new assignments, new texts to read and… new emails from his professors. One specific email had managed to twist his stomach quite badly. In it, the professor from his chemistry lab class had asked him for a meeting, and Leo assumed he wanted to discuss what had happened on the exam day. Wishing that he could just ignore that said message, he turned his attention back to his girlfriend.

“Just uni issues… nothing more severe this time,” Leo replied half jokingly. The holidays had given him some perspective on what really was important to him and failing a class didn’t feel quite as big an issue anymore. It was inconvenient, yes, on a few levels, but not entirely unfixable.

“Oh?” Calypso finally let her hands slide off of him and sat down next to him. She seemed a bit relieved that this was about the university and not something that was out of her reach, and if Leo was honest, he couldn’t blame her. “What kind of issues?”

“A professor wants to meet me face to face tomorrow. Probably to talk about my recent chemistry lab test or something like that.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Hmm… Isn’t it quite unusual for them to give special focus to a single student at this stage?” Calypso asked.

“Apparently they still do that in my department. Who knows, maybe they think I’ve caused them enough trouble by now and want me to quit.”

“But what happened in your lab test was not your fault. Do you think you are any closer to being able to finish it in case you get another chance?”

When Calypso was looking at him with those almost chocolate brown eyes, he felt that it wasn’t impossible.

“Some smart person once said that I need to believe in myself more, so that’s what I need to learn to do. After that… it might be possible.”

“I’m glad you’re listening to me at least sometimes.” Calypso gave him a lopsided smile. “The fact that you know what you should do means that you’re already on your way there.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Wanting to talk about something else, Leo asked: “Well, what about you? How are you feeling about the upcoming semester?”

“I’m feeling… pretty good about it, you know? Sure, I’ve been reading our course plans and it sounds like our professors are planning to make us work like every day is an exam day and we have some group assignments and important presentations coming up, but… I really like learning? And I like listening to the conversations between our professors and my fellow students during our lectures because it’s something I never got to do when I was stuck at home… I feel like I get new points of views from them all the time. And Annabeth is a really big help; she knows everything about everything so if I ever feel like I can’t follow the lectures, she can always clarify them to me.”

“I have a hard time imagining you not being able to keep up with the professors… but yeah, it’s good you can ask for her help if needed.”

Calypso nodded.

“You know, I’m glad you two got your issues sorted out in the fall,” Leo added as an afterthought.

Calypso looked up at him with a slight frown as if she had completely forgotten about what exactly had happened in the fall. “Oh, right, that. I feel like it was just one big misunderstanding. Both of us realized that we can’t get stuck on something that happened so long ago.”

Leo couldn’t deny that he had also felt a bit jealous of Percy when he had first found out about his and Calypso’s past, but she had clearly moved on, so he wasn’t holding a grudge anymore either. Calypso had decided to date him, and that’s what mattered.

“Yeah, I know from my personal experiences that ain’t worth it,” he replied.

Calypso leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.

“I have a… maybe a bit weird question. Do you believe in some kind of greater power? You know, like gods?”

Leo wondered why she would ask that. “I dunno. Maybe. I’m not really strongly for or against that. I think I’m the kind of person who needs to see it to believe it, but I don’t think it’s impossible. But why do you ask?”

“This will sound extremely cheesy but sometimes I wonder… if there was a reason why we two met. Like some greater power that pushed us together for some reason.”

“Wow. I don’t know if any greater powers had their fingers in that but I am glad that it happened.” Leo threw his arm around her shoulder and wondered briefly why it felt like such a natural thing to do. At one point he had been too intimidated to initiate any kind of physical contact but now that they were more open with each other and she had seen him in some of his worse moments – he didn’t mind anymore.

“Yeah. Me too.” Calypso whispered.

Only the buzzing of the fridge and some other kitchen machinery could be heard on the background while the flatmates were simply enjoying each other’s company, resting their heads against each other, but eventually Calypso suggested:

“Hey... I think I need something that will allow me to disconnect a bit, so… how about some Friends?”

Leo didn’t have anything against that suggestion. In fact, he always enjoyed the TV show or movie nights with Calypso, for various reasons. “Sure. That sounds great to me. You know I’m always ready to roast my homeboy Chandler.”

“I know you are.” Calypso nudged him and took the remote control to find the right episode. As they started watching and commenting on it (he always enjoyed how snarky Calypso’s comments could be), Leo almost forgot about the upcoming meeting with the professor.

…

The next day, Leo found himself in the building where the office of his lab professor was located. At the breakfast table he had practiced the meeting with Calypso, and Jason had also joined him a bit later to wish him luck. To Leo’s relief, he did seem a lot happier than when he had seen him before the holiday break, but he still didn’t talk a whole lot about his current situation. Leo himself decided that it was better if he didn’t guide his friends too much so instead he did a quick recap on the recent developments in his own life – without mentioning his new relationship status. Luckily Jason didn’t ask, as he seemed to be more worried about Leo’s upcoming meeting.

As he was waiting for the professor to arrive, Leo kept glancing at his clock nervously. The man was already a few minutes late. While Leo knew that wasn’t anything unusual in the university world, as the professors tended to be busy, he still kept wishing he could get the meeting over with as soon as possible. His leg started bouncing again on its own and his fingers were tapping against the wooden handle of the chair. Suddenly he didn’t feel quite as sure about what he was going to tell the professor as he had felt earlier.

Finally, he was pulled from his thoughts by a loud ‘ahem��.

“Mr. Valdez? Sorry I’m late, my meeting with a couple of coworkers got a bit long,” the professor said.

“That’s… that’s fine,” Leo stuttered. Some months ago he would probably have said something snarky as a response but right now he knew better than to take any risks.

“Go in, go in, so we can have a talk,” the professor encouraged. Unwillingly, Leo followed him into his office and had to be told to sit down before he even realized that there was a comfortable looking arm chair right next to him.

“So…” the professor started once he was seated behind his desk. “You probably know why I invited you here.”

“I… I do have an idea…” Leo said hesitantly, looking everywhere in the room except the professor. The man had a lot of engineering related books in his bookshelf, a big stack of papers - probably students’ assignments - and a fancy looking calculator on his desk. Behind him on the wall there was a single photograph of his family. Pretty much exactly how Leo had imagined the said professor’s room looking.

“I will be direct with you. Your achievements in the lab classes - or lack thereof - is a cause of confusion for us. In almost all of the theory related classes, you are on the top of the class – despite the occasional reports that your behavior towards the lecturers could use some improvement.” The man raised his eyebrow, but Leo thought he could see a glint of amusement in his eyes. That didn’t last long, though. “However, until now we have been willing to overlook that because of your talents. Maths, physics, chemistry… those things you clearly don’t have any issues with. But already for the second year you have been avoiding the lab classes for which you have been signed up and last fall you even left the chemistry lab test before you managed to get it completed. I’m sure you are aware that if you want to move onto the more advanced classes, you need to complete the mandatory ones before you are allowed to do that.”

“Yes, sir, I’m aware of that,” Leo replied stiffly, wondering briefly when was the last time he had called anyone sir, other than ironically.

“In that case…” His voice turned less formal, more fatherly as he continued, which surprised Leo. The professors he was used to dealing with were usually not all too nice to him, although he was willing to admit that some of it was probably deserved. “Can I ask you, is there a specific reason why you haven’t attended the lab classes?”

Leo wondered if he should come up with a quick lie. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life that he would have to do that in order to protect himself. However, the professor really seemed sincere and concerned about him and in a way his expression reminded him of Jo’s when she was expecting him to open up. Perhaps that’s why he ended up deciding to answer honestly:

“Yes. There is.”

“And? What is the reason?” The professor raised his eyebrow.

Leo inhaled deeply before forming his response. “I’m afraid of fire. Yeah, laugh ahead, but it’s true. I can’t deal with anything that requires heating because of some nasty as hell childhood trauma.”

To his surprise, the professor didn’t get angry at him for talking to him in such a manner. Instead, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“And you’re still planning to make mechanical engineering your career? Despite your fear?”

Leo nodded slowly. “Yeah. Building and fixing inanimate objects is the only thing I’ve ever known how to do. I was basically born with a hammer and a wrench in my hands and I was capable of building toys for myself when I was like four. After an accident…” He refrained from mentioning his mother because he couldn’t guarantee he would be able to stay calm if he brought that up. “… I haven’t been able to light up a match or anything like that. But almost five years ago, two awesome women adopted me and one of them is a mechanic. She reminded me what I really love about tinkering and it was then that I decided that I wanna keep trying. It’s a process but I am working on it.”

The professor smiled a little. “You know… a lot of our students were unable to take the chemistry lab course in the fall, so we decided to organize another course now in the spring. As it happens, there’s still some room for new people in it. So, if you’re interested, you’re welcome. But remember, you would need to attend all the mandatory classes and complete the tasks that you are assigned, no exceptions. That means we will not be going easy on you just because of your fear.”

Leo’s eyes widened with surprise. He hadn’t expected to get a chance like that.

“Woah, thanks sir! I won’t let you down!”

“That’s good to hear,” the professor nodded approvingly. “Can I ask you a question, though? Why do you want to become a mechanical engineer? I mean, what exactly is it that fascinates you about it, other than the influences you have gotten at your home?”

Leo imagined that the professor could probably see the bolts and nuts moving in his brain as he formed his answer. “I… I wanna learn to develop products that will help us make the world a safer, more sustainable place for us. We engineers, if anyone, can develop technology that will help us achieve that goal. But that’s not all. I also wanna learn more so I can help to share the information forward. I wanna show kids who come from similar backgrounds as I that they should keep on dreaming. There was a time when my mom ate porridge - only porridge - for her meals so she could pay the rent when her business was slow, but she still kept doing it. Because that’s how much she cared about her job. And I want to continue in her footsteps.”

The professor shifted on his seat. “That is an admirable goal, Mr. Valdez. I hope you will succeed. Remember, you do have the skill – you just need to know how to use it.”

“Yeah… Thanks professor.”

“No problem. Don’t forget the class enrollments end tonight so you need to be fast if you want to participate. That’s all for now. Good luck in your future endeavors.”

“Thanks. I’ll go enroll myself then. Bye for now.”

“See you, Mr. Valdez.”

Leo breathed a long sigh of relief the moment he stepped out of the professor’s office. The meeting had gone way better than he had dared to expect. He hadn’t thought he would get another chance so fast, but was grateful for the opportunity. Now, he would only need to kick his fears into the deepest pits of Tartarus, as Calypso would say.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

10 notes · View notes

oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

Text

Love Talk - Taehyung

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Lace)

Wordcount: 11k words

Genre: smut, fluff, (Taehyung is moody but no angst I guess) dating au, idol au

Rating: 18+

Finally! I can post this! My inner praise-thirsty brat has been missing y’all’s attention so here I am!

Actually I’ve managed to write the end this afternoon after I finished writing a whole chapter of my dissertation (God, why do I need a degree...)

Anyway, here is Taehyung’s take at love talk. This is clearly smut, so minors please, do not read or interact.

Quick recap/everything you need to know before reading. Taehyung and Lace (in this fic called many many nicknames since “Lace” hasn’t sticked yet) have been dating for a couple months and Tae has been taking it slow, they have done some coupley stuff and have made out, but they haven’t been really physical yet. Until he visits her late at night after coming back from a trip in Paris with Jimin. And he has a gift which might spark up something interesting.

Disclaimer: Personally, I don’t see Lace as the stereotypical slim girl, but there’s a very generic reference to this. Also, Lace has taken bondage and basic domination lessons in a dungeon. Taehyung knows this. Both of them treat this fact as something serious rather than a kinky fun fact, since it comes from one of Lace’s insecurities.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: woah. so. Foreplay, mostly masturbation (male and female receiving), making out and grinding, marking, biting, Oral (male receiving), duality king Kim Taehyung, mental health and depression, body image issues, the characters discuss public sex, food play, oral sex, sensation play and impact play, wax play, tantric massage, BDSM, domination, bondage and submission, sex toys, exhibitionism, dungeons. Both the characters have had same-sex experiences and relationships. There might be a few swearwords here and there.

Wordcount: 11k. This thing is big so I’ll come back and edit it a bit at a time.

Here is my masterlist!

And remember to vote for next prompt :) (link in bio!)

Enjoy <3

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

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He replied right back. He was standing in the empty corridor at three a.m., the light coming from your doorway illuminating his chocolate curls, his eyes gleaming darkly. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, opening the door and letting him in.

The low lights of your hallway made him move slowly in the room, since he’d never ventured upstairs before. Reaching your living room, you switched on the small lamp beside the sofa, a gentle yellow warmth diffusing.

“Your house is very pretty.” He said, looking around.

“It’s basic. I’m still trying to buy some pieces as I go.” You commented, your mind still slowed down by sleep.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s late.” He said. He was being extremely scarce with his words. “We arrived in town ten minutes ago.”

“How was our trip?” You asked out of habit. You were still trying to understand what to expect from this.

“Very tiring.” He murmured. “I think I’ll be jetlagged all the way to next week.”

He had been in Paris with Jimin after being in London for group schedule. Of course he’d been conflicted between coming back to you and spending some time with his best friend, but at the same time, he thought you'd been dating for a short time and after all, he should give Jimin the priority.

You smiled. “Eight hours?”

“Seven.” He corrected. “May I?” He gestured to the sofa, a two-seats dark red velvet number dominating the room entirely.

You nodded.

“You look incredible.” His low voice made your insides shake. “Have you just woken up?” He shook his head in disappointment. “I’ve woken you up, haven’t I?” He shook his head, reprimanding himself.

“It’s okay.” You said, sitting beside him at a respectful distance. “What brings you here at three a.m. on a workday?” You asked, mischief tinting your voice.

“I wanted to see you.” He replies dryly.

What’s with the atmosphere?

Something felt off. It wasn’t just your sleep-addled mind. There was tension.

“Okay.” You argued back in his same attitude.

He shook his head, throwing his spine against the pillows, inflating his lungs. As he turned towards you, something lustful and obscure possessed his eyes. “Say yes.”

You furrowed your brow. “To what?”

“Fuck, just say yes, ____.” He begged with a growl.

You bit your lip and nodded.

He was on you in a millisecond, kissing you with an intensity that you didn’t think his lithe figure could muster. Yes, of course he was solid under your touch but his body was sinewy rather than bulky. It was a matter of kinetic force rather than actual strength.

He smothered you under his torso, your lungs constricting with the impact. The kiss wasn’t even an attempt at gentleness. It was a matter of teeth and tongues and sucking straight away. Your hand gripped the hair at his nape, trying to control him, slow him down. If he kept this up, he was going to bruise your lips. Soon he grew breathless and parted from your lips. His body was thrown over the sofa, over your lap, into your arms.

“I’ve been thinking of this single spot for days.” He murmured, diving for the crook of your neck, immediately nibbling on it. One hand already on your hair, he tried to move the other one around you, between your back and the soft burgundy velvet. “And I find you all fuzzy and warm from sleep, skin tender, freshly woken up, wearing this sorry excuse of a nightgown.” He snarled.

“Taehyung.” You murmured.

“Lace looks incredible on you, dove.” He lowered his head and started sucking on the upper curve of your left breast, clearly intending to leave a bruise.

You combed his hair back, looking at him while his eyes stared into yours.

“Tae, baby. Why don’t we get more comfortable? I have a queen size bed in the other room, are you sure you want to stay on the sofa?” You offered gently.

He shook his head, still latched onto you, no intention of letting go whatsoever.

"Taetae, you're gonna get a cramp, darling." You caressed his face with affection, his wide-eyed look making you weak.

He finally parted from you and inspected the bruise. Happy with the result, he kissed the mark, drying it with his cheek, slightly scratching you with his stubble. "I think we should stay on the sofa." He argued with a rumble.

He wouldn't answer for himself if he had you in bed. And it was too early to go all the way anyway. Of course his aim was getting his hands under your clothes — and possibly your hands under his, — but he also knew he wanted to take his time. His will was still strong enough to wait, but he knew, were he to be tempted, he would not hesitate. And he knew he wanted to play it slow, go one base at a time before diving all the way in.

"Were you listening, Tae?" You asked, noticing the absent look on his face.

He shook his head with an innocent look, his curls tickling your bosom.

You giggled, fondness warming your gaze. "You want to stay here?"

He nodded, his hair grazing your skin once more, his expression sparkling with a playful smile.

"Then we'll stay here." You declared. "Do you want something to drink? Something to eat? To you it should be dinner time, right?" You fussed.

"No, I'm okay, I'm trying to adjust." He explained. His expression went blank for a moment before lighting up in an Eureka! moment. "I have a gift for you!" He chimed happily.

"Really?" You replied, incredulous.

"It's a bit artsy and sexy, but it's from Paris, so…" He shrugged.

"Oh, now I'm curious." You combed his hair back, exposing his forehead.

"Let me—" He sat upright, disentangling himself from you. He sat cross-legged on the sofa and dove for his canvas bag. "Here." He said, handing you a paper bag.

"Is it…" It was heavy. Very. You opened the bag and you were met with the heavy scent of printed paper. "A book." You realised, taking the volume in your hand, gently removing it from the bag. It was still covered in a thin layer of plastic. "Oh, God! It's that book! How did you find it?"

He grinned. "A friendly bookseller. A connoisseur." He winked. "I didn't open it. I didn't want to ruin it. And I wanted to open it with you. Do you like it?" He dove into the crook of your neck once more, shaking his shaggy locks against your tender skin.

"Thank you, baby." You kissed his cheek. You were still getting used to his mood swings from dark, charming gentleman to his bubbly tiger cub persona. “Do you mind if I go grab a glass of water and then we leaf through it together?” You asked.

“Yeah. Grab one for me too.” If he had to have you half naked beside him for an hour or so, he’d better have something to keep him cool.

As you did your thing in the kitchen he looked around, wide eyed. The relaxing golden light coming from the lamp illuminated a shelf of fashion books and a series of black and white pictures on the walls. He recognised one as a feather. It looked very classy, still he knew you had bought it in a cheap shop downtown, a vintage parlour the two of you had visited during your fourth date.

“Here, Tae.” You said, entering the room, putting the glasses on the small tables at each side of the sofa, one of which hosted the lamp.

“Thank you.” He was sitting comfortably, legs slightly parted, his back laying on the sofa, elbows propped on the pillows. You stood in front of him, admiring him a little.

He was used to being watched, but your scrutiny was so fierce and detached that he felt crystallised, as if any movement would send him shattering on the floor like a frozen leaf.

He looked up at you, mesmerised, but also so terribly afraid of your next move. Like you could incinerate him with your eyes. Slowly, he raised his back from his slouching, hands naturally meeting your hips. It was intimate and cold at the same time. You felt afraid of the intensity he could evoke with a simple touch and a glance.

He called your name and it felt like an awakening, like you had never had a name before. His long lashes covered the upper part of his irises, giving you the sultriest, darkest look.

“Taehyung.” You whispered back, in hope you would sound just like he did.

His hands moved from your hips to your waist, bringing you closer, right in front of him. He scooted closer to the edge of the cushion, his nose skimming the soft silk of your nightgown from your sternum to the dip of your navel. “I missed you, darling.” He kissed your belly, propping his chin on your stomach.

Again, you combed his hair back. “I did send you a small gift, though.” You reminded him coolly.

Once again he remembered the picture, the voice text, your breathy moans and needy whines as you whispered how much you were missing him, how dumb you had been to tell him that you could wait one more week before seeing him again. Your relationship wasn't sexual yet, but during his short stay in Paris you realised how quickly it had escalated, feeling the need to simply tell him how he made you feel, how hot it was to listen to his deep, warm voice as he talked about his day. He could have been reading his shopping list and you would get wet anyway.

"You did send it." He replied. "And it was wholeheartedly appreciated." He said with a growl.

You licked your lips as you noticed his legs spreading farther, parting to accommodate your standing figure.

"Are you gonna make me beg for it?" He murmured, a pinch of worry in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, playing confused.

Shaking his head, he tutted and grabbed your waist, his strong fingers digging into your skin as he turned you with his back to him, making you sit heavily between his thighs. "I won't beg for you tonight, Lace." He huffed minaciously in your ear, one arm coiling around your waist while his other palm dragged possessively from your hip bone to your knee, fingers digging into the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“Let’s look at your kinky, niche art book.” He growled at your ear.

Nodding silently, you bent to the coffee table, lunging for the book, your hair tumbling forward and exposing the naked expanse of your shoulders.

Of course he profited from the moment, lunging forward, drawing the line of your spine with the tip of his nose, from the upper hem of your nightgown to your nape, inhaling the flowery scent of your shampoo.

You almost lost your grip on the heavy book, your body responding to his touch with a deep shiver and a slight loss of balance. He gripped your waist tighter, helping you up. “Did you like that?” He asked.

You let your short breath and stumbling heartbeat speak for you.

“Did you like that, sweetheart?” He asked again.

“Yeah.” You huffed.

He chuckled gruffly. “Open the book.”

You used your nail to open the thin plastic foil, ripping it until you managed to open the cover. The first page was an unmade bed, the title printed in a dark, heavy font.

“Passion portrayed”

The theme was very… French. Your ex-flatmate had recommended you the book, printed by one of her former university classmates.

It didn’t even feign being ordinary or appropriate. From the very title of it, it was unmistakeably an erotic book, meant to expose intimate parts of the subjects’ life, exhibitionism in its most artistic vest.

“How does it work?” Asked Taehyung, his chin settling on your shoulder.

“It’s a book.” You said, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but the theme.” He said, taking the book from your hands and turning it around, searching for an abstract.

You shrugged. “From what I’ve been told, some couples asked the photographer for a series of intimate pictures. They loved the results so much that they asked if the author ever thought of publishing them as a collection. The pictures were selected and rearranged to create this book.” You explained, using your forearm to sustain the back of the book, your hand turning the first page.

“I like this.” Taehyung said, the page printed fully offering a wide, light green clearing in the middle of a wood. The straw field was bathed in orange twilight, the light cutting perfectly into the lens, creating small, interference halos in the picture.

You smiled, nodding, your hair brushing against his cheek.

He exhaled, his body relaxing. You felt so soft. Like his personal teddy bear. The skin of your thigh was warm against his palm, if slightly clammy. You were holding the book so to allow his hands to wander and he felt somehow confused and grateful for it, not knowing whether he could take advantage or whether you were just testing him.

“Tell me when you want me to turn.” You said quietly.

“Turn.” He said. The following two pages were only partly printed, hosting a smaller photograph on the center of each page. Both offered the same setting as before with a change of perspective, one lowered to the ground, in a picnic, the traditional chequered blanket laying on the ground, a wicker basket, small glass cups for wine, grapes, cheese and picturesque, cliché sandwiches; the other filtered through the backseat of a pickup. The definition of an American Sixties teenage rendezvous. “I can kind of figure where this is headed.” He murmured.

You snickered. “I can only imagine.”

You turned the page again. Black and flashes of neon pink. Probably a club, empty.

“Wow.” You said. The atmosphere had changed dramatically, contrasting with the previous page. The juxtaposition was somehow interesting.

“Turn?” He asked.

You obeyed. Same disposition of pictures: two, smaller, at the center of the page, same setting — the club — but through a different cut. A gothic black velvet armchair, the seat surrounded by elaborate swirls of sculpted ebony. The glimmering of metal in the darkness, reflecting the neon hot pink.

“It looks like an adult club.” He murmured, his finger exploring the vague shape of chains hanging from the wall in the picture on the right.

“I think so, too.” You agreed. “Have you ever visited one?” You asked, turning slightly to examine his reaction.

He denied with a tut. “I’d like to visit one, though. It would be curious.” He shrugged. “Have you?”

You cocked your head to the side. “Kind of.”

He waited for you to elaborate.

“Call it an occupational hazard of sort for a lingerie retailer. You just get used to a lot of crazy stuff, meet a lot of crazy people, get into a lot of crazy hobbies.” You approximately justified yourself.

“Was it for your… extracurricular?” He asked, a lazy smirk on his face.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, licking your lips.

He nodded delicately, trying not to punch his chin into your collarbone. “Next?” He called and you turned the page.

A bluish bathroom. Maybe a spa room, it had a massage bed. But everything was blue. Entirely blue. Blue tiles, blue floor, blue carpet, blue supplies. Blue. everywhere. Soothing, calm. “So much blue.” He commented.

“I think she’s going through primary colours. Yellow, reddish pink, blue. We’ll see what’s next.” You explained.

Tae stared at the picture. “Do you like it?”

“I’m not sure.” You turned the page. Again, two smaller pictures at the center of each page. The first one was a closeup of the massage bed, with its plush blue cover and a small shelf of products and candles. The other picture contained another detail, a white, thick candle and its burning wick against the dark blue tiles.

You nodded with a knowing huff.

“Want me to turn?” You asked.

Taehyung hummed in approval.

Black. And white. And grey. This is the same setting as the title page: bedroom, silken, glimmering sheets. But now you could figure out the rest of the room. A plain bedroom, the headboard made by a sophisticated tangle of iron swirls and bars, the rest of the scene empty except for a big wardrobe and a drawer. The setting in time is completely anonymous, the black and white chromatism killing any light that could suggest day or night or twilight.

“Turn.”

First detail: the silken sheets appearing through the iron bars at the foot of the bed.

Second detail: some absolutely ordinary, if not cheap and old clothes abandoned on the wooden floor of the room.

This is where it starts.

Taehyung was growing impatient, his hand getting restless on your leg. He started drawing small circles with his short nails on your inner thigh. "So…"

You stopped turning the page, leaving it perfectly standing, pinched between your fingers.

He suddenly shut his mouth, as if he had decided not to speak, however his glance gave him off, his eyes stuck on the page you had just uncovered.

He moved his hand from your belly, catching your wrist and making you turn the page fully.

On the page on the left a dainty, lithe female body occupied most of the picture, picturing the torso and lower body, covered only slightly in a cute, gingham lingerie set with small embroidered cherries. It looked like coquettish demureness, the combination extremely girly and juvenile on the model’s barely-there curves.

You turned to Taehyung as you felt his adam’s apple bob against your neck. He was staring at the picture on the other page, where a wooden honey dipper hovered over the girl’s lower abdomen, dripping the sticky, sweet liquid on her skin, her bent thigh hiding her crotch from the camera. “I like the angle. And the colours.” You commented.

He nodded simply.

You observed the picture for one more second before letting your fingers reach for the corner of the page to turn.

“Would you let me do that to you?” He growled, leaving a soft kiss on your neck.

Let him cover you in honey? “Would you lick it away?” You asked, curious, trying as hard as possible to play it cool. Secretly you were self-combusting.

“Duh. Of course.” He kissed you again.

“Yes.” You replied, without even thinking about it for half a second.

The following page moved back to the club, all black and magenta. This time everything you could see was the silhouette of someone laying on their front, naked, on a flat surface. It was impossible to recognise a male or female anatomy. It made everything more interesting. On the page beside, the picture focused on the dip of their spine, showing a vague outline of the shoulder blades and the frilly tip of a feather barely grazing the skin, as if the person in the room with them was running the… tool? down his or her spine.

“And you, would you let me do this to you?” You asked, curious, looking at him.

His fingers clawed at your lower thigh, making you hiss at his vicious grip. “You want to torture me, sweetie?” He teased, parting your thighs. The cool air licked at your sweaty skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. “Want to make me furious? Get me mad?” His lazy, soft kisses turned into an aggressive nipping, his main intent that of making bruises bloom on your tender skin.

“I want to see you wild.” You replied, still hoping to sound detached, even though at this point it was your own arousal rather than your sweat making your thighs clammy. “I’ve seen your stages. You roar.” You used your free hand to grab and knead his knee, but unfortunately he stopped you.

“Hands on the book.” He reprimanded. “What about my stages?”

Flashbacks of his Singularity performances ran through your mind. “You’re sultry. Seductive. Predatory. And so aggressive.” You explained. “So sinful...” You admitted.

“I know it drives you crazy.” He whispered, nuzzling into the underside of your ear.

“Fucking insane.” You huffed out, leaning into him.

He chuckled. “You’re so weak for me.” He mocked you.

You wiggled a little in his hold, your backside brushing against his lap, a deep, vibratoed moan exiting his mouth. “You’re so weak for me.” You teased back.

And then you squealed. He had just bitten your shoulder. “Turn the page, you menace.”

You did as you were told. This time it was a woman for sure laying on the massage bed, her body covered from chest to knee by a pale fluffy towel. Again, everything felt a bit too blue. You liked that she looked overall fuller, curvier than the previous models, the towel draping around her curved belly, her fleshy thighs. It wasn’t that strategically planned plumpness. It was genuine, showing both the traditionally attractive and the socially unaccepted parts of body fat. It wasn’t all tits and ass. It was arms, calves, belly. And it looked beautiful. Still, you couldn’t see her face.

“You like her?” Taehyung asked.

You shrugged. “Her body's non-canonically beautiful. You can tell that she loves her body. I like that she didn’t let society kill her vibe, that she likes her body so much that she wanted to have this kind of pictures taken. I think she trusts the photographer a lot.” You shook your head. “I’m so dumb. All of them must have trusted the photographer a lot. I don’t know why a curvier person would be more insecure about her body than a slimmer person.”

“I think society kind of taught us that people who don’t adhere to a certain beauty standard should or actually do feel ashamed for it.” Taehyung mumbled. “I don’t see why a curvier girl should be ashamed. And curvy is not just the sexy curve. Curvy is fleshy, handfuls everywhere. I don’t really care. I just want flesh and fullness to grip while I’m fucking.” He continued mumbling with a slightly careless but also complaining tone.

Suddenly the meaning of the hand coming around your middle, gripping the skin on your side and occasionally your love handles changed meaning. “So that’s what you were doing when you gripped me?” You asked. The first time he did it during one of your previous dates, you had felt wary, almost called-out by his action.

“When?”

“The first time we kissed. And then some.” You blushed. “I thought you were pointing out that I’m fat.”

“You’re not fat. You’re beautiful and sexy and yeah, you’re soft, so what? You feel so good. And we all have body fat. You like eating. You eat regularly and healthily. You care for yourself and love yourself. You’re one of the most confident women I’ve ever seen.”

You dipped your head, trying to avoid spilling the tear almost rolling down your cheek. “Thank you.”

“And you make lingerie look like sin.” He added, turning your head and holding you tighter. “I grip you and grab you because you’re sexy and because I need to stop myself from doing dumb, ridiculous stuff. And you’re squishy. It calms down my nerves. It soothes me.” He kissed your cheek. “If you ever decided to lose weight I would support you, of course, but if it were for me, I wouldn’t want you any other way.” He kissed you again. “And look!” he pointed to the following photography. “She seems to like curvy girls too.” He pointed to the other female figure appearing in the picture, standing beside the bed, untucking the towel and revealing the top of the laying woman’s breasts. “I like that they have a same-sex couple. Do you think they’ll have two boys too?” He asked.

“Are you interested?” You asked, no judgement or excitement in your voice, trying to silently communicate that he was safe whatever his reply would be.

“I mean, you have two girls, why not two boys?” He said, raising one shoulder. “Plus, I’m not opposed to it.”

“Have you ever had a boy?” You asked, quite blatantly.

He tutted. “It was a quick thing. I prefer girls, I think. The female body is more attractive.” He confessed. “It has way more secrets. It’s more interesting to explore.” He pushed his hips against your backside. “I think that the moment I feel attraction and curiosity, I let myself experience it. I don’t limit myself to something as dumb as gender.”

You loved his eclectic, versatile tastes. He is experimental and seductive, a natural hedonist.

“That sounds good for you.” You admitted.

“Have you had girls?” He asked, curious.

You smiled. “Yeah. I was in a relationship with a girl, in uni. A small thing.” You told him. “And yeah, they’re more interesting.”

“Right, you mentioned.” Taehyung remembered.

“I don’t wanna sound rude or pervy but… how was the sex? I mean, is it different, other than anatomically speaking?” He asked.

You exhaled, thinking about it more accurately, trying to remember. “Every person is different. I never really had male lovers, but the few subs I had all had something special and different — not that I had that many, that is.” You blushed.

He nosed his way through your hair and against your nape.

“It was more… conversational?” You tried finding the right word. “We gave each other a lot of constructive feedback.” You reminisced. “And fuck, I loved how responsive she was.” You scrunched your face. “I do miss fucking a girl every now and then. Wrecking a pretty girl gives me quite a boost of adrenaline and self esteem.” You admitted with a wild, embarrassed laugh.

“I agree to that.” He laughed too, his diaphragm moving with a belly laugh that ricocheted from his stomach into your back. “I can’t wait to wreck you.” He spoke with a dirty, hot, gruff voice.

You arched your neck, offering him the curve of your shoulder as you licked your lower lip. “Why aren’t you inside me already?”

The hand on your thigh, which had lost some pressure, climbed half an inch higher. “Because you couldn’t wait to see this book.”

You shook your head in disagreement.

“And because I’ll put my fingers inside you first.” He said aggressively. “And because I’m waiting. When I’m so desperate that I’ll wake up sweaty and horny in the middle of the night because I was dreaming of your dripping, sweet cunt on my face, then I’ll come fuck you until your entire body is nothing but a pretty toy trained for my pleasure.” His hand shifted from the harsh grip on your side to the devious, light, teasing fingertip tracing your puffy areola and erect nipple which were pushing against the satin of your nightgown. "I need to wake up so fucked out that I can conjure your taste in my mouth, that I can almost feel the wetness of you around my fingers. Your pretty, red lips around my cock.”

You hummed at that, wanting nothing but the stretching feel of his blunt, long erection inside your mouth, warm and salty down your throat. “Fuck my mouth, Tae. Please.”

He snarled and snickered. “Not a chance, darling. Now, turn the page.” He felt dumb for turning you down, but he had plans. He needed to resist. Good boys go to heaven.

Turn the page. The black and white felt soothing after all the coloured shots. “Oh.”

Taehyung breathed out loudly. “Fuck.”

You were too fascinated by the picture to look at him.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You replied.

“You’d let me?” He asked again.

You nodded. “Would you? Let me, I mean...”

“You wanna tie me up?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You momentarily put the book on your legs joining your pointer fingers together at the fingertip. “I have taken lessons, so...” You bit your lip, blushing.

He kissed your shoulder. “I can’t wait to try that. With you.” He gave you small bites this time, playful and caring. “And I’d be very happy if you taught me too.” His hand caressed your belly gently, the other one digging in the valley between your joined tights.

“Thank you, baby.” You pressed your shoulders into his chest enjoying the solid feeling of his body supporting yours.

“Anything for you.” He replied politely. “Now, can we move on?” He asked, trying to ignore the picture that had sparked the conversation, where a man wearing only boxers laid in bed, his wrists tied to the bedpost with a sturdy, rough rope.

You nodded, picking up the book and turning the page. Back to the babygirl in the field. This time her lover had his mouth on her; the shot a closeup of his stubbly cheek and chin and his open mouth sucking at her inner thigh. In the matching picture his mouth was on her small breast, sucking her nipple over the fabric of her bra. You clenched your legs slightly, wiggling a little in your seat.

It went maybe unnoticed. Maybe. Taehyung stopped breathing for a second, until you settled and he managed to gain his cool again.

You managed to keep it cool with the second set, the dungeon, where the only thing really happening was for the feather to caress the submissive’s ass, in the picture on the left, only to be substituted by a furred glove on the following photograph.

The third set had Taehyung gasping and moaning. You simply breathed out a small laugh. “Will you do this to me too?” You asked.

“I’m gonna worship you head to toe, dove.” He grinned, observing the pictures. Both involved the standing woman massaging the laying one, with strong, oiled hands kneading the round globes of her ass and thighs, the soft and pale plants of her feet.

“I love your hands.” You murmured, placing yours atop the one on your navel.

He smirked. “Don’t you?” He twisted his wrist to intertwine your fingers.

Nodding, you added: “They look so strong. And big.” You took a deep breath, daydreaming about the feel of them grabbing your breasts, your ass, your neck, pinning your wrists, moving inside you. Your brain had a special gallery dedicated exclusively to his hands.

“I bet you can’t wait to have them inside you.” He teased, the hand on your thigh climbing a little closer to your heat. You were wondering how long it would take for him to find out about your little surprise for him.

Let him live in innocence for now.

“That, yes.” You admitted, not even playing coy. “And also I can’t wait to see them on yourself.” You provoked him, hoping that he would understand.

“You want to see me touch myself?” He asked, his face absolutely impassive.

“Yes.” You replied plainly.

He laughed with a series of quiet exhales. “We’ll see.”

You turned a few pages, observing all the small details of the four different foreplay scenes.

“Would you do it outdoors?” He asked at a certain point, his stare fixed on the coquettish blonde angel sucking off her partner at the picnic.

You raised an eyebrow. “If the setting was right, yes. Though here in Seoul it's quite difficult.”

“We could visit my hometown. There are a lot of empty, remote fields over there.” He said, his arm holding you tight as he made both your bodies scoot back, away from the edge of the sofa.

“I would rather avoid you risking your career for a fuck out in the open air.” You commented pragmatically.

“We’re only risking that if we get caught. And I’m sure we’re smart enough.” He tried to convince you.

“What about insects? Bugs? Safety?” You asked, concerned.

“We’ll think about it in detail if we ever decide to walk down this path, yeah?” He suggested respectfully.

You pouted, nodding in agreement.

“Holy shit, look at this.” You commented, quite shocked. In the dungeon, the dom was sprinkling glitters on the backside of his submissive, which you had discovered being — much to Taehyung’s chagrin — also a man.

“I want that. Oh my God, they're gonna get all over the place.” He replied, frowning at the thought. “You can go through major catastrophes and those bitches would still colonize every nook and cranny of your body.” His brow creased. “But fuck it looks amazing.” Especially since in the second picture the dom was using a leather glove to spank his sub, making all the glitter disperse into the air at the impact, creating a purplish halo around the silhouette of the spankee.

“I’m gonna spank you.” He said, out of the blue. “I hope you’re okay with that.”

Yes, sir, Your slutty brain replied. “We’ll see,” you said out loud.

Ha laughed dryly. "You'll want me to. It's only a matter of time."

You turned around, smirking at him. You tipped his chin back with a finger, kissing him with a cruel tenderness. His eyes closed, initially surprised, but then he became more than eager to deepen the kiss. Still you drew back, while his mouth tried to chase after yours.

"No." You whispered.

"Are you telling me no?" He asked gruffly. "Mh?" The hand between your thighs had kept rising and by now his palm laid on the junction between your hip and thigh, his index tracing your mound. "Is it a no?"

You moaned lasciviously. Was he going to discover your surprise for him?

He finally reached your sex, expecting to meet a wet patch on your underwear. "____. Where are your panties?" He murmured in your ear.

You bit your lip. "Not wearing any." You murmured gently.

"Say it again." He growled.

"I'm not wearing panties, Tae." You mewled tauntingly.

He moved his hand from your navel to your breast, the other one cupping your crotch.

"Naughty girl." He snarled. "Bad, bad girl." His mouth latched at your neck while his hands pushed you further into him, his erection pressing against the small of your back.

"I want you." You whined. "So bad, Tae. Please."

"You're wet for me?" He said, his mouth parting from your skin long enough to interrogate you, only to continue to lick you as soon as he was done talking.

"I'm drenched. I want you. Make me cum, Tae, please."

His chest shook with an evil laugh. "You told me no earlier." He replied.

"I made a mistake. I only wanted to tease you." You cried out, your free hand trying to reach for his between your legs.

"Hands on the book, bad kitty." He said, nibbling your earlobe.

You obeyed with some quiet complaining.

"Why would you tease me?" He asked

"I wanted you to want me." You confessed. "I wanted you to stop resisting me."

"I'm not gonna fuck you." He repeated. "But nothing is stopping me from making you cum with my fingers." He kissed your temple. "Are you okay with that?"

You nodded. "Just make me cum, Tae."

He snickered. "Then keep your hands on the book. Keep watching your kinky pictures. Let's see what makes you even wetter."

You whimpered as his long fingers moved against your folds, and you parted your legs further to grant him better access.

On the following page, the women had moved from a tantric massage to a steamy, slow session of waxplay. The receiving partner was now laying on her back, her breasts exposed for her lover, her skin glistening with oil as the other woman let a droplet fall on her unmarred skin, however you could tell it wasn't the first drop from a stain barely visible in the corner of the picture, out of focus.

Taehyung interrupted your musings with a twitch of his fingers, while he spoke directly in your ear. "What about waxplay, darling? Would you like to try that?"

You exhaled at the movement, your head falling forward as the muscles on your neck went slack.

"Your body would be a work of art, covered in coconut oil, sweat, droplets of wax and my cum."

You felt your soul leave your body. From your seated position your inner organs were positioned so that his fingers perfectly reached your g-spot. "Fuck, Tae, you're fucking perfect."

He kissed the corner of your mouth, the hand on your chest toying with the hem of your nightie until he slipped the strap off your shoulder and uncovered your naked breast. "Oh, you like it." He bent some more trying to reach for your mouth. He thought about using one hand to turn your face but he was content with where they were at the moment.

The black and white bondage scene turned into a submission exercise, the woman standing on her knees over the face of the laying man, using a vibrator to pleasure herself.

And he simply laid there, mouth open, waiting. You almost turned when Taehyung stopped you. "I'd love to try that." His voice was slightly strained, probably from the strange angle he was in. Both his arms were busy and working from a difficult position. Not that you noticed.

Ever since he had started touching you, you had been in a haze, your head feeling extremely light and floaty.

"Anything you want." You replied before your voice broke in a mewl. "I'm close." You were, already, and incredibly so. All you needed was for him to keep talking. "I wanna hear your voice."

"What do you want to hear, Lace? How soft your cunt feels on my fingers? It feels like fucking velvet, darling. Do you want to know how much I wanna eat you?" He moved closer to your ear. “I wanna hear you scream for me, Lace. I want you to be so loud that everyone will know you’re having the best orgasm of your life.” He bit your earlobe. “I’m gonna make you cum so many times you lose count. I’m gonna make you regret teasing me. I’m gonna make you cry in every best way possible.” His fingers moved faster between your legs, his thumb meeting your clit. “I’m gonna fuck you so much you’re gonna hate yourself for complaining I haven’t fucked you yet.”

His dirty words got to your head like liquor, your hips undulating to find the final stimulus you needed to come apart. You felt your backbone roll dangerously and in a few seconds you snapped forward, his forearm on your chest keeping you upright through your climax. “That’s it, Lace. Ride my fingers.” He commanded and you complied, like the needy, desperate animal you are for him. Only for him.

Never in your life had you experienced the need to bend over backwards for anyone, least of all a man; yet, here you were, pliant like putty in his hands, feeling submissive for the first time of your life. “Taehyung.” You whispered, too lost to realise it was barely hearable. Still, he noticed, slowing down his movements.

“Are you okay, dove?” He checked on you, his voice warm and caring.

You shook your head yes. “I need a second.” You said through heavy breath.

He moved away the hand on your breast, bringing it to your cheek, making you ease back against him and cradling your body gently. “It was beautiful, Lace. Beautiful. I can’t wait to see you do that again.” He murmured, comforting you and praising you.

You giggled cutely in reply, turning toward his face and puckering your lips.

He read your cue and pressed his lips to yours chastely. “Need some water, dove?” He asked.

You nodded and for a second he thought how he could possibly grab the closest glass with both his hands busy. Noticing that, you caught his dirty hand and brought it to your face.

“Lace.” He groaned as you observed the slick coating his fingers.

“Tae.” You groaned right back at him, turning to give him a nice view before you put his fingers in your mouth, sucking lewdly.

His hips rolled below you, his eyes fighting to stay open while his forehead met your temple, jaw hanging low in a silent invitation to slide your tongue in his mouth. What you did, your devious will overpowering you, was to free his digits and part them in a V against your lips and chin, lashing your tongue out in the valley between his middle and ring finger to make out with him.

The sound he emitted was something so dirty and lewd that you found yourself turned on again, ready to slip his hand between your thighs once more.

“I cannot fuck you tonight.” He reminded himself once he parted from your tongue — and his hand.

“I still don’t see why.” You teased, always the temptress in a wild attempt to lure him into your bed.

“I need to take my time.” He gave himself the whole talk. “I need to learn you, your language, your tells and cues. Let’s run the bases and then I’ll take it home. Let’s enjoy every little step that takes us there.” He explained, giving you his whole vision.

You nodded. This is what he wanted. To make every single milestone meaningful, important, unique. “You should have said.” You caressed his face. “I wouldn’t have been so bratty, had I know of that.” You kissed his cheekbone.

“It’s cool.” He breathed out, eyes shut, teeth gritted.

“Are you okay?” You asked, fondling him some more.

“I’m just… dealing with something.” He replied, stressed, pressing his hips against your.

And you felt him. He must have been pretty big.

“Would you let me take care of you?” You questioned tentatively.

He shook his head. Then waited a few second. “Would it be okay if I grind against you?”

You raised your eyebrows, only to grin madly after it. “Yeah. Whatever works for you, love. Touch yourself, grind, I don’t care, just… let me be there for you.” You comforted him.

“Water first.” He said, using his clean hand to reach for the glass, mourning the departure from your chest for a quick second. As soon as he brought the glass to your lips, you took it from his grasp and placed his palm back to your chest, taking a small sip and and offering him some. He stretched over your shoulder and you helped him drink, tipping the glass carefully to avoid him choking or spilling. As soon as he was done you moved the glass back to the small table, grabbing the book in the process.

“Okay, back to where we left.” His hand covered in a dried up mixture of your and his spit laid on your navel, hiking up your nightie. The other was cementified to your naked breast, toying with your nipple.

On the pages there was an escalation of foreplay, the American sweethearts moving on to her offering him a blowjob.

“You okay with that?” You asked Taehyung, refusing to assume that all men love blowjobs.

“I think so, yeah. I hope in the near future I’ll be able to feed you my cock multiples time a day, sweetie.” He indulged in your kink, still shocked by your earlier request to suck him off.

You had to stop yourself from asking him to feed you now. He had asked for one step at a time. You owed him that. “All you need to do is ask, Tae.” You simply reminded him.

“Can’t wait to see you on your knees for me.” He mumbled, his hips thrusting up against you.

“What about spanking tools?” He asked as you turned the page, amazed by the riding crop that the dom was sporting.

“I’ve used them in the past, but I’ve never had them used on me.” You confessed. “I tested them on myself first before using them on someone, obviously, but I was never… I’ve never been truly dominated by someone else, so—”

He moaned and caressed your neck with the tip of his nose. “That’s okay. We don’t have to...”

You shook your head. “I want to, though. Just— easy. As you said, one step at a time.”

He ohed at that, nipping at your jutting collarbone.

You went through some more pages, discussing details, objects, feelings.

Of course your fascination with the dungeon scene grew when Taehyung cupped your pubis once more as a flogger appeared in the picture. “I’m close, I just wanna feel your wetness.” He explained. “I’d love to use that—” He indicated the flogger with a gesture of his chin “—to tease you. Drag its soft tips from your toes to your breasts, flick it innocently over your sensitive nipples. Draw lazy circles on your belly. Watch you lick, suck and hump the handle.”

You awed at that. Most importantly you awed at how he was pressing his hard on against your asscheeks through his trousers and your nightie.

“I’m close.” After ten minutes of being on the very edge of it, he gave up and brought his hand to his crotch, just adding more pressure. You felt somehow disappointed that you wouldn’t feel him on you anymore.

The next page was his undoing. In the bedroom scene, the man was still bound, propped up against the pillows, wide eyed, imploring. On the right page you discovered why: the woman was showing him her backside, on her knees, chest to the mattress, fucking herself with a huge dildo. “Fuck” he growled. “Lace, would you?” He asked, needing you to talk, to give him a scenario.

“Yes, I would. I would do it like that but I would also do it with your cock in my mouth, the dildo making me so relaxed that I could easily deepthroat the monster you’re hiding in your pants, mister.” You teased.

He smiled like the devil, barely holding in a snicker. “Fuck that, Lace, you just want my cock in your mouth, don’t you?” He mocked.

“I’ve never been so hungry for a cock, Taehyung. I just want to see you fucked out.” You had never felt so dirty and sexy in your life. You were fighting with your teeth and claws for him. There were so many people out there willing to do anything to get him. Might as well set the bar up high and offer him more than anyone else would ever dare to.

He whimpered, his forehead pressed to your nape.

You turned, grabbing his chin, making him look at you. “Let me see that bliss, Tae. Show me your pretty face when you cum for me.” You spurred him on gently. “Give me your best look. Come on, I wanna save that for the next time I fuck myself with my toy. Please.”

And he crumbled, holding your gaze, precipitating into oblivion. His mouth hung open, releasing a deep cry while his chest fell into your shoulders, pressing into you. He couldn’t care less about cumming in his pants, or messing up his trousers, in that moment he was only looking for a way to let his soul slither under your skin and tangle with yours. He wanted closeness and warmth and to leave his body and feel light.

When you saw his eyelids tremble, you tutted repeatedly, calling for his attention. “Keep looking at me, baby bear.”

He whined at the nickname, fighting the postorgasmic haze threatening to drag him under.

You fumbled with your hold of the book, freeing a hand to caress his wavy hair. “That’s it, baby.” You murmured, finally allowing him to let go of the snippet of control he had left over his body. “Are you okay, Tae?”

He nodded and inhaled against your neck, his mouth opening and laving your skin with heavy, wide and wet licks. He still had his hand between your legs and it looked like he was very happy with it.

"Are you happy, baby?" You asked him, combing his hair back.

He simply offered you an elated smile, nodding and nuzzling into you.

"You look so pretty when you cum, Tae. And so damn sexy." You praised him, being absolutely straightforward about your thoughts.

"I feel so good, ____." He said, his expression completely blissful.

"Do you want to keep leafing through the book?" You asked, still completely focused on him.

He scratched his cheek and nodded, even though he barely hid a yawn.

After making sure that he really wanted to keep going, you took hold of the book again. The couples in the pictures moved on from foreplay to actual intercourse, simply showing the closeness of body parts, but never including genitals in the photographs. It was only possible to identify which belonged to whom because of the light and setting. You appreciated the so-to-say gender neutrality of the shots.

"It's interesting how all the couples feel the same. The positions are slightly different but still there's always the same closeness, intensity, passion and intimacy." He noticed.

You agreed.

"It feels like they're together not just as in doing stuff together but actually exist together. They're one." He said, running his finger along the same possessive pose of the arm — snaking around the lovers back and keeping them close — which was featured on four different pictures put together, side by side, from each of the couples.

And finally it was the open mouths, the hard grips, the arched backs of an orgasm.

"It's so… Natural. The way we feel pleasure." He murmured, his heavy breathing and the movement of his lips teasing the sensitive spot behind your ear. "I mean, I know that there are some people who don't like sex. Or who don't perceive it as a necessity. And that's natural too." He thought about it some more. "But this feels like a universal language. Like music. You can read it in its little signs."

You were growing impatient again. The book was almost over, only a few pages left. What happens now? Does he want to leave? Is he going to stay?

You hesitated before turning the page, but he spurred you on.

This was aftercare. While the other photographs looked like they were made for the observers' aesthetic pleasure, this looked like invading the models' privacy.

"I feel uncomfortable." You spoke gently.

Taehyung worried. "Is it… Do you need space?" He asked, realising that you've been sitting for almost an hour in a very uncomfortable position. He started unraveling his hold on you but you stopped him, blocking his hand between your legs with the muscles of your thighs and blocking his other arm by catching his wrist. "I was talking about the pictures. It feels like I'm seeing something that I'm not supposed to see."

"Yup." He agreed. "But I like the one in the field. The one with the sweethearts." The sun had almost completely set behind the trees and the boy and girl were sitting exhausted in the backseat, her body perched on top of him, his head resting on her breast. "I would stay inside too." Taehyung said. "It's so warm. Intimate. And when you're tired and vulnerable it's so good to feel that emotionally together with someone. To stay sheathed inside." He mused.

You felt his fingers twitch almost imperceptibly on your folds. A wave of wetness oozed out.

"Oh, you're ready for another, doll?" He grinned, brushing against you more pressingly.

"Tae." You cried out.

"Yes, Lace?"

"Let me suck you." You said with a more imposing voice than before.

He made you turn your head and look him in the eye.

"You want that so bad?" He asked mischievously. "I guess you won't have any problem saying it again as you look me in eyes if you're truly so desperate for my dick."

You shook your head briefly. "Please Tae, let me suck your dick. If you don't give that to me I swear I'll go down the street and suck it to the first attractive man I see." You said, growing impatient both to his denying and his teasing.

"How can I say no to that?" He grinned sardonically. "Plus it would be dumb of me to put you at risk, wandering through the streets at this hour of the night wearing that skimpy mess of a nightgown." He parted your hair and moved it to the side, removing the locks that had stuck to your neck because of your sweat and his saliva. "And no panties.” His hand squished your breast aggressively. “You're driving me crazy with all this lace, baby.” He took a small pause, like he was thinking. “Come on, you want my cock in your mouth? Get in position and be ready to take it." He directed you harshly.

You put away the book, only the acknowledgements page left unread, and jumped to your feet, much to his chagrin, kneeling on the floor with the speed of a lightning.

“God, you sure are hungry for my dick, uh?” He kept getting cockier and cockier.

You probably should have played it cool, but you were too into it to fake aloofness. “Undo your trousers, Tae, please.”

He smirked, his eyelids lowered to look at you on the floor. He looked like a sex god, the kind of god that teaches unspeakable, sinful things.

His hands moved slowly and deliberately, so that you had the time to spot a wet patch of fabric where his tip was located. As soon as he undid his belt, you threw your hands at his button, but he stopped you.

“You don’t want me to block your hands, do you?” He warned you.

You raised an eyebrow as if doubting his words.

“I know basic knots, doll. Don’t test me.” He growled.

You pouted and looked at the floor.

He tutted. “Have I offended you, doll?” He questioned.

You rocked your head in a way that meant “so and so”.

He shook his head. “I’m so strict with you. I’m sorry, Lace.” He took a moment, thinking about how to make it up to you. “Would you be happy again if I asked you to pick a toy to play with while I use your mouth, doll?”

Your mouth opened slightly in surprise as you processed his request. You looked up at him. His zipper was undone, his cock partly out, his hand slowly, heavily petting it.

“Is this what you wanted to see, doll?” He threw his head back, licking his lips and giving you quite the show. “Go pick your toy, nymph.”

You sucked your lips in, indecisive between staying and not losing one second of this view or going to get something to relieve yourself.

“Go quick, doll.” He ordered.

Staying with your eyes fixed on him, you stood up and walked backwards to your room, running as soon as he got out of your sight. You quickly fished your favourite dildo from your bedside table, rushing back to the sofa.

“Here already? You chose quickly, doll. Are you sure you chose wisely?” He questioned, his voice caving when his hand reached the tip and circled it slowly but energetically.

“Yes, Taehyung.” You said, showing him your candidate, turning it so he could analyse it.

“It’s a very nice toy.” He commented, “It looks squishy.”

“It’s a special silicone.” You explained. “It was expensive but it feels amazing. And it’s safe, most importantly. No silly, cheap rubber.”

“Excellent, sweetie. Come kneel, doll.” He invited you and you complied obediently. “Such a good girl.” He praised you. “Look at you, all pretty, diligent, cute and wide-eyed. Who would guess that you’re the filthiest nymph ever?” He sat on the edge of the pillow, spreading his legs as far as his trousers allowed.

“May I roll them down?” You asked, leaving the toy stranding on its base on the floor while he nodded, your hands tried to push his linen trousers to his calves and ankles.

“I want you to put the toy inside, doll.” He growled.

You looked at him with an endearing expression. “Will you make it wet for me?”

“Want me to spit on it, doll?” He asked and you nodded neutrally.

He started collecting some saliva in his mouth before ducking to collect the accessory and rolling his tongue out, letting the liquid spread over the thick head.

“The base is important.” You tipped him, “it’s were I need it to be more slippery, since it’s thicker.”

“Okay, dove.” He said, his lips puckering dragging a thick coat of wetness all around the base.

It looked very erotic. Especially with his other hand stroking his shaft

What looked even more erotic was to see him stare at you before sliding his face up, all the way to the tip, his mouth opening and swallowing two thirds of the impressive length. His hand became faster on his hard-on.

“Holy shit, Tae, I— ” Words lost sound and meaning when you saw him bob his head on the toy, closing his eyes and moaning. He played with it for a minute or so before slipping it out of his lips, offering it to your chin.

There is a saying. No sub is truly trained unless they kiss whatever their dom puts before their lips.

And you kissed it.

He grinned with lust-fevered eyes. “Put it in, Lace.”

You took a second, staring at him. Your hands naturally reached the hem of your nightie and dragged it up and away.

“Fuck, doll. Look at those tits, you’re delicious, babe.” He praised you, and you beamed up at him, retrieving your toy and bringing it between your thighs, the tip already at your entrance.

“In, Lace.”

Once more you obeyed.

A moan escaped your throat and echoed from his own lips. He had moaned himself.

“Shit, all the way in nymph. All the way.” He said, replicating your pace on his cock.

When you bottomed out, he gripped his base, slipping his hand down to his balls and squeezing them delicately. With his eyes closed, head thrown back, he rumbled: “leave it there. Don’t move. If you can make me cum before you do, I’ll stay the night. But remember I won’t be fucking you.” He regained his controlled demeanour, staring at you, voice empathetic. “It’s up to you. I’ll still go if you want me to. Just know that there’s a way, if you want to make me stay.”

Distracting yourself from the filling sensation, you dragged yourself back to reality, making the best of the moment. As his hand gripped his base, you leaned in and licked the head with the tip of your tongue.

His rumble sounded like an earthquake. “Do what you want to, doll. Remember our game.”

Grinning, you opened your mouth and took him in as far as he would go.

You took maybe one third of him.

God, he was so big, his skin glistening, his veins pulsating so fascinatingly just under the surface.

He caressed your face and hummed. "Beautiful."

You took two more inches, eyes watering, lungs burning, but oh so determined to take all of him.

Backing up a little, you released some of his length to focus on the tip, twirling your tongue around it as you regained your breathing.

When you felt ready, you sinked again, adding one inch to your previous goal.

"Fuck, so tight, doll, you're a crime." His hips jutted forward and you opened your eyes wide, a little surprised by the motion. A single teardrop spilled, not due to discomfort but only to his shaft hitting the back of your throat.

"You okay, doll?" He checked in on you as soon as he felt the droplet hit his thumb. His hand gently tangled in your hair and pushed you back delicately, trying to free your mouth. You whined as his tip slipped out of you with a pop, even though you had tried to suck on him to keep your hold.

"Listen carefully, _____. I need to fuck your mouth, nymph." He said, panting, trying to control himself. "Can I put my hands in your hair? Is it okay if I stroke in?" He asked, worried.

You just nodded. "I want that, Tae. Just use me." You pleaded, caressing his erection, placing small kisses on the thick underside.

"Good. I just thought it was good to warn you. And make sure that you like that, doll." He combed your hair. "Now let's get it, sweetheart."

He showed no mercy. The moment you sucked his tip past your lips, he started pushing in with short, quick jabs. However, when he saw you getting more and more of him inside, he lost all semblance of control.

In the meanwhile you had lost any sensation apart from those coming from your mouth, almost forgetting the toy inside you, of which you were reminded the moment he started thrusting so hard that your whole body began to roll back and forth.

He groaned before murmuring deeply, "I'm gonna cum." At that he zoned out, going completely silent, his thrusts getting sloppy before he spilled into you with a long, raspy hum.

You welcomed his taste in your mouth, as he fussed, whimpering ‘don't swallow’. His first spurt was already down your throat but you focused on the second, the third, the last one a weak series of drops. He stayed still a few second and you admired his form: lush ringlets of hair sticking to his forehead, head tipped back as he filled his lungs hungrily before huffing out, his breathing pattern quick and heavy. His lashes fluttered and his brows knitted together every few second as he tried to get a grip on himself. He licked his lips, which had grown too dry with all the panting, his eyes finally opening and focusing on you.

You slowly pulled him out of your mouth.

"Lemme see." He growled.

You knew what he meant.

"Such a little nymph." He praised you, and you felt your inner walls flutter at that, moving the toy inside you.

"Do you want to swallow it? Drink me?" He asked with a condescending tone.

You nodded, trying not to spill his release from your tongue.

"Do it."

Eagerly, you did, the gulping sound almost too loud in the quiet room.

"Show me." He said, just as you parted your lips to do just that, assuring him that not a drop had gone to waste.

"Come here, doll. Keep the toy inside.” He grumbled, lowering himself to put on his boxers, coming close to you and kissing the top of your hair in the process.

Biting your lip, you stood up, quickly propping one knee on the sofa and straddling him, one hand gripping the base of the dildo.

“Tae.” You whispered.

He kissed your lips delicately, simply pressing his lips to yours. “Want me to do it?” He asked.

You nodded.

He caught your hand on your crotch and substituted it with his, the other one grabbing your ass. “Can I move?”

You nodded, “I just need hard and fast, please.”

Taehyung grinned, kissing your forehead as you lowered your head, looking at his veiny forearm starting to pump the toy inside. “Is it good like this—”

“Faster!” You exclaimed, your hand tugging at the hair of his nape.

In response he placed his lips on your cheek, nibbling at your soft skin. He hammered the toy inside you, teasing you on how nasty, kinky and absolutely divine you were, how incredible you looked, how much he wanted you to cum, how he was going to destroy you the moment he’d get to be inside you.

You felt on the very edge of pleasure, the sensation so disturbing since you felt like something was missing.

“Tae?” You asked with a whiny voice.

He slowed down, trying to let you focus on talking“What is it, doll?” He huffed gently.

“I need to touch myself.” You said with a pout.

He nodded and bent to your mouth. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’ve got you.”

He kept his pattern slow, trying to adapt it to your fingers on your clit. He synced up so nicely that you managed to rub yourself for maybe a minute before the tip of the toy reached the perfect depth, making you come apart in Taehyung’s hold.

“That’s lovely, doll. Lovely.” He whispered in your ear, speaking sweet nothings that you couldn’t quite register from your fucked out state.

After a couple minutes you managed to go back to reality. “Are you okay, Tae?” You asked.

“I should be asking that. You moaned your lungs out, doll.” He kissed your lips, bringing your wrist up from your mound to his mouth, smearing his lower lip with your wetness before licking it sinfully.

“Kim Taehyung.” You said in warning and exasperation.

He looked at you wide eyed, playing innocent. “I believe you earned me as your sleeping buddy tonight.” He joked.

“Indeed.” You said, wincing a little as he extracted the dildo.

“Are you sure it’s okay, you’re okay?” He asked.

You simply nodded. “Let’s just head to bed. It’s four thirty. I’ve got work tomorrow morning.” You explained.

“Can we have have breakfast or will you have to rush out?” He asked, already in tiger cub mode.

Your body deflated in desperation over your lost sleep but you smiled gladly when you looked up at him. “I’ll be happy to wake up early and have breakfast.”

Cleaning up was a bit messy, especially finding sleeping clothes for Taehyung, still you managed to hit the bed at five am, Taehyung managing to stay in his lane for maybe five minutes before cuddling up against you and falling asleep like a toddler.

Of course your head tried to process how you felt about the whole event, but your exhausted body and his gentle embrace cradled you to sleep.

#bts smut #bangtan smut #kim taehyung smut #love talk #taehyung imagine #Taehyung one shot #taehyung reaction #taehyungxreader #taehyung fanfic #bts smut blog

171 notes · View notes

iicytodoroki · 5 years ago

Text

Childhood Friends to Lovers - Kageyama Tobio x Fem! Reader NSFW

Warnings: explicit language, fluff to smut (explicit), drinking (legal ages), unprotected (pls use it though!) please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable or too young, this stuff is dirty

WC: 3.1k

A/N: ah ha haa, what if i make a cute fluffy and domestic pt 2, a full 180 from this unholy piece

7 years ago

Dear Diary,

I met this funny boy in my class, he was really quiet and always looked angry. Since we were sitting next to each other in the back corner of class, we were assigned as partners for the rest of the year. During our first lunch meeting for our project, I caught him trying to shake the vending machine screaming, “Argh! Stupid machine ate my money and won’t,” *kicks machine* “give me my damn milk.” Luckily, I knew where the other vending machine was, which was kind of hidden behind the gym of our junior high. So when we met up at the benches facing the empty tennis courts, I was able to see such a cute blush on his face when I gave him strawberry milk. Turns out his name is Kageyama Tobio and he loves volleyball.

5 years ago

Dear Diary,

I was so sad today. I found out Tobio and I aren’t going to Shiratorizawa together. We met up at the park that meets halfway of our houses and read our letters. I was able to get in with my grades, but regardless of Tobio’s abilities, his grades were just not enough. I knew he was the most frustrated, but I ended up crying so much. He kept hugging me saying that “It’s okay, we can still see each other, we know where we live.” But I kept saying it’ll be hard for me to make friends since Tobio was the only one I really connected with. I couldn’t see his face, but he just kept hugging me harder. He just said that I’m smarter and stronger than him because I’m brave enough to cry for both of us and get into Shiratorizawa; “Go there for both of us and I’ll meet your school’s team on the court and show them what they’ve missed out.” Tobio always had an odd smile back then, but the gloss on his blueberry eyes told me he meant it. So I smiled too and we just stayed there enveloping each other’s warmth.

2 years ago

Dear Diary,

It was the week of our graduations. Shiratorizawa’s graduation happened before Karasuno’s. But Bateyama (exhausted Kageyama) had to oversleep. Luckily, the previous third years from my first year came over to congratulate me since I was their manager. Tobio forcing me to learn volleyball seemed to come in handy, plus I was able to see them in their matches. Anyways, my closest friend Wakatoshi came. He brought me my favorite flowers and gave those rare smiles for me for graduating as Top 3 in my class! Ah, to make Waka proud and smile. It’s so rare just like Tobios, they’re both volleyball idiots but they're my volleyball idiots.

After about an hour the third years had to leave for their trains and Tobio was then running towards me! I was so ready to yell at him for almost breaking his promise, but I kinda choked when I saw he was red-faced in a cuffed white button up and tie, black slacks, and a belt that definitely accentuated his upper build. He kept on apologizing for sleeping in, but he said he’d make it up by taking us to our usual restaurant.

Boy, did he feed me well. I really wanted to confess to him when we were walking home. His side profile looked so handsome with the orange and gold glow behind him. But then he told me he was going to the city, either Chiba or Tokyo to train for the volleyball team. So I stopped myself, I mean he’s going to be so busy and I’d just hold him back, right? What kind of friend would I be to stop him from his dreams after working so hard for it since second grade?

So we agreed to keep texting each other of course, and have the occasional meet up since I’ll be going to Keio University near Tokyo.

Today

Dear Diary,

I’m finally on break!!! And I got plans to meet up with Waka for dinner! Geez, I haven’t seen him in ages. He’s been constantly keeping me up to date with his matches and training and always checking in if I have food. He’s still the same back in high school, always looking out for me like a reliable captain. He also told me Tobio got in the Schweiden Alders! So maybe I get to finally see my blueberry boy. To be honest, I am kinda nervous though, we rarely text and haven’t seen each other in over a year.

Checking the time, it read 3:20pm. You had to get ready and leave by 4pm, so hopefully you can make it to the gym by 4:30pm when Waka finishes up practice. Now that you knew you’re likely to run into Tobio, you thought maybe you should dress up a little. So putting on a long straight skirt that flattered your ass in the best ways and a short sleeve blouse that matched your natural makeup, you checked yourself out in your mirror. You for sure grew into a beautiful young woman, each feature on your face was no longer the “sweet, lovely YN”. You could take on any person you’d want. One you’re hoping to make an impression on after you meet him today.

Awkwardly standing at the entrance of the gym, you can see a crowd of really tall and muscular guys patting down with towels and drinking water. Finally your eyes met with the stoic face of the olive-tone man. Waka started walking towards you, still clad in his sweaty uniform but you didn’t care. You went up to him and hugged as much as you could of his sports model torso.

Waka gave you a small chuckle at your attempts and returned your hug. As you two were recapping your plans after he cleans up, you see at the corner of his bicep tufts of the same black hair you wanted to run your hands through. The blueberry boy was busy patting the sweat off his face with a towel.

“Tobio? Tobio!” Hearing his name, Tobio looked in your direction as you jogged up to him. He looked to be in a state of shock that you were actually here. He staggered a bit when you hugged him, but after a moment he wrapped his arms around you.

Wow, he sure trained hard.

Pulling you out from deeper--inappropriate--thoughts, Tobio pushed your shoulders at arms length giving you his dopey smile. The dopey smile just for you.

“What are you doing here, YN?”

“Oh, I’m here to meet up with Waka. I’m finally on break and he’s off this weekend, so we wanted to get dinner together.”

Looking behind you, Tobio sees the walking Super Ace coming towards you guys.

“Ah! You should join us Tobio! Right Waka?” you smiled looking up at Wakatoshi.

“Mm. If he’d like,” he stoically said.

“Sure, let me just get in the shower and I’ll meet you at the foyer.”

Happy at the answer you wait for the two giants. While walking to the restaurant with a Koshitsu (private room/booth) you were in between the two, making you feel much smaller than you are. You kept talking since both of them were mostly listeners. Waka gave the hum for acknowledgement, but Tobio would keep his eyes on you. More specifically your hands. He could just easily grab them, but you guys weren’t like that.

Dinner ended right when the skies were turning into a rich dark, blue. Almost like his eyes.

You thanked the heavens you didn’t pay because those two literally ate for a whole family. Each of them. Nonetheless, it was fun catching up with the volleyball fanatics.

“Would you like for me to walk you home Yn,” Waka asked.

“Um,” you hesitated since you wanted Tobio to ask you first. But then, “Ushijima-san, I understand your sleep schedule is at 8:30pm, it’s 8:00pm now. It’ll ruin your biological clock, so I can walk YN home. Also, she and I live in the same direction.”

Waka looked at you for approval and you gave a reassuring nod, “I’d appreciate that Tobio and don’t worry Waka, Tobio and I have been close friends since middle school!”

At that, Wakatoshi bid both of you a good night and safe walk back home.

Reaching the doorstep to your flat, you turned around to face Tobio. You and him both awkwardly looked down at your feet until you broke the silence.

“Would, would you like to come inside for drinks? You know since it’s my break and your weekend off?”

Snapping his head up, Tobio meekly nodded his head. Now you both were drinking at your kitchen counter laughing at the old memories before graduation. The giggles finally quieted down until there was a pregnant pause.

“You know, I’ve always liked you since that day you bought me that milk,” he said softly.

Now alert and cleared of your foggy thoughts, you stared at Tobio.

Tobio continued, “I didn’t realize how much I loved you until I saw how close you were to Ushijima…”

“Wait, do you mean it?”

Tobio quietly nodded his head and looked right into your eyes. Searching for an answer.

Instead, you lunged at him holding his face in your hands as you kissed him. Tobio titled his head and rested his hands on your hips. After a few chaste kisses, he wrapped his arms around the small of your back and deepened the kiss.

Tobio prodded at your lips for entrance which you gladly gave into. His wet muscle forced yours down quickly and focused on exploring your mouth. Muffled moans from his tongue touching the roof of your wet cavern and suckling of your own wet muscle. Your knees literally became weak and were about to give out. Sensing this, Tobio’s firm, vein-decorated hands grasped your ass to hold you up against him. Gasping at his rough kneading you moaned, “T-tobio…”

Hearing his name falls from your lips was like flipping a switch in him. Next thing you know, he lifted you so you were now sitting on the edge of the counter. He became more aggressive and desperate to have his lips meet the rest of your skin. He started to trail down your neck, leaving deep red marks at the junction of your shoulders.

“Nghh--more Tobio…”

At this, he lifted and threw your blouse somewhere over his shoulder and started leaving new marks until Tobio’s lips grazed the edge of your bra.

“Off,” he huffed, “Now.”

Seeing the dark, lust in his eyes caused your lower abdomen to tighten. So complying to his demands, you unclasp your bra revealing your supple chest to him. Then you suddenly feel the calloused fingers tweaking at one nipple while massaging and the lapping of his tongue on the other. Tobio growled at the newfound source while you curled your fingers at the base of his hair behind his head. After whimpers and moans from him interchanging between each nipple, you feel his hard-on grinding into your inner thigh.

“A-ah, T-tobio…” his teeth tugged, “pl….mm, please!” you shouted

Releasing his mouth with a wholly pop, he huffed and looked at you with his overcasted bangs,

“Do you really want to?”

Even after all that he still had that crease of a frown and genuine concern in his eyes.

Smiling at his question, you looked at him through your lashes before meeting your foreheads saying, “Of course I want you Tobio, I want you so bad…”

Hearing the air choke up inside his throat, you decided it’s your turn to play with him now.

Nearing his ear, you whispered, “I want to feel every,” you hands trail down his stomach, “ridge of you,” now at the edge of his track pants, “inside me,” he feels your fingertips shadowing over his, “as your cock bruises my cervix for a week,” as you grab his dick.

“Hgnh, YN…” you heard him moan into your ear. The temperature rising after hearing his voice become an octave deeper saying your name, “Where’s--,” you knew what he meant.

“The l-last door,” he kept grinding into you as he worked on your boobs again, “d-down...Mmm...the hall..ah!” At that moment, Tobio reached under your skirt and rubbed through your underwear.

Finally knowing his destination, he lifted you with your legs wrapping around him as he kicked your slightly opened door to your room. At the soft bounce of your bed, you can see the moonlight illuminate on Tobio as he hurriedly took off his clothes. The shadows intensifying the curves of his abs and pecs. The moonlight highlighting the buff muscle on his arms and...his thighs.

Practically salivating at his sculpted body, you hear him chuckle a little before saying, “You like what you see?”

Confidence and heat now pumping through your veins, you got on your knees before slowly wiggling out of your skirt, giving him a show of your wet, laced underwear.

“Do you like what you see,” you questioned as you propped your hands on his shoulders.

“Yes, very much,” he smugly said.

Tobio and you were now heavily locking lips. All the while, two of his cold rough fingers slipped through your underwear, being slicked up by your wet arousal.

“Ahh...Tobio, please….I need you….inside,” your breathily moaned.

Grunting at your plea, he quickly ripped off your underwear so that you both can clearly see the pool of your arousal staining it in the center.

Shoulders pushed down on the comforter, you gazed up at the lusted blue eyes. You both were panting and gleams of sweat could be seen glistening from the moon’s light.

“Do you still want to,” Tobio asked again, with more seriousness than ever.

“Yes, I want you Tobio,” as you pushed back his bangs that were dangling above you.

Smiling at your response, he locked lips with you again. This time with so much love and passion knowing that you guys can finally be together after so many agonizing years.

Distracted with his lips, Tobio used his hand to guide himself at your entrance. Feeling the tip, you both looked at each other one last time for approval before you gave him a nod. In your quiet room, you can hear the sound of your arousal gliding his cock inside you while Tobio huffed into the crook of your neck. Grabbing his shoulders and shutting your eyes, you can feel the girth of him widen you more and more, “T-tobio you’re,” your moan was caught in your throat, “so--” that’s when you felt the tip poking at your cervix, “...b-big”

Hearing your confession, you can feel the smirk grow on his face. But then you hear him let out a strangled grunt, “And you’re,” he grunts again, “shit...too t-tight…”

As you adjusted, Tobio used everything in him to stay still at your fluttering walls. You signaled him by nodding your head that you’re ready.

Tobio started at a slow pace, which slightly burned, that is until pain turned into heated neediness. Whimpering for Tobio to “go faster” the room was filled with your hitched wining and his hot panting on your collarbone. Your walls constricted around him, making you feel every vein and curve of his. The soft patting of the bed and wall only increased with Tobio’s need to hear more of your voice.

So he took one of your breasts into his mouth and started flicking his tongue on it. The other hand which was gripping your hip was traveling down south. Through your folds, his thumb met with your sensitive nub. He began to make figure eights resulting in a rush of pleasure go through you. Shivering at it, Tobio’s tongue stopped for a second. He felt you tightening around him, making him release a deep throaty moan, “Anghh, Y-YN…”

Hearing his panting and increased pounding against your tightening muscles, you gripped his shoulders and arched your back when Tobio gave an extra hard thrust making you feel it all over the inside of your pelvis.

“Nghh, I’m gonna---” you moaned until you hitched your breath because Tobio began pressing harder figure eights against your nub and he started to suck to bruise the junction of your shoulder again.

“I-I know, baby, just,” he let out a hot release of breath when you thrusted up to meet your needs.

“Tobio, I-ahh…!,” you couldn’t finish your sentence because Tobio used both his hands to lift your waist against him. Unfazed by his own need to have you released first, his dick was able to reach inside you in new depths you never thought were there.

“I need you to cum first, princess,” he grunted as he brought you to him in a new angle.

With his bruising grip at your sides, your hands clawed and clenched at your sheets. You needed something to ground you as Tobio kept railing into you. The sound of skin slapping against each other and the feeling of your breast moving in rhythm of his thrusts pushed you at the edge.

“I can feel you almost s-snapping YN,” Tobio looked down at you, sweat shining on his forehead. With his shit-eating grin he continued, “Princess, I need you--ngh-- to cum now…”

At this, everything just broke inside you. Your body released everything that was pent up resulting in a shake go up your spine. On Tobio’s end, you had a death-grip on him, your walls were so tight and were milking him of his impending orgasim. Your walls pulsing in waves. No longer able to hold it, Tobio released a guttural moan while leaning forward, as his warm cum splattered your walls white. Still riding out both your highs, you guys caught your breaths.

Sitting back up on his heels, Tobio slowly pulled out from you. You wincing and clenching at the emptiness, and him hissing at the loss of warmth. Looking down at your womanhood, Tobio smirks in pride of seeing both your cum leaking out. Proudly, he used two fingers to slide the liquid up from the bottom of your fold, back into your abused hole.

“Angh! Tobio!” You shouted at him from oversensitivity. He only chuckled at your reaction and leaned forward. He plopped right next to you and brought you up against his broad bare chest.

He kissed the crown of your head. After a few moments of basking in silence you asked,

“So does this mean we’re dating?” cheekily tilting your head up to him.

He scoffed at your question before he looked away with a tint of a blush, “G-go to sleep already.”

You giggle at his reaction knowing well enough what he meant. “I love you too, Tobio,” you said before shutting your eyes.

Before you fell into a deep sleep you remember his dark-blue eyes gazing at you.

He quietly said, “I love you too, dummy,” as he stroked the hair of your now sleeping form.

tag: @sugawalmartwobble @gulfwanq

#this is utter filth #and my first smut so excuse the lack of quality #kageyama tobio x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #kageyama x reader #haikyuu #smut #haikyuu smut

436 notes · View notes

caranfindel · 4 years ago

Text

Recap/review 15.17: “Unity”

THEN: Chuck is destroying all his worlds. Dean tricked Amara into going along with their plan. Empty!Meg is on Billie's side because she just wants to go back to sleep. (Don't we all, dear.) Billie wants Dean to be ready. Dean finally told Sam the truth and Sam was MAD.

NOW: Amara is enjoying a hot pool and a glass of wine in Reykjavik, Iceland. (She's pretending to read but there's no way she can see that book. Although I guess she could have super vision. Why not? And I'm sure the book itself is significant and maybe I'll look that up later but let's face it, I probably won't.) Her glorious view of the Milky Way is punctuated by what seems to be a falling star. But there are more and more and more and she knows what it really is. "Welcome home, brother."

Title card!

Bunker. Sam is on the phone with Cas, who just found out a possible lead in the "Basilica of Guadalupe" was useless. I wonder if he means the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico? A 35-hour drive from Lebanon? "That's all right," Sam says. "We'll find a way." {Sidebar: Eternal optimism or simple bullheaded refusal to accept the inevitable truth? Discuss.} Dean enters and asks if that was Cas, but Sam doesn't answer.

So, this is how it's gonna be? You're gonna give me the silent treatment?

I'm not sure what you want me to say.

That you get it. Like I said, killing Amara, Jack, dying, that's the only way.

Sam huffs and imitates Dean: "The only way. Our one shot. Our last chance. You ever get tired of saying stuff like that?" The guys are interrupted by a noise, and I'm just going to stop here for a minute, because I need to talk about Sam's anger. Sam's delicious anger. Apparently some people thought it was inappropriate for Sam to be so mad at Dean last week. At least that's what I read on the Tumblr. I'm sure no one reading this post feels that way. I mean, anyone who found Sam's anger inappropriate would have stopped reading my crap a long time ago, right? I just don't get it. This isn't an "I can see both sides" situation. Dean withheld information from Sam - lied to Sam - and I know they've both lied to each other before, but this was something catastrophic involving someone he loves. And when confronted, Dean doubled down. He didn't say "sorry, I just couldn't bear to tell you" or "I was hoping Cas would find some other way" or "I was trying to think of a way to break it to you easy." He blamed Sam. He told Sam he wasn't qualified to have that information because he would have done something about it. And after Dean spent the entire episode whining about having no control over his life, being a hamster in a wheel, he sentenced Sam to the same fate - he told him that he didn't have the right to know about Jack because he refused to just accept that this is their destiny.

I mean, I'm not bitter or anything.

Silver lining: Dean treating Sam so horribly at least means I got some tasty, tasty Angry Sam. (Mandatory disclaimer: I love Dean. I love that he is heroic and self-sacrificing but also deeply, deeply flawed.) Moving on.

Wait. I also love that Sam's justification for the silent treatment isn't I'm punishing you or even I'm mad at you, but is literally there is nothing I can say to you. Nothing I say will mean anything to you. All right, now we're moving on. Searching for the source of the noise, the guys find - Amara! Drinking their beer! Wearing pink again, but this time it's sparkly! "We should talk," she says.

Or, you know, we could just look. Looking is good. We have a little time jump in order to gather Jack. Amara tells the boys that her brother is back, and Jack knows this means it's time. She asks how they're going to cage Chuck, and Dean lies that Jack will be able to do it. Amara hopes she and Jack can get to know each other afterward, and Jack lies that they will. He just has to complete one final ritual. Sam doesn't lie to anybody; he just stands there looking unhappy. Amara asks what she can do to help, and they cut away from any discussion of what she's going to do, but then we get this. When the time comes, we can count on you, right? Like I told you when we first met, you and I will always help each other. Awkward! The way Amara is looking at Dean, I'm pretty sure she knows he's lying, and is just waiting for him to break down. (Spoiler alert: why do I even try?) But Dean and his lying, lying eyes do not break down.

But those eyes don't exactly hide any secrets either, do they? Meanwhile, Jack is concerned that Sam is angry at him. Or disappointed. Sam manages to express both support for Jack doing the thing and a strong desire for Jack to not do the thing. "Sacrificing your life for a cause takes a lot of courage," he says."I still think it's wrong, though." OH SAM. YOU WOULD KNOW. AND YOU WOULD DO IT ANYWAY. Apparently Jack's final ritual is taking place in Santa Fe. Dean's ready to go, and says they can be there by morning. (Oh, I hope she tells us if that's possible, they said sarcastically.) Hey, anyone who doesn't want a deep dive into the logistics of Winchester travel can write their own damn recap skip this part. I think the guys actually went to Santa Fe last season? Ouroboros? Anyway, it's 10.5 hours away. 11 hours if you avoid highways, which we know Dean likes to do, although that route would take you on some mountain roads that would probably be a little much for the Impala. So yeah, depending on what time it is now, "by morning" is doable. I know you're relieved. I think the bigger question is when will Cas get back from Mexico City? (Yes, I'm sure he drove - he was standing by his blue truck. Yes, I know no one else cares.) Dean is surprised to find that Sam's not going. He accuses Sam of "taking a knee," but Sam says that's not what he's doing. He's still looking for another way. Sam, you and me, we have to do this; it's in the book. Oh, Chuck's death book, right? Come on, man! Blindly following orders, sending Amara to her death; does any of this feel right to you? It doesn't matter how we feel! You know what? Stay. Stay. But somebody's got to be the grownup here. Yeah, well, someone has to keep fighting for Jack. He knows what he signed up for! Last I checked, we don't give up on family. Jack's not family! I know how you feel about the kid, okay? I feel for him too. I do. But he's not like you. He's not like Cas. He's just not. I have to confess, I maaaayyyybeee haven't been keeping up with the A plot as much as I should have, because I wasn't aware they were actually operating from a book. (Or I was and I forgot. Stranger things have happened.) I thought this was just Billie's plan. But if it's a book, that means it was fated to happen, right? Um, like the Ma'lak box? And why isn't Sam pointing that out? Why isn't Sam saying "we've already changed one of Billie's unchangeable endings, what makes you think we can't change this one?" But, you know. That's not important. What is important are two things: 1, the way Sam reacts when Dean says "Jack's not family," and B, the fact that Jack has entered the room at some point and heard some of that. Again, awkward! How many times has Jack come up behind someone and overheard something like that? Why don't they put a bell on that poor kid? Jack says he's ready, Sam gives him a sad, broken little smile and Jack and Dean hit the road. Boy, that's gonna be an uncomfortable 11 hours.

Whatever you think about this scene, you have to admit Jared is acting the hell out of it. Bunker. Cas is back, so I guess it's been 35 hours since that phone call. "Stayed behind to find another way, huh? I would have done the same." They research together. Wooded park. Amara. Chuck shows up. A title card weirdly informs us this is Amara. Yeah, we know that. I don't really care that much about their convo. All you need to know is he wants to do a "hard reset" - another Big Bang? - and can't do it without her. But she cares about this world now and wants to protect it. He thinks humans are lame and boring, and she says "what about your first children?" and zaps him into Heaven. He's welcomed by a small, adoring group of angels, but Crystal (an angel named Crystal?) annoys him so much that he snaps them all away. Amara offers him balance, darkness and light, here on this Earth, but he's not interested. So she zaps him into the bunker, which she has made into a trap for him. Impala. Dean, says the title card, unnecessarily. (Now that I've figured out what they're doing, I'd say the odds are 50:50 that Sam will have a title card.) Dean starts to talk about what Jack heard - not necessarily to apologize, but Jack says he understands that he's not like Sam or Cas. Okay then. Morning. They show up at a jewelry store and are greeted enthusiastically by the man and woman inside. "I'm Adam," the man says. "You know. God's primo. First dude off the assembly line." The woman with him is not Eve, but a hippie angel named Seraphina. I guess that means she's a seraph? Get it? (Sorry, I have to amuse myself sometimes.) She proclaims Jack's aura is "like Skittles," and of course it is. What else would it be like, other than something sweet and rainbow-colored? {Sidebar: Or should it be like nougat? Discuss.} Adam and Seraphina are very into Jack and also very much into each other. They separate long enough for Adam to take Jack for a "pop quiz." Seraphina says she knows Jack will pass because she saw it in a dream, which annoys me because angels don't sleep, but it turns out she means a mushroom-induced hallucination. She tells Dean that so many things had to happen for Jack to end up here, it was obviously "meant to be." Which doesn't sit well with Dean. Meanwhile, Adam explains to Jack that because of what God did to him and his sons, he's been wanting to kill him for a very long time. Billie is working with him, and kept him alive so he could finish the job. They've just been waiting for Jack. Adam shows him a tray of crystals and tells him to pick the one that was touched by God. Jack points to one, and Adam is disappointed. That's your choice? Yes. And... the others. All of them. They're just rocks, but their existence makes them divine, because God is in everything. And that's the right answer! Jack and Adam return, triumphant, and Seraphina celebrates by plunging a knife into Adam's chest and prying out a rib. Ew. "Everything can contain the spark of the divine, but this puppy? Is packing enough punch to create life. Or in this case, destroy God." With the power of the rib, Jack will turn into a "metaphysical black hole for divine energy" that nothing can escape. Not Amara, not God. But once is starts, it can't be stopped, so Jack shouldn't use it until "game time."

I'm pleased that Adam is a Middle Eastern guy. Back in the Impala, some hours later, Dean pulls over right before they get home. He apologizes to Jack for hearing what he heard. Not for saying it, but for Jack hearing it. He tells Jack that he hasn't been free his entire life. "But now, now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life. Without all this crap on our backs. And that's because of you. So, I want to say, I need to say, thank you, Jack." Well, that's a nice emotional moment, but isn't Jack doing this to save the world? Not just to get Dean off the hamster wheel? Dean's phone buzzes. It's time. Jack takes the rib out of its baggie and absorbs it into his hand and oh, Jack, I don't think I'd have done that just yet. Bunker. Is this Sam's section? Yes, it is! \o/ Sam hurls a book to the floor in frustration and is comforted by Cas. Guys, Sam and Cas tend to do some crazy fucked-up shit when they're left together unsupervised, and I am here for it. Sam wishes he could talk to Billie about her plan, and Cas immediately assumes he's going to kill himself and puts his foot down. But Sam suddenly remembers what Sergei said about the key to Death's library. "Oh, is that why I invited Sergei here to the secret bunker," Cas says, "because now that makes sense." They start digging through old wooden chests and I'm fairly sure these are boxes full of cursed objects, although all they find are a large novelty chess piece, a gold leaf cross from Hobby Lobby, and the Holy Grail.

Tell me you didn't think the same thing. But Cas eventually does find the box with the key. The box has an inscription in Latin, which Sam reads out loud. By the way, Sam Latinating is always hot, even though he looks like he doesn't understand what he's saying. As the guys watch in amazement, a portal and keyhole appear in the wall. Cas wants to go with, but Sam asks him to stay and buy him some time if Dean comes back before he gets out, even if that sounds crazy. "Sam, for what it's worth, I don't think you're crazy," Cas says. "I think your internal compass is functioning perfectly." And Sam's all, aw, that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time.

"Donde está la biblioteca?” He puts the key in the keyhole and opens the door into the W section of Billie's library. I want him to start pulling books off the shelves and reading versions of his death, but he's distracted by a dead reaper on the floor. And more dead reapers. And the sound of one begging for her life and then noisily dying. He finally sees Empty!Meg (\o/) sitting at the circulation desk, as another reaper pleads for his life. "Please," he cries, "she won't come!" He prays unsuccessfully for Billie to come, and gets his neck snapped for his trouble. Sam immediately tries to nope the hell out of there, but Empty!Meg snaps her fingers and he appears in front of her. Sam Winchester? Meg? Sorry, she's still dead. Just borrowing the queen's pretty face cause really? I'm empty. {Sidebar: Why would Meg's meatsuit go to the Empty with her? Discuss.} Empty!Meg is trying to get Billie's attention, and she drops a bombshell on Sam. Billie intends to become the new God. "Classic narcissist, right? So tingly for the rules, the good old days. Everyone back to where they belong. Realities, dimensions, graves. What should be dead dies, angels off Earth, demons back to Hell, and I go back to sleep!" Oh, wait. Graves? So anyone who was dead at some point, and was brought back to life, would go back to the grave? She tells Sam that he's in God's book - the ornate book in front of her that only Billie can read. "She always talked about how you should be so dead, except she needs you." Empty!Meg decides that hurting Sam might get Billie's attention, and well, y'all know I'm not opposed to that. (If you're new here, hi, my name is caranfindel and I have a problem.) She brings Sam to his knees, but he finally manages to say "Billie sent me." Oh, Sam. He claims Billie sent him to get the book, because she's trapped on Earth. Empty!Meg can't go to Earth unless she's summoned (hmmm, wonder if that will come up later), and Sam says he has a message for her, from Billie. "Billie will honor her promise. God, Amara, they die. And you, you can go back to sleep." Empty!Meg decides to believe Sam, even though he didn't even know who she was or why she was there when he got there, or that Billie had even made any promises, but I'd have a hard time saying no to that face too.

I'll believe your lies. When Sam comes back through the door into the bunker, Cas greets him with "finally" as if he's been gone a long time, so time must flow differently in Billie's library. Cas tells him Chuck and Amara are here, and it's time. "We can't let that happen," says Sam. "We have to stop it." In the trap, Chuck narrates what's happening elsewhere in the bunker. "You hear that? Dean. Brought to the edge of doubt. His sense of duty, his rage, winning out in the end." As Dean drags Jack through the hall, Sam tells him about Billie's plan to take advantage of the power vacuum and become God. Dean doesn't care - he doesn't mind being duped as long as it's not by Chuck. "And poor Sam," says Chuck. "Always gotta know everything. Can't leave well enough alone." Poor Sam stands in front of Dean, trying to stop him. Dean yells that Jack already "lit the fuse" and they can't wait any longer. "This is my ending," Chuck says. "My real ending." And just as I'm wondering if he means his preferred ending, where one brother always kills another, Dean pulls his gun out and points it at Sam's heart. "Move, Sam. Move!" Sam's horrified. Cas and Jack are horrified. I'm horrified. And also, I'm ashamed to say, very entertained. I mean, I don't want the brothers fighting, and yet for Dean to lose the plot so badly that he'd actually shoot Sam in order to get off the hamster wheel? That's some gloriously messed up stuff, friends. Amara is shocked that Chuck orchestrated all of this. "What part of omniscient do you people not understand?" he says, and YES. THIS is something that has long needed to be said. He says that even though he can't read his death book, all he had to do was plant a few visions, mess with a few outcomes, bada bing bada boom! Nobody's killing him! Hallway. Sam pleads with Dean. "I don't want to do this," Dean says, "but this is everything!"

THIS is everything. Trap. Amara tells Chuck they're going to cage him, not kill him. Hallway. Dean does that thing you do with a gun when you want someone to know you're serious. Clicks off the safety, or whatever. Sam makes a have we really come to this? face and yanks Dean's gun hand away. Dean punches him and he drops to the floor. Trap. Chuck tells Amara that TFW is planning to kill both of them. Hallway. Dean drags Jack toward the trap and Sam tackles him. Dean punches him again. Cas just watches all this. What the hell, Cas. Trap. Chuck says the Winchesters are using Jack to destroy them. Amara says that can't be, because Dean can't hurt her. "No, but he can lie to you. He can send you into the meat grinder with a wink and a smile." But isn't that hurting her? Hallway. Dean orders Cas and Jack to go. Sam yells for Jack not to do it. Cas asks why not, because... Cas has suddenly forgotten what side of this argument he's on? "Because if Billie takes over, then everyone goes back to where they belong!" Sam says. "That means everybody from Apocalypse World - Bobby, Charlie - they get sent back to a place that doesn't exist any more. And everyone we saved! Eileen, she just dies, again! And that's just the beginning!" Trap. Amara is devastated. Hallway. Dean yells that they don't have a choice, and Sam says "we always have a choice!" Trap. Chuck tells Amara "the only ones who ever really get us is us." Hallway. Dean says there's nothing they can do but get out of the way, and he doesn't care if Billie becomes God. I'd trade it all, I'd trade 'em all, for Chuck! In a heartbeat! What about me? Would you trade me? Okay, is this Sam pointing out that if Billie becomes God, he dies? Because it's awfully subtle, and I think he just needs to come right and say "that's fine, Dean, but when I told you everyone we saved would die again, I meant everyone, and that includes me!" And Dean would probably also want to know that angels will be banished to Heaven, don't you think, Sam? Anyway. I saw this on Tumblr, and I can't get to it now because Tumblr is being a little bitch, but basically: Sam Winchester may have low self-worth, but he absolutely knows what he means to his brother, and he does not hesitate to use it. Trap. Chuck offers Amara the balance she said she wanted. "Us, starting fresh, creating something new, something beautiful, peaceful, together. And we can finally forget about all this pain. No baggage. Only balance." He extends a hand. Amara takes it and dissolves into smoke, which is absorbed by Chuck, who now has one demon-black eye and one angel-blue eye. And a sadistic grin. Hallway. Chuck has to die. He has to! Otherwise he'll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can't live like that, man! I can't live like that; I won't! I know you feel like that right now, okay? I know you do. But you gotta trust me. My entire life, you've protected me. From Dad? From Lucifer? From everything. I didn't always like it, you know, but it's the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on. It's the only thing I've ever known that was true. So please, put the gun away. Just put it away. We'll figure it out, Dean; we'll find another way. You and me. We always do. Gotta admit, I'm torn about this scene. I mean, on the one hand, it's beautifully done, so much emotion and angst and anger and teary-eyed, shaky Sam. Once again, Jared is acting the hell out of it. (And Jensen too, but come on.) And yet, on the other hand... how bad is Sam's Stockholm Syndrome? "You protected me from Dad?" Have we seen any evidence of that? I'm sure Dean was forced to be the referee sometimes, but have we seen any evidence that Dean ever said "no Sam, you're not disowned just because you want to stop hunting and go to college" or "no Dad, I'm not even going to pretend I'll kill Sam," rather than consider it an option until he was actually faced with it? It seems like "protecting Sam from Dad" mostly meant "trying to get Sam to do what Dad wanted, so he'd stay out of trouble." And Lucifer? When Sam told him he was Lucifer's vessel, and the Devil was coming to him in his dreams, Dean basically said "sucks to be you, now pick a hemisphere." Now, I'm aware that Dean has actually protected Sam from many, many things. In good ways and in bad ways. And yet he's also hurt him in some pretty awful ways. I mean, he just now threatened to shoot him for refusing to accept his destiny is to help Dean escape the slavery of his destiny. So for Sam to say "you protect me" is one thing. Dean absolutely does that. But to say it's the only thing that's true, and to specifically mention John and Lucifer, well. Hmmm.

Let's just concentrate on the pretty. Anyway. Dean puts the gun away, Sam sighs a tearful shaky sigh of relief, and then the door to Amara's trapped room explodes. Chuck walks out dramatically - not nearly as hot as Demon!Demon dramatically walking through his own destroyed door - and yells at them. "Are you kidding me? After everything, after all that, you did it again!" He tells them he absorbed Amara, mocks Castiel (which is kind of funny), and says they're all stupid, stubborn, and broken, and he's done with them. "You know what you do with broken toys? You throw them out. So, kill each other, don't kill each other, I don't care." Then he tells them to have fun watching Jack die, and zaps on out of there. Jack collapses, and bad things are clearly happening to him. Well, it's hard to get worked up over Jack dying again (what would this be, the third time?). After all, as Dean said, he's not Sam. I'm more interested in finding out if Dean understood he was sentencing Sam to death when he said he didn't care if Billie became God. {Sidebar: Would Dean die too? Or would everything that happened because Sam was brought back be erased? Discuss. And maybe fic.} And now Amara is gone. But, conveniently, destroying Chuck will also destroy her, so. Balance! Unity! Hugs and puppies all around! Oh, friends. The end is near, and I don't feel good about it. I'm anxious about a lot of things happening next week, and the third-to-last episode of Supernatural is one of them. How do you feel?

Please help me stay unspoiled, including episode titles and casting info, thanks!

#spn #15.17 #spoilers #recap #tv recaps

49 notes · View notes

angelbabyszn · 5 years ago

Text

Marry Me (Oscar X Reader) - Part Two

Gif by @merakiaes

Requested by @darkness-doughter ! Read Part One to understand: Part One

Imagine Based On: Hey, how are you? I'm sorry to bother you again, but I have one more request, if that's ok. If it isn't, I'm sorry 😅 I was just thinking about a fic places after the third season, when Oscar says he wants adult problems, maybe a wife and a kid. Reader and him are dating for long, passed through so much things, maybe when he tells Cesar he says "Maybe get married to y/n"

OMB Masterlist

L/N: Last Name

Recap:

"Why do you act like you don't?" asked Oscar.

"Cause I don't." you said as you turned your back on him.

"Yes you do. Can I kiss you?" asked Oscar softly again as he got closer to you.

You hesitated thinking about the pros and cons about doing this but Spooky did the job for you and slowly kissed you.

You slowly give in and slowly kiss him back. His lips felt so good on yours. He gave you emotions that you never felt with any guy you encountered.

You slowly wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled you closer to him until there was no space left between both of you.

After the kiss, both of you look at each other with your foreheads against each other with soft smiles.

That was two years ago.

Part Two:

Spooky sits down on the couch in his living room with his face still healing from being kidnapped. He just finished a meeting with 19th street doing a truce for peace on the block.

Cesar came in through the front door and stood in front of the tv looking at his brother with a furious face.

"They don't want peace. You got yourself played." said Cesar with his arms crossed.

"Peace is good for the block." said Spooky and he reached for some water that was right in front of him on the coffee table and started to drink it.

"What happens when the Prophet$ get out of jail? What if a new gang comes to town? What would happen?" asked Cesar with a serious face. Spooky stopped drinking and threw it behind him.

Spooky put his right hand in front of his face and moved it down his face in stress.

"I know. There will always be issues in this life. I'm sick of this game. Somebody gotta end this." said Spooky.

"You're a target now. They know you're soft. It's hard to get out of this lifestyle. What are you going to do?" asked Cesar.

Spooky got up and walked up to Cesar about to put his right hand on his left shoulder but Cesar quickly moved his hand off.

"I don't need this s*it. I want adult problems. I want a house. Maybe, a wife, or a kid. All I got now is missed opportunities. It's time to start a new chapter." said Spooky to Cesar.

Spooky was serious. He was so tired of doing this everyday and fighting to protect everybody he loves. He felt like a regular person in life every-time he's with you and he wants to feel like that everyday 24/7.

"What if somebody takes your power?" asked Cesar as Spooky started to go into his bedroom. Spooky turns back to Cesar.

"Let them. The real power is all up here." said Spooky pointing at his forehead and starts to walk away again until Cesar calls for him again. Spooky turned back around and looked at Cesar.

Cesar sighed and put his hands on his hips. He looked back at Spooky straight into his eyes asking him this one simple question:

"Have you ever thought of marrying Y/N?"

A few hours later, you just finished college for the day and you decided to go to Spooky's house to see him. Using the key he gave you, you entered.

"Spooky? Baby?" you called out throughout the house but nobody answered.

"He's probably asleep." you said and you started to walk through the house to go to Oscar's bedroom. You stopped and your eyes widened to see a beautiful rose gold short dress hanging down the door with a tag attached to it.

You slowly walked up to it and grabbed the tag to read it.

"Wear this. Beach at midnight. See you tonight. -Spooky ❤️"

You smiled, grabbed the dress, and walked out of the house to go get ready.

You arrived at the beach exactly at midnight wearing the dress with cute jewel flip flops, hair curly and silver jewelry.

You walked onto the beach to see your boyfriend dress nicely in a v-neck white shirt, dark pants and new shoes.

He was standing in front of a very nice romantic picnic on the sand with candles surrounding.

"Spooky..." you said softly and you hugged him.

"You look beautiful." said Spooky as he looked at you up and down. You blushed and both of you sat down.

You gasped as you saw all of your favorite foods. Both of you were having a great time like always while eating and looking out to the sea with the moon out.

An hour later, you took a sip of your favorite drink and looked at Spooky.

"So...what's with all of this?" you asked curiously.

"Why can I treat my reina tonight?" said Oscar, making you smile and looked down at the sand as you blushed again.

"I don't know. I have no idea what I did to deserve this tonight." you said surprised.

"Wanna know? Let's go take a walk." said Spooky. He pulled out his hand and reached out to you. You grabbed it and both of you got up and started to walk on the beach leaving the picnic behind.

"Remember when we walked together this way two years ago?" asked Oscar as you two were walking hand to hand down the beach.

"Do you mean you are following me like a creep? H*ll yeah." you said, making Spooky chuckle.

"Again, I didn't follow you." said Spooky and you rolled your eyes playfully at him.

"You're such a liar. Anyways, yeah, what about it?" you asked.

"Before I confessed to you, I actually thought you were the love of my life." said Spooky, making your eyes widened.

"Really? I never thought I could be somebody's love of their life." you said and Spooky stopped walking which also made you stopped.

He quickly went in front of you and grabbed both of your hands.

"Well now I'm saying you are. You're the love of my life." said Spooky and you started to blush hard.

"I'm serious. You were acting like a very caring mom with Ruby and his friends." said Spooky with certain eyes.

"I was just watching out for them. Especially Ruby." you said and he got closer to you.

"I've been wondering about leaving this gang life. I want a regular life. I want to get a house...maybe getting a wife and kid..." said Spooky looking deep into your eyes.

You never thought Spooky would even think about living his gang life. He was in it for who knows how long...but why?

"How long have you been thinking about this?" you asked uncertainty what’s happening right now.

"Ever since I became your boyfriend, Y/N." said Spooky, making your heart skip a beat and you started to breathe heavily but softly,

"Ever since I saw you that one day on the beach, I just knew you were the love of my life. You're the one that makes me want to do things I don't usually do for people. You made me a better person inside and out. You make me feel like a regular person every-time I'm with you. These last two years have been the best with you in my life and I can't imagine myself going on without you by my side." said Spooky. confessing to you and you start to get tears in your eyes.

Spooky slowly wipe your tears from your face and stand a bit back from you.

"Y/N L/N..." said Oscar and he started to bend down on one knee. Your heart was beating out of your chest so hard as you processed what was happening.

"Would you make me the happiest man in the world and...marry me?" asked Oscar as he pulled out a box from his right pocket of his pants and opened it in front of you. You saw a huge engagement ring inside.

"Yes!" you shouted happily making his smile huge. He got up from the ground, grabbed the engagement ring out of the box and put it on your ring finger.

Spooky then picks you up off of the ground and spins you around as you were smiling huge.

A moment later, Oscar slowly puts you to the ground and as you look down at him. You two kiss passionately ready to spend both of your lives together forever.

#onmyblock #onmyblockimagines #on my block x reader #on my block imagine #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz imagine #oscardiaz #ruby martinez fic #rubymartinez #cesardiaz #spooky omb #omb season 3 #omb s3 #spooky #spooky diaz

183 notes · View notes

celosiaa · 5 years ago

Text

it’s all alright

Summary: Jon's ill-- they both are, and Martin's doing his best to be okay.

(missing scene from "steady, love”)

Inner thoughts are formatted in italics, and the Eye speaks in glitched text.

QUICK RECAP: Martin's got pneumonia, and spread his germs to Jon. Jon's just regular sick though-- Martin has pneumonia because the Lonely made his illness worse.

---

“…No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear his tender-taken breath, And so live ever—or else swoon to death.”

Giving a soft smile and sigh of contentment, Martin finishes his murmured reading, setting his notebook of favorites on the arm of the couch and continuing to move his hand through Jon’s graying locks. He’d dozed off with his head on Martin’s lap nearly an hour ago, and Martin has been trying to soothe his restless sleep the best way he can. Placing a hand over Jon’s sweat-beaded brow, he feels an immediate spike of anxiety pulse through him.

Fever’s up again.

This is, without a doubt, the worst day of Jon’s illness. He’d spent the morning wracked with fever chills, constant fits of sneezing and coughing leaving him exhausted by midday. Sweeping his gaze over the length of his rail-thin frame, a deep sorrow wells up in Martin’s chest, deep enough to drown him. Constant stress and grief and hunger have clearly taken their toll; the price steep enough to drive Jon’s body far beyond limits of what might remotely be considered healthy. He’s lost Tim, he’s lost Daisy, he endured the Buried and the Lonely just to save the people he loves and—

Martin hadn’t been there for him through any of it.

There’s no denying that.

All he can do is wish that he were at full capacity to see to Jon’s every need in the present. As it stands right now, however, Martin still very much doubts his ability even to walk up the stairs under his own strength.

Pathetic.

He pauses, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head.

No, that’s not true. You know it’s not.

We’re both ill and it’s not your fault.

…well, mostly, anyway.

Letting out a shaky breath, he allows himself a moment to collect all the small bursts of unease taking over his mind, pulling them together until they become something manageable. As if awake enough to read his thoughts, Jon shifts over his lap, turning to burrow his face further into Martin’s thigh.

Martin feels a blush creeping over his cheeks, and finds himself unable to resist the urge to grin down at him.

I never thought I could have this.

Never thought I deserved it.

He cards a hand through Jon’s curls once more.

Maybe I don’t, but…I suppose it’s happened anyway, hasn’t it?

It’s happened and I’m so in love, I’m so in love

And he trusts me to be here with him. To be here for him.

Even if I am just a soft pillow to cuddle at the moment.

He exhales briefly in a silent laugh. Unfortunately, this seems to jostle Jon’s skeletal frame—he sniffs miserably in response, sinuses still laden with congestion, before his chest heaves in a weak, echoing cough against Martin’s thigh.

Worry seeps into his bones as Jon’s body continues to shake with chills. Eyeing the blanket draped over the back of the sofa, Martin’s every impulse drives him to pull it over onto him—but he knows it will only drive his temperature up. He settles instead for rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades, guilt creeping steadily back in to strangle his heart.

God, what is wrong with you?

You’re really going to let yourself enjoy his misery? Enjoy that he’s probably out of his mind with fever?

Because what, it makes him sweet?

Makes him want you?

Martin pulls his hand back from Jon’s shoulders as if it had been burned.

He doesn’t want you.

How could he?

Something sits heavy in Martin’s chest, threatening to bubble to the surface.

…no. That’s not true.

He said he loves you, and that felt more true than anything Peter ever told you.

This is just loneliness.

A falsehood of your own making.

Martin sighs shallowly, attempting not to disturb the infection still living in his lungs. Even with all this, with all his determination that his guilt is baseless—he cannot deny how much it hurts. He tries to reach out, to touch Jon again, to anchor himself, but finds that he cannot. Not with the constant doubt of Jon’s willingness to be comforted pulsing through his mind.

Another inhale, and—

His breath hitches at the top, chest burbling.

Shit.

Everything that had been racing through his mind ceases to be at once, replaced by a singular thought:

Don’t wake him don’t wake him don’t wake him

Martin’s lungs burn, beginning to tremble under the lack of oxygen. Trembling quickly gives way to convulsions, his chest heaving with effort as he claps a hand over his mouth. Desperate tears pool in his eyes when the movement disturbs Jon, who furrows his brow and moans in annoyance.

No no please no

He can see his glass of water on the coffee table, just outside of arm’s length, and knows he will not reach for it. Instead, he tilts his head back, inhaling with caution, trying to convince the congestion to settle once again.

Knew I should have taken those cough suppressants.

Jon had let him take them only once before. The first time Martin had requested them, it had been during another fever spike, and he had apparently been rambling—about how much noise he was making, how Jon needed to sleep, how Martin had done nothing but cause him harm. Predictably enough, Jon had scolded him thoroughly for this, only allowing him to take them when the coughing had prevented Martin from sleep for nearly twenty-four hours.

“You need to cough, Martin; you need to get it out,” he had said.

“It’s too loud, it’s too loud, you shouldn’t have to—”

“Stop.”

He had taken Martin’s hands from where he’d been wringing them in distress.

“Listen to me. It’s loud, and it’s alright. It’s loud, and it’s alright—I promise, darling. Please…let yourself get well.”

The memory of these words rings through Martin’s mind.

Please let yourself get well.

He makes a decision.

Shaking Jon’s shoulder ever so lightly, Martin watches as he half-sits up, blinking blearily at him.

“M’tin?” he slurs.

Martin looks at him apologetically before he erupts, bending over his knees to cough violently into his elbow, stars dancing in the edges of his vision.

Sorry sorry I’m so sorry

---

When Martin begins coughing, Jon bolts upright, regretting it instantly as a wave of dizziness threatens to take him straight back down. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, willing the feeling to pass as Martin shows no signs of letting up.

Jesus, what’s happening?

At last, he feels steady enough to blink his eyes open, squinting against the light of midday streaming through the living room window. The feeling of confusion, however, does not fade, and he’s all-too aware of his climbing temperature.

3̦̺9̗͋̈.̹͖͑2̐

God, shut up.

With some difficulty, he turns his attention to Martin, who is still hunched over, his cough producing nothing but an endless churning. At last, some clarity makes its way into his thoughts, and Jon reaches out a hand to rest between Martin’s shoulders.

“D’you need the inhaler?” he asks in a voice far too low and nasal to be natural.

Martin shakes his head, of course, as always. Jon shakes his own head in exasperation.

Stubborn.

After a few moments, Martin’s fit finally ceases, leaving him braced against his knees and gasping for breath. Knowing now that the worst is over, Jon takes the opportunity to extract himself a bit from Martin’s side, reaching for the tissue box at the far end of the coffee table. He glares at it in his hands for a moment, offended by its necessitated presence in their home, before handing one to Martin and taking one for himself.

Trying to clear his head feels like trying to force the ocean through a straw. His head immediately starts throbbing, ears popping uncomfortably as he does his best to ease some of the pressure. It’s to no avail, however. He ends up breaking off into coughs, harsh and barking and painful.

“God, Jon. You sound a lot worse.”

Martin’s hand is on his back now, rubbing back and forth with such a gentle motion that Jon finds himself swaying along. The tide is pulling him down, back to sleep, back to rest—

“I’m so sorry I woke you,” Martin whispers.

Jon’s eyes snap back open, and he turns his face toward Martin in confusion.

“Wh…what?”

Martin does not reply, instead removing his hand from Jon’s back and turning to stare out the window.

Something about this does not feel right to Jon.

“Hey.”

He places a hand on Martin’s knee, squeezing gently.

“Hey, look at me. Why are you apologizing?”

For a moment, Martin does not move, does not speak—locked in a staring contest with the falling leaves outside, until—

“Ah, fuck.”

Martin curses himself as he scrubs furiously at eyes, where tears have begun to spill over his cheeks.

Concern floods through Jon’s chest.

“Oh no, Martin, here—”

He reaches back again for the tissue box, holding it out for Martin to take some. Muttering a wet “thanks,” he swipes at his eyes briefly, sniffling before he forces out a brief laugh.

“Sorry, god, it’s nothing. I think I might have spiked another little fever. You know how I get.”

He laughs again, and the hollowness of it darkens the room.

Jon can almost see him fading away, back into the fog.

Not anymore, Martin.

He begins stroking a hand up and down Martin’s forearm, worrying at his bottom lip for a moment as he considers his words.

“Martin, I—I think we need to talk about this.”

“No no, it’s fine Jon, really I—”

“It’s not fine. You’re…upset, and I—I want to talk about why. I think we need to talk about it.”

At this, Martin lowers his head, the shame and embarrassment rolling off him so profoundly that Jon requires no powers of the Eye to sense it.

I need to tell him what I know.

“Look I…I need to tell you something. It’s important, and before I start I just want you to know that I’m sorry, and that it was unintentional,” Jon says, words spilling out of him like ink over parchment.

Martin lifts his head, brows furrowing as he stares at Jon quizzically.

Jon sighs, running a hand through his hair before continuing.

“I…walked through your dreams, the other night. I didn’t mean to, I swear I tried to leave but—”

“Jon?” he says, ever so gently.

A gentleness I could never deserve.

“Yes?”

“It’s alright, love. What did you see?”

Honest. You’ve got to be honest.

He sniffs and clears his throat, trying to force his congested voice into something resembling normality.

“I saw lots of things. You were a child in some of them. I saw your mum and dad…how cruelly they treated you.”

Jon stops for moment, hearing Martin’s sharp inhale. Tentatively, he reaches out for his hand—which Martin takes at once, clutching it like a lifeline.

“I watched you cut your hair for the first time. How it made you feel. And…I saw you try to bind your chest with bandages, and end up in the hospital. Alone.”

He pauses again, breaking off to cough painfully into his elbow, and uses the time to choose his next words carefully.

“I—I know your parents always wanted you to be silent, to fade in the background. A-and I know that how I treated you at the Institute…”

He trails off, swallowing a lump forming in his throat.

“I know that hurt you. A lot. Um.”

Martin squeezes his hand, and Jon can’t help but smile.

“I just—I just need you to know that I never want you to do that. To fade away. I-I want to hear you, to listen to you—always, do you understand? I want to know when you’re happy, when you’re hurting—I want to be here for all of it, Martin. I want all of you.”

Though his voice wilts and breaks and fades into nothing but a whisper by the end, Martin looks back at him now like he’s the most beautiful thing in the world. He tips Jon’s forward gently, pulling him into a tender embrace, Jon’s head pressed against his chest.

“Even when I cough so loud, I can’t help but wake up my ailing partner?”

Partner.

Jon smiles against him, giggling for a moment before stretching his neck up to kiss his jaw.

“Yes, Martin, even then.”

Martin plants a kiss on the top of Jon’s head in return, and they settle back in for a second round of their nap.

It’s quiet, until it’s not—and even then, it’s all alright.

#tma #tma fic #tma sickfic #sickfic #hurt/comfort #cw illness #poem at the beginning is by keats!#Bright star would I were stedfast as thou art #lmk if there's another missing scene you want to see!#my writing

52 notes · View notes

suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years ago

Text

New Conditions (Sriracha, Part. 39.)

Series description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: You had enough of tiptoeing around James. So Jules, the badass she is, encouraged you to finally let go of the fear and to show him that you still love him.

A/N: I CAN FINALLY UNDERSTAND WHY JIM LOVES JIM CROCE SO MUCH. The ending of this chapter is heavily influenced by album You Don’t Mess Around With Jim and especially its love songs. Also, after not having Hopper in two chapters and having him in other four on the second rail, I think it’s time to have him back in the fucking game.

Warnings: Some smut I suppose, but nothing too explicit. And Hopper finally being James fucking Hopper again.

Word count: 3.2 K

Tagging: @nemodoren @missdictatorme @ysljordy @creedslove

Series master list: H E R E

GIF SOURCE

"I don't know what to do, Jules." - You sighed and leaned your back into the plushy wall of the box you and Julia chose to sit in in the Bloomington KFC. Jules told you all about her dating with the Biology class Steve she was seeing last few years. It looked like a proposal is lingering in the air. - "Like I'm trying to make him... Notice that I'm looking at him, that I hear what's bugging him off, that I'm here and waiting for the first step to maybe try it once again and he's just... Numb." - You sighed, looking into the streets of Bloomington.

You couldn't stand the mix of different tensions in the house. It was fucking you up for two days in a row. The constant fear of Jim just trying to punch you, again, feeling him being so distant and fearing that maybe, it was, indeed, over. That day, it was Tuesday, you called Julia and asked if she has some time to meet up with you. Of course, she had - she was more than happy to take you out somewhere. Especially when she heard that you're having some relationship trouble.

Hopper was... Weird. Since that accident on Sunday, the one where he almost broke your wrist when he caught it into his palm, he was out of order. You managed to freak him out one more time and it had the same result - he almost couldn't stop himself from punching you. On Monday evening, you watched him stand in front of the door leading into the garden and stare into the distance for more than an hour in a row. He was barely blinking the whole time, just chainsmoking next to an opened window. Which was as disturbing as it was impressive.

"Then stop waiting and make the first step. Show him. Get that Marvin Gaye or Foreigner on and do it. Do you think I don't know you can stand up for your ass when you want to?" - Jules chuckled and finished off her milkshake. - "I know since the first day in kindergarten, so shy up my ass, you're not this type."

"But what if he doesn't want this anymore? What if he has just straight-up mess inside his head that even I can’t cure? I don't wanna make him do something he doesn't want to." - You mumbled back and took another bite of the wings you've ordered. You weren't even that hungry; you were just worried that if you or Jules won't order some food, they'll tell you to leave the restaurant.

"So, a small recap. Three years ago, he fell for a girl who vomited all over his Blazer. He came back from... Apparently somewhere in the deepest ass on the whole planet, he was searching for you from all the people like Joyce or Eleven, he took five free days in a row to spend with you in the house and you still think that he maybe isn't into it anymore?" - Jules said back to you. Joyce didn't clap back the way she was, which, to be honest, was helping you big time. You needed someone to call you a dumb bitch.

"If James didn't fall in love with the girl who could kick his ass in an instant and who could have a huge argument with him because he didn't fetch his socks into the washing machine, he wouldn't stay in the first place back in ’83. Don't blame him for not taking the first step, girl, because if I had to point on a person who’s being more hesitant out of you two, it will be you." - She looked you in the eyes and you just opened up your mouth, but before you could say a word, she jumped in to continue.

"You have softened over the last year and a half. Ever since you and Hop had Eleven, which I still don't quite get, you, my friend, have been too gentle with him. You would either hurt him and scare him away with trying to turn the things around or you'll open up his damn eyes with being a bit bald. Come on, spice it up and stop playing the cold card on my man. It's painfully obvious you still have some feelings for Jim and he has some for you." - Julia exclaimed, making more than half of the restaurant to turn at you with confused looks. You took in a deep breath, but the didn't end there. - "So what you're going to do is that you will come home, get some music on to spice up the atmosphere, try your chances without shying away and you will call me after everything is said and done."

You didn't have the best feeling about agreeing with everything she said, but it was worth a try at least, wasn’t it? All you had to do was to try out how Jim’s feeling about all of this. You entered the house with a frown, hearing Jules honking as a goodbye as she drove off. Jim was sitting at the table, reading a book and spared you only a quick look and a quiet Hi. You caught his attention when you drew the curtains in the living room and when you rolled the jalousie in the kitchen, stepping to the stereo, playing Foreigner. Jim already started the fire, which was a big plus with setting the atmosphere. It wasn’t even seven p.m., so you had a whole night of trying the things anyway.

The songs on the mix were Mike’s, which was funny - including Foreigner, Air Supply, or Eric Carmen. Mike Wheeler was a man of a delicate taste when it came to cheesy pop love songs, you had to agree with that. You caught Hopper’s attention fully, the book was now closed, his finger was holding the page he ended on. Without a word, you stepped in front of the fireplace, slowly unbuttoning the shirt you had on just to let it fall on the ground. You were standing there only in your lace bra, which you thought its the cutest.

At that, Hopper inhaled deeply, looking away. It wasn’t like he tried to ignore you, he was just... Clueless. He didn't know what should he do since the things between you still didn't seem to exactly click and settle down. There was this buzzing on both sides which was making him rather uncomfortable.

"I don't think this..." - He started, but you were ready to snap. Just like Jules told you, you were about to give the former Chief the girl he fell for - the one who didn't like to be messed around with, who could bring hell upon his head when he made you angry. You still had that inside of you, you just had to show him that it's still just you and him.

"Bad idea up my ass, James." - You started in a sharp voice, making Jim widen his eyes and straighten up. - "If this is a bad idea, tell me, what's the good one then? Because I feel like trying not to bump into you more than trying to connect back to you since the day my family left for New Orleans. We’re carefully tiptoeing around each other but that's not what I want, you understand? If you don't know how to approach me, no worries, stand up right now and show me how to approach you and I swear to God that I'll do my best to make it work." - You sighed, now lighting up a Camel cigarette without a filter.

"Because every time you sit next to me, I can only feel how fast you're drifting away from me. You don't talk to me, you won't try to get the mood on, you won't try your chances and I'm just bored with this. Show me what should I do and I will." - You stepped next to him and carefully touched his shoulder, making him shift uncomfortably. Immediately, you put the hand away, sighing a bit.

"Listen, I know it’s hard for you, but it's hard for me too. I'm still in love, I think - because if I weren't, this wouldn't be crushing me the way it is. Don't be a pussy." - You whispered with a small smile, making him smile as well. Calling him out felt so ’83 if you'd ask James. Calling him a pussy, telling him he's too old and not too bold just to make him do something, you were doing that a lot back in the day.

"Are you ready to go down this path?" - He asked just as he asked the first night, making you light up in a matter of a second. You nodded, biting your lip.

"And are you ready for this?" - You asked back, hearing the first notes of REO Speedwagon just lurking into the room. Gently, you tapped out the cigarette and an idea flashed through your head. - "Wait a minute. Sit down there, make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back, yeah?" - You mumbled and ran into your room, still being dressed only in your favorite pair of jeans and that super slick lacy bra. You searched through your room, you almost threw everything on the ground just to find it - the sheer rosy lipstick you loved so much.

You put on a shirt, throwing the jeans along with the socks on the ground, and ran down the stairs with an excited smile. Hopper did as he was told - he was now sitting on two to three blanket laid down onto the wooden floor in front of the fireplace with pillows everywhere around him. The song was just ending, being replaced with Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes’ song sneak peaking some romantic movie coming out next summer. Carefully, you sat opposite of him, opening the lipstick.

"I don't know what you've been through in Russia but I noticed that touching some spots brings up a defensive reaction. So... All I want is for you to show me which spots are safe." - You whispered with a small smile, carefully coming even close. - "Or at least which spots are comfortable to touch for you, okay?"

"With lipstick? Like I'll be tappin’ the spots I don't mind?" - Jim smiled lazily. There he was, that old rascal you knew.

"You’ll draw me a map." - You answered with confidence, leaning to unbutton his shirt. You made sure he saw every move you made so there would be no space for accidents. You didn't want your wrist broken or your nose punched. So you were careful with each button and you constantly make sure he's looking you in the eyes or at your fingers.

Delicately, you slipped under the fabric, feeling him get real stiffing under you. You made sure you're quick enough so Jim wouldn't be stressing out for too long. Then, you popped the torturing device, as he used to call it every time you smudged it all over his face and circled his palm around yours. He was slim - almost too slim for your liking. He had to drop the weight rapidly fast because here and there, you could see his ribs just popping up. And my oh my, the scars he had there - you hadn't seen them before so, in natural conclusion, he must get them in Kamchatka. You were slowly able to understand why is he as careful with the touches as he was.

He furrowed and got to work, listening to Stand by Me in the background. Mike Wheeler had some spectacular taste with love songs. You watched as he completely left out the shoulders, so you figured out these were a no-no. You were watching your palm slowly traveling along with his down his ribs, taking a turn right above the belly. The only thing which seemed safe enough was chest - because Hop could see whenever you were approaching him to touch him. With that, he could have complete control over the whole situation. James could see what were you about to do.

When he put the hand away, you nodded. You could understand what was going on inside his head and let’s be honest, that was what was calming you down. Jules was right. A bit of pressure could do huge things sometimes. You took a short breath in, steadying yourself on your knees and you put the lipstick away. When you made sure he's watching, you put hands on his chest, slowly traveling up to meet his neck and the stubble there. When you were about to meet his jaw, you pulled yourself even closer.

You didn't kiss just yet - you asked for permission by looking him into eyes. But when James nodded, boy oh boy, that was a different story. You jumped right in, you were so passionate that you made him support his body with both his hands - otherwise, you would both fall and he would hit his head pretty bad. That kiss was saying everything that words couldn't - it was fast, rough, almost too hasty for a kiss of reunion but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Jesus I missed this." - Hopper mumbled without thinking too much about it, switching the position immediately. It was easy to give in into the passion, it was. Especially after such a long time. It was more than easy to lose your head over a simple kiss when you felt as he rose your knee up to his waist, pulling you so close there was no space remaining. You were pressed body on the body in a whining, moaning mess and only the sounds of kisses and a song could be heard.

Jules was so damn right. Maybe if you'd play the cold card less, he would find his way to you way easier than you having straight-up daring him to do it. Ten minutes later, the lipstick was smudged all over your shirt and his chest was a sheer rosy mess. With a loud exhale and a frown, Jim pulled away, seeing you grinning at the sight.

"I don't know why you still use this torture device." - Hopper complained, having you laugh a bit at that.

"I use it because my lips are irresistible after using it." - You frowned jokingly, pulling the shirt off along with clipping the bra off.

"What are you doin’?" - Hopper stopped and looked at you throwing the clothes away.

"You missed a few spots and I'm envious of you looking so tubular, Chief, officer, and detective Hopper." - You explained. That was a stupid idea, maybe, more like definitely it was a dumb one - but you couldn't help yourself.

"Come ’ere, miss Y/L/N. We missed a few spots." - James agreed with a glowing smile. It had a taste of old times, but it was still something completely new for you, something different. First, he made you cum without taking your panties off - all he needed was his fingers, your sweet spot, and a lot of good flicks along with staring deep into your eyes. That was what finished you, having your body contract a few times. Then, you had a suspicion he's trying to kill you with kindness after spending almost an hour with eating you out. And when you thought it can’t be better, he finally finished you off with a few good tempos towards the end. No matter how long he hadn't touched you, it felt calming and familiar. He was still as good as ever before, maybe better than that.

It was almost eleven p.m. when you both laid there, basically finished off. heavy breathing, looking into the ceiling.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" - You got out with your eyes closed, unable to even move your fucking legs. Every time Jim put on a tempo like that, you couldn't even feel your thighs and what was between them for more than five minutes.

"Yeah, I heard that here and there." - James chuckled back, getting on his elbow. You didn't know what you brought upon yourself. It could cross your mind that waking up the man inside of him, the man who hadn't felt a woman’s touch for half a year, was a dangerous idea. - "But I would like to show you some more." - He smiled, lowering his head down do kiss a trail down your neck - you yelled loudly when you felt him making you a... Love bite. A forty-four-year-old man gave you a love bite? Jesus.

"James fucking Hopper, I swear to God! It's not enough for you to have the sheer rosy torturing device all over my torso and not feeling my legs because of you? What the hell?" - You laughed and felt his palm tickling you, crying out loud before laughing before pulling in for another kiss. Were you falling into the honeymoon phase again when love gives you pink glasses to look through? Was it possible? According to what was happening, it was possible.

"You still have the ring?" - Jim asked when you snuggled to him; he was controlling every one of your moves - but what could a naked woman pressing her body into his side do to him?

"Yeah, I still wear it. I never take it off." - You showed him just for James to take it off, holding in his hand to look at it. - "What are you doing, Jim? What kind of fuckery you're trying here? I'm not giving it back." - You tried to reach the silver ring, but your man’s arm game was too strong for you - he was like three times longer than you or so.

"Wait and you'll see. You’re so eager sometimes, baby." - He smiled at you, not giving you your engagement ring back. But the nickname made you almost melt on the spot. It was so kind, romantic, giving you all the green lights you needed to be sure that you and Jim are still only you and Jim.

"Well do it properly this time." - He got out and closed his eyes, yawning.

"Oh, fuck no. You, old man, are going to take a shower with me and then we'll go to sleep. My parents will be back tomorrow." - You stood up, looking in horror at your old dog who was lazily watching you back. You were standing there naked with your eyes widened.

"How long she’s been here?" - You asked James, abruptly taking a shirt. It was somehow embarrassing having your dog staring you down while you were naked.

"You didn't know about her?" - Jim furrowed and with that, you left the room at the speed of light, feeling so embarrassed it physically hurt you. You didn't know that Jim was just ducking with you, but he found it hilarious as he put on his sweats, petting Lady behind her ears.

#jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x reader #james jim hopper #stranger things hopper #stranger things netflix #jim hopper stranger things #stranger things #jim croce #you don't mess around with jim #this album #i swear to god #i am in love

25 notes · View notes

eddisfargo · 5 years ago

Text

CoMC Chapter 108

CHAPTER 108

The Judge

24 minutes

Whoa! The reckoning is at hand for Locusta!

First, we get Noirtier glaring bloody murder at the murderess and then at her so-far inactive husband. Villefort promises he’ll do it--just one more day. Locusta and her son (do we even know her actual name, btw?) are playing a disgustingly adorable little fetch game with kisses, but they’re both horrible people so whatever.

Villefort pulls an all-nighter on the Benedetto case. He takes a little nap and wakes up.

So he wakes up like TODAY’S THE DAY. Wifey dearest is all “I sent you some hot chocolate honey, because you’re so sweet ;) <3 <3” and he’s all “this is probably poisoned.” But then he chugs it anyway because que sera sera at this point. Turns out it was not poisoned.

Then she’s all “OK I’m ready to come with you to your big trial baby!! I wanna see it! Should I bring our son??” and he’s all “no look we need to talk.” He tries to get Edward out of the room--Edward’s innocently destroying the things his mother is reading--and Edward’s like “umm but mommy didn’t say, so I don’t gotta.” So Villefort YELLS at him and he goes “OK OK I’M GOING GEEZ”

Now, I don’t usually use direct quotes because that’s tricky with an audiobook, and even when I happen upon them while I relisten at 2x speed to write these sometimes, I tend not to use them because I don’t want to set a precedent, hahaha. But this one has stuck in my mind since this morning when I heard it (like 12 hours ago), and would have even if he hadn’t repeated it 2 or 3 times. He asks his wife, “Where do you keep the poison you generally use?” Which is just so BRUTALLY casual. And she’s like “w-w-w-whaaaat??” And he’s like “you know, the poison you killed my entire family with. That poison.”

So it’s out there. He recaps everyone she’s poisoned so far, she doesn’t deny it. She asks if she’s speaking to her husband or to the judge, and he’s like “TO THE JUDGE” (hence chapter title).

So he gives her a choice. Find the poison she “generally uses,” and dead herself up before he gets home from court today. If not, she’ll swing on the scaffold. . He’d rather the poison so as not to bring dishonor on his house. Because obviously if yet another person gets poisoned in this household where 4 people have already died, everyone will just be like “tralala that’s fine.”

And she’s actually expecting him to let her live!! After killing his beloved, innocent daughter and several other people! Just like she was expecting to somehow get away with this ridiculously unsubtle crime. It’s a shame she won’t live long enough to find two brain cells to rub together.

(Probably got that idea from that post someone did with a table of people’s brain cell count vs perceived brain cell count in this book. Will definitely share that when I finish. I want to say I saw it on @edettethegreat‘s? But I try to avoid your blog until I’m done, haha. Especially since I went to one of your friends’ blogs and saw something about MC’s big reveal to Morrel before I actually got there. I didn’t read it! Just saw that there was a scene where he revealed his identity, which I pretty much knew there had to be. Luckily stopped before I saw more).

So, got to admit I’m a little disappointed in Villefort’s actions here. Team Avenger was promised a REALLY HORRIBLE reckoning, the likes of which would MAKE YOUR HAIR CURL or something (he definitely never said that, but it was implied to be just appalling). And it turns out it’s… suicide or face legal punishment for your crimes? I mean yeah, that’s pretty much the default options, barring “get away with it.”

Aaaanyway, prediction time I guess. What will be Locusta Villainfort’s choice? If her husband finds her alive when he returns home, she swings. Clearly poison’s the better choice, right? Uh-oh, he left a loophole. If he doesn’t find her home at all, she probably thinks she can survive this. She’s probably wrong, but w/ever. Ooooh, maybe she’ll go to THE GUY WHO GAVE HER THE POISON. That’d be interesting!! And what would he say? “Whaaaat? I gave you MEDICINE for your FAINTING SPELLS! I was NEVER expecting you to POISON people with it!”?

Also, further predictions: Valentine’s got to wake up soon, right? Cuz like. She can’t just live with no heartbeat or breath or food in that vault for long, I presume. Pretty sure Juliet woke up like, the next day. I’m guessing she doesn’t… decompose, since she’s NOT DEAD, I’m still pretty solid on that. And I know the potion is basically handwavy magic-style science, so who knows what its properties are, but here’s what’s bothering me. It’s pretty assured that Morrel is supposed to be miserable for another solid month (to the hour) after his suicide attempt, which obviously means no Valentine. She presumably is going to walk in right as he starts to shoot himself or whatever the heck. I’m… not currently able to make the timing work out. Does he revive her (has he already) and then just… hide her for a month, for some reason? Is she off in Hayding? (get it? Hiding with Haydee? Did that work? Probably not. They are legit pronounced the same though, according to my audiobook)

Guess we’ll see!

#Eddis Reads Monte Cristo #count of monte cristo #spoilers #unspectacular round for predictions haha #also I just realized something sad that I'll add to the relevant chapter

7 notes · View notes

rumours-spiral · 5 years ago

Text

help is other people- catherine & anne.

any feedback is obviously appreciated! this is the longest thing i’ve ever written & i’m proud that i could actually finish a draft for once. i don’t know if catherine’s song was based off of janet jackson but this is a fanfic & i can do what i want so

(also yes i took the title from a good place episode but it was rly cute :( )

summary: catherine and anne aren’t good at asking for help. but they can notice.

word count: 2,744

warnings: panic attacks

---------------------------------------------------x---------------------------------------------------

Catherine often pretended she was emotionless.

She had emotions. She did.

She wasn’t the most emotional, mind- there was a reason why she had practically never cried in front of the others, why her song was a powerful, Janet Jackson (who she would later be informed was a ‘bad bitch’. Even though she didn’t care for the language, she appreciated it all the same) inspired anthem. There was a reason why she was the one the queens went to when they needed logical advice. And that was who she was. It was who she had been in her past life- pious, reserved, kind, not one for foolery. And it was who she still was, and she liked it.

Most of the time.

Upholding this stone persona (although usually effortless) could become tiring. Pretending that she didn’t sometimes stay up at night wondering what was so wrong with her that Henry was forced to create an entirely new religion to cast her away was hard. Acting confident and sure of herself in the show while she sung what at the end of the day was a glamorised version of the torture that was their marriage was sometimes impossible. But she did it all the same. Because she was Catherine of Aragon. Because she had to, almost as much as she did 500 years ago. Her friends depended on her, as did the show, as did her reputation even now. She couldn’t take a day off because she hadn’t slept, and she most certainly couldn’t break down in front of anyone but God. Because that’s how it was.

To recap, Catherine very much had emotions. She just wasn’t allowed to show them.

So, when she woke up from a nightmare of Henry’s dangerous eyes and disgrace squeezing her chest, she allowed herself a second of whimpering, desperate sobs, before she clamped a hand over her mouth. A glance to her alarm clock told her it was two in the morning, and she knew she wouldn’t receive any more rest. She forced shaking breaths through the tears, reprimanding herself for being so loud as she made herself calm down. It was something she had become scarily good at doing.

She turned her phone’s torch on, knowing it childish to be afraid of the dark but apprehensive to be in it all the same. After swinging her legs onto the floor, she toed on her slippers, standing with her phone in hand and taking her robe off of a hook. She turned the light off once the door was opened, being greeted with the fluorescent light emitting from the bathroom that they always kept on. It lit the hallway enough that she could pick her way down the stairs, and then she was quite shocked to see the kitchen lights already on. She paused, frowning when she heard no noise, but continued her descent while wiping dried tears from her face.

After rounding a corner, she saw Anne sitting at the table, a glass of soda beside her and her hands gripping her phone. Catherine couldn’t decipher the emotion on her face. She cleared her throat softly, and Anne flinched.

“Oh! Sorry, Catherine, I didn’t see you there.” Anne said through a chuckle, but the smile on her face looked forced. Catherine gave her one of her own in an attempt to calm both of them down, but Anne seemed to have been thinking the same thing, as her smile had slipped of her face at the sight of Catherine’s effort.

“No, I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to scare you,” Catherine upheld the niceties, not being quite ready yet to pretend that they were both in the kitchen at 2AM with red eyes. Anne frowned deeper, her mouth opening to ask,

“Are you okay?” Aragon felt the smile on her face crack the tiniest bit, but she kept it there anyway. She moved to put the kettle on, turning her back to Anne and giving herself a moment’s reprieve, before glancing over her shoulder. “Yes. I just woke up because of a notification from my phone.”

The only notifications she got were from the other queens, and no one would be up this late. Anne’s frown deepened impossibly, but she blessedly allowed this poor excuse, giving Catherine a knowing look instead. Aragon turned her face back to where she was pulling a mug out of the cupboard, taking a second in addition wordlessly when she thought back to Anne’s puffy eyes.

“Are you alright, Anne? Would you like to talk about it?” Catherine already knew it was a nightmare, of course. She read Anne like a book, and the simile almost made Anne snort. She gave a dismissive hum instead, thanking the other woman softly when she sat a cup of chamomile tea before her. Catherine sat down across from her, apparently having pulled a bible from nowhere, and Anne did snort at this. She looked up from where she was flicking through the pages and gave a sort of smile. Anne’s amusement faded quicker than it came on, and she felt tears begin to prick at her eyes. She hadn’t brought herself to read a bible since she came back- it reminded her too much of her final days in the Tower, praying to a God that hadn’t deigned to bring her any peace. Of her last words, begging for his kind mercy.

“I pray for you,” Catherine said quietly, a sadness in her voice as she regarded the other’s tears. “I pray that you find true happiness. That you’re no longer haunted by a life long passed. That the Lord will bring upon you some type of reward for your suffering.” Boleyn sniffled, staring down at the table now. Her last words had also been her pleading with anyone that would listen to pray for her.

“I think of you as I read this book, and I hope you find the peace it brings me one day, in whatever form it may come in.”

Her tears dripped freely.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered at the small puddle of tears collecting on the cold surface.

“For what?”

“For ruining your life.”

Catherine sighed softly, placing her book on the table and reaching a hand out to hold Anne’s.

“You’re apologising for a life 500 years old. For actions that you have already apologised for, and that have already been forgiven,” she squeezed the pale hand in her grip, and it squeezed back.

“We’ve been granted a second chance. I would much rather spend it your friend and listen to your jokes and your songs than spend it your enemy, constantly grieving the friendship we had before it was eroded by jealousy and crowns.”

Anne was crying in full now, raising a hand to cover as much of her face as she could while gripping Aragon’s with the other.

“Don’t cover your face, bella- you have a right to be in pain.” With a warm hand, Catherine took hold of the wet one, connecting them and bringing them both down to rest on the table. She squeezed her hands again before letting go of one, standing quietly.

“Come.” Was all she said, and Anne felt more than obliged to follow. Catherine held the book under her folded arm, and held her tea with her free hand. She led them both to a single armchair, setting the objects down on the table next to it and pulling Anne down to sit half on top of her, half on the armrest. Anne hadn’t the heart to comment on this, quite preferring to settle into the warm, sturdy body beneath her, still crying softly despite her will. Their hands were disconnected and Catherine instead brought one to wrap around Boleyn’s shoulders and play with a long section of hair that had fallen out of the sleep-mussed bun. With the other she wiped the tears as she shushed Anne softly.

Once Anne had calmed, she breathed heavily, and asked (almost tentatively, a shocking adjective for her), “read to me?”

A small smile graced Catherine’s face, and she pulled the Bible towards them.

—

She noticed Anne’s quiet sounds of sleep about twenty minutes into reading aloud. She stopped talking, listening to her instead.

Catherine didn’t sleep for the rest of that night. She either read her Bible or pulled Anne closer to her. The brunette didn’t wake, even when the other queens had begun to come downstairs.

Jane came first, bustling about in the kitchen for a few moments before padding into the living room and pausing at the sight on the armchair in surprise. She smiled widely after a moment, and she whispered “Can I get you anything?” as she set a tray holding her breakfast on the couch. Catherine gave a gentle shake of her head, humming in thanks as she did. Jane (ever the mother) picked up a blanket she had knitted herself, and threw it over the pair wordlessly. Aragon just smiled in amusement as she enjoyed the serenity that apparently came with a warm, sleeping Anne Boleyn curled into top of her.

——————

By the time 7pm came around, Catherine was exhausted. She had barely dragged herself through the first show of the day, running on only a few hours sleep and her emotional state shaky at best. Anne noticed.

She came over to the sitting queen, speaking in a low voice even though no one else was in the dressing room. They looked at each other in the mirror.

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay,” the brunette began, and Catherine found herself grateful that she was being spared from the stiff politeness she herself had forced upon the two last night. “But I do want you to know that we have alternatives for a reason, and that I’m here if you need anything.” To the surprise of them both, she placed a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. Neither commented, and Anne returned to her seat just as Anna came into the room.

Catherine mulled the words over as she put finishing touches on her makeup. Anne was right, of course. To any other queen in this state, Catherine would have told them very plainly to take the night off- there was still time for an alternative to get in costume. But then she thought back to her reputation.

Her breathing quickened slightly and her chest began to squeeze at the sudden weight upon her shoulders, but she fought it back with deep breaths and listening in to the stupid conversation currently happening between Boleyn and Cleves. Not now. This wasn’t the time. She finished her makeup, and forced herself out of her chair upon the five minute warning.

Obviously, performing when feeling on the edge of passing out from a frankly concerning mixture of physical and emotional exhaustion isn’t a good idea. Catherine knew it. But she did it anyway, missing a few marks by just a second and hearing her voice waver too much while she sang “please tell me what you think I’ve done wrong”. Too many mistakes. Far too many. Anne noticed, of course. For someone with such a tempestuous attention span, she noticed everything. So anytime that she could, in any song that she could, she edged herself close to Catherine, giving her encouraging looks or smiles or pats, and it was about the only thing keeping back the tears.

Catherine was off the stage the second they had said their farewells to the audience, and she struggled to keep herself from running to the dressing room. She held herself well as she walked past the technicians, trying to smile convincingly as they gave her their congratulations. She wasn’t sure how well it worked. Anne followed closely behind and she stopped only to mutter a quick request to their dressing-roommate. She slipped into the room after Catherine, immediately shutting and locking the door. The other queen was well into hyperventilating, her previous efforts in stifling the panic only making this one come on all the more powerfully. She began tugging at the collar of her costume, whimpering as the heavy necklaces seemed to crush her throat. She supposed it was only just punishment for how badly she had failed the other queens.

Anne moved to her in a few short strides. “Can I touch you?” She asked firmly, squashing the tears threatening to well in her eyes at seeing Catherine like this. The woman in question gave a jerky nod, and Anne placed her hands on her shoulders, wanting to touch but not overwhelm her.

“Can I take your costume off?” Was her next question, and she wasted no time in undoing the clasps and zips at the confirmation she received. Catherine was still only heaving in gasping gulps of air and was trembling under her, and Anne sped up her movements when she heard sobs. She helped Catherine shrug the heavy material off, and she was left in an undershirt and her costume’s shorts.

“I’m s-sorry,” Catherine sobbed, and Anne just shushed her gently, pulling them both to the floor. Catherine slumped against the door, and Anne knelt before her. She stroked stray curls away from the wetness on her cheeks and her heart contorted painfully at the twist in Aragon’s face. Her fingers pulled pins from her hair before ultimately pulling the spiked headband off. “No, don’t think about that now.” She said softly, and she moved back slightly to take the gold studded heels off.

“No, I-I messed up so much and I-“ Anne only got one shoe loosened, but she moved back up to Catherine’s face and cupped her cheeks with both hands. “No,” she repeated firmly, “you did nothing wrong.” Catherine only whimpered, and her face met Anne’s shoulder when she brought the two together in a trembling embrace. She stroked her back, her arms, her hair, anything she could touch, as if it would calm her. But she was still crying and not breathing properly, and she shook so hard that the tremors moved Anne as well.

“Hurts,” Catherine whimpered softly again. She supposed she mainly meant the painful fist in her chest that was choking her heart, but she really could’ve meant anything. Anne hummed.

“I know. You’re okay.” Was Anne’s reply. She moved them so that she sat with her back against the door, her legs encasing the other, and she pulled Catherine into her. Catherine obliged, burying her head back into her neck. Anne allowed her a time of just crying, but the fact that the attack was lasting for so long was starting to worry her, and she needed to get her breathing normally. She rubbed her back again for a time and closed her eyes against the pain she felt hearing Aragon’s stifled sobs against her. She gave them both a minute, before tapping Catherine and moving them away from each other the tiniest bit.

“Can you try breathing for me?” Her hands how held her shoulders, and she made herself give a reassuring smile at Catherine’s indecisive and panicky pause. “Just try? It’s alright,” she whispered, and she led one of the other queen’s hands to her own ribs so that she could feel her deep breaths, leaving both hands there. “Just breathe with me.” Catherine only looked up at her with wide, wet eyes. Anne was reminded starkly of a lost child. She gave another smile, and breathed steadily.

Catherine replicated for a few breaths, before she grew tired of the shakiness of them, and whimpered softly in frustration while squeezing her eyes closed. Anne brought their foreheads together with her free hand. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just follow me.” She spoke softer than she perhaps ever had, and it was enough, as she felt Catherine’s regular exhales puff against her lips. They were shaky and of a smaller size than Anne would like, but she was breathing, and tears of relief welled in her eyes. “There we go!” she whispered with a smile when brown eyes opened to meet her own, and she thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Aragon’s head fell back on Anne’s shoulder after a few more minutes of breathing together, and Anne hugged her.

“You did so well,” she muttered into the curls next to her face, and she hugged the woman tighter at the hitch she heard in her breath after the comment.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #anne boleyn #catherine of aragon #anne x catherine #panic attack #hurt/comfort #aralyn

72 notes · View notes