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simplepotatofarmer · 3 years ago

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technoblade: a takedown - pt. 1

(not clickbait)

aka i go over every argument people make against c!techno one by one and determine whether they’re valid, false, or a mixture of both. i rewatched every single stream/video, including those on his alt channel, so i could approach this with the most information possible. i’ll be breaking this up into parts because there’s just too much otherwise. all about the characters unless stated.

techno believes in a ‘dog eat dog’ world - false

this is an argument i see used a lot when people discuss techno so i wanted to address it first. luckily, the stream in which he says this is only his fifth stream on the server. there’s one major reason why this argument falls apart and one minor reason that isn’t objective like the first.

first and most importantly: techno has never acted on this. even at the beginning - which is when this comment was made - he was helping his allies, from building railings to keep them from falling, making a potato farm, and all the gear he grinded for to equip his allies in pogtopia with. moving forward, he’s also helped out plenty of people: giving tommy a place to stay and items, telling phil to reach out to ranboo after doomsday, as well as giving both tommy and ranboo food when asked. there’s more, of course, but the point is he’s never once followed up on this statement. he teamed up with quackity to stop the egg. he spoke to niki about how he was giving anarchy a bad reputation because of the violence and wanted to take a different approach which he has.

when people use this argument to insist that techno is the villain, it doesn’t hold up because it’s merely taking one statement he made and upholding it as a main part of his character when his actions and later statements have shown that he doesn’t actually believe in this randian view point. objectively, i can’t see how this argument can extend beyond ‘well, he said it’. regardless of what he said during the pogtopia arc, he’s said the opposite later - wanting everyone to live free with no oppression or imperialism - and has never acted on it nor brought it up later. this take honestly seems disingenuous and was in fact the driving factor of this post.

second and not as critical, techno mentions multiple times during each of his first streams that he’s not sure who all is on his side. this is a reoccurring point for him. he makes the comment about wanting a dog eat dog world during the red festival stream, while speaking to bad and sam. the first part of the conversation is techno asking about state secrets since they’re (as far as techno knows) on manberg’s side. bad mentions schlatt killing cats and techno launches into a spiel about massive anarchy and the weak being huddled in fear, asking them how does that sound. bad says as long as there’s no cat murder, perhaps. bad then asks techno what his ‘single issue’ is and techno responds that he wants to destroy the government. to me, the context of the conversation, who he’s speaking to and what his opinion of those people is, is an important thing to consider.

techno’s ‘we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it’ comment means he was always going to betray pogtopia/l’manberg - valid but not how you think it is

i’ve seen people say that techno saying ‘we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it’ is a clear sign that he was always intending to betray pogtopia/l’manberg which, yeah?

but i wouldn’t call it a betrayal.

he says the ‘we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it’ line at the end of the ‘eve of revolution’ stream while he’s talking to quackity, ponk, and sam. the conversation is as follows:

techno, to quackity: i’m glad we could get to know each other. i heard you’re on our side now. i heard you betrayed schlatt.

quackity: yeah, that’s right. are you betraying anyone?

techno: no. i would never betray my personal ideals.

[some chatter from ponk and quackity]

sam: what does that mean? what if the people you’re fighting along [sic] have different ideals than you, though? doesn’t that mean you’d betray them?

techno: listen... we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.

then techno states that he ‘said what he said’ when sam questions him about his choice of metaphor.

he actually uses the same malaphor at the beginning of the ‘revolution’ stream when they (quackity and tubbo) question him again and in that case techno definitely avoids the subject which isn’t a good thing but considering everyone was so worked up about the possible traitor, i can completely understand.

overall, techno is extremely upfront about his intentions. yes, there is definitely some miscommunication between all the parties because none of them were on the same page but that doesn’t make techno the bad guy here nor does it mean he betrayed anyone. he was upfront about his intentions from the start.

in his first two streams, he makes a joke that if they happen to set up a new government/president that he would just take that one down and it would be a never-ending cycle. over and over, he says that he wants to do destroy the government/manberg. when tommy mentions taking it back, techno says, ‘what do you mean, take it back?’ though this kind of gets lost in the middle of everything else - dsmp (lack of) communication strikes again.

the takeaway that i see here a lot is that techno always intended to betray them because he knew tommy wanted to take back l’manberg and knew that he would go against them if they set up a new government. and this is true to an extent! he did know that tommy wanted l’manberg back and he did know that he would go against them if they set up a new government. but wilbur was also telling techno that he was on board with the whole anarchy thing.

none of them were on the same page and that surely led to a big chunk of what happened and hurt feelings on both sides but that doesn’t mean techno betrayed anyone or that he was the bad guy for doing exactly what he said he would do from day one.

techno destroying (l’)manberg was wrong - it’s complicated

the first thing to address here is that for most anarchists, destroying a government isn’t a bad thing. in fact, taking down the government/state is basically our goal. now, i don’t speak for all anarchists, of course, but overall the general feeling is that violence in the name of overthrowing an oppressive government is not inherently bad. there’s no way to do a one-for-one here because it’s minecraft but the general sentiment remains. so while violence enacted against the state is a bad thing for people who aren’t anarchists, techno has no reason to and would not view it as inherently bad.

but it did hurt people and techno himself acknowledges that fact. he’s acknowledged what he’s done when confronted about it. he hasn’t said he was wrong because understanding that it was hurtful doesn’t mean he believes he was wrong. to him, he wasn’t. destroying what he viewed as an oppressive system was the right thing to do, even if it hurt people.

(also this isn’t any kind of meta but i think it needs to be pointed out that wilbur had already set off the tnt and techno summoned two killable mobs which did plenty of damage but he didn’t say wilbur was the great who came before them for no reason.)

again, this is going to be the most controversial part of this post because i don’t believe destroying government is a bad thing and i don’t believe techno is wrong for believing that as well. there are better ways to address the problem and techno is adjusting his tactics but if another government was to be established, i don’t believe he would be in the wrong to destroy it because he’s an anarchist.

the tl;dr of this section honestly could just be summed up with ‘watch less marvel, read more ursula k. le guin’.

‘techno is the villain because he called tommy the hero’ - so very false

this is a take i’ve seen that to this day i don’t understand.

techno calling tommy the hero does not mean he was setting himself up as the villain in any capacity. it was merely pointing out tommy’s habit of putting himself at the forefront of almost every conflict, trying to shoulder everything, no matter how it hurts tommy himself. the speech was directed at that and nothing else. it doesn’t mean techno is the villain, it doesn’t even mean there is a villain; there are more stories to be told than the classic hero-villain and the hero-villain narrative doesn’t always apply to stories. (i’d certainly argue that it doesn’t apply to the dream smp but that’s a different conversation.)

techno is to blame for tubbo’s death - false

i think this one has been done to death but what would a techno post be without it?

no, techno is not to blame.

he said over and over that he was outnumbered and believed that if he had done anything, everyone would’ve turned on him and ‘torn him to shreds’. even if that wasn’t the case, it is what techno believed. he had no reason to think that he could take the entire crowd out until he actually fired the rocket launcher. and remember, he tested the rocket launcher earlier during the festival on niki (who volunteered) and it didn’t kill her. when he realized the amount of splash damage it did, he gives a surprised laugh and then begins firing into the crowd.

as for saying he was under ‘mild’ amounts of peer pressure, techno has a habit of minimizing. not just the things he’s done, but often situations that he’s been in that were stressful. he stated that he deals poorly with high stress situations and one of the cognitive distortions that can come with anxiety is minimization. techno doesn’t actually believe it was ‘mild’ peer pressure - it was a situation that caused him enough distress that he brings it up later at doomsday - but it’s easier to deal with a situation when you downplay it, it’s easier for techno to keep up that calm façade when he’s acting as if whatever happened wasn’t that big of a deal even if it was. again, the way he speaks about it on doomsday was clearly upset and emotional.

the only person to blame for tubbo’s death is schlatt. he was the one pulling the trigger and techno was the gun.

if you made it this far, thank you for sticking it out! i spent so many hours rewatching all the streams, some of them multiple times, while taking notes to be able to do this. i’m extremely passionate about techno and i feel as if a lot of the arguments against him tend to miss the nuance of his character. this project is on-going and i’ll be going over the butcher army/retirement storylines next. feel free to submit any points you’d like to see addressed!

#technoblade #dream smp #dsmp analysis #dsmp meta #tommyinnit #tubbo #quackity #dsmpblr #dream smp analysis #loyal does meta #this......is a lot #i spent so much time on it y'all

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Leviathan's Odyssey 9 (End):

Isolation

*Lucifer is in the Student Council room collecting paperwork when he hears his phone go off… It seems like Barbatos is messaging him yet again... For the third time this week. Though he dreads whatever news it brings, Lucifer checks his messenger and lets out a long sigh when he gets his confirmation*

*Levi was sent home early… again. He hasn’t been present for a full day of classes in nearly a week and Barbatos is beginning to get on Lucifer’s case about it… Diavolo placed a lot of trust in the eldest to bring his brother under control, but it hasn’t exactly been very successful and his butler sees no problem with applying the pressure in his lord’s stead. Though he wouldn’t call this latest message a threat of expulsion, he can sense they’re getting dangerously close…*

*normally, Lucifer would wait for the day to finish himself before returning to the House and giving Levi a lecture, but that approach hasn’t been faring well… Though he loathes to be absent, who knows what trouble his brothers could get in, he sends his response to Barbs and goes to collect his things. He has been thinking up a few solutions to the “Leviathan Problem” and it’s about time he started enacting some, but first he needs to do some shopping*

*it isn’t hard for Lucifer to find what he was looking for in the shopping district and he makes it back to the House about an hour before classes would officially end. He already knows where Levi would be, he’s been nothing is not predictable since he first came home with them... In many ways, he still has the mindset of a combat survivalist. He quickly grew territorial of the room they gave him, he tries to grab as much food as possible at meals, and every new person or situation is treated with hostile skepticism... Their brother may be home, but he certainly isn’t “back." Not yet anyway...*

*when Lucifer ascends the steps to go to Leviathan’s room, he tries knocking on the door first. Levi had taken to making ridiculous entry passwords again, an encouraging sign, but that was mostly because Lucifer forbade him from issuing trial by combat to newcomers… Unfortunately, today there wasn’t any voice on the other side… Lifting the lock on the door is child’s play with just a little magic, so after giving his brother ample time to say something, Lucifer opens the door himself*

Lucifer: Leviathan? *he pokes his head in with a bit of caution, Levi could still be quick to lash out if caught off guard*

*Lucifer’s eyes scan the dimly lit room, with only the soft blue glow of the water tank behind a glass wall offering him any light. They discovered quickly that Levi’s skin would dry out at an alarming rate without some access to water. Their first fix was to give his room a bathtub that he could soak in, but due to its narrow size Lucifer eventually had an aquarium installed for him instead. He could climb in and out from a gap near the ceiling and it had more room for him to move around freely. That seemed to resolve the issue, but Levi still remained fond enough of the bathtub to keep it around*

*he half expected to find his brother in said tub, back to the doorway and trying to ignore him, but instead he sees a black figure curled up at the bottom of the water tank. He recognizes Levi, even in his newest form - or at least the form that they taught to him once he was on dry land. While in the ocean, Levi never needed to be rid of his gills or scales, they were practical for swimming but not so much for daily life. His new form kept his tail, horns, and patch of scales here and there, but it mostly allows him to pass as an average demon. He can maintain an even milder appearance without any of the extras, but he doesn’t seem to like it as much… He always complains of feeling “too small” without his tail*

*Lucifer steps into the room and closes the door behind him. Under all of that water, Levi probably didn’t hear him knock… Or maybe he did and didn’t feel like answering. He found it hard to pinpoint just what his brother could or couldn’t do anymore… When he gets into the room, he sets a white grocery bag he had been carrying on a nearby table. He’ll have to bring up its contents at the right time… He needs to speak to Levi first.*

*Lucifer goes to the glass wall and gently knocks his knuckles against it. The black bundle in the water stirs and Lucifer watches as Levi's tail slowly begins to unravel from his body... Soon enough, he’s looking his brother in the face but he doesn’t look very happy to see him… He rarely looks happy to see anyone frankly…*

*Lucifer points up to the edge of the tank and gestures to his ear, signaling that they need to talk. He’s almost surprised at how easily Levi obliges this time, pushing off of the aquarium floor and swimming up until he’s above the surface. After taking a gulp of air, he leans over the edge of the glass - seemingly unbothered by the droplets of water that cascade to the floor.*

Levi: What do you want, Lucifer?

*Lucifer tries his best to look stern, but not overly angry. Though Levi is far less dangerous inland than he was by the ocean’s shore, he’s no less irritable... If this conversation is going to happen, he’s going to need to keep his composure for a while longer*

Lucifer: Barbatos informed me of what happened today…

Levi: And?

Lucifer: Annnd, we’ve already been over this, Levi… You can’t keep stabbing your fellow students with forks.

Levi: If you gave me my trident back, then I wouldn’t need to use them.

*Lucifer groans a bit and fights the urge to rub the bridge of his nose… Of course he’s in a mood again…*

Lucifer: Don’t play games with me, Levi… You know what the real problem is here.

Levi: Yeah, it’s the stupid school! I hate going there...

Lucifer: Levi, Lord Diavolo was very gracious to offer you a place in his academy and a seat on the student council, no less. And being one of his military officers now also puts you in a position of great importance... Your actions reflect on him and his kingdom as whole-

Levi: I know all that already, I heard you the first time! *Levi leans his chin against the edge of the glass, but still doesn’t look any happier. To his credit, he has been trying to yell at his brothers less... So it’s not too surprising to hear his voice suddenly drop down to solemn whisper*

Levi: … You know what everybody calls me there? The “Fish Freak...” They say I smell like a beached whale… *Lucifer blinks at the revelation, because this is news to him*

Lucifer: Is that so…?

Levi: Everyday. And you know what else? They trip me in the hallway or throw my things in the fountain. Somebody even left a dead squid on my desk! *a familiar look comes into his eyes now, one burning of hatred - but this time not directed at brothers...*

Levi: They’re lucky I only have forks right now...

*a part of Lucifer wants to be fine with Levi sticking up for himself… The Demon World is a cruel and harsh place where intimidation is often the best answer. He and his brothers had to learn that the hard way… But Diavolo’s goals are peace and unity - the academy was even founded with that in mind… His students should be shying away from such barbaric tactics and the council has an example to set… As much as it pains him to say it, Levi’s actions are unacceptable…*

Lucifer: Tell me the students’ names and I’ll have them punished. I guarantee you that... *takes a deep breath to prepare for what he must say next…*

Lucifer: … But you can’t keep causing trouble like this, Leviathan. Lord Diavolo has a strict code of-

*Lucifer watches as Levi groans and lifts his head off the glass, though this time he looks more frustrated than enraged*

Levi: There you go again! Diavolo this and Diavolo that!! Don’t you ever think of anything else??

Lucifer: That’s Lord Diavolo to you, and of course I do. But this isn’t the Celestial Realm anymore, Levi, and we need to adapt to his rules. *Levi’s eyes narrow at him, seeing an opportunity to dig in the knife…*

Levi: There’s adapting and then there’s ass-kissing... Which are you doing, Lucifer?

*and like that, for just a moment, Lucifer wants to abandon the whole project. He wants to leave Levi to wallow in his tank and go back to more important matters... He wants to throw his gifts into the garbage and just forget he ever bought them! His anger must have been plain to see, because Levi looks almost regretful for a second as he pushes back from the glass*

Levi: … Yeah. I didn’t think so.

*with that, Lucifer watches his brother sink back underwater and return to the floor of his aquarium. He honestly has half a mind to just turn and walk away, at least until he sees Levi curl up on his side against the store bought sand. He draws legs into the fetal position and faces his back the glass wall, letting his tail once again curl around his body as he goes back to laying in the water… alone…*

*the lonely image is enough to bring Lucifer back to some sense… Had he really forgotten why he was there so easy? With a steadier mind, he gently places a gloved hand against the surface of the glass, watching Levi from behind the wall between them…*

*his brother fell from Heaven then had to survive on his own… when he came back, he not only found out that his family had been living like royalty, but they hadn’t even been out looking for him in a long time… Now he’s been ripped from the home he’d grown accustomed to and thrust into a culture he barely understood…*

*Was it any wonder he was struggling? Was it any better for him in the Devildom than it was beneath the sea? Would it have been better to just let him stay where he was comfortable…? These thoughts have plagued Lucifer for some time, but he wouldn’t dare break up his family now…*

*Maybe... Hopefully… Levi just needs an outlet to help him cope...*

*Lucifer knocks on the glass a second time, but it’s not an angry pounding or anything. Levi must not have expected that, because he actually looks back at him in mild surprise. Lucifer signals once more for him to get out of the water before stepping aside to grab the grocery bag from before. Intrigued, but cautious, Levi swims back up to the surface and pulls himself up to the edge*

Levi: … What’s that?

Lucifer: Something I bought for you. *Lucifer picks up the bag and goes back to the tank. Levi’s eyes widen slightly with shock*

Levi: You bought something… for me?? Why?

Lucifer: It’s something that I think you’ll like… I’m told it’s very entertaining and hopefully it has all the… violence that you’ve grown accustomed to...

*he digs into the bag and pulls out two things, a DVD box-set of something called “My Life as a Demonic Pirate Defeating the Seven Lords of Hell” and a paperback book with a cute looking mermaid on the cover under the same title*

Lucifer: Levi. Have you ever heard of something called anime?

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

#and that is how levi is grand admiral #and also an otaku #and lucifer had something to do with it #thank you for attending my 9 part ted talk #im so happy i finished it #i wasn't sure that i would #but im happy with the result #obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me fic #obey me scenarios #obey me hc #angst #tw: bullying

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fanficsrusz · 4 years ago

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POWER - Henry Cavill Smut

Warnings: Smut.

Pairing: Y/n x Henry cavill

Summary: Y/n's plan to seduce Henry backfires but in a wondrous way.

Word Cound: 7.7k

A/N: Its been a while since I've posted anything and I feel a little nervous 😅. However I've missed the thrill of creating a world all of my own. I also apologise for any spelling/grammatical mistakes. I havent edited anything for a long time so yeahhh.

Please comment/reblog if you enjoyed ❤️

"You're drunk"

The accusation, issued through Henry's teeth, was an angered hiss and Henry's reaction was everything that Y/n could have wished for… And more.

Y/n forced a little hiccup, feeling it bubble its way through her body before it made its escape out of her mouth, and almost laughed at the thin set of lips across from her that stayed in a straight line.

He looked positively prim - just like he always did.

"No-" she defended, "-I'm happy". The correction came with a sly smile, her upper body leaning towards him across the bar, her inner amusement increasing as she watched his body stiffen in annoyance.

Henry was keeping a distance between their bodies, as if he thought her intoxication may be infectious.

The hold he quickly took to her waist was more of a brace rather than an intention as she swayed forward and then backwards.

"Don't you want me to be happy, Henry?"

Y/n pouted, tilting her head back and looking at him with what she hoped would be a sultry invitation. She laughed, a bold, wicked sound that drew a few glances from others in the bar. Henry stared stiffly over her head, swallowing the lump in his throat that had seemed to form as he grew more irritated with the woman's involuntary outbursts.

"For God's sake, Y/n, control yourself", he whispered tightly.

Was he embarrassed by her lack of inhibition? No. It was quite the opposite. He felt… lost. As if he had no idea how to act in the situation he had found himself in.

It was normal for him, the playboy, to taunt her with his fancy words, to distract her with his sinfully dark looks and honeyed phrases, but turn the tables and he wasn't quite so poised himself and Y/n felt a delicious thrill of power at the knowledge that she had him off balance.

She deliberately let herself go limp in his arms, and, when his grip relaxed in relief at the stability her body found, she quickly slipped under his guard, pressing the entirety of her body sinfully against him.

Her tactics immediately threatened to backfire as Henry's coldly rigid body seemed to be generating an incredible amount of heat and that in itself was enough for her to lose focus of her goal.

She rested her check against his chest and willed away her trembling response even as she measured his annoyance by the wildly uneven thump of his heart.

"You'll regret this tomorrow," he told her sternly, his hands tightening painfully on her waist.

"'Why in hell did you drink all that champagne? Do you want to make a total fool of yourself, jeopardise a deal with Dere-?"

"Rubbish. Derek thought I was as graceful as ever; he told me so," y/n said airily, thinking that it was too late to regret drinking at a business meeting with her boss and other potential clients.

Y/n moved steadily in his arms to prove it, brushing her breasts against his chest, hoping that the crushed velvet of her dress would hide the multitude of her sins that had seemed to accumulate quickly throughout the night and not to mention the past year that she had worked beside Henry, every single dirty thought she ever had about him portraying itself as nothing more than a red stain upon her cheeks and chest.

She had never been sinful before, always a dutiful daughter, just as she had later been a faithful business partner to Henry but there was only so much a woman could take before she had to take drastic measures. Now she was neither a daughter nor a business partner. She was Y/n Y/l/n. Herself. A woman before anything else and more specifically a woman with needs.

"You're the only one who thought I was wrong for declining the partnership" , she drawled mockingly, too caught up in her reckless self-absorption to monitor his surfacing awareness. "Chill out, Henry. If you can't fix it with a snap of your fingers, you might as well lie back and enjoy the open bar…"

The thud of his heart had settled down to a swift, arrhythmic beat that set up a sympathetic vibration throughout her body from her scalp to the soles of her restless feet.

There was a small pause as he manoeuvred her pliant body away from another couple that wanted to get to the bar. Then he tilted his head to look down at her.

"Chill out?" Amusement leaked through his iron control as he suppressed the grin he held in tight. " wow- I never thought I'd hear street-slang from that elegant, business-lady mouth of yours…".

For a second Y/n gulped, thinking she had lost all control of the situation that she had perfectly built up all evening but then Y/n moved dreamily against him, fully immersed in her ideal scenario.

She linked her arms round his back and arched her neck slightly so that she could see his expression.

"But I'm not a lady tonight, Henry, I'm a woman," she said huskily.

"Should I lie back and enjoy that too?" he enquired cynically.

That conjured up indecent images that for a moment left Y/n shocked, breathless even and if it wasn't for the distant sound of a glass breaking somewhere in the bar then she would have stayed in her trance like manner.

Her lips parted as she tried to say something sophisticated in response but she couldn't think of a thing and for a moment she feared that she had lost the edge. Y/n bit her lower lip and suddenly he had control over her again, his voice rough with threat, as he gave her a small shake.

"Behave yourself, Y/n. Stop being so fucking provocative. You should go home"

"I'm not ready to go home yet" she mewled, eyes darting over to the dance floor that served as a pick up ground.

Henry sighed, his eyes following her gaze

"One dance, that's all you get. Then I'm getting you out of here before you start leaping onto table-tops and doing the can-can!"

"What a killjoy you're turning out to be, Henry" with fresh fury, she suddenly spun out of his arms and danced freely for a few moments before cutting mischievously in on another couple. Soon Henry was glaring murderously over the shoulder of a blonde woman while Y/n languished in the sweaty grasp of a nervous young man who was very aware of the hovering blue-eyed menace.

When Henry cut back in a short time later, Y/n was relinquished with ill concealed relief.

"You're playing with fire, Y/n" , Henry warned, his firm hand taking hold of her again. This time he held her so captively close that she could feel the lines of his suit being imprinted on her velvet dress.

She had the feeling that if he had been able to shackle both her wrists behind her back without attracting attention he would. He wanted to cage her, tame her, but tonight, surrounded by the security of a crowd, she was determined to be untamable, just to see how far she could push him.

"Mmmm, I know, and I feel so gloriously toasty and warm," she murmured wickedly, waggling her eyebrows at a passing male.

Henry swore under his breath and pulled her flirtatious eyes away from any male that passed by capturing her gaze before she could perform some similar impropriety. He quickly brought his own hand to his mouth to mask his aggression in the pretence of courtesy. She had been right about the shackling.

"You're drunk", he repeated raggedly, more as if he was telling himself than her. She rather liked the hint of desperation that seeped into every word he spoke. It was almost as satisfying as having him grovel at her feet.

Y/n laughed, a sensuous 'cat-with-the-cream' look of satisfaction on her face as she widened her eyes and purred, "But not incapable, darling…".

She tamed a deliberate misstep as she spoke so that her leg slid caressingly between his thighs as they turned.

Henry almost stumbled as she lifted her knee, briefly applying the pivoting pressure of her thigh firmly to the juncture of his. Her provocation had an immediate effect and she drew back instantly, finally aware that her teasing had gone too far. But it was too late. Henry had reached the end of his tether.

"Fine -" he seethed, "-we'll do this the hard way then"

Five minutes later Y/n was belted roughly into the passenger-seat of her own car.

" I'm perfectly fit to drive, Henry" she raged at the man who slid angrily behind the steering wheel before inserting her keys into the ignition.

"I'm as sober as you are!"

" For your sake, I hope that's a lie, Y/n".

His voice was nothing but a growl and y/n felt the shiver that started in her groin slowly rise up through her spine.

"But if it is true then maybe you've done me a favour. If you were teasing me deliberately I don't have to feel guilty for what I'm about to do." his eyes stayed focused on whatever he was staring at, his fists curling tightly around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned pale.

"Do?" Y/n asked faintly as the car sprang into motion with far more power than she ever managed to coax from under the unimpressive bonnet.

"Did you think I would calmly walk away like an obedient lap-dog when you got tired of your little game ?"

"I...I... didn't think-" she began to splutter.

"No? Just instinct, was it? Trap the beast, then rattle his cage until he howls? Wasn't that your goal?"

"Henry!"

He hadn't looked at her since they had got in the car, driving with a narrow-eyed concentration, but now he slipped a grim sideways glance at her shocked expression and what he saw there seemed to ease his ferocious tension but the wolfish twitch of his mouth wasn't reassuring

"You did, didn't you? You really thought I'd let you get away with it. You didn't think I'd have the guts to drag you kicking and screaming out of there"

Y/n swallowed the dry lump in her throat. She had definitely underestimated her victim and definitely forgot to plan this far ahead.

"'I wasn't kicking and screaming," she protested weakly, avoiding the obvious answers he wanted.

"Not on the outside maybe. But your innocent act never did cut any ice with me" Henry's eyes glanced over at Y/n

Y/n clenched her fists tightly, until her nails dug into the palm of her hand, but she barely noticed. The only thing she was really aware of, was the sound of her heart throbbing against the cage of her chest.

It wasn't until she looked up into the rear view mirror, that she noticed she had been biting her lip so much so that they were almost as red as the lipstick that had wiped off hours ago.

"Scared, Y/n?" Henry jeered softly as she swallowed again, this time audibly. "You should be." he said lowly

"What about your own car?" she began weakly, hoping that practicalities might prevail where argument hadn't.

"I'll pick it up tomorrow." Y/n went quiet. This fantasy was easier to plot when she didn't have to concentrate on parrying his verbal thrusts and she tried to calm her nervous actions with whatever had made her think that she could best him at his own game.

She wished she were drunk but all she could do was hope that the drive would cool down that scorched male pride. All she could do momentarily was create another plan.

When they would finally get back to her apartment building she would placate him, contrive to convince him that it had all been a silly mistake. For all his threatening manner, she knew instinctively that he wouldn't use violence to enforce his threats. He didn't have to... all he had to do to seduce her was to take her in his arms and then she would be at his mercy. But once she had bolted her door on him she would be safe from her own wicked urges.

He could rage and huff and puff all he liked but he wouldn't be able to get in. The irony was rather quaint. All the security locks that he had insisted she have installed on her doors and windows when he first found out she lived alone in a not so friendly neighbourhood would ensure that her virtue remained unassailable - well for tonight at least.

Y/n had almost convinced herself that she had already outwitted him when she noticed the unfamiliarity of their route.

"This isn't the way to my home!"

He ignored her. The moving light thrown by the passing street-lights illuminated his shadowed expression. It was a hard mask of satisfaction.

"Dammit, Henry, where are you taking me?"

"I told you. Home."

"This isn't where I live."

"I never said I would take you to your home. I simply said 'home'. It's not my fault that you assumed I meant your home."

Henry turned into a steep, dark, curving driveway that seemed to drop away directly into the deep black glitter of a Lake that Y/n didn't even know existed in the area.

Y/n's heart was in her mouth as the car swooped towards the water, but when they reached the lower curve into darkness, security lights suddenly flickered on and she saw the brick paved courtyard clearly for an instant before the car was swallowed by the lower level of the house.

The garage door closed automatically after them, and for a moment after Henry cut the engine, the only sound in the softly lit enclosed space was the faint ringing echo of the metal door. Y/n was irresistibly reminded of the metallic springing of a trap. One that she had baited herself into.

"Welcome home, Y/n." Henry leaned towards her and she flinched, but he was merely flicking open her seatbelt.

She couldn't see him smile but she could hear the amusement in his voice as he continued, "No, not here in the car. I'm not so crude as to take up your generous invitation without due ceremony and at least a few comforts."

Henry leaned even further, reaching across her to push open her door, this time dragging his arm deliberately against her rapidly rising breasts as he withdrew.

"Get out. I'd prefer to go inside" he purred dangerously, pointedly placing her car keys out of reach in the inside pocket of his jacket.

" but If you can't restrain your wild passion and don't mind a little discomfort I'm quite ready and willing to make love to you against the dashboard"

Y/n was up and out of the car with as much alacrity as her fumbling apprehension would allow. His mocking laugh as he followed suit had her searching for the door, but he was there before her, opening it with a flourish and a small bow.

" After you. "

All the way up the narrow, spotlight staircase, Y/n was aware of the movement of her hips and legs, the breathless difficulty in her chest and, most of all, the steady, inexorable masculine tread that stalked her.

The room at the top of the stairs was shrouded in darkness, relieved by vague glimmering white shapes that made her gasp.

"Afraid of ghosts, too, Y/n? What a timid little thing you're turning out to be…". The murmured words smoked across the small area of vulnerable skin between her shoulder-blades, exposed by the discreet scoop of her gown, whispering across her sensitised nerves. There was a faint click and the room sprang into light.

The white shapes were sheets, draped over bulky objects.

Even the floor was covered by a dark green sheet, and the reason was obvious. The walls were stripped and primed, but had not yet had their first coat.

They were in the kitchen, Y/n guessed from the positioning of the shrouded fittings. Scattered about were cans of paint and rolls of wallpaper, brushes soaking in paint and the odd ladder or two. The only ghosts here were those of the tradesmen.

Yet, Y/n's heart continued to flutter with a deliciously disconcerting fear, an excited apprehension.

Without a word Henry took her by the elbow and ushered her impatiently through several more similarly dust-shrouded rooms with the unswerving instinct of a guided missile, not bothering to turn on any more lights.

The place seemed huge, and as silent and brooding as the explosively primed man beside her.

"You-you're redecorating!" Y/n grabbed at the chance to divert him from his relentless intention. Honestly it surprised her that she had known him for so long and yet had never seen his home, he didn't even talk of it much.

Henry didn't answer and she fell quiet.

He let her resistance slow him but he didn't let his grip ease. He had already been taken by surprise once too often that night.

"Have you been feeling hunted, Y/n?" Her answer was in her uneasy sidelong look. He smiled secretively. "Now you know how I felt this evening: like the helpless prey to your brazen huntress…" Y/n flushed, her whole body heating at his words. She had been brazen, utterly so, and she had enjoyed it far too obviously to try to deny it now.

Henry let her dwell on her folly for a moment before he murmured, "The answer to your question is…" his slow smile drew out the suspense for a wickedly long second "...perhaps."

His eyelids drooped, not quite hiding the predatory gleam that smouldered in the darkness. He was still very, very angry and he wanted her to know it.

"Certainly it turned out to be very convenient for you…"

His free hand came up under her other elbow and he stepped around to face her, forcing her backwards and into the realisation that while he had held her enmeshed with his equivocating words he had been slowly backing her to the wall.

"I'm no one's convenience," she spat, determined not to see the effect his calculated menace was having on her already chaotic nervous system.

"You have to admit you qualify in one or two forms of the dictionary meaning, Y/n," he drawled, driven to foment her the way that she had tormented him. "You're certainly suitable for my purposes and needs and you're close by... but no, I don't suppose you could be considered "easy to use"...

The fear that had inhibited her flared into an open temper at his overt mockery.

"If you think I'll let you-" "-Challenging me, y/n?" he interrupted softly, and watched her hesitate as she realised the certain consequences of goading him from her very vulnerable position.

"Actually," he continued almost kindly, "it's a little late for second thoughts. You've led me this far with your little game. Now it's time to pay the piper…" He dipped his head and to her tingling shock bit her gently on the side of her satiny throat. She reared back, but there was nowhere to go, no escape that didn't involve going through that broad-shouldered, lean-hipped wall of male arrogance!

"led you! You're the one who practically kidnapped me" She was appalled to hear the breathy lightness in her words when she had meant them to be firm.

"Mmm. Exciting, isn't it?" He bit the other side of her throat. "Just think how thoroughly helpless you are right at this minute. You're in a strange house, while I know every nook and cranny. All the exits are deadlocked. Even if you ran, where would you run to? I'm stronger than you are. bigger, harder, faster. You can't get away, no matter how hard you try. I can do anything I want with you. And there's nothing you can do about it, except…"

" Except what?" The mouth skimming her throat was having as violent an effect as his taunting words, arousing the deeply buried desires that she had tried to deny.

" accept what you caused" She felt the curve of his lips against her smooth skin, heard the amusement in the sensuous rumble.

He was laughing at her.

He wasn't content with merely seducing her. No, he wanted to humiliate her, too.

Sudden panic struck and with a fierce surge of strength she shoved at his solid chest. To both their surprise, he staggered back, far enough for her to dart away. With a roaring curse he gave chase.

Y/n's heart hammered as she scuttled from the safety of one covered piece of furniture to the next. She froze, listening for the direction of his pursuit, but Henry had also stilled. He was out there somewhere, crouched and aware, listening, just as she was, waiting to pounce. Her skin prickled hotly and she could feel the blood pulsing heavily through her veins. Y/n shivered with a strangely febrile excitement. She peered around what appeared to be a small table and saw a graduation of the blackness - A doorway!,

Taking a deep breath, she took to a low crouch and ran for it. As she did so she felt a rush of air as close as a blow and a throaty growl. He had only just missed her! She couldn't help letting out a little scream as she abandoned stealth and bolted, darting breathlessly to the darkened room.

Henry was never far behind and at first she was grateful that he didn't switch on the lights, the better to find her, but as his taunting laughter infiltrated the night she realised that he was revelling in the chase...and so was she!

Her inner certainty that Henry would never physically hurt her, even in genuine rage, gave an added piquancy to the situation.

She had challenged him in the most clemental way possible and he was responding in a way that was as different and exciting as he was.

The panic which had precipitated her flight became a delicious terror as the teasing game of hide-and-seek continued.

Sexual tension flourished in the shrouded silence like a living thing. He was no longer in a hurry to catch her, whispering silky-voiced threats into the night that curled her toes and dampened her palms, describing in sensual detail what was going to happen when he found her.

It didn't take Y/n very long to break. When Henry suddenly went quiet her imagination ran riot. She pressed herself even more tightly against the reassuring solidarity of what appeared to be a sideboard and quavered, "Henry?".

There was no answer and she tried hard to sound convincingly calm.

"Henry, this is ridiculous. Why don't you turn on the light and we'll talk about it sensibly?" Sensible was the last thing she felt but she couldn't stand the waiting no longer.

Y/n was just close enough to the edge of her self control to try shameless grovelling.

" All right, so I acted foolishly this evening. Now you've got your revenge and now we're even aren't we?"

Silence

"okay fine , yes, I admit it!" she cried. "I pretended to be drunk to tease you but…"

Silence,

"I did it because... because I didn't expect you to respond." And may God not strike her down for that awful lie!

"I wanted to annoy you, that's all. It was wrong of me. Childish. I'm sorry. I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine. You always seem to have this - control over me. I just wanted to get under your skin for once."

Silence

"Henry? Henry!' Her placatory tone slipped badly.

" Fuck!, stop it. Henry, this isn't funny anymore!"

A soft chuckle floated out of the darkness. Y/n was too disorientated to guess its direction and she whirled a full circle.

" I'm not playing your stupid game any more, Henry, so you may as well come out. I won't try and run away again. I promise."

Silence.

Y/n began to tremble, not from fear but from helpless desire. Dammit, why didn't he come out and finish what she had started already. There was a soft sound to her left, a tiny echoing click that acted like a trigger on her taut nerves, catapulting her automatically to the other wall of the room, where she backed hastily between two tented objects that provided her with a solid sense of security. A false sense, she discovered, when a hand suddenly whipped across her mouth from behind, smothering her scream.

"So much for your promises, Y/n," came the clipped murmur in her ear. "That was only my cuff-link. You ran straight into my arms."

The hand across her mouth tightened as she tried to protest, and an arm lashed around her waist, drawing her back against a hard, familiar body. He hadn't lied in his silken whispers. He was just as aroused as she was by their foolish game.

She stood there for a moment, her head against his shoulder, trembling and breathless. She tried to speak and tasted the sweat of his palm. Instead of dropping his hand he trailed it deliberately across her lips, his fingers curving into her parted mouth, stroking the inner surface of her mouth and fondling her tongue with an intimacy that was far more shocking than any explicit sexual caress.

Her heart thundered in her breast as he softly probed her moistness, scaling the breath from her lungs, as he whispered, "Do you like this, Y/n? Your mouth is like wet satin, wrapping around my fingers. Use your tongue, tell me if you like the taste of me…" The sheer intoxication of his husky plea made her moan and he quickly let his hand drop.

"Am I hurting you?"

She couldn't answer and his hand continued to fall, until it settled on the firm roundness of her left breast, his palm cupping her, feeling the pounding tumult within.

" You...frighten me," she managed to say, her taste buds tingling with each word, drowning in the full flavour of him.

"This isn't fright, Y/n…" His hand tightened and then released, to flatten and move against her in soft rotation, compressing the flesh in a way that made her tremble even more.

"This is excitement. You wanted to be caught, didn't you? You're as curious about me as I am about you, only you wouldn't let yourself admit it. Tell me now if this is not what you want, Y/n, because from here on in I can't guarantee my control…"

As he issued his rough command his hand moved to explore her other breast. The hand around her waist strayed, fingers splaying against her velvet belly, digging into her softness, reaching for the ache that was forming in the pit of her stomach. His mouth was moving against her shining cap of hair, seeking the sensitive hollows at the nape of her neck.

He was handing control to her because she made him feel wildly out of control. She had never driven a man so wild with desire that he didn't know what he was doing...

"Henry, God, -"

"don't say no, Y/n. Not now." He spun her tightly in his arms and she made a discovery that drenched her with sensuous delight.

"Your clothes…"

He had taken off his jacket and tie some time during his dark pursuit and unbuttoned his shirt so that it hung free from his broad shoulders. The hands that she had placed against his chest met with bare skin- hot, damp, satiny skin covered with thick, soft hair. His heart was almost leaping from his chest and he shuddered as she pressed her palm harder against him, marveling at the strength and power rippling beneath the skin.

"I got hot, chasing you," he said. "I still am. Wanting you makes me that way. Hot and so ready that I can hardly stand!"

He made a subtle movement with his hips and groaned as he brushed against the thick velvet folds of her dress. She felt a fresh moisture break out on his skin and in an instinctive gesture of acceptance leaned forward to nuzzle it from his chest, her mouth inadvertently brushing against one of his large, flat nipples in his nest of hair.

He made a choking sound in his throat, arching back to give her free access to his upper body and in the process ground his swollen hardness against the juncture of her thighs

"do it"

Y/n barely heard his ragged plea. Henry was so exquisitely responsive to every tiny movement she made, even to the very breath from her lips upon his skin, that he was soon deep in the toils of a dreamy delirium.

She wasn't aware of the rip he made in the back of her dress when his shaking hands wrenched the zip down, only of the molten sensuality of his gaze as he steered her into a shaft of light near the window and studied her breasts. nestled in their cups of pure white lace.

"Did you wear this for me?" he asked thickly, roughly tracing the outline of the lace across the curving swells. "Did you want me to take off your dress tonight, Y/n? To admire you like this?"

His arousal was so flatteringly intense that she couldn't deny him the truth.

"Yes…"

She closed her eyes, gasping as she felt the stroke of his thumbs across the seams, finding the rigid tips that were evidence of her own desire. He made a sound and she felt him kneel to pull her velvet gown over her hips, revealing the white panties and suspender belt in the same simple lace design as the bra, demure yet sexy in their essential femininity.

He made another sound, this time deep and guttural, his hands running up the backs of her thighs, pulling them closer and parting them slightly.

She opened her eyes, clutching at his naked shoulders as he moved his mouth hotly against the lacy front panel of her panties and pressed a string of kisses from the soft skin at the tops of her stockings to the deep, frantic pulse at the hollow of her hip.

Y/n could feel the cool air along her pussy as warmth settled there. Rough hands sent a shiver through her body as they ran the length of her thighs, kneading her ass before finding their way back to her pussy, and pushing her panties to the side for a better look at what she had to offer. Y/n shook and he purred in approval of her reaction.

Henry pressed forward until Y/n felt his lips along her folds, teasing her before delving deeper. Y/n gasped at the first taste, the tip of his tongue poking at her entrance, her arousal spilling forth. Henry ran the length of her pussy until he flicked her clit, the twitch it brought forth made him snicker into her skin. He dragged his tongue along her clit again, grazing it over and over as her pelvis flinched unwillingly.

“shit,” she hissed, trying not to moan though it felt so good.

Y/n clung onto his shoulders, the buzz she felt in her stomach coming closer to finding its release. Her thighs trembled as he grew more persistent, his tongue agile as it drew forth an orgasm but just before she could relish in the exquisite feeling, he pulled away. It had been almost a year since you had been pleasured by anything other than her own hands and this was starting to drive her mad.

The sight of his dark head moving against her and the sensations he was creating made her cry out in helpless need and he looked up, a dark blush crossing his face when he saw her starlit expression.

He stood and kissed her on the mouth until they were both breathless. Then, still holding her, he reached behind him, dragging the sheet off the nearest object.

It was a smooth, polished mahogany dining table, it's dark surface reflecting the muted lights from the moon.

Y/n imagined him laying her down on that smooth hardness and leaning over her, feeling the melting pleasure of his touch.

Henry turned her, pressing her hips against the carved mahogany edge.

"I've never made love on a table before," she whispered raggedly, hoping that she wouldn't disappoint him with her relative inexperience. No doubt he was used to women who were terribly adventurous and sexually sophisticated. She thrusted the jealous thought away and linked her arms around his neck, reminding herself that she could make him shake with passionate need. She could make up with enthusiasm for what she lacked in experience and he would never know the difference.

He stilled and she was afraid that she had destroyed the moment with her naive little confidence. Henry lifted his head and looked at the table behind her. Then he stopped and swept her off her feet, lifting her into his strong arms.

"No, not here," he said hoarsely. "The first time should be in a bed.." He began to move with Y/n in his arms and she turned her hot face against his broad chest, adoring him for caring enough to make this exactly right for them.

"I don't want to wait." She told him shyly of her need and his arms tightened, the muscles of his shoulders and neck bunching into prominence as his stride quickened.

"You won't have to." He turned into another doorway, dipping an elbow against the wall until twin lamps glowed, their light filtered into a soft, golden delicacy by the cloths that swathed them.

Henry didn't let her go as he removed the covering over the bed and stripped back the dark feather quilt. When he finally put her down it was on to crisp white sheets that released a lavender fragrance to mingle with the heated scent of arousal that perfumed their bodies.

Henry stood by the bedside, looking down at her. Then he spread his hands, revealing the light tremor that shook his hand ever so gently.

"Look what you do to me. You make me weak. No one has ever had that effect on me" Y/n reached out a hand and touched his trident stomach.

"You're the strongest man I know," her hand ran down his stomach and over the muscle underneath as she moved down to his belt. She tugged at it gently

"I want you" she purred.

The knowledge of their mutual desire flared in his hungry eyes, hardening the planes and angles of his face until it looked as rigid as his body under her exploring hand. He caught her wrist before she would have touched him intimately, folding her arm back into the pillow behind her head he knelt beside her.

"Say it again. Say my name."

"I want you to make love to me, Henry." Her words were a promise to give him all that he wanted and more.

"No more running?" he raised his eyebrow jokingly and Y/n shook her head, unable to speak as he unclipped the front fastening of her bra, sensing that he wanted her to lie quiescently as he bared the last secrets of her body.

She felt shy, like a precious gift being gloatingly unwrapped, but she didn't resent his moment of purely masculine triumph. The glory of the moment was also hers, this beautiful man that she had known for so long finally hers. He was giving himself to her and asking nothing but what she was willing to give in return. For tonight and perhaps for many nights to come she would let him satisfy the hunger in her soul, colour the cold grey corners of her world with a warmth and vibrant life that would dispel, at least for a time, the loneliness she had come to accept many years ago.

"I want you, too…" she whispered as she welcomed the joy of his touch.

Henry undressed himself with a fumbling haste that she found inexpressibly exciting and when he came down on to her she gasped at the violent energy of his enthusiasm. Y/n stared up at him, his cock hanging out for all to see.

The controlled, disciplined man she had grown to know vanished completely. In his place was a greedy, intemperate, ardent and impetuous male, urgently intent with plundering each and every lavish pleasure of flesh.

Henry smirked, his hand slowly pumping his dick a few times before he bent down and slid the tip over her slit and pushed inside roughly, allowing her no resistance as he filled her entirely.

This moment when he took her would live vividly in her memory forever.

The shocking reality of his first thrust stilled them both but then he stilled, chest shaking, half across her body, his head buried in the curve of her neck.

'Surely he's not going to stop now,' y/n thought hysterically as her body slowly adjusted to the agonising fullness, and she felt the involuntary ripples of tension begin to absorb him even more deeply into her being.

Y/n dropped her head back as she let out a low growl as he thrusted sharply, allowing a moment between each as they were jolted into the bed. His hands were on her hips, holding her down as he slid in and out.

Relax and enjoy was about all Y/n was capable of doing as his sensual onslaught built towards a fiery climax. He devoured her, feasting on her body with blind hunger, biting lushly into her skin, sipping and suckling the sweetness from her achingly swollen breasts as his hands adjusted her body around his, moaning and shuddering so violently when she even lightly caressed his body with her own that she resorted to merely riding the exquisite storm as he sank deeper than before.

Henry groaned and y/n felt a sudden burst of warmth, his cum leaking down her legs as she let the feeling of her own orgasm near

She plunged a hand into his sweat-drenched hair, and pulled his head back.

"Henry-"

The moan came quickly and she hardly recognised him as she gawked up at him. His mouth was full, reddened, the skin drawn tightly over the bones of his face giving him a lean, hollowed-checked wildness, his deep set eyes open but blank with inner turbulence. He looked almost totally insensate.

Y/n felt shaken by a sudden wave of tenderness as his cock slid over a soft spot inside her, her fingers curling tightly into silky-damp hair.

"Henry--"

The tenderness flooded her being and was just swiftly followed by another wave of intense feeling as Henry stiffened and pulled back slightly, the pupils of his eyes contracting, his jaw clenching as he fought the blind instinct that was relentlessly driving him.

"I hurt you, didn't i." he gritted. "I went too fast for you. I'm sorry." He moved up on his braced arms and tried to withdraw further but she stopped him, almost sobbing.

"No... oh, no"

Henry hesitated and she moaned again, this time a bitter protest, "No, please, no, not yet…"

Y/n's pussy tightened and she murmured in delight as he slowly thrusted against her again, her sensitive walls sending a thrill up her spine.

She was fighting to hold on, and he watched, puzzled and then fascinated, as she moaned, her eyes wide with a strange fear and confusion. Her fingers slid laxly out of his hair to clench and unclench helplessly on the pillow. A deep rosy flush spread up from her damp, heaving breasts to mantle her throat and face. He realised then what was happening to her and waited, afraid to move again for fear of breaking the wondrous spell, watching hotly as the inexorable momentum built swiftly to a flashpoint.

Only when she rolled her flushed cheek sideways into the pillow did he move, cupping her face with his strong hand, forcing her to look at him.

"No, let me see... let me watch it happen to you...I want to watch"

Her eyelids fluttered at his husky command, her blush deepened, but she was too enraptured to feel embarrassed, too stunned by the speed of it all to deny him anything he asked. Her mouth trembled and parted and she began to gasp in light, shallow breaths that made her flushed breasts quiver deliciously, invitingly.

He bent and touched a stiff pink nipple experimentally with his mouth, very gently. She jerked and cried out, exploding beneath him in a series of violent convulsions that almost unseated him. He gripped her thighs and held her steady while she sobbed and moaned and poured herself into him, and then, as she melted lovingly around him he at last began to move, uncertainly echoing her undulating movements until he established his own powerful rhythm, this time driving her with him, until his raw shout of exuberant satisfaction signalled that the whirlwind was spent.

In the morning Y/n was grateful for the resilience of her relative youth. Even after a long hot shower, her muscles ached with the extravagance of her strenuous exercise. She felt as if she had been battered, not by one whirlwind, but several. And she had. If she had thought that Henry's incandescent passion would swiftly burn them both out she discovered, through the ravishing reaches of the night, that she was marvellously mistaken.

His desire, like his curiosity about her body, had proved insatiable. And, although the second and third time they made love it was not with the stunning speed of the first, it was still fiercely, gloriously energetic. He encouraged a boldness in her that she hadn't known she possessed.

He made her feel unutterably sexy, as if she was the only woman in the world who could satisfy his lavish appetite for lovemaking, and he devoted and demanded the same kind of single-minded commitment to creating pleasure that he did to his more worldly objectives. In short, he was every bit the fantastic lover she had imagined he was.

Y/n smiled to herself as she sipped her coffee. Was this a case of being hoist by her own petard? If so, everyone should have such a virile executioner!

"You look quite disgustingly smug."

Henry had showered, brought her coffee and toast in bed and casually dressed in front of her with the ease of a man who was thoroughly satisfied with himself and the world in general.

"You're looking fairly smug yourself," she answered boldly.

"Making love in the morning obviously suits us both and in the evening, and at night. By the way, what are you doing at lunchtime?" Y/n couldn't stop blushing and Henry smirked.

She wasn't that bold - yet.

If she and Henry were lovers for long she didn't doubt that she could become very, very brazen.

"Eating," she said repressively.

Henry refused to be repressed. "you're a wicked, decadent woman." He leaned over and tugged at the sheet that was tucked over her breasts and down to her waist. Y/n squeaked and held out her cup, afraid she would spill some of the hot liquid as he bent to lightly kiss her rosy softness.

" is all of you on the menu, or just selected divine parts?"

"You're a glutton!" Y/n murmured weakly, closing her eyes, shivering at the tingling pleasure his delicately teasing tongue evoked.

"Ouch!" Henry winched, The coffee having splashed onto his cheek as y/n unconsciously let the coffee cup slip.

"Serves you right." She didn't pull up the sheet, sitting primly among the crumbs and cotton sheets, deliciously aware of the contrast between her nudity and his dark, formal suit as he moved away.

He had told her he had an early meeting --one reason for the necessity to rouse her just after dawn by making love to her sleepy, languorous body.

Waking up to find Henry inside her was just one of the new, fresh pleasures of life!

"Will you meet me for lunch? This meeting should be over by then." He straightened his tie in front of the mirror then walked back to her.

"If you want me to…" He cupped her chin, reminding her of the way he had refused to allow her to hide from him last night.

"I want you to. Make no mistake about that, y/n. I have no regrets. None."

"Good." She lifted her chin and tried for a little of the sophistication he was no doubt used to. "I wouldn't like to think that I had disappointed you."

To her annoyance, he laughed. He straightened, letting his fingers trail down her throat. "There wasn't much chance of that, believe me."

"Oh, are you so confident of your prowess?" she snapped defensively, feeling suddenly restless and mentative. "You can turn any woman into your personal love machine?"

He seemed unruffled by her irritable crudity, a strange smile still playing around his lips.

"On the contrary. I'm afraid I have no basis for comparison."

"What?" Y/n stared at him blankly.

He scooped up a slice of toast and bit into it. "Couldn't you tell, Y/n? Was my gift such a paltry thing? I thought one's partner could always tell."

What was he talking about? To her horror, Y/n suddenly realised that, although he had used protection afterwards, that first, rough coming-together had been utterly spontaneous and Henry certainly hadn't held back. Did he purposely try to get her pregnant? Was he not really the man she thought he was? No- that couldn't be it.

"What gift? T-tell- me. what?" she stammered, raising her cup to hide the quiver of her mouth, hoping he wasn't going to prove as selfishly arrogant as she suspected!

" Why, that it was my first time, of course." And, as she continued to stare at him uncomprehendingly over the top of the cup, his smile gentled into a tender warmth. "You were my initiation, Y/n. I gave you my virginity, you gave me my manhood."

And, leaving her gasping and choking with shocked disbelief, a pool of hot coffee soaking into the sheets around her, he calmly turned and walked out of the house, a new found pride in his stomach and so much more to be discovered.

Taglist (added in reblog ❤️)

#Henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill one shot

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fanficsandfluff · 4 years ago

Text

That Damned Laugh

To the anon who informed me of Rainbow Rowell's RACISM, i am writing this for my love of the characters, not the author's writing skill or fame. fuck her. i am still very much aware of what she wrote about and how she portrayed a character, but i cannot stop this inspiration when it comes to me. (wait to be clear to everyone reading this who hadn't seen the anons and my discussion, carry on wasnt the accused racist book. that was something else.)

If you, anon, end up seeing this and maybe don't like what I'm doing or whatnot, I'd love to hear from you again.

For those of you who maybe do practice Death of the Author, I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Carry On

Characters: Simon Snow, Baz Pitch

Words: 1,905

~~~~~

BAZ

Simon Snow does not laugh, full stop.

(Well, to be fair I'm not a cackler much myself, but I do at least guffaw from time to time.)

Snow spent so much of his youth being weighed down by the 'Chosen One' moniker and being tormented by yours truly. Still, I know of that little list he kept of things he liked about Watford and all its experiences and people. It seemed he did take joy in most of it all. After all, I'm sure he had fun at Bunce's house on many an occasion.

But just being around him and in this way for a while now, you start to notice. He's seen me laugh. A few times, in fact. And hard. I'm not very proud of it; what that man can do to me and make me do. He doesn't like when I cover my hand over my smile. It's habit, though, I've reminded him countless times. The fangs and all. We're working on it.

But Simon may just smile or huff. I've giggled with him on our particularly soft nights or togethertimes.

All this to say... I've found a new hobby/goal/obsession recently.

Make Simon Snow laugh.

My cheekiness all these years has kept my humor to cruel, lowbrow tones. Maybe it makes me less funny, I don't know. But once or twice I'd nail a comeback or snarky one-liner (of course with a bit of flirt thrown in) and Snow will giggle and shake his head. But that's all I've achieved! A small, pandering, boring -- though still admirably adorable -- (Damn that Snow) giggle.

I've moved on to physical humor. I tried throwing myself dramatically over him when he's in bed, but he just seems to think it's all part of my Pitch flair.

Today I made a minor breakthrough.

I was in the kitchen trying to mix myself a smoothie. Bunce has been gushing about a smoothie craze for weeks now, so I finally figured why not. The damn lid wasn't on tight enough. Not-yet-smooth smoothie shot everywhere. There was a pause as it happened, my one hand on the Liquify button, my other resting nonchalantly atop the lid that didn't do any lidding, dammit.

Snow looked up at me from his seat by the kitchen counter, eyes drawn from his phone. A beat. He barked out a laugh. A much louder one than I think I'd ever heard him make.

"Put a sock in it, Snow," I growled, to keep with my facade, though inside I was jittery with glee. I wanted to hear more.

Snow convinced me to binge a new show. Crime Minds. Something like that. No, criminal. It's Criminal Minds.

You wouldn't expect this to be a series fit enough for a cuddle, but Snow and I are an unexpected couple. So it works.

A few dumb jokes are littered throughout the show, in between corpses and the same police station set being reorganized and shot from different angles every episode. One such joke was so inconspicuous and so nothing that I cannot even recall it now. But both Snow and I chuckled at it. Then Snow made an additional comment to it, making me laugh. And soon we were both giggling together like schoolboys, like we had early on when we were maybe still a bit bashful with each other.

He shoved his face into my ribs and snorted when I whispered the new inside joke much later on in the episode. I was also grinning like a madman, but the soft tickle his action gave me didn't exactly---

Oh.

In bed. Perfect. Lovers fool around all the time in bed. Not fool around as in sex--well, no, of course sex, but I mean they also play around-- never mind.

SIMON

Baz has been acting off lately. I can't quite put my finger on what it is. He seems distracted. More like how I act. I'm always thinking of something else, not able to stay focused on one thing for long. He's like that, but trying to act like he isn't.

We're doing something odd today. We're in bed at sunset. It's hardly sunset, as a matter of fact. The sun isn't seeping orange and red into the flat yet. Penelope took us out on a hike today. It tuckered the both of us out. Baz drained a buck when we got home.

I'm laying perpendicular to Baz (or is it parallel? composite? I could never remember mathematics), my legs resting over his stomach. He's reading and I'm playing a puzzle app on my phone.

BAZ

Now's the time, Baz. Just do it, don't think.

His socked feet are right in front of me. There's only been a handful of times we've sat in this position, half of them being my lower half resting on Simon's sturdier upper half. It's now or never.

I stare at his feet for too long, zoning out and forgetting that I was left staring at them, so it definitely looked like I have a fetish for feet. Which I don't. Focus, Basilton.

I take a finger-- no, two fingers. I scratch quickly at his heel. His leg jerks, foot being pulled back.

"What?" he asks me, as if I hadn't been plotting this for weeks. As if I just did it to get his attention.

"Something on the bottom of your sock, love."

Simon went right back to his head hanging upside down off the side of the bed, phone held out in front of his eyes.

Well, that proved one thing. He's ticklish.

He places his ankles right back where they originally were, crossed, atop my stomach. I try again, this time on his arch. I apply more pressure.

"Bahaz!" Simon shakes his foot out, "Is that how you start a foot massage?"

"Would you like a foot massage?"

"No. Not if it's going to tickle like that."

My cheeks heat up. Damn that buck. I'm rosier than I usually am.

"You're ticklish?" I ask, coolly. I barely stuttered.

"I wouldn't try it," he's back to looking at his phone again, "Penny did once and I nearly broke her elbow or something. She wouldn't stop talking about it for days."

"So you're very ticklish, then."

"Don't," this is the first time Snow seems to tense up.

There's a moment of quiet between us. A tense quiet. I lunge for his ankles and he shoots up into a sitting position. I scratch at his arch with four fingers now and he screams.

"Baz!" Simon whines a bit and he somehow yanks his legs free, not without losing one of his socks in my grip.

SIMON

He's grinning at me. No. Sneering.

I still hate when he does that. Reminds me of back when I wanted to throttle him. Sometimes I still do.

"Baz," I warn. His whole posture changes into a predator's, like he's the lion and I'm his fresh zebra. The new stance sends a shiver down my spine, with his shoulders hunched and all, ready to pounce.

"Baz... Baz, Baz, Baz..." I say over and over again because he's smiling at me, and then I start to smile, too, "Bahaz!" I try once more, but his name is all that's coming out, and now I'm giggling. I'm nervous. He did this to me.

BAZ

He's already giggling and I haven't even laid a hand on him.

"Yes, Snow?" I respond to his many calls of my name before I lurch forward, sending my whole body crashing on top of his and trying to pin him. I dig my fingers into his sides and don't stop for as long as I can maintain contact through his squirming.

"Gehehet off!" he's already crumbling, words being broken up with short laughs.

I slide my fingertips to his stomach and scratch there; Snow bucks. It gets even better when my cold fingers make contact with his warm skin beneath the shirt he's wearing. He yelps like I've never heard him yelp (like he's burnt his finger, but he's also 11-years-old again), and he dissolves into loud, beautiful laughter.

"St-Stohohop! Baz! I'm going to end you!"

"Isn't that how we always said it would end? Snuffing each other out? I'm perfectly happy that it's now going to end in my favor. You should've told me you were this easy to defeat earlier on, Snow."

"Shut up!" he cackles, legs kicking wildly behind me, as my body is thrown over his torso. Now I have both my hands buried into his sides, squeezing and squeezing. I get curious, my cheeks still burning with blood, and I lean down to his neck and... (no, I don't bite) I start nibbling. Snow loses it.

His whole face scrunches up, as I watch when I pull my head back. His smile is huge and bright. And the laughs bubble up from his stomach, releasing softer into the air like he sucked a little of the joy from it before releasing to keep for himself.

"Dohon't do that!"

"I thought you love my kisses."

"Not tha-HAAT!"

He shrieks again, hands too slow to stop my face from moving in. I nibble and even lick a few times, careful not to touch him with my fangs.

Did I mention that my hands are still tickling at his sides and ribs while I'm nibbling? Oh yes, I've waited so long for this sound. I wasn't going to make it come out lightly.

I blow a raspberry and that's when Snow's laughter catches and turns all hiccuppy. The noises are infecting me, starting to make me giggle. I shift, and my face now descends towards his stomach, which is bared after I rucked the shirt up.

SIMON

"TYRANNUS BASILTON G-GRIMM FUCKING PITCH-- OR WHATEVER YOUR LONG STUPID ARSEHOLE NAME IS--"

He's laughing at me. I keep laughing even without him tickling me.

"I swehehear I'm going to fucking kill you and your whole family if you do that dohown thehere--" I'm hiccuping. Crowley, how embarrassing.

BAZ

He's got me. I can hardly breathe from laughter. I keel over into him or he into me, but soon we're a laughing pile together on top of the mussed up sheets on the bed.

I make a loud snort and that reels us both back in again, laughing til we're red in the face and til my cheeks hurt.

Simon is giggling away, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself, but he just keeps on giggling. I'm able to sit up a little more and Snow's head is in my lap. He's beaming and looking up at me through squinted, teary eyes.

"That was fun," I say, and I don't think it's the brightest or smartest thing to say. But I say it.

"I love you," Snow's smile is still wide, like he's drunk from it. There's a moment where I feel like I've died again, color drained from me.

It doesn't seem to bother him, that he's said that. For the first time. I run my fingers through his reddish curls once, letting them tangle in the locks towards the back of his head. I hunch myself down so I can kiss him.

"I've wanted to hear that for so long," I whisper.

"That I love you? You haven't figured it out by now?"

"No, you idiot," I say with nothing but fondness, brushing my nose along Simon's jaw, "Your laugh."

#carry on #carry on: the rise and fall of simon snow #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #snowbaz #simon/baz #simon and baz #fanfiction #carry on fanfiction #carry on fanfic #fanfic #ticklish!simon #ticklish!simonsnow #lee!simon #ler!baz

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banana-with-a-bow-tie · 3 years ago

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I agree that vaccine mandates are sinful. I’m being mandated to get the vaccine at work and I’m not sure what to do. Many other companies in my area are following suit, and all my Christian friends, pastors, and leaders don’t see a problem with this & believe I should get it in order to love others. I am very stressed and idk if following my conscience should come first or if loving others/keeping my job to provide for my family should come first. Any advice would be appreciated.

I feel your pain, and I don't have all the answers. These vaccine mandates are only a taste of the things to come. If they shut people out of society, refusing to let them travel or gather or work or speak because they oppose the vaccine, you can be sure they will do the same to those who hold the wrong religious beliefs. Anyone who doesn't submit to the narrative on sexuality or race or abortion or inclusive religion will be deemed a dangerous fundamentalist radical that needs to be suppressed. Many Christians around the world are already living this reality. We would be wise to start preparing now for that eventuality.

We can't let go of our beliefs. Some things are more important than being accepted by the world and being allowed to participate in every day life. We are a called out people, a chosen nation of strangers and aliens. The world's rules and definitions of what it means to love our neighbor don't apply to us. We are citizens of a different kingdom, one that has a perfect perspective on how we should live. We don't decide how we should live based on what our boss tells us to do or what the government says to do or even what our friends and pastors tell us to do. They all have their place for consideration, but first and foremost we submit to what Scripture says to do and seek to glorify God with our choices.

This can seem scary. You will be ostracized, hated, and could even be killed for clinging to the truth, but God has promised that following Him is worth it. Though the world wants to take away our rights and well-being, we have an inheritance in God that will never pass away. The suffering we will experience here is temporary but the reward we will experience for our faithfulness will be everlasting.

And you will find the more you cling to that hope, the more you will stand out in the world. While this may seem like it makes you a bigger target, God is actually using you for His purposes. By committing to holiness in a sinful world and submitting to God instead the world, you are creating a testimony for the world of who God is and the salvation He offers. When you are steadfast in the face of persecution, people can't help but ask about the hope that lies within you. "Why do you insist on doing what the Bible says when it causes you pain, isolation, and even death?" You have the opportunity to tell them that God has given you new life and freedom from sin and that following Him is worth whatever threats the world throw at us because we know that He will have ultimate victory.

Standing out in the face of persecution has another benefit. It encourages true believers and helps them come together around one goal, glorifying Christ. Aren't you encouraged when you hear of Christians in the middle east who are kidnapped by terrorists who hold guns to their heads, but your brothers and sisters refuse to deny the name of Christ? It reassures you that your faith in Christ is worth it, reminds you that you are not alone and that God is at work in His Church, helping us endure to the end. We would never know who those faithful believers were if they surrendered and went along with the crowd. You can be that one person that God uses to remind people that He is faithful and that believers don't have to fear anything the world throws at us, even death.

This solidarity among believers is helpful practically as well, because if we know who is out there staying steadfast in the faith against the pressure of the world, we know who out there needs our help. The world may not take care of us, but that doesn't mean the Church can't take care of each other in our time of need. Look for those people who are standing firm. Try to talk it out with your pastor and elders. See what plans they have in place for persecution and how they can help their congregation stand firm.

Most of all, depend on God's grace. It may be that you will be isolated, that everyone you thought was faithful will show themselves to be false converts, caring more about what the world says is right and what they will do to them than what God says. Keep Him as your focus anyway. He has promised to provide for you no matter what. He holds the future in His hand and everything is being worked out for His good purposes. Even when you don't see a way out, God will make sure you have everything you need, whether that means rescuing you out of persecution or using your life as a witness to His salvation before taking you home to be with Him.

#long post

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mallowstep · 3 years ago

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how do you find the energy and motivation to write like... everyday?? i literally cannot write unless i am possessed by a thought in my brain and forced to spew out everything onto paper. and then i cant look at it again ot edit it. like, i really love writing and if im forced to do it for school i will, but i cant write for myslef.

practice.

first, i want to say that i am going to describe how i write, but it is not necessarily going to work for most people, because it has to do with my own psychology and mental health.

second, i want to say that i view writing as writing for pleasure or writing for work. poetry, for example, i write for pleasure, and i would not apply what i am going to discuss to poetry. that happens when i have something to say. it is OK to not want to write for work. that's acceptable and encouraged.

third, i want to dispel a myth. writing consistently is not about motivation. it is about discipline. and you should take heart in that, because motivation is hard to control. you can't force yourself to want to do something, no matter how hard you try. but if you build up discipline, you can learn to do it anyway.

i'm not going to go into that now, because i'm coming at this from the specific perspective of someone with adhd who uses pressure to force myself to function, which is...a hard balance to strike, and not something i can strictly recommend. it does work for some people. i think of it as an arch.

but i digress, i said i wasn't discussing the specifics of how i function in day-to-day life, lest i encourage others to do as i do.

okay. so. where am i going with all of this?

part one: a long, fairly incoherent ramble about me and mental health and writing

well. i don't think the idea of writing for yourself is very helpful to a lot of people. i do write for myself. but that doesn't get my ass in the chair and my fingers on the keyboard. the thing that does that is not social obligation to others, either, it is the firm knowledge that putting words on paper is going to keep me from falling apart.

i don't do that for myself. i don't do that for anyone but the human need to hold yourself together. i am very happy i feel that need at the moment, and every time i have stopped writing* in the past ten years, i have lost that need.

* writing here should really be replaced with a broader term. creating things. making things. working with my hands and something real. but writing is the best thing i know to fill this in myself.

writing does not feel optional. i started writing seriously when i was not-quite-a-teenager and had untreated depression. it was desperate, then. the need to know i was capable of feeling emotions. since then, writing has been different things at different times. it has been a social need. it has been a creative need. it has been a demanding drive. it has been something i drag myself to do because i know it is good for me.

i don't have to write. i could paint, or draw, or knit, or code, or any number of things. i have used all of those things, and more, in the past, but writing is something i also enjoy.

sometimes writing is dragging myself to the keyboard. it is not always a flurry of words as an idea seizes me. it is, "i am publishing the next chapter of ashes because it is monday and that is what i do on mondays." but.

it is monday, and that is what i do on mondays.

i hate not posting every day. i hate it. i am Untethered. i spent ca. three weeks over the summer completely disconnected from time, but. i post ashes today, it is monday, i move on, i go through the days and they are not the same.

i hate not posting every day. i know that i would be doing better if i could just break through and start again, but figuring out how is hard. some things i know (ibtwicm is stressful because another person is involved, and that means that i cannot work with betas, even though the one i have is absolutely wonderful and i adore her), but other things are just that nebulous idea of not enough time to start.

i don't always have the energy to write. some days are bad. some days my head hurts. i don't have the expectation that i will never miss a day of posting. i've taken plenty of time off. but i like the rhythm.

anyway. let me try to turn that incoherent ramble about me into something...actionable?

part two: what i tangibly do

i have a schedule. that is not requisite, but it saves me from making decisions. i have a schedule and i have fics and one-shots and they all slot into that schedule by arc. i could have done it by anything, but arc was convenient.

anyway.

i figure out what i'm posting when i wake up in the morning, and i try to skim over what i've already got before starting my day. i flick back and forth between writing and whatever i am doing throughout the day.

(which is why, as i transition back into my normal pace, the thing i have been doing to fill the gap will diminish. less au chatter snippets etc, because that is what i have been doing instead of writing.)

by the evening, i'm usually close to done with the draft. i spend a solid chunk of time patching it up, then i do a round of edits, finish my other work, do line edits, and post.

if i have time after that, i start looking at tomorrow's post.

that's it. sometimes i don't want to work on something. too bad. it's on the schedule. or even, "too bad, we're posting something today." unless i am having a bad (read: low spoon) day, i do not waver in that expectation for myself.

in fact, i think the only way ibtwicm will get done is if the final chapter two chapters go up un-beta'd, because the deviation from routine makes me impossibly frustrated with them. we shall see.

anyway. i have spent years building the discipline to be able to do that. if you rely on motivation, do not think you can just flip over and magically learn how to turn an empty page into words because you told yourself that is what you are doing right now. so.

part three: how to build discipline

i said i won't be covering this, and i'm not Really. i'm going to tell you how to get started, and i am going to be the Bad Guy. i am not capable of doing this kindly. there are other, better, resources i encourage you to seek out.

so. you can't start by just. throwing yourself into it. it won't work, it'll be frustrating, etc.

you want to figure out what a reasonable word count/day is for you. i shoot for 3k words/day, but i figure as long as i'm above 1k, i'm happy.

[aside: if you are going to be writing a lot in a day, please take care of your body. have good posture. know how to hold yourself. etc. i credit years of playing piano as giving me strong wrists and nice, curved fingers, and exercises to build and strengthen the same muscles as you use for typing, but just keep this in mind.]

anyway, there's no right number. 100 words is enough. it should be -- what works for me is a number that's just slightly higher than what i can do comfortably, because it means i have to be focused, which keeps me on track. i think this is important. it is not the only way.

and then you just meet that goal. if you're new to this, writing 100 words every day might be hard. you don't have to limit yourself to 100, just hit 100 every. single. day.

eventually that will feel easy.

"i don't feel like writing," you will think, "but i've figured out how to get around that."

then you either feel happy with what you're doing or push your word count up.

me? i don't measure how many words i write, because i've already done all of that. for all i bemoan research and being stuck, i'm generally exceptionally effective. i don't think that's bragging; i think the number of asks i have answered with scenes i whipped out of nowhere demonstrate that.

i have spent years getting to the point where i can open up a blank page, on a day when i feel like crap (emotionally), when i have no ideas and no motivation and every word i put on paper feels robotic and stiff and terrible, and still finish what i started. it's hard work. it might not be worth the effort. but. that's what i do.

#ask #anon #mine #personal #reblogs okay #writing #you know i don't think what i do is the only way or even the best way #what i do is the #what i need to do to be a functional human being #way #and that might not work for you but #i think at the least my thoughts on discipline and routine should be more universally applicable

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panharmonium · 4 years ago

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@captain-jaybird @solo-by-choice - i love you guys XD

So, the fic in question was originally a collection of ten location-based vignettes following the development of Obi-Wan and Padme’s friendship from AotC to RotS. I wrote it seven years ago and only ever showed it to my sister and @dyingsighs, so unless I fall hard back into Star Wars at some point, I probably won’t ever post it in its entirety, because I don’t think I have quite enough energy to do the kind of rewriting it would need in order for me to feel like it meets my current standards. HOWEVER - given your replies, I pulled the only two vignettes from it that I do actually still like, because I know it has been literal years since I made any Star Wars-related work for you, and I feel like this is the least I can do to thank you for your many years of fandom friendship! 😊

@all my old Star Wars peeps: Ancient fic snippets under the cut! Consider this an affectionate “hello there” from me - I hope you guys are all doing well out there! <3

-naboo-

Anakin is insistent.

“Come on, Padmé,” he cajoles her. “Just a little walk. I get to be here without breaking any rules for once and you want to just sit inside?” He flings open the embassy’s balcony doors and gestures out over the city. “Look at this day!”

Sunny skies or not, Padmé can’t quite wrench her gaze away from the festival itinerary in her hands. However many times she’s been over it, she can’t help but feel they must have missed some small detail, and in a situation as precarious as this one, the slightest slip could be deadly. “I can’t, Anakin.”

Anakin’s carefree expression starts its rapid but familiar descent into a scowl. “Why not? No one’s going to bust a Senator for showing one of her Jedi guests around. We can just walk the perimeter of the Festival platform – ”

“Anakin – ”

“You can pretend to show me the security arrangements or something – ”

“Anakin! You’re supposed to be here to prevent an assassination attempt on the Chancellor. This isn’t a social call.”

Anakin lets out his breath in a huge gust, waving a hand dismissively. “That? We’ve got that under control, Padmé. Don’t even worry about it.”

“I am worried about it.” Anakin opens his mouth as if to make another placating remark, but Padmé cuts him off. “This is serious. I can’t leave the embassy right now. I’m not going out for a stroll. I’m not doing anything until the Festival is over and done with tonight.” When Anakin’s scowl does not subside, she sighs and makes a passing attempt at smoothing things over. “I’m sorry, but the Festival of Light is enough of a headache without adding assassination threats into the mix. I’m just a little tense right now.”

Anakin comes extraordinarily close to signing his own death warrant by rolling his eyes at her, but he stops just short of an irrevocable mistake. “Yeah, you and everyone else,” he says instead, a very particular brand of irritation edging into his voice. “But whatever. Go ahead and read that thing again. I’ll just come back when everyone’s got their bad feelings under control.” He sweeps out of the room with the type of stormy bluster only he can manage.

Wrestling down a surge of irritation of her own, Padmé tosses the itinerary onto the desk. Anakin, for all his moodiness, is partially right – she has the elegant program memorized back to front, and poring over it further is only going to make her feel worse. And, come to think of it, there are a few other security measures she needs to double check with the rest of the Jedi task force.

Pushing back her chair, she sets off in search of Anakin’s derisively referenced “everyone else.”

Most of the embassy’s guests, including the recently arrived contingent of Jedi knights, appear to have vacated the premises – emulating Anakin’s shining example and enjoying the day, perhaps, or, in the case of the Jedi, probably walking the security perimeter in preparation for tonight’s festivities. After making inquiries, Padme finds a staff member who directs her to the rear of the ornately decorated building, where she discovers Everyone Else in the courtyard, boots and cloak discarded against the wall, dappled sun playing over his inner tunics.

She hesitates on the steps. It’s bad form to interrupt a Jedi in meditation, not that she has much opportunity to commit such faux pas. Anakin rarely meditates, resorting to the ancient art only when he has failed in his attempts to outrace or outright beat his troubled thoughts into submission.

But this doesn’t seem like meditation, exactly, not the kind she recognizes. Obi-Wan is performing what looks like some kind of kata with a ritual slowness, pivoting and stretching with unhurried grace, flowing smoothly out of one stance and into the next, like liquid filling a clear vessel. He holds himself suspended for an interminable count between each position, bare feet rooted on the sun-warmed flagstones, the only thing moving around him dust motes drifting through heavy beams of sunlight.

She doesn’t really mean to stay and watch, but there’s an almost hypnotic quality to the rhythmic motion – exertion of the body, sun and warmth and muscle and bone intertwined with stillness of the mind, an empty calm space, peace in the eye of the storm.

He sinks into a low stance with his back to her, head bowed, upward-facing hands loosely fisted, elbows bent and tucked in at his sides. Then, after a long, still stretch of time, the calm murmur of his voice, rippling with something like amusement. “Good morning.”

She blinks. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“That’s quite all right.” He seems to come back from some far place, and straightens, turning to address her. Holding her gaze for a moment, searchingly, he draws some private conclusion. “You are disturbed.”

She presses her lips together by way of response, grudgingly impressed yet cursing Jedi perception to the lowest pit of Chaos. “It’s not important,” she says. “Just the festival.” She changes the subject. “What’s that you were doing?”

Obi-Wan paces over to the courtyard wall to retrieve his footwear. “One of the alchaka forms,” he says, pulling on the soft nerfhide boots. At her blank look, he adds, “It’s...a type of moving meditation. One of the oldest known to the Order.”

“It looks relaxing,” Padmé says. Would that she could expunge her own anxieties with such artfulness.

He shrugs slightly. “In theory.” He bends down and scoops up his cloak with an easy physicality. “The intended goal is to clear one’s mind. To...release troubled thoughts.”

Something about the crease in his brow seems to belie this statement. Thinking back, she remembers suddenly what Anakin had said earlier, and, surprised, frowns. “Are you worried about the festival tonight? About the assassination attempt?”

He blinks at her for a moment, as if she had only just reminded him about the possible catastrophe. “No. No, I don’t think so. Even if the intelligence we’ve gathered is accurate, I doubt the Separatist forces will be able to achieve much when they must first go through six Jedi. And Naboo’s finest,” he adds, glancing up at the overhead balconies, where far-away security personnel stand sentinel, their uniforms smears of dark red across the golden walls.

“But you are worried about something.”

A beat. Then, “No. Merely practicing good habits.”

She laughs humorlessly and sinks down onto the steps. “Tonight could be a disaster.”

Obi-Wan thinks for a moment before responding. “If so,” he reminds her carefully, “it is one which all your worries will be completely unable to prevent.”

“I know. But when it’s my people concerned...and the Chancellor, obviously...” She ticks things off on her fingers. “Public support for Queen Neeyutnee...the well-being of the Republic...”

“Fate of the galaxy.”

“Little things.”

They exchange almost shy grins, private smiles. Padmé feels one tiny knot of tension uncoil inside her, and she breathes out an exasperated sigh, ineffectually commanding the rest of her anxieties to untangle and be gone. “I need some of that alcha-whatsit business, clearly,” she says ruefully. “I’m a mess.”

Obi-Wan takes a step back and looks her up and down. “I agree,” he says.

Excuse me? Padmé suppresses a surge of indignation.

“You will forgive me for saying so, but a senator is no good to her people preoccupied. She must keep a cool head about her at all times.”

“I beg your pardon –

“Therefore,” Obi-Wan plunges ahead, and Padmé suddenly sees the glint of humor starting in his eyes, “I feel it is my duty in this case to help you attain such calm.”

She narrows her eyes at him in mock severity, but inside, she feels her mood beginning to lighten. “By insulting my competence?”

“By exposing you to some of that alcha-whatsit business,” he says. “If you like.”

Padmé hesitates. This is Jedi business for sure, far outside her arena. But Obi-Wan just smiles reassuringly at her and extends a hand.

“Not to worry, Senator. I have it on good authority that I am a reasonably competent teacher.”

Padmé eyes his hand for another moment, then slaps her own lightly into his open palm. “Very well then,” she says. “I submit myself to your reasonably competent tutelage.”

“Obi-Wan, I don’t think this is for me.”

Padmé looks down at her bare feet, torn between luxuriating in the warmth of the sun-soaked stones and fretting over the ever-widening stance Obi-Wan is asking her to assume.

“Patience.” He sticks his own soft-booted foot against the inside of her ankle and slides one of her feet out to the left.

“Obi-Wan – ”

Still applying a gentle pressure against one foot, he pushes the other further away.

“I don’t know how to do a split, Obi-Wan,” she warns him, tamping down on a little flare of alarm.

“That’s far enough.”

Thank goodness she’d worn a relatively uncomplicated dress today. Senatorial garb was nowhere near so flexible as the Jedi’s simple tunics.

She looks up at Obi-Wan, who, by virtue of her lowered, bent-kneed stance, is now slightly above her. “What now?”

“Now,” he says placidly, sinking into the same low stance beside her, albeit with considerably more familiarity and ease, “you do as I do.”

All right, then. She waits for him to begin, but the only thing he does is close his eyes, and she can’t close hers if she’s going to follow him, so she waits, doing nothing. Her legs begin to protest the prolonged exertion in this unfamiliar position, but the trace of fire starting to bloom in her muscles doesn’t bother her. It’s...ferocious. It burns the way she does inside, sometimes.

Obi-Wan cracks an eye open and looks at her. Padmé doesn’t flinch. “What?” she challenges. “You aren’t doing anything yet.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “I am breathing,” he says.

“So am I.”

“Not yet, you aren’t,” he says, and in the span of a moment, he seems to grow in authority before her. His voice shifts into the calm certainty of a millennia of tradition, the well-worn tracks of an ancient, unbroken line of instruction. “Attend.”

He closes his eyes again, and this time she watches the slow rise and fall of his chest, the slight shift of tunic as his ribs expand. “All meditation begins with the breath. You breathe in life, I breathe in the Force; without either of those things both of us are nothing.”

What a strange thing to say. “I’m not Force-sensitive, Obi-Wan.”

“It does not matter. You are not Force sensitive, but the Force is in you nonetheless. We are all of us full of it. Your people are full of it. Your planet is full of it.” He breathes in, slow, and she attempts to follow him. In. Full. “Your breath must fill more than your lungs. Without breath, the body starves. Without the Force, life starves. Therefore you must let it suffuse you. Breath; the Force. Everywhere. Small, forgotten places. Empty places. You must allow yourself to be full. A gas expands to fill a container – your breath will expand to fill you, if you allow it.”

She does not answer. She is breathing. He falls into silence beside her, joining her rhythm. Inhale, beat, exhale, beat. She does not count the minutes. They slip by into nothing.

“Now,” he says. “With me.”

She trains her eyes on him and follows as he moves, one bright light and its smaller, slighter reflection, moving in a bumpy sort of unison. The fire in her leg muscles climbs higher, but it doesn’t faze her. She breathes it out, from everywhere, the small, forgotten places. She exults in it.

“Balance,” he says, maneuvering her hands to the proper places, the knuckles of one fist pressed flat against a vertical open palm, two hands meeting just in front of her lower abdomen. “Two opposing forces.” He sticks his foot back against the inside of her ankle, and she slides her feet apart without needing to be told, dropping back to the correct position. “Close your eyes. Breathe.”

In. Full. Small, forgotten places.

“Now,” he says, stepping back from her. “You will count.”

“How high?” she asks. Her legs are screaming with a pleasant sort of exhaustion, but she’s wobbly, and this position isn’t easy to maintain.

“One hundred,” he replies. Then – “Three times.”

Her eyes fly open. “Obi-Wan, that’s – ”

His eyes are glowing with suppressed mirth. “Three times, apprentice.”

If she starts laughing, she’s going to fall. “Obi-Wan, three times is too many – ”

“Protest again and it shall be six.”

“You know,” she grunts, wriggling down in an attempt to find a slightly more comfortable position, “I’m beginning to think I’ve done Anakin a disservice.”

He raises an eyebrow archly. “Because...?”

“All this time, he was telling the truth about you.”

Obi-Wan snorts. “Impudence. I’d have been running circuits around the Temple for that kind of insolence.”

“Somehow I doubt that ever stopped you.”

And there’s the smile – trademark Kenobi, dimples and all, subtle and half-hidden behind the close-trimmed beard. “No,” he agrees. “You are quite correct. I became an accomplished marathon runner.” Dropping down to the same low, planted stance she is struggling to maintain, he returns to the matter at hand. “Let us begin.”

“Obi-Wan.”

“Mm.” He has already closed his eyes. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already made it to twenty while she’s still dithering around trying to get her breathing in order.

“This is the silliest thing I’ve ever done with anybody.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but the corners his mouth curl up.

“But,” she says, never one to skimp on gratitude, “I like it.” Her legs are shaking and she can’t count the number of joints she’s heard crack since they started this ridiculous exercise, but the anxious tangle in her chest is now tiny threads blowing in the wind, unwound and strewn about by breath and motion. “And I do feel better about tonight. So thank you.”

“I come to serve, Senator.”

Formal response, for someone who just moments ago had been shoving her into positions more suited to a gymnast than a senator. She smiles to herself in private amusement and closes her eyes. Reminds herself to breathe, full, everywhere.

And begins to count.

-chandrila-

Padmé has to give Obi-Wan credit. By now, she has watched him extricate himself from Senator Se’lab’s clutches three times, and while a moonlit cocktail party in a garden of this size provides the Jedi with plenty of spaces to hide, the shadow cast by a group of hulking Ithorian senators is a more creative choice than she had expected, even from him. Observing him from her position on the other side of the lush garden, she bites her lip in an attempt not to laugh at the deadly seriousness with which Obi-Wan keeps the Ithorian delegation between himself and the beverage table towards which the Bothan senator had stumbled.

She cannot pass up such a rare opportunity to tease him. Excusing herself from her group of colleagues, she sidles across the garden towards him, ensconcing herself in the shadows behind the wide backs of Ithorian senators Stonk and Bendon. “Master Kenobi,” she greets him, smoothly.

Obi-Wan’s cool voice betrays nothing. “Senator.”

Padmé fights to keep a straight face. “I see you’ve made Senator Se’lab’s acquaintance.”

“I have made his acquaintance several times,” Obi-Wan replies. “He had little memory of our first meeting at our second, and no memory of our second at our third. Forgive me, but if I can avoid a fourth such performance, I will. I grow tired of introducing myself.”

Padmé stifles a smile. It isn’t fair, that one so skilled in diplomacy to earn himself a galactic-wide nickname should hate it so much. “And did the Honorable Senator from Bothawui tire of your company?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Then how – ” She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. “You didn’t – ”

Obi-Wan gives her an affronted look. “Senator Amidala, what sort of nefarious rogue do you take me for?” He chances a harried glance past the Ithorians, checking for any signs of his unwanted companion’s return. “Along with the memories of our previous two meetings, the good Senator appeared to have forgotten how exactly it was that he’d been able to achieve such an impressively amnesiac and befuddled state. I merely reminded him about the open bar.”

“Formidably underhanded,” she says, approvingly. “But then, that’s why they call you the Negotiator.”

Obi-Wan makes a face at the nickname. “Yes,” he says. “And if I could only negotiate myself out of this whole affair, I would perhaps believe the title to have been aptly bestowed.”

“Obi-Wan,” she chides him. “The best negotiators know when to call for assistance.”

He raises an eyebrow, just slightly, in what might be a faint feather-brush of amusement, then follows her gaze over his shoulder, to where the clearly intoxicated Bothan senator is making his weaving way through the festive crowd back towards them. Obi-Wan’s eyes widen very slightly, in definite alarm. “Indeed. Very well said. In that case, my lady, consider my distress signal activated.”

She extends an arm to him formally. “Walk with me.”

Thanks to the friendship she and Bail share with Mon Mothma, Padmé knows the Chandrilan Diplomatic Gardens better than most in attendance. She knows Obi-Wan, too, better than most, not because he opens himself to her, exactly, but – well, being in her position, one hears things, and Padmé is well-practiced at extracting trivia and truth from Anakin’s well-worn litany of complaints, worries, and fears.

She guides them serenely down a lesser-used path, the raucous festivities behind them fading into a murmur. “Here,” she points. They turn through a simple, cream-colored arch into a wider space, far-away party sounds now faint, distant enough not to grate on the nerves. All about them, only the cheerful babble of water, tumbling from multiple small falls into a network of mossy pools and rock-bordered streams.

Obi-Wan turns his head from side to side to take in the shimmering falls and eddying pools, chin rising as if in response to some sound only he can hear, features lightening. “We’ve a place very like this, in the Temple,” he says. “The Room of a Thousand Fountains.”

Padmé knows this. Knows too that it is a favorite haunt of his, though she will not tell him so. Better he think her fortuitous choice a welcome coincidence, for she knows what she knows about him from Anakin, and, strictly speaking, should not have access to such confidences.

“I’ve heard of it,” she says instead. “It’s much larger than this, though, I think.” She waves a hand at the small garden.

“Size matters not,” Obi-Wan intones, as though reciting an oft-repeated adage, and extends a hand gracefully under one of the falls’ streams. To Padmé’s surprise, the water curves around his upturned palm, bending as if repelled by an invisible barrier before continuing its swan dive into the clear pool below.

“Just a game,” Obi-Wan says, in answer to her unasked question. “And an exercise in control. One practiced by Temple younglings.”

Not any game Padmé knows. She and her sister – then later, her handmaidens – were more apt to occupy themselves with jumping straight into the water, shrieking with glee, than with avoiding its flow. “What’s the objective?”

“Just this,” he says. “Stay dry.” He curls his fingers up to his palm and then flat again in a gentle wave, the water above his hand twisting in a delighted dance before resuming its tumble around an untouched sleeve. “Even the youngest initiates, when exhibiting proper control, can easily redirect a flow of water around their forms. One stands under the falls, keeping dry, while their agemates or teachers attempt to break their focus.” He quirks a smile, one laced with equal parts memory and mischief. “One gets distracted, one gets wet.”

She smiles at him. “I take it you were good at this game?”

“I was passable,” he says with a diffident shrug. “But I did not win every time. My own clan members’ antics were at times difficult to ignore.”

“And Anakin?” she asks. She can’t help herself.

Obi-Wan pull his arm out from the falls, hand disappearing back into the long sleeve of his robe. “Terrible,” he says bluntly. “Without a doubt the worst in his class.”

Padmé refrains from making an unbecoming snort. So she will have something amusing to hold over Anakin’s head when she returns to Coruscant.

“You mustn’t misunderstand me, of course; Anakin is highly capable and could easily manipulate the water were he left to his own devices, but I’m afraid his mental discipline left much to be desired.” Obi-Wan sighs and shakes his head. “Anakin is so easily distracted – he reserved his limited ability to focus for very singular pursuits.”

“Such as...?”

Obi-Wan looks to be almost on the verge of rolling his eyes, but that would be un-Jedi, and he settles for a narrowing of them and crooking his fingers sardonically into the universal sign for quotes. “‘Fixing stuff,’ I believe he said.”

Padmé can’t help but laugh at that, and Obi-Wan indulges her merriment graciously. Looking re-energized, far more hale and hearty than he had in the reception area proper, he stretches out a hand. Ribbons of water arc away from the falls all around them, streaming through the air and coalescing into a shining globe above his palm, a miniature model of Mon Cala. The sphere’s globular surface ripples and turns slowly, casting small refractions of moonlight over the courtyard. Small-scale beauty, to be sure, but Padmé only has eyes for Obi-Wan’s face, lit with reflected light from below, a study in simple happiness.

A Jedi at play, she realizes. Most people didn’t believe there really was such a thing.

“That’s lovely,” she says, peering into the globe’s transparent yet distorted depths. Something about it...she is suddenly reminded of Anakin, in another time and place, levitating a muja fruit in much the same way, and with the same burst of simple enjoyment. “But I thought frivolous uses of the Force were discouraged.”

Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows at her, accepting the friendly challenge. “Frivolous?” He turns his hand so that the palm now faces outward. Rippling with light, the globe coasts several feet away and comes to rest over a pathetically drooping momus bush, its leaves yellowed and cracked, balmgrass spiky and dry around its exposed roots. Obi-Wan twitches his fingers downward, and the globe disintegrates, water sluicing down in a joyful shower onto the parched earth, transforming the yellow dust to a rich, wet brown. He gives her a significant look. “The preservation of life is never frivolous, Senator.”

Her smile climbs its way out of her with ease. Of course. An answer for everything. “I stand corrected.”

In the distance, a chorus of laughter rises above the sound of burbling water, followed by what sounds like someone calling for a toast. Obi-Wan casts a lingering glance at the falls, then back at the arched entrance to the grotto. “We should return,” he says, and if that is reluctance in his voice she will not comment on it.

She nods in agreement. “You’re right. Typho will start to worry.”

Taking her outstretched arm, Obi-Wan frowns. “I am quite certain I gave Captain Typho my word that no harm would come to you whilst I am your escort. He must learn to trust me.”

“He does trust you. But he’s a worry-woolamander. It’s his job.” It was, after all, why she had personally selected him to replace his retired uncle as her new head of security. But, at the same time, she had grown weary of the constant trail of guards orbiting her at all times, rings of human satellites, so many she can hardly blink without catching a glimpse of security burgundy in her peripheral vision. Far preferable to have an escort of one Jedi, especially this Jedi, than that wall of armed guards.

And besides, Obi-Wan had promised. While Captain Typho may not appreciate the import of such a gesture, Padmé does – Obi-Wan Kenobi’s word is worth his weight in solid aurodium bars and more. He has nothing left to prove to anybody, on that count.

At the threshold to the main garden, wide flowering pathways thronging with diplomats and officials and lackeys alike, Obi-Wan takes in a resigned breath. “Once more into the breach,” he proclaims, with tragicomic stoicism.

She cocks her head at him in sympathy. “Straight to the dance floor,” she advises, and they set off, she steering him in the proper direction. “I doubt even a Bothan will try to cut in on a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan snorts under his breath. “Her Highness is grown very devious, in her slippery Senatorial position,” he murmurs.

“And Master Kenobi very witty, in his old age,” she shoots back.

Obi-Wan favors her with a grin, a real grin, full and shining with rarely displayed pleasure. He bows to her, ushering her onto the formal dance floor with a graceful sweep of his hand. “You had better hope your earlier supposition is correct,” he says, eyes glinting with the same clever playfulness she’d seen in him earlier. “The Bothan senators have hooves, you know.”

#pan sharing star wars fic in 2021 - no one could have predicted #anyway as i said these are seven years old #please forgive them #XD #star wars #fic

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excitedlysuffering · 5 years ago

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Not sure how I feel about some of these. Probably cuz it’s 2 am. I should sleep... (disclaimer: I don’t own any characters from Naruto even if they own me!)

He Asks You Out

Naruto~

Three months had gone by and you and Naruto had quickly become best friends. He introduced and integrated you into his friend group and showed you around Konoha, and you kept him company and helped eat food other than ramen.

You spent a lot of your time at the blondes house, either just hanging out or making sure he didn’t starve or drink spoiled milk. Now was one of those times.

“Naruto, you had ramen for breakfast already! I’m not making any more!” He groaned, following you into the kitchen. “Then I’ll make it! It’ll only take five minutes!” You exhaled slowly. “Naru, you can’t live on ramen, it’s not healthy. I’m going to make you a balanced meal. You’ll love it okay?” He sighed. “Fineeee.”

You smiled. “Great! Would you make the tea real quick?” He gave you a mini salute already back to his chipper self. “So, what should do we do once dinner is ready?” Naruto asked you. A smirk appeared on your face. “Well, there’s this thing called face masks. They’re super relaxing and I just happen to have two on me!”

He gave you a sideways look. “What do they do?” You clapped gleefully. “It’s like a paste that you apply on your face, it feels really good. It also helps your skin!” He laughed. “Sasuke will be so jealous when my skin is better than his, believe it!” You laughed, agreeing.

Dinner was Yaki Udon, a simple meal with stir-fried noodles and beef, but it was one of your favorite things to make and you’d added a few things to it. “(Y/N), this is amazing! Almost as good as ramen, believe it!” Although it sounded like a backhanded compliment, you knew just how strongly Naruto felt about ramen. This was high praise.

“I’m glad you like it, Naruto! Now hurry so we can do face masks!” He pursed his lips, finishing his bowl. “What color are they?” You giggled at his skepticism. “They’re both pink.”

Naruto pouted the whole time. From the time you’d brought out the jar, to the first time it touched his face. “Oh, c’mon! Pink is a manly color, Naru!” He scowled. “I’ve never seen Sasuke wear it.” He muttered. I dawned a smug expression. “That just proves you’re manlier than him!” The blonde was silent, much to your confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Naruto flushed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just thinking… how you always support me and take care of me. You keep me company even when I’m being an idiot… I really like you, (Y/N). C-can I take you out? Like on a date?”

Your hand fell away from his face. You had begun to catch feelings for your best friend, but you didn’t think he’d return them. You were practically on cloud nine!

“Naruto… that’d be amazing!” His expression was pure joy, no doubt reflecting yours. “But on one condition… you let me finish your mask!” “(Y/NN)!”

Sasuke~

You dodged a roundhouse kick to your temple by the skin of your teeth, grunting as you blocked a fist. You returned his attacks with a rapid flurry of punches, all being blocked, but that wasn’t your goal. You sent a spin kick towards him, but he caught your leg, tossing you away from him. You landed on your feet in a defensive position, panting slightly.

“Hn. You’re a bit slow today, are you okay, (Y/N)?” You scowled at Sasuke as he stood up from his stance. “I am not! I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

He gave you a look and put his kunai in his pocket. “You should’ve just said that. I wouldn’t have asked to spar.” Your face screamed indignation. “I’m fine! A little tiredness never killed anybody!” He gave you a questioning glance as he sat down on the grass. “Actually, I’m sure it has. Especially in battle.” You groaned, crossing your arms. “Smart alec.”

He smirked, tossing you a water bottle. “You want to spar that bad?” You shrugged. “Usually I’d go for more talented opponents but I guess you’ll do for now.” He chuckled. “So that’s why you could hardly keep up with me?” You threw the water bottle at him, scowling when he caught it. “Just fight me, Uchiha.”

You and Sasuke had meeting up for weeks now to train together and sometimes just hang out. Playful banter was a constant between you two but at the end of the day, you guys knew it was all in jest. You had caught your thoughts drifting back to your conversations with him to know that you were beginning to fall for him, but you kept it under wraps, there was no way you were going to turn into Sakura and Ino.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your blossoming feelings, Sasuke was already charging you, kunai in hand. You pulled out your twin katanas and parried his every attack. It was almost like a dance between you two; both of you light on your feet and dodging every attempt while counterattacking. It went on for a while before those four fateful words left Sasuke’s mouth.

“Go out with me.” You didn’t know what to think. Was he serious? Did he even mean a date?! “We’re in the middle of a fight and that’s what you’re thinking of?” I saw his lips curve upwards as he blocked my swords. “Tch. I’m serious, (Y/N). You’re different from other girls… I like you.” Sasuke blushed, but you were sure your face was showing shades of red no one had ever witnessed before. “If we don’t accidentally kill ourselves because we’re distracted, I’d love to.”

“Would that mean it’s a bad time to tell me you kinda stabbed me in the side?”

Neji~

“Where are we going exactly, (Y/N)?” You smiled at Neji as you pulled him along behind you. “I went to this great little cafe and their tea is to die for! I had to take you!” He snorted, clearly amused. “The tea?” You laughed. “You’re always drinking tea, I thought you could use a little a variety!” He chuckled as you both walked through the door.

“I’m going to use the restroom real quick, will you be okay?” I nodded but pointed to the menu. “What do you want?” He handed you a few yen, that you didn’t plan on using. “Surprise me, this is supposed to be for variety right?” Then he was gone around the corner.

You shrugged to yourself as you walked up to the counter. “Hello, how can I help you today?” You smiled, pulling out your own money. “Hi, can I get a Berry Blend Açai Tea, please? Oh, and two dangos, as well!” In no time you had paid and received the sugary treats. They would bring you and Neji your tea.

“Well, well, well, what’s a pretty lady like you doing all on your own?” A man appeared in front of you, causing you to stop in your tracks. You looked behind you, unsure of who he was talking to. “Yes, you, sweet cheeks.” You scowled. “I’m not alone, now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to sit down.” The man just laughed, not moving an inch. “Aw, don’t be like that. I don’t see anyone-”

You took a deep breath, but it didn’t work. You were still pissed. “Look, if you don’t move, I’ll be forced to move you.” He didn’t have a headband, so he wouldn’t be a challenge. He just stood there laughing at you. You set your dango on a nearby table, before kicking out his knee. When he bent down, yelling profanities, you grabbed his head and brought it down harshly onto your knee. He wouldn’t need his nose, right? “Why you little-!” You cut him off with a hand to his pressure point and he fell, unconscious before he hit the ground.

“(Y/N)?” By now you had a small audience, but you were only paying attention to Neji. “I was just coming over to tell him that I was with you… but it looks like you had everything under control. You laughed sheepishly. “Maybe we should get out things to go?”

Neji walked beside you, quietly sipping his tea, seemingly deep in thought. You knew it was best to let him think through whatever it was, so you ate your dango while you waited. “She really is perfect…” You heard him mumble to himself. You have him a strange look. “What?”

His cheeks were tinted pink, but he didn’t back down from your gaze. “I realized you were special from the moment I first met you, but… seeing you take that man down opened my eyes to how perfect you really are.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. Did Neji like you…? “I don’t want to lose you to anyone else, I was wondering if you’d like to… go out with me?” Your face broke out into a huge smile.

“Oh, Neji only you could see a girl fight someone twice her size and fall in love. Of course, I’ll go out with you.”

Shikamaru~

You and Shikamaru had agreed to meet up for lunch at a local sushi place for lunch at noon and you were so excited that you had ended up a little early. You didn’t mind though, you’d have a chance to survey the menu before you ordered.

However, you didn’t expect to see Shikamaru Lazy as Hell Nara already waiting on you. But what really shocked you was the cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. You walked up to him, hands in your pockets. “I didn’t know you smoked, Shika.” He took a long drag, a lazy smile playing at his lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” You shook your head as he blew out the smoke in the opposite direction of your face. “Nope. As you long as you know the dangers of smoking, I won’t mention it.” He smirked, throwing the topic of conversation down and squashing it with his heel. “No nagging?” I shook my head. “Doesn’t help. If you’re going to quit you need to do it for yourself, not cause someone bothered you about it.”

Shikamaru wrapped his arm around, in a rare show of affection, and led you inside. “You’re really something else, (Y/N).” You couldn’t help but eye the pack of cigarettes he clearly had in his pouch. You knew they were bad for you, but surely a few couldn’t hurt right?

“Tch, I’m not letting you smoke, so you can get rid of that idea.” Shika deadpanned. Your jaw dropped. “But I didn’t even say anything!” He just chuckled as you both took a seat at a booth back in the corner. “I know you, you were clearly staring at them and thinking about trying one.”

You groaned at how easy to read you were. Surely he was exaggerating and it was just a lucky guess. “Hello! I am to be your server today. What can I get you, sweetheart?” You gulped, more than a little uncomfortable with the way he was looking at you. “Oi! Are you serious? We’re clearly on a date! Stop eyeing her like a piece of meat and take our orders!” Shikamaru shouted, peeved. It was an unusual sight, you knew he was a laid back guy, he was more likely to brush things off.

“I apologize, I was ju-” Shikamaru held up a hand. “I’m not her keeper, apologize to her, she was clearly uncomfortable.” The waiter paled. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded once. “It’s okay…” Seemingly satisfied, Shikamaru grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the restaurant, obviously not caring for the service.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his annoyed expression. “So that was a date, Shika?” His face went from annoyed to embarrassed instantly, but he didn’t let that deter him. “I mean, it’d be a drag but I could ask you on a more official one.” You grinned, linking arms with him. “That’d be fabulous, but I’ll spare you the trouble, Mr. Lazy, and say that I’d be happy to go on a date with you.”

With a slight blush still adorning his cheeks, he moved his hand to wrap it around your waist. “Maybe you’re not as troublesome I thought.” You gave him a look. “Wanna bet?” He just sighed, but you didn’t miss his smile.

Kiba~

Shikamaru and Kiba had gone a few hours ago for a ‘boys night out’, leaving you alone with a plethora of movies and all the ice cream. Mr. and Mrs. Nara were already asleep and from their bedroom, you couldn’t hear the TV in Shika’s room. It was perfect.

You had decided on watching ‘The Boy In The Striped Pajamas’ after having heard it was good. It was a mistake. A huge mistake. You could handle movie horror, gore on missions, and real-life tragedy, but this was too much. The tale of two boys, oblivious to the horror show they lived in as they became friends, only to be killed in such a brutal fashion…

That’s how the boys found you, sobbing as you watched the kids enter the gas chamber. You felt like your heart was tearing apart. Maybe you shouldn’t have had so much coffee before. “Um… (Y/N), you okay there?” You turned to Kiba, sniffling. “No! They d-died!” Your wailing started back up again. Shikamaru groaned. “Troublesome woman, you know you’re not supposed to watch sad movies.” Kiba wrapped an arm around you. “Cut her some slack, Shikamaru. Everyone gets sad from time to time.”

Kiba gave you a small smile as he grabbed a tissue. “Here,” he gently wiped away your tears as he looked at the ice cream tub. “How much ice cream did you eat, (Y/N/N)?” You flushed. “More than I care to admit.” He laughed, throwing away the tissue. “Thank you, Kiba, I really appreciate you.” He gave you a grin and ruffled your hair.

“That’s what I’m here for. Now, let’s clean up the remainder of your sob fest.” You laughed tears forgotten, as you and Kiba cleaned up, while Shikamaru took out the movie from the DVD player. “Was the movie that bad?” Shikamaru asked skeptically.

“Yes. It was. You have to watch it sometime when I’m not around.” They both snickered. “We’ll have to just so we can see how dramatic you’re being.” I scoffed. “Sure, Kiba. But you’re going to eat your words when you start crying.” Shika sighed. “What a drag. You have a bad taste in movies.” I rolled my eyes. “Lies.”

Kiba crossed his arms. “If you let me take you out, I’d show you some good movies.” He mumbled under his breath. You did a double-take. “K-Kiba… what was that?” The rest of his cheeks matched his red stripes. “I said that if I could take you on a date, I’d show you a good movie.” A grin spread across your lips. “I think I’d like that… a lot.” Shikamaru looked between you two, alarmed.

“Wait, my two best friends?! I’ll always be a third wheel!”

Gaara~

You set down your book when you heard a soft rapping at your door. Puzzled at who it could be you walked to your door, opening it. You were pleasantly surprised to see Gaara standing on your front steps, a small smile adorning his face.

“Gaara! Come in, what are you doing here?” He stepped into your home, as you closed the door. “Well, I learned my first song and I wanted you to be the first to hear it.” You grinned following him to your piano.

“This is great! What is it?” He sat down beside you and flushed as he began. “The first thing I ever heard you play was the theme for Swan Lake, so I learned the finale to it…” His fingers danced as he played the song perfectly. It was the simplistic version, but you could tell he really practiced.

“Gaara, this is beautiful. You have a real talent for the piano.” His blush darkened as he finished. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you. Truthfully, when I asked you to teach me, I just wanted to spend more time with you, but then I really did enjoy playing.” Your flush matched his. “R-really?” He nodded, uncharacteristically nervous. “Yes, but now I… want to see you outside of these lessons.”

You placed a hand over his, both of you wearing matching smiles. “Like a… date?” He nodded, shyly. “Yes, like a date.” You wrapped him in a hug. “That sounds amazing, Gaara.” He hugged you back, his head resting on your shoulder. Your door slammed open, scaring you both so bad you both fell off the piano bench.

“YES! We’ve been waiting for this moment!” Kankuro and Temari stood in your doorway fists raised in victory. You and Gaara just stared, too shocked to even be embarrassed. “Were you guys eavesdropping?” He asked, clearly not thrilled. He stood up before lending me a hand.

“We couldn’t help it!” The siblings whine simultaneously. “You guys are just too cute together! After all our planning, we just had to know what happened!” Temari cooed. You just covered your face, trying to hide your red face, but you were secretly flattered that Gaara had actually taken the time to plan. “Guys! This was supposed to be a private moment!” Gaara gave them a look.

“You heard her, bye guys, see you later!” With that, he shoved them out of your living room, slamming the door. “At least they’re happy for us?” You suggested, giggling.

Kakashi~

“Don’t be so stubborn, Kakashi-sensei! How hard could it be? You guys are so close, this next step is natural!” Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw Sakura and Ino talking to Kakashi. They were actually getting along?! You pushed down your shock, opting to listen to their conversation from your hidden spot in the tree.

“It’s not that simple, guys. (Y/N) and I haven’t been friends for that long, I’m pretty sure she would turn me down.” You perked up at hearing your name. What were they talking about? “Oh, c’mon! We see the way you look at each other, it’s clear you both like each other!” Ino exclaimed. Your face instantly heated up. Were you that obvious and oblivious? Did he actually like you? That would be a dream come true!

“I don’t know about that… I think it’d be best to wait a little longer before I do that.” Sakura rolled her eyes at his hesitance. “Sensei! There’s nothing to asking someone out, it’s so simple!” Ino complained impatiently. Kakashi crossed his arms. “Oh, is it? Then why hasn’t Sasuke gone out with either of you?” You covered your mouth at the utter brutality, trying not to laugh.

Sakura and Ino screamed incoherently at how that was a totally different story. “Look, Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura exhaled, “we’re just trying to help you. You of all people deserve to be happy and it’s obvious she makes you happy!” You smiled, seeing how she cared for her sensei.

“Sakura is right, said no one ever,” Ino whispered, “how do you know she doesn’t like you if you never ask? But, she’s my sensei! I see the way she smiles more when you’re around. She blushes like a schoolgirl for goodness sake!” Said blush was creeping up your neck as they ruthlessly exposed you.

“I know you girls are right, but how am I supposed to ask her?” Sakura gave him a dubious look. “You’re the one always reading those smutty romances, shouldn’t you know?” A small giggle slipped through your lips. You watched Kakashi smirk suddenly and you swooned. Swooned?! You mentally shook yourself, trying to control your emotions.

“I don’t think asking her will be a problem since she’s been listening to this whole conversation. Come on out, (Y/N).” You were pretty sure your heart dropped down to your feet. You gracefully jumped down from your tree, blushing about fifty shades of red.

“Um, h-hey guys! What’s up?” All three of them gave you flat, unamused looks “C’mon (Y/N)-sensei! What’s your answer?” Ino begged. Kakashi placed a hand on her head. “How about you let me ask her, hm?” Her cheeks went red. “O-oh, right!”

His focus turned back to you. “I know you heard everything, but I really do like you and I want to take you on a proper date.” Sakura rolled her eyes, snorting. “‘Proper’? Have to be on time for that.” Ino punched her, hissing at her to shut up.

You giggled at the pure chaos, but you knew you wouldn’t have it any other way. “I guess it’s good I really like you too. Let’s just hope it’ll just be the two of us!” Sakura and Ino laughed before realizing it wasn’t a joke. “Oh-oh…” Now it was you and Kakashi’s turn to laugh.

~Akatsuki~

Pein~

Even though Pein had seemed cruel and cold in the beginning, he had actually panned out to be a decent human being. Or God, in his not-so-humble opinion. It took six months for you to realize, but you had noticed. He made sure you had everything you needed, food, clothes, your own room… things you hadn’t had consistently in years. You couldn’t hide the fact that you had grown fond of him.

When he sent you on missions they were usually solo, seeing as no one had your stealth and sticky fingers. However, they were always manageable and you were always successful. You had just gotten back from your last mission, you had been sent to eavesdrop on Orochimaru’s meeting with some important what’s-his-name, and you were heading to his office to report back.

You knocked twice, knowing he didn’t like people just barging in. “Enter.” You opened the door, unsurprised to see the Akatsuki leader surrounded by paperwork. “Ah, you’re back sooner than I expected.” You handed him the scroll, filled with your findings. “It was a very to the point meeting, Leader-Sama.” He nodded, exchanging the scroll you gave him for another one.

Your eyebrows furrowed in question. “I know you just got back, but I have one last mission for you. It’s very simple, I have no doubt you’ll finish it before the night is over.” You sighed, at least it was quick.

“Yes, Leader-Sama.” Just as you turned, you heard the carrot head’s voice. “Oh, and (Y/N)? Tell no one of this mission, please. You leave in 30 minutes.” You nodded sharply. “Understood.”

~~~Time Skip Brought By You Stealing Kakuzu’s Money~~~

Your mission was almost too simple, in comparison to what you’d been tasked with before. All you had to do was make your way into a high-end restaurant Pein had gotten you a reservation for. Your goal was to find one of Orochimaru’s contacts and steal an important message he had.

You awkwardly smoothed out the red cocktail dress you had on and moved to look for the man the scroll had described. You didn’t see anyone, so you sat in a corner booth, content to wait. “Can I get you a drink to start you off?” Your attention snapped to the waiter, and you dawned a smile. “Um, I’ll just take a Sake, please.” He nodded, writing it down. “I’ll be right back with that.” He dashed away, revealing someone behind him.

You blinked rapidly trying to make sense of what you were seeing. “Leader-sama?!” You shout-whispered. “What’s going on?! Is something wrong?” He offered you a smile as he sat down across from you. “Not exactly. There was never a mission, I ju-” Anger surged within you.

“You mean to tell me, you brought me on a wild goose chase while I could’ve been sleeping?!”

The man had the nerve to sigh at you. “Just let me explain, okay?” You crossed your arms, waiting for him to explain.

“There is no mission because I wanted to take you out on a date.” You choked on absolutely nothing but your own disbelief. You had developed a soft spot for your leader, but… he wanted to take you on a date?

“Leader-sama-” “Pein,” He interrupted. You nodded slowly. “Pein… why didn’t you just ask me? Like a regular person.” He nodded at the waiter as he brought your drink. “Well, first, I’m a God, so I don’t do things like humans, and second, I didn’t know if you’d say yes.” You laughed a bit. “Well, Pein, that’s usually where asking the person comes in.”

His lips quirked upwards. “Well, we’re already here, aren’t we? We might as well enjoy the night.” You hid your grin (unsuccessfully).

“Yeah, yeah, I suppose. I am pretty hungry.”

Deidara~

Ever since your explosive art exhibit, you had been wondering what had happened to Deidara. It’d been a month since you’d seen him ad frankly, you missed him more than you’d care to admit. Maybe he hadn’t meant what he said?

You hadn’t been up to making ant new art lately and that wasn’t going to change any time soon. Instead, you resigning yourself to a self-pity nap. You’d been resorting to those a lot lately.

You heard your bed creak in the back of your mind, and because you were a light sleeper, you felt yourself begin to wake up. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake up, (Y/N), un.” You blinked for a solid twenty seconds, your tired mind not being able to compute what you were seeing.

Deidara sat next to you, on top of your covers, a half-smile on his face. But what was possibly even more astonishing was the fact that he was wearing an Akatsuki cloak. “Dei…? W-what’re you doing here?” You sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I made you a promise, and I intended to keep it… even if it took me a little longer than I imagined, un.” You still couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

The sweet, charming artist you had come to love was a member of the Akatsuki. “Ah, I see you noticed my cloak, yeah. I figured it was wrong to keep it from you, un.” You just stared, totally stunned. His hand rested on your cheek, gently bringing your gaze up to meet his. “Please say something, (Y/N),” He whispered nervously. “I’m really glad you’re back, Deidara.” And it was the truth, him being an S-ranked criminal didn’t change that. You had no loyalties, no ties, and that gave you no reason to dislike his choices.

“You don’t hate me, un?” You placed your hand over the one that was still placed on your cheek. “The time we spent together, the person I got to know didn’t change in my eyes just because he has certain loyalties. You’re still the funny, wild, and charismatic Deidara I met a month ago.” His smile brightened up the whole room.

“Thank you for waiting for me, I didn’t have a chance to get away from our base, yeah.” You smiled. “It doesn’t matter why, you’re here with me now.” The two of you were silent for a moment before you both burst into laughter. “We sound so corny!” He snickered. You rested a hand on his shoulder to stay upright as your laughter shook your form. “I know right! But, I did mean everything I said, just pretend I phrased it cooler.” Deidara chuckled before his face turned serious.

“Me as well, especially when I say that I’m going to take you on the best date ever before I have to leave. I swear it, un.” You pulled him into a hug, resting your cheek in the crook of his neck. “How much longer do you have?”

His arms snaked around your torso. “Until the end of the night, yeah.” You pulled away, giving him a sly look. “Well, we’d better get going then, huh?”

#shikamaru x reader #sasuke x reader #kiba x reader #kakashi x reader #neji x reader #naruto x reader #gaara x reader #deidara x reader #pein x reader #x reader #imagines #naruto shippuden

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barnesbabee · 5 years ago

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Baller || S.M

Summary: Mingi’s prculiar way of trying to get your attention ended up hurting you, but he sure as Hell would try to fix you.

Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

Words: Like, some of ‘em

Genre: Smut, bit of Angst

A/N: Lmfaooo this is the first smut in days that isn’t a threesome. Enjoy xx💖

REQUESTS SUPER OPEN

---- THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST ANON ----

Your practice would be over in ten minutes, but the boys just couldn't seem to fucking wait. They started dribbling and fooling around with the basketballs whilst you practiced. Every girl on your team was visibly upset about the boys being noisy and interrupting their time, but the coach said nothing, since they were his golden boys. It annoyed you all profusely, and since no one (including your team captain) was doing anything, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You left your practice game and headed over to the boys.

You angrily tapped on their captain's shoulder and he turned around. He had his usual playful smile as he looked down at you. God, he was tall.

"Hi, can you not be dickheads and stop playing while we're still clearly practicing?" You smiled at him bitterly.

"Sure," he chuckled "when you girls learn how to play real basketball we'll do it."

The rest of the boys, who were listening to the conversation, snickered at his comment. You were fuming. You couldn't believe someone could be so cocky and disrespectful.

"You're so fucking full of yourself Mingi!"

"That's because I can. I mean, we're better Y/N, just face it. We haven't lost a single game the whole season."

You balled up your fists beside your body and your face instantly heat up. You took a deep breath however, you wouldn't allow yourself to stoop to his level.

"Fine, whatever. Let's make a deal. We play a friendly match and if you win I'll treat you all to dinner. But if we win-"

Mingi cut you off right away.

"Dinner? No way."

You looked at him confused. How was free dinner not a good offer? Plus, you had seen him eat, you knew he loved food.

"What do you want then?"

Mingi crossed his arms and took a step closer to you, a smug expression planted on his face.

"If we win," he paused, for a dramatic effect "you have to admit we're better than you."

You rolled your eyes at how childish he was, but agreed nevertheless.

"Fine, whatever, just warm-up and get ready to lose."

You turned your back on them and joined your team. You explained to them and to the coach what had happened, and everyone agreed that a practice match between the male team and the female team would be fun.

The game was pretty rough, and Mingi made sure to rub in your face how good he was, by winking at you every time he scored a triple. You were getting mad, not because you were losing, but because he was winning.

At some point, the score was 36-42, for the boys, and you were giving your all to make sure they couldn't get a hold of the ball. One of your teammates managed to slap the ball out of Yunho's hands while he dribbled, causing the it to roll away on the floor. You sprinted to pick it up, but it seemed Mingi had the same idea, and he ended up crashing against you, hard.

The ball was his only goal, and the animalistic way he threw himself onto the object made him bump on you. You twisted your ankle as you fell on the floor, and your back hit the wooden bench placed against the wall.

You cried silently and gripped your ankle in pain.

"Y/N oh my God, are you ok!?" Mingi asked, feeling both preoccupied and guilty.

You looked up at him, bloodshot eyes from crying and anger written all over. You stood up, as well as you could, and pushed him away with all your strength. You were limping towards the building's infirmary when a large hand gripped your wrist. Already knowing who it belonged to, you freed yourself from the grasp.

"Just fuck off Mingi, you've done enough."

It was around 8 PM already, so naturally the nurse had already gone home. You looked for an ice pack around and placed it on your ankle, hoping it wasn't a serious injury.

Between your sobs and sniffles, you could hear soft footsteps approaching you.

"Please leave..." You asked, weakly.

Mingi just huffed and ignored your request. He sat down beside you, carefully removed your shoe, and placed your leg on his lap. He took the ice pack from you and applied it on your swollen ankle for you. You didn't speak not did you object, you were too tired and in too much pain to have the energy to say something. Mingi broke the silence first.

"I'm... sorry. I didn't mean to annoy you, much less hurt you."

You didn't even glance at him, you just focused your gaze on the floor.

"Please talk to me Y/N..."

You finally turned to him, looking pained and offended.

"What do you want me to say Mingi? You guys are constantly putting us down for being girls and playing basketball! And- and as if wasn't enough, you might've injured me foreal! If I can't play the rest of the season we're so fucked!"

Mingi was taken aback by your yelling, and although he didn't look like it, he was a really sensitive guy. He loved to tease and joke around, but he's feelings got hurt very easily, and when you talked to him in such a rough manner, it broke him a little.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to I d-don't know what else to do."

His voice broke mid-sentence, and he was blinking rapidly, trying to prevent the tears from falling. You noticed his actions and looked at him, feeling bad for making him cry.

"Mingi are you... crying?"

He chuckled and wiper his tears with the hand that wasn't holding your ice pack.

"I guess I am..."

There were a couple seconds of awkward silence, since neither of you knew what to say.

"Why are you crying though?"

Mingi sighed and locked his eyes with yours.

" 'Cause... I wanted to impress you, ok? I wanted you to notice me, but I guess I've done it the wrong way."

You snickered at what he said.

"Hey! Come on, what's so funny?"

He looked visibly sad at your reaction, so you just shook your head, indicating that you weren't laughing at his confession.

"It's just... Normally I wouldn't believe something like that but it's just so you, to try really hard to do something yet do it backward."

He blushed a little at your comment, mumbling a 'Guess that's true' under his breath. You brought your hand up to his hair and played with it.

"Sorry I was an ass to you, can you please, please forgive me and give me another chance?" Mingi asked.

You looked at him dead in the eye and coldly told him 'no'. You were mean, you knew it, but the way his face fell at your straightforwardness kind of amused you. You laughed and straddled his lap, being careful with your ankle as you did so. You leaned your forehead against his and smiled.

"I'm joking Mingi, I'll give you a second chance."

He immediately smiled, a smile that lit up the whole atmosphere around you, and pulled you in for a hug. When you two pulled away, you realized how close together you were, how your lips were almost touching, and how his eyes darted from your own, down to your lips. He leaned in closer, never quite closing the gap.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this..." You whispered.

"Maybe we shouldn't." He agreed.

Yet neither of you pulled away. You just waited and hoped the other one made a move. Eventually desperation grew between you, and you both moved at the same time to connect your lips. You placed your hands on his neck while Mingi gripped your waist.

Mingi's lips were soft and sweet, just like his true personality (not the one he had shown you certainly though). He took it slow with you, not wanting to push anything.

His tongue only entered your mouth when he felt your crotch grind against his. Mingi moaned the second he felt your clothed crotch grind against his growing hard-on. His fingers moved down to your ass, squeezing it lightly and simultaneously pulling you closer.

Mingi's lips started working on your neck, tasting the saltiness of your skin from the previous practice.

"Mingi, do something..."

Your breathy, needy voice combined with the increasing speed of your clothed pussy grinding against him made Mingi's cock twitch. He helped you undress, so you wouldn't apply much pressure on your ankle, and you then slid his shorts and boxers down mid-thigh. You pumped his lenght a few times, causing him to hiss at the contact and throw his head back.

You lifted yourself up and placed him at your entrance. As you did so, Mingi looked down at your body, wanting to catch the exact moment he pushed inside of you.

You lowered yourself on his cock, slowly, taking him all in. You bit your lip to prevent from screaming his name.

"We have to be quiet, okay baby?" He told you and kissed your cheek.

The pet name had a weird effect on you, yet you loved it.

Mingi grabbed your waist, helping you move up and down his cock. His hips jerked up to reach as deep as possible, and one of his hands would occasionally sneak down your body and grab your ass.

"Fuck, Mingi... I'm coming." You whispered, although you wanted to yell it.

The pad of his thumb met your clit, applying pressure and drawing circles on it. Your body started feeling heavier and although you wanted to make Mingi cum, you couldn't hold it any longer.

Mingi noticed this, and pressed his lips against yours to muffle your moan.

You never stopped bouncing on his cock, and, after hearing the lewd noises of your skin slapping for a couple more seconds he pulled out of you and came all over both of your jerseys.

You both looked down at the mess he'd made and you noticed a hard blush spread across his cheeks.

"Oh fuck, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to-"

You cut him off with a kiss and smiled.

"Don't you think you've apologized well enough already?"

#mingi #song #song mingi #mingi smut #song mingi smut #ateez #ateez smut #ateez mingi smut #ateez song mingi smut #kpop #kpop smut #ateez scenario

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made-nondescript · 5 years ago

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Intruder | Ticci Toby X Reader

“Paranoid” is not a word you would use to describe yourself. Paranoia is an unnecessary precaution, wasted worrying. You, on the other hand, did not waste. All you did was absolutely required, nothing short of normal adult responsibility, even though you weren’t quite yet an adult.

You remind yourself of this as you check the locks on every window and door in your house, feet shuffling against the cold floor. It’s about safety, about comfort. It’s not paranoia. This is an especially important reminder when you check outside your window before closing the curtains and when you resist the urge to check under your bed - for what, you don’t know. A person couldn’t even fit there.

Sleep claims you after a lengthy struggle fought half-heartedly on both sides.

You awake what feels like not even a moment later to a jiggling at your window. Through the terror you remind yourself that the window is, in fact, very locked and whatever is on the other side is probably just the wind or a branch or something equally unthreatening. This thought is promptly killed by the sharp snap of the window lock followed by it tumbling to the ground.

You’re shaking as you reach for the kitchen knife you keep in your drawer. (“Another precaution, a result of healthy responsibility for one’s safety,” you have had to defend.) Not a moment after the hilt is in your hand is the window thrown open and a figure steps in like he owns the place.

His bright orange goggles initially read as giant bug eyes and you feel as though you can't breath. He’s holding two axes - two axes against your what? Blunt kitchen knife? - and a mask covers the only other part of his face that might be identifiable. You push the knife away from your body and towards the intruder. He laughs, groans, and collapses.

You don’t move. You’re shaking so bad that the knife risks tumbling clumsily out of your hands despite your grip. The intruder does not move for the next minute, then the next 5 minutes. 10 minutes pass and he’s still immobile on your bedroom floor and though you hate it you should probably check on him.

You nearly fall as you lean over the edge of your bed. The intruder is, uh, a lot more bloody than you initially noticed. There’s a head wound in there, you think, but you’re not sure that’s all his own blood. His axes coated in a little bit of fresh blood, too. You feel dizzy. What do you do in a situation like this? Your goal had always been to prevent things like this; this wasn’t supposed to happen.

The first thing you get the courage to do is to remove the axes from his grips. A precaution: if he’s hurt someone else, he will probably hurt you. The thought does not steady your hands but it turns out its hard to keep an iron grip when you’re out cold so the task isn’t that bad. Next: you need to restrain his hands and feet, and maybe call the police. Thankfully, your responsible personality demands you to keep rope in your room as a means of escape, so you make quick work of restraining the intruder. You also remove his goggles for good measure, though you can’t seem to figure out how to take the mask off.

As you’re standing over him, admiring your preparedness and bravery in the face of danger, he wakes up. You nearly scream.

He blinks for a second, looking up at you from the ground. He checks out his restraints. He spots his goggles on the floor nearby. He looks back at you. “Hey,” he says.

Hey? Hey? He broke into your room and collapsed on your floor and he just, he just says, hey?

“Who are you?” you demand, keeping your eye trained on his hands. They’re steady. No escape attempt yet.

“Toby!” he replies, too happy, as he struggles to sit upright. He wobbles a bit, his head wound probably still affecting his balance. “Who are you?”

“That is none of your business!” your voice is just above a loud whisper. “Why are you here?”

“Can’t just collapse out in the open.”

“I think you could!”

“I’m pretty sure I’d be d-dead if I did that,” he countered, drawing out the “pretty.” You noticed now, too, that he was quivering a little bit. Maybe quivering isn’t right - its more like he’s having a bunch of small spasms every once in a while. “What does it m-matter to you anyway?”

“You’re in my room!” You replied, beyond exasperated. He was getting less threatening and more frustrating.

“Oh yeah! Private property. F-forgot about that.” You could hear his smile in his voice. What kind of person doesn’t understand private property? It’s the pillar of our society! The basis on which half of all rules are founded! And he just forgets about it?? This was making your head hurt.

“Well, this is private property and you need to get out!” You insisted. “Now!”

“I’d like to but I’m a little-” he paused for effect. “Tied up.”

“Oh my god.” You just stared at him, becoming nervous of what would happen if you untied him and let him go. He would want his axes back, right? And they were alarmingly bloody. So you’re not thrilled to give them back. But you can’t just, leave him here until morning, can you? You should call the police. You should have called the police the moment he tumbled in.

Suddenly you become very aware of the wound on his head - the bloody gash that looks at least like, a little serious? Should you treat that before you call? Is that a good idea? Lord, this whole situation is so uncomfortable. Maybe - maybe you should call while he’s not in the room. You concieve of a plan.

“How about-” You’re so clearly unsure of your words, it’s a sad contrast to how you normally are. “I’m going to treat your head wound.”

“Like, for free?”

“Uh, yeah. For free?” You begin to carefully approach him to find your shake is back but not with a vengeance. You get over to him fine and hesitate before awkwardly looping your arms underneath his. You manage to pull him over to the bathroom attached to your bedroom (but he helps with the transfer more than you’d like to admit).

You stare helplessly into the cabinet above the sink while your intruder - Toby - waits patiently on the toilet, still very tied up. How….how do you treat a head wound? Pressure, for sure, but after that?

“Do you need help?” He asks, and your face burns. Maybe you aren’t that responsible. This is a thing you should know how to do!

“No,” You say, grabbing some gauze and applying pressure to the wound until the bleeding stops. That step goes by far too quickly. Oh! Disinfectant. And - you don’t have any! Perfect, you’ll leave the room, call the police, and he’ll never know! “I’ll be right back, I’m going to grab some rubbing alcohol.”

“Okay!”

You walk down the hall into the larger bathroom, closing the door and making the call. Every moment you leave him alone is agony, but soon you get to return with alcohol.

When you get back, the bathroom is empty. Your blood runs cold. You whip your head around to find Toby halfway out the window, goggles back on and axes in his hands. The rope is lying useless and cut on your bedroom floor.

“Oh, hey! I gotta go.” He says, tipping one of his bloody axes towards you in a waving motion. “Thanks for the treatment offer, but I don’t think the doc would like your work much anyway.” He leaps from your window and he’s gone, just like that.

It takes you a moment to register but you’re over at the window the very next. You barely catch sight of him running away with two other people. You collapse on the floor. What an experience.

#no i will not answer ANY questions about why wrote this #ticci toby #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #x reader #fanfiction #my writing #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers #toby rogers x reader #slenderverse #creepypasta fanfiction

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prettywordsyouwrite · 4 years ago

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My Best Motivation Method | The Writing Tool Box

Whether it’s because of internal or outside pressures, there are times where we just don’t want to write. It’s really important that when that moment strikes, you evaluate the reason why. It could be a sign of needing a break to come back to your project refreshed. But more often than not, the reason is a lack of motivation towards your craft. This can be highly frustrating, especially if you’re someone like me who likes to write to a schedule (more on that in an upcoming post).

I’m a pretty organised person, and in my journey for better productivity, I came over this tool that has been a game-changer for my writing – and life in general. It’s called the High-Low Productivity Bar. It’s a habit-forming hack that helps with consistency, even when we don’t have all the energy in the world to give to our craft.

The great thing about this technique is that it’s flexible. For me, I’m pretty busy most days and finding time to fit in writing can sometimes be a bit of a challenge! I know for me how important it is to write regularly for my sanity, as well as for gradual improvement in my set of skills and that is why I applied this method to writing.

So what is it exactly?

You take whatever habit you want to form – in this case, writing regularly to remain motivated – and you figure out what the goal is you’re trying to set. It could be something like “be consistent enough to post a part to my online story every week” or “write ___ words on my novel each month”. Whatever the goal is that is unique to you can be used here.

And then you look at what the least amount of work you need to do to meet that goal either each week, each day or whatever suitable timeframe that you’re happy to work through. What is the absolute minimum you need to put in during that timeframe to meet that longer-term goal? When you figure out the answer, write it down. Then figure out what would be the best results possible that you could expect from yourself. You know, where you’re on fine form and really motivated to knock this goal out of the park! And when you’re done with that, find the middle ground. Once you’re aware of these three placements, note them all down and put them into practice. It might not be instant but it does work!

The more you turn up and put in the absolute minimum to your goal, the more the brain is tricked into feeling successful. And the more successful you feel, the more motivated you are going to be to strive for more. That is the whole point behind this technique. There will be days/weeks where you can only put in the absolute minimum… and that’s fine because you already told yourself in the beginning, this is the non-negotiable bottom line towards reaching your goal. And in my mind, you’re still winning even if you do that for several weeks over. You’re still on your path towards that goal. But most likely, you will find it becomes too easy to turn up and do just the bare minimum. You’ll find yourself adding in a little bit more to that session, or maybe you’ll be more motivated (which is the whole key here) to aim for higher results intentionally. It’s all feeding your levels of motivation and teaching you that consistency can help those goals you want to achieve become more of a reality.

I’m not saying this technique will work for everyone, but I do suggest giving it a go if you’re lacking motivation right now. It does require you putting in the time regularly to make it work, and for some, it might go against what is thought to be a freeing and creative approach to writing. However, since I’m asked a lot about how I’m able to write and post so often on my blog, this is my (not-so) secret method. I still follow this technique most weeks, and it’s so ingrained in me now that I don’t even realise I’m doing it until I stop and think! Along with scheduling, this has been a huge way to remain motivated even when life is busy.

So for a clear example of how I might use this towards my writing.

For me, I like to post something 4-5 times a week. It could be a drabble, or a part in a series, or just a bunch of scenario/oneshots (I never know what to call them on here haha).

So my goal would be: to produce 4-5 pieces to post for each week of this month.

My low bar: find a prompt list or take a quick idea and write a drabble. Every fortnight over on my prompt blog @challengingwords we release a new prompt so I know that at least two-three times a month I will be posting a drabble.

**I will start with these first naturally anyway. Drabbles, as I’ve explained in my post HERE are my favourite warming up mindless exercises. They work hand in hand with this method in being something small enough to complete in one sitting, boosting that successful feeling of finishing a project.

My high bar: write more than two parts to a series or 2-3 different oneshots/drabbles in one sitting

My middle bar: write 1 oneshot or write on my current series, get a part done and jot down notes for the next part, perhaps even half starting it in this sitting

Say I have time to write a little several times a week, I’m probably not going to sit and work on the high bar level stuff. Depending on how much time I have to offer myself, I will most likely aim for the middle bar or start at the low bar and work on more if I have time/energy. However, if I can spend an entire day writing, I aim for the high bar on these days. It’s all about working with what energy and what timeframe I have towards writing on that specific day.

For some, my bars might seem too much, and that’s okay. I didn’t start out expecting that much from myself either. However, I’m used to this level of workload now and have adjusted it accordingly.

There is no right or wrong in this method, as long as you’re applying it regularly. It is okay to sit there, look at a word document and go, “I don’t even have the energy to do more than show up like this”. It’s not something you have to beat yourself up for if you can’t meet the method on a particular day or week, even. However, as I said before, it does require diligence. You can’t just expect your motivation that you stored from a really awesome two-week stint to be feeding you two months later.

How many of you work with this type of setup already? Would you give something like this a go? Do you think it takes the fun out of writing whenever you feel like it, or can you see why it can have a good place in your own writing toolbox? Let me know below!

#self motivation #writer motivation #writing tips #writers #writing tools #writing techniques #writing advice #fanfic writers #kpop writers #pwyw; writing tool box

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colorisbyshe · 4 years ago

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i would LOVE to hear your thoughts about why the "bi lesbian" label is so prevalent while no one identifies as a "gay bi man". As a lesbian, this shit has really been bothering me, and i can't even speak out on it for fear of being labeled a bigot

Oh, it’s the same reason why compulsory heterosexuality applies to all women but ONLY women whereas heteronormativity is a broader term--misogyny, patriarchy, whatever term you wanna lob at the idea that women cannot have valuable lives without being a complementary yet lesser partner to a man.

The idea that men and women should be together hurts all people, don’t get me wrong, but the biological/social “arguments” behind that are solely at the expense of women. It’s the idea that women cannot survive on their own and that men NEED a partner who will serve them, bear their children, and do whatever they want.

The idea that women can find fulfillment in other women and ONLY other women shucks this idea that we were made to serve men and cannot find value, safety, longevity without them. Women can be whole on their own is an absurd idea in this structure but the idea that women can live even FULLER lives with other women is nearly nonsensical under the ideas of heteronormativity, as it proposes an equality in relationships that can’t exist even in the wokest of m/f relationships (even in m/f relationships where tha man isn’t a misogynist, often structural inequalities they can’t change can negatively impact the relationship, such as the woman not having the same opportunities outside the relationship).

The idea of men being able to exist without women is like... an “obvious” idea in this culture. Men are strong and self reliant (except for when it comes to doing housework but lol... we know how that goes). And men uplifting other men is something already celebrated via sports, war, whatever the fuck. And that shit has already been homoerotic.

OBVIOUSLY gay men still experience homophobia and OBVIOUSLY bigots would RATHER they be with women. I’m not saying mlm don’t experience this shit.

But society doesn’t revolve around the idea that men can’t exist without women or that they must serve women. That they were pulled from women’s rib just so that the women won’t be lonely or have to fold their own laundry. They aren’t the domestic and emotional labor workforce of the nuclear family.

Women, all women, are pressured to be with men through compulsory heterosexuality and that manifests in labels like “bisexual lesbian.”

I WILL say I HAVE seen men identical as bi and gay at the same time, so this isn’t a “no men do it” type situation; we don’t have to erase other victims of this shit for my point to be salient. Somewhere floating around on this hellsite is a dude that used to aggressively argue with me that it wasn’t internalized homophobia that he couldn’t see himself romantically dating men but he sure did love to fuck them and so what if he’s not really happy with women, he can date them.

It’s just that that’s much more rare and much less a goal for society to push.

Chipping away at the label lesbian so it can include men is much more to the benefit of the men in society than chipping away at “gay man,” which doesn’t benefit (straight) men as much. Though gayness always having been an umbrella term has played its role too.

This is a multifaceted issue but the crux of it is “bi lesbian” happens much more because of misogyny and the idea that women only exist to cater to men. And are forced to rely on men for stability.

#Anonymous

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notthatiwilleverwriteit · 5 years ago

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In your opinion-would he tian have a romantic relationship with only mo guan shan in the future?

Good evening, dear anon-san!

The question concerning the future of Tianshan has certainly been raised by the latest chapter and He Tian asking Mo Guan Shan to marry him. Do I think he was 100% serious? In his own way, yes. It was a clever line by OldXian that both sounded like HT was just messing with MGS and trying to rile him up but also left room for him being serious about tying MGS to himself in the same sense that marriage does.

“would he tian have a romantic relationship with only mo guan shan in the future?”

In short, my answer is a resounding yes. But perhaps not for the reasons that might seem the obvious ones at first. In real life, I don’t believe in True Love™ that manages to overcome all of life’s hurdles and stick two people together until death do them part. Nor do I think Tianshan is that kind of love story even if fiction is oversaturated with happily ever afters, each more rosy than the next.

I think the key to their future and why I believe HT would stay with MGS for the rest of his life if it was up to him lies in the origin of their relationship. In other words, why he got interested in MGS in the first place (ch. 297):

When ch. 297 came out, I gave quite a lengthy analysis of what HT said to MGS. In short, their relationship started out as HT looking for a way to distance himself from his family and the dark, dishonest and distasteful way of life they represented. He wanted to prove he was better than that and could change his destiny to his father, brother, and most of all to himself. And to begin to accomplish that he chose MGS as his project of sorts to nurture the qualities in him that he admired and to make him into an outstanding person (ch. 150 and 160):

It wasn’t “love at first sight” or “true love”. HT’s romantic affection and interest in MGS came later as he got to know MGS more. It’s difficult to pinpoint when exactly HT started having other kinds of feelings, and I will not even attempt that. But somewhere along the line, he went from a strong, solitary savior seemingly without weaknesses to someone who was quite lonely and starved for comfort. And in the beginning, it even looked like he couldn’t quite hold himself back from sneaking those little moments from MGS (ch. 202):

The more HT got to know MGS, the more he realized he had misjudged him. Instead of being someone in need of saving, MGS was actually reliable in the sense that he could hold his own and handle the “burden” that was HT’s nature and complicated past. MGS was not only someone HT admired for not being a sneaky or fake cheater but also someone who wasn’t afraid of his “darkness”. MGS went from someone needing HT to be the hero to someone HT himself actually needed and to whom he could show his true self. And at some point, HT’s desperation to keep MGS in his life grew stronger than his initial goal to “save” him (ch. 297):

Over time he had involuntarily shown sides of himself to MGS he would have rather kept a secret (nightmares, being afraid of the dark, and the need for physical reassurance) but at the same time, relying on someone like that must have been liberating and comforting. He had been denied those things for so long both by his upbringing and paradoxically also by himself (ch. 260 and 291):

Imagine if all of that suddenly disappeared from his life again and he was forced to go back to solitary and isolating himself from other people (ch. 130):

So, when I say HT would most definitely want to stay with MGS in the future and for as long as he can, it’s not because of something as fickle as “true love” which might seem like the obvious answer for many people. Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s with MGS only for selfish reasons or doesn’t care for him for real, but his love and affection are based on something else than a promise of a “happily ever after”. Starting to have feelings for MGS has only strengthened his path to change himself for the better but not in the way he had initially planned.

And none of that is replaceable. He can’t get that kind of “silent” comfort and intimacy but at the same time certain resistance and pride from anyone else than MGS. Certainly not from females. And baring himself to another person would be too risky in his line of work (whatever that ends up being). In the future, there seems to be a level of uncertainty in their relationship (be it platonic or romantic at that point) which suggests to me that HT wants to shield MGS from whatever he’s involved in but at the same time, can’t help but allow himself to be pulled by that craving for what he can only have with MGS (ch. 224):

All that being said, though, there’s of course always a possibility that they won’t stay together forever. Personally, I could see that happen in one of two ways.

Firstly, HT could be put in a situation in which he has to choose between putting MGS in jeopardy or having to rely on his family’s connections to keep him out of harm’s way. Even HT can’t fight certain truths and rules of reality which has already been demonstrated to us at least once (ch. 245):

To protect MGS’s very life, HT was forced to submit to someone he had set out to resist and prove wrong. And given HT’s hero status and goals of protecting his friends, it wasn’t even a choice for him to refuse HC out of pride when his friends’ safety was in the line. It’s unclear to us what HT ends up doing after high school, but I have a feeling the criminal underworld managed to rack up enough debt over his head that he had to make compromises. Especially, when his father seems to merely be waiting for that moment to come when HT realizes he can’t make it on his own (ch. 251):

If HT is involved in the underworld in the future but still keeping in touch with MGS and sneaking off to visit him, he’s possibly threading a fine line. As much as it would pain him, I could see him giving MGS up if the risk of associating with him grew too big. Deciding otherwise would strongly go against his character's motivations and development.

The other scenario would be MGS pushing HT away. Tianshan is often accused of being abusive and having a severe power imbalance, and admittedly it easily looks like that on the surface. Even as a diehard Tianshan shipper, I fully acknowledge HT’s behaviour is overbearing and forceful at times and he needs to work on that. I’ve talked about this and many other aspects of Tianshan at length in my OTP post.

However, the power balance between HT and MGS is actually quite delicate and HT is more depended on MGS’s consent and tolerance than might meet the eye. For HT to get close to MGS takes perseverance and pushiness no doubt but also requires trust and delicacy. He has to know how hard to push without crossing lines that can’t be uncrossed. But at the same time, he can’t not apply some pressure to nudge MGS forward because that’s what it takes to open him up and also see HT past his prejudice.

I’m reminded by HT talking about what the connection between two people (be it friendship or romance) really means with JY (ch. 187):

All the time HT’s been pursuing MGS, he’s been waiting for an honest answer from MGS. Not one clouded by his prejudice or pride but what he truly feels in his heart. And he’s not going to give up until he’s gotten one - be it in his favor or not.

But if the day ever came when MGS wanted to cut all ties with HT and truly rejected him, HT would back off. And I imagine he would do so surprisingly easily if he saw MGS was serious. To force MGS into something he truly doesn’t want would defeat the purpose of the choices HT had knowingly made in his life. He’s not looking for someone to submit to his will but someone to protect and help them thrive. Also, if he was forcing MGS and kept seeking comfort and reassurance from him their relationship would gain a much darker and heavier vibe quite fast. So, HT would rather let MGS go than to push him to truly hate and despise him.

Be it scenario one or two, I believe HT would find himself alone yet again and couldn’t form that kind of relationship with someone. At least, not easily. He even might come to resemble his brother in the sense that he hardens his heart and has little private moments of softness and neediness behind closed doors.

So. Yes, I most definitely think HT would only be with MGS in the future but it would have a Tianshan twist.

Thank you for your question, anon-san! I thoroughly enjoyed answering it and I hope I managed to do so to your satisfaction.

#tianshan #19 days #he tian #mo guan shan #answered ask

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krreader · 5 years ago

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someone you loved | chapter 3.

pairing: park jimin x reader fandom: bts warnings: childhood sweethearts!au ; language genre: angst ; smut ; fluff previous: 1 ; 2 word count: 1.7k+

summary: when you were a little girl you had always assumed that he would be by your side forever, that you would marry him when you’d get older and start your own family when you were ready.. but how many people are actually lucky enough to end up with their childhood sweetheart?

a/n: I love this story so much, you guys. mental health and bangtan not being as happy as they always appear to be have been on my writing bucket list for a while. I want to write a side of them that I think they don’t show to people. a side of them being sad and stressed about their lives and I really hope you all like it ♥

Hoseok had been contemplating whether or not to dial the number for weeks now.

He kept finding himself in the same position.

At night, in bed, the business card lying in front of him and his phone in his hand, ready to type in the numbers that would bring him to your voice.

He didn't know what stopped him..

..it wasn't fear that you weren't who you said you were. He had looked you up and your recessions were absolutely amazing. So many people said you helped them, that you really had a way of knowing what a person needed and wanted.

But maybe that was the issue.

Hoseok was scared of what he wanted these days.

What all of Bangtan wants at this point of their careers.

“You keep staring at this card, yet you won't ever tell me what it actually is,” Jimin noted when he stepped out of the closet, noticing how Hoseok quickly hid the card back in his wallet, “What's so secretive about it?”

“It's nothing.. just something I'm thinking about lately.”

Jimin would never push Hoseok, but he was beginning to get worried. He was behaving differently and whatever it was, it had to do with that card.

Maybe it was a doctor? Maybe he was sick?

But then he would have for sure told the members right? And he would have been more exhausted. And Hoseok was still the dance machine that he always was, so maybe not that.

But what else could there be?

Not pressuring him into saying what was on his mind always helped Hoseok be at ease.

It was when both of them were in bed and the lights were off, that Hoseok finally whispered: “She's a therapist. I.. met her a few weeks ago.”

“The same that Yoongi hyung goes to?”

“No, she's.. different. Remember when I told you about that girl who ditched me? I met her that night. We talked a lot and she really understood me, without me having to say a lot. I looked her up and she's a really good therapist. Her ratings are great and she just moved here because she said she felt like Seoul could use a few more people who take mental health seriously.”

It was like in the movies for Jimin.

One second he was there, in this room with Hoseok, the next he was at a playground with you in the middle of summer, the sun burning down on you two, while you were sitting on the swings with dripping ice cream.

“I just don't understand it, you know? Depression is a real thing, I don't understand why so many people just ignore it and say it's something that will pass.”

“Well, luckily there's people like you who prove them wrong and help,” Jimin smiled at you.

“The world could definitely use a few more people who take mental health seriously.”

Jimin gulped down hard, but then turned his head to Hoseok's direction, even if he couldn't see him properly.

“She sounds like she's one of the good ones,” he said, a slightly sad undertone.

“I don't even want to call her because of a specific problem, I'd just like to talk to someone who isn't in the industry and who isn't involved in any of this. Someone with another perspective, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Jimin sighed, “I think you should do it. At least try it.. if you realize after the first session that it's no good, you can always stop seeing her again.”

Hoseok didn't respond right away, but then he said: “I will.”

“Ms. (Y/L/N), I am so sorry,” your assistant bowed over and over again as she was standing in your office, clearly out of breath, “I missed the subway and then I took the wrong exit and..-”

“Ryujin it's fine,” you chuckled, “Don't worry about it, we don't have any clients for today or tomorrow anyways. It's just all unpacking right now.”

She was a nice girl, college student who wanted to become a therapist too, but she was only in her first semester. There had been quite a few who were interested in the position and who applied for it, but she somehow reminded you of a younger you. Of what you used to be like when you first started studying. And you could see that she was passionate about this.. your goal was to teach her one or two things, not just have her be the one to take your phone calls and get coffee.

As you were unpacking the boxes in your office, your phone began to ring, you picking it up without really looking who it was.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hey, hi. Is this therapist (Y/L/N) (Y/N)?”

“That's me, yeah.”

“Uhm, this is Hoseok.. we met a few weeks ago.”

You had to think for a few moments, but then your eyes widened, “OH!” you grinned from ear to ear, “It's so good to hear from you, I was beginning to think you weren't going to call.”

You could hear him chuckle, a little nervously, “I wasn't at first. But.. I'd really like to take that offer if you're free sometime?”

“Well, I'm currently still setting up my office, but I should be done tomorrow night, then everything should be out of the boxes. How about you be the first client in here and stop by at like.. let's say 6 PM?”

Hoseok remembered that he actually wanted to practice at that time, but.. this seemed to be a little more important. He should take his mental health more serious, like you had said.

“That sounds perfect.”

“Great, then I'll see you tomorrow!”

Hoseok was both extremely nervous, but also.. it felt as if there was a weight lifted off of his shoulders, knowing that he could finally talk to somebody.

Maybe you could help him. And maybe you could help the others too!

“Was that her?” Jimin leaned against the door frame, smiling when Hoseok nodded, “Let me know if she's good. Maybe I'll stop by too.”

That's exactly Hoseok's point of why he felt like he and the rest of them could use someone like you.

Everything was ready.

Your office was fully set up, the furniture, the décor, the necessities for treating patients. It was all ready.

You had sent home Ryujin despite Hoseok stopping by in a few minutes. You didn't want her to wait around until you and him were finished when you knew she had to study.

And you could let him in yourself, you didn't need her for that.

You were just sending a picture of the fully furnished office to your parents with a smile when you heard the bell ring.

When you opened the door, you saw him how you had first seen him. With a cap and a face mask.

“Hoseok,” you smiled, “Perfect timing. Come in.”

He was a little hesitant, but when he finally stepped into your office, he immediately felt at ease.

It was quite a big, open space, huge windows with a wonderful view of Seoul. It was especially pretty right now because it was dark, the lights outside illuminating the city so wonderfully. He felt like he was at the BigHit building.

“It's nice,” he said.

“Right? I still can't believe I got it,” you sat down on your chair, then waited for him to take a seat next to you, “I'm really glad you're here.”

The chairs were facing the window, but weren't too close so that patients didn't get scared. You just felt like it had a calming effect on them and not sitting across from them always seemed to be help them more.

Hoseok didn't seem to want to sit though. He pushed his hands into his pockets and just looked outside, seemingly enjoying the view.

“Life hasn't been the easiest for me lately. For.. all of us, actually. It's been like that for a while, the pressure and the never ending stress is just consuming us.. me.”

You wanted to ask who the others were, but opted to just listen and write down some notes, waiting for him to continue at his own pace.

“We have one performance after the other, one interview after the other, one award show after the other and whenever we think we have a moment to breathe, something else either gets scheduled, or we have to work on certain things. It's been like this for years, but it's gotten worse ever since the big breakthrough.”

So he was an idol.

Not the first one that you had as a patient. In fact, you've had a few that came to you. Mostly because they knew you were discreet and could actually help.

“How do you deal with all that stress?”

“See, that's just the thing,” Hoseok laughed without humor, “I don't. We don't. We just try to ignore it and tell ourselves that it'll pass, but it never does. And we used to be okay at first, but it's come to a point where all of us are just so damn exhausted.”

The more he talked, the more nervous you became.

You got up from your chair, placing your notepad on the glass table to your right before you walked over to him.

You waited until he turned his head to look at you.

“There are a few Hoseok's in the entertainment industry,” you gulped down hard, “But I think.. you are the one that most people know the name of.”

Hoseok blinked at you for a few moments, then he finally, but slowly, took off his cap and face mask and you were face to face with him.

“I used to think it was a blessing, you know?” he said with a quiet voice, “We all did. But.. we all lost things that are important to us. And it's only now that we realize that and wonder whether or not it was all worth it.”

Jung Hoseok.

Bangtan..

..Jimin.

“You.. all lost something? Someone?”

“Some more than others,” he said with a sad smile.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #park jimin imagine #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader #jimin imagine #park jimin #jimin #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #reader #mine

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