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janatm · 3 months ago

Text

right now the right kind of love is the love that lets go || MORUCK

tagging: Morgan Weston & Noah Puckerman

date & time: October 20, 2024 in the morning time

location: A little diner of the side of a road halfway between Puck's house and Morgan's Ranch

warnings: none!

summary: After both men had a crying Eva on their shouler, Morgan reached out to Puck so that they could talk and neither one of them though this is where they would end up.

word count: 5,038

PUCK had been a little surprised to get a text from Morgan, and he wasn't sure how he felt about being separated from his kid again so soon after being forcibly separated from her the past week. But after the conversation he'd had with his mother, and to a lesser extent the conversations he'd had with Santana and Jake, he figured if he could accept Eva showing up at his door, then he could go to breakfast with Morgan. After about fifteen minutes, he pulled into the parking lot for the little dinner off the main road. It was quiet and Puck had never been out this way, unless he was passing through to get to Morgan's place. Getting out of his truck and seeing Morgan's ride a few spaces over. Walking inside he smiled at the employee's who greeted him. Quickly, finding the cowboy he was looking for, he sat down across from him. It was the first time he'd seen him in a while and he still looked good, unharmed by the earthquake, his should seemed healed. Puck mentally went through the list of things he was looking for on his person to ensure he was actually okay. Rubbing a hand over his steal healing knuckles, he smiled as the waitress came over and asked what he wanted. "Just coffee for now, sweetheart." The iddle aged woman smiled back at him and went to go get his coffee. "I've never been here before, you come here a lot or was it just a halfway point?" He asked, not sure what else to say.

MORGAN wasn't able to shake what had happened in the PSU cafeteria's giant kitchen on one of the last days during the lockdown. Eva had been escorted to his location, since it had been deemed safer there, than where she originally were. And of course Morgan had gone and made a fool of himself by spilling coffee down his shirt. It had been a blessing in disguise though, because it led to the two ex lovers talking. It escalated though, when Eva finally opened up about everything - and the consequences of that had been stuck in Morgan's brain ever since they'd left and gone home. Now, he'd freshened up, he'd checked on his horses, gotten his usual four hours of sleep in hiw own bad, and he'd reached out to Puck, needing to talk to the other man about it. Sitting at the table in the diner, Morgan emptied a creamer into his coffee, stirring it as he waited for the other man. God, how long had it been since he'd last seen him? He didn't know, but the moment he saw him walk through the door, carrying that beautiful smile on his face that he always did, when he so sweetly greeted people had Morgan's heart beat as fast as it did when he'd seen Eva in that doorway. Swallowing hard, Morgan stood half up, almost anxiously when Puck came over. He wanted to hug him, kiss him; anything that could have him be closer to him. "They make a great breakfast burrito 'ere," Morgan started, implying this wasn't his first time at the diner. "How are you feeling? You look- you're always handsome, I mean, but you look like you're in one piece." He'd been worried, but he also knew that Puck was capable of looking after himself. With that being said though, his eyes caught the other man's hand and what they were doing, and his face went pale. "What happened?" Morgan asked, his voice filled with concern, and all he wanted to do was to reach out and grab his hand to examine his poor knuckles. But he stayed put, not wanting to cross any boundaries.

PUCK was looking at the menu when Morgan mentioned breakfast burrito's. He was more of an all American breakfast kinda guy, but he could appreciate a breakfast burrito on the go. Knowing that Morgan had been here before made him trust the food, so he was going for a legit breakfast and just as he was about to continue the small talk Morgan spoke and his heart fluttered at the compliment. People tell him he's good looking all the time, but it felt different when it was Morgan. Sometime about the way he says, or maybe just that it's him saying it. "You look good too, man. I bet the cowboy look was still killin' it five days in." He smiled, trying to keep things light. After the back to back conversations he'd had the past 48 hours and the absolute mindfuck of a week long lockdown, Puck was all about light, even if he knew it probably couldn't last. Following Morgan's eyes he instinctively put his hand under the table to hide it. "It ain't nothin', just a minor injury, it's all good." Thank God the waitress came back over to give him his coffee and take their orders. "Thank you, Ginivette." Puck said after looking at her name tag. "Beautiful name, for a beautiful woman." He continued. "You are just a charmer aren't you? What can I get for you, handsome? She asked, smiling. "You make it easy. I'll just take the big classic with the pancakes and all my eggs scrambled." Looking at Morgan, he wasn't sure if he'd ordered yet or not. "You ordered yet?" He asked.

MORGAN found it so easy to be around Puck. Same for Eva. He missed them so much. It was so different with them; he didn't have to constantly try and be someone he wasn't just to impress them, and he didn't have to dampen his personality. They dealt with the horse-talk, the spontaneous Hannah Montana outbursts, and all of his desires for them. At least they had, when they'd been together. It wasn't completely lost, he figured they wouldn't just change their way of being just because they'd...broken up? But after so many days in the presence of way too many people - people who liked being angry, and felt it was necessary to lash out over the smallest of things - it was an amazing feeling to be here with Puck right now, feeling everything being so easy; even if it definitely wasn't. Even Puck's injury was easy, because the worry came naturally. "Who'd you get into a fight with?" Morgan assumed, frowning at the sight. Despite it being easy, he hated the sight. Just a scratch was bad enough. Morgan watched the interaction between Puck and the waitress with a raised eyebrow, and scoffed lightly to himself. What was the man trying to get out of charming a middle aged waitress at a diner in the middle of nowhere? "I'll just take the breakfast burrito with bacon, thank you," Morgan gave the woman a gentle smile, waiting for her to move along. "Have you talked to Eva lately?"

PUCK wasn't exactly sure how to answer that first question. Can he say he got in a fight with a wall? How would he explain that? He didn't want to talk about that night, it was a bad night for him and he'd be grateful when these damn knuckles were all healed up. So intead he just waited for the waitress to leave and focused on his second question. "Yeah, she stopped by yesterday, told me how she was feelin', that we hurt her, that she'd been ready to try something real with us." It was a hell fo a summary, but considering he's pretty Sure Eva talked to Morgan about all of that first, Puck was sure the other man would be able to fill in the blanks. Is this what he wanted to talk to Puck about? Eva? I mean, he could do that, that would be a lot easier than any of the stuff Puck was thinking he'd want to hash out. Personally, Puck didn't really understand where all of this was coming from. Maybe the earthquake and lockdown had them in their feelings or something, but they were mad at him, they broke up with him and quite frankly, he couldn't even blame them. He'd finally accepted letting them go and then there they both were wanting to talk and Puck felt like he was getting whiplash and his head hurt with how loud it was. "I'm guessin' the two of you talked when y'all were stuck in that cafeteria. Did it not go well or something? You need advice on how to talk to her, 'cause I don't think I'm the best person to ask but I'll try to help."

MORGAN could feel the distance between him and Puck grow bigger and bigger with each day, and he knew that he was to blame for that. He'd pushed him away when all Puck wanted to do was to be together. The thought of the other man even being willing to try and be chill about Morgan seeing someone else had completely pulled the rug out from underneath him - not knowing that they were under completely different understandings of what had been agreed, he could see how he would say that; although, with how Morgan felt for Puck, he never ever wanted anyone laying a hand on him; and he certainly wasn't willing to try and be cool with that. It was very black and white for Morgan: they were either together or not. So even if Puck struggled to be chill with it, the willingness to try was bad enough in Morgan's eyes. But it made it much harder to care for the other man, when he then pulled his hand away, not allowing the tall man to be there for him. Biting down on his lip, Morgan ran a hand through his beard and listened to Puck speak. Clearing his throat, he shook his head. "She cried and I hugged her, Puck." He felt so bad, but he didn't know where to even begin. "Seein' her like that- I didn't know it was that bad for her. I thought she was pissed off because we didn't involve her in what we were doin', but it goes so much deeper than that. She's scared to get hurt again," Finally reaching out, Morgan tentatively took Puck's hand into his, his thumb almost ghost-like running over the injured knuckles. "So am I, but I'm confident, now more than ever, that we could do this. I miss us. I miss you."

PUCK fiddled with the handle on his coffee mug as Morgan told him how it went with Eva. That stringing pain in his heart appeared once again at the mention of how he'd hurt Eva and it just made the pain sharper to think of how he hurt Morgan too. This whole conversation was making his mind spiral and all he had was a cup of coffee to to keep himself on solid ground, so he took a sip letting the slightly bitter taste coat his mouth and give his mind something else to focus on. It wasn't quite the burn of liquor but it would have to do. Forgetting about his hand, until Morgan reached for it, he didn't pull away, even though he should have, he let himself emjoy the touch, just like he'd let himself enjoy the hug from Eva the day before. Looking at Morgan's face as he spoke, Puck knew the cowboy meant what he was saying and it's what he wanted to hear, what he'd been begging for ad now that he was getting it his brain just wouldn't let him have it. Squeezing Morgan's hand before removing his from the other man's touch and took another sip of his black coffee, he tried not to look too... sad. "You and Eva were really clear about what y'all needed. Time and space. Y'all didn't change your tune once for weeks." Puck damn near winced at the memories of rejection after rejection. "I think maybe this lockdown rattled you, rattled all of us really. But in a couple days when you feel more, even, you might not be as confident." Taking in a breath and letting it out, he sat up a little straighter. "Me and Eva had a good talk I think. I apologized for what I did to us. It was my fault and I own that. I'm sorry for hurting you, for making you feel, unwanted and- and rejected. I get why you went on that date with Serena, I don't blame you." Now that he was talking he couldn't seem to stop. "What Eva said she needed was for us to prove that we don't want anybody else that we just want her, that we want us. I know you're saying that's what you want but are you sure 'cause Eva seems to think that Serena's got feelings for you and you got some for her." With that their food came.

MORGAN didn't want to be apart from Puck and Eva anymore. He didn't want anymore space or time, and least of all, he didn't want to be forced away from them; especially not by some natural disaster. Next time, he would make sure to be exactly where they were. That was what he was going to fight for. That this would never happen again. And a small hope flew through Morgan's body as Puck squeezed his hand, but it was brief. Way too brief, in his eyes. Puck removed his hand, and that hope flew right out of his body again, along with his heart. He hated this, feeling pushed away, feeling rejected. But it was probably how Puck felt, so Morgan couldn't fault him, at all. Listening to the other man as he started to talk, Morgan wanted to give him the same time, the same space to say what he needed to, as he'd done for Eva. It was about communication, that had been their downfall before, and he wasn't about to repeat that again. So Morgan allowed Puck to speak his truth, talk about his feelings, tell him what was on his mind. But it still hurt. And Morgan frowned slightly, as he finished up, trying to figure out where to start. Thankfully, the food was brought over and it gave Morgan a moment or two to think about things, before he finally spoke up again. "I can spend a few days comin' back to my regular-scheduled program, but I don't think it's gonna do much. I did a lot of thinkin' while I was stuck in the cafeteria. Sure, it caused me to be apart from the two of ya, but I was before then too. And I don't want to be anymore, Puck." Morgan said, sincerity coating his words. "Serena and I are friends. She kept me entertained when I was injured. We're gettin' close, and I don't know, maybe there are feelings, but they're certainly not as strong as the ones I have for you guys. I wanted to take my time to figure that out before I did anythin' with anyone. But bein' in that cafeteria, bein' forced to think like that, I know what I want. It's us."

PUCK wasn't sure what he had been expecting the man across from him to say in response to all of that, but it sure as fuck wasn't him confirming that he had feelings for god damn Serena. In a weird way, Puck was grateful for the anger, it was something he was use to. It gave him an excuse to shut down, to be a dick to push and push and push Morgan away until the man never wanted to come back. The urge was simmering just beneath the surface, all he had to so was turn it up a little, goad him more on his feelings for Serena and that simmer turns to a overflowing boil. However, that isn't what he wanted and he definitely didn't wanna cause a scene in front of these nice people. So, instead he let out a humorless laugh before shoving some eggs and sausage in his mouth and taking another gulp of coffee to wash it down. Not because he was hungry but because he need a minute to calm himself down and not do the distructive thing. "Come on, man. You don't think it's kinda fucked for you to tell me you wanna be with me and Eva but you also got feelings for Serena?" Another humorless laugh was let out against his will. "Let's be real, Morgan. If I reached out to you and asked you to breakfast after rejecting you over and over and over again for a month, just to sit down and tell you i've got feelings for someone else but don't worry my feelings for you and Eva are stronger, would you be cool with that? Would that sound like I wanna be with you, that I want you and Eva back? Or would you be pissed because being i'm siting across from you acting like you should be, i don't know, happy, that my feelings for you are stronger?" Looking him in the eye, Puck paused and took in a breath, before looking out the window beside them and exhaling. "Since the moment I met you and Eva, you're the only two people I've had feelings for, the only two people I've really seen, even when I was trying not to." He turned his head to look at his ex lover again. "I could never have feelings for somebody else while I've got feelings for you and Eva. Never."

MORGAN had gotten friendly with Serena over the past few weeks; maybe more than he would've cared for. He didn't know what it was, how deep it went or if there was even anything romantic about it. She had cheered him up when he'd needed it, distracted him from his lack of being able to work, as well as this trouble with Puck and Eva, and they'd bonded over things. He was going through a break-up - even if it wasn't official - and Serena gave him thr attention that he was missing from Eva and Puck. Was that the definition of a rebound? Morgan wasn't sure, he'd never done this. He'd only really been in one relationship before and he had never been as invested in it, as he was now. Sighing as Puck started ranting, Morgan knew it'd been a bad idea to tell him that he didn't know if there were feelings involved from his side. It just led to this. "Puck," he started, his voice soft, wanting to reach out and grab his hand again. "I know you're angry with me. I would be too, if you'd told me that, yeah," he started, letting out a sigh. "But I'm here to communicate, tell you about my feelings and where I'm at. If there's anythin' I've learnt from all of this, it's that I should probably do that, don't ya think?" It was a rhetorical question, but Morgan still searched Puck's eyes for an answer before continuing. "Like I said, I don't know if I have feelings for Serena. She's been there for me during rough times, and perhaps that kinda attention has been what I've needed; but I know for damn certain that whatever feelings I have for her - whether it's me bein' grateful for the work she's put into the time we've spent together, or bein' flattered by the attention - but I know that it sure as hell hasn't confused me. Because I still know exactly where I stand with you guys. I know, with 110% certainty that I'm head over heels in love with you and Eva, and if I can't have the two of you, then I don't want anybody." He breathed out, his voice having gotten a little louder.

PUCK was sure that was going to be the end of it. Morgan would sigh and resign himself, be a gentlemen and offer to pay and Puck wouldn't let him and they'd get their to go boxes and go their seraprate ways. Puck was prepared for that, prepared to be mad and stay mad and use it as an excuse to go drink at 9 am in the morning or whatever damn time it was. He was prepared to see Morgan drive up to the house next door and start having nights out and nights in with Serena. Was prepared to watch both Morgan and Eva move on from him and from them. Maybe less prepared for how long he knew it would take for him to move on, but it always took him so long to let anyone go. Then Morgan said the one thing he never thought he would hear. Not just from him, but in general. No one has ever been in love with Puck, or if they had, they'd never told him. Now it was literally the only thing Puck could hear. 'I'm head over heels in love with you and Eva. Just on a loop, it probably had him sitting there, jaw on the table, completely incapable of looking away from the other man. The sound of a throat clearing, brought him back to reality and once he realized it wasn't Morgan he finally looked away, head turning rather slowly to their waitress. Ginivette. "You want anymore coffee, darling? She'd asked looking between the two men and Puck shook his head. "No, ma'am, maybe just some waters?" He managed to say on both their behalf. "Two waters, coming right up then. Puck mutted out a thank you as she walked away. It helped his brain come back down to earth. Still wasn't sure what to say. "Morgan, I- that's..." He trailed off still trying to find the words. Love? He loves me, is head over heels? Everything else seemed to fade away and all that existed was himself, Morgan and those words. Puck knew a month ago he was falling for them, that's why he freaked out and fucked everything up. He remembered Morgan saying he was falling for him, he thinks, in a text, maybe? "Why would you love me?" He hadn't meant to say it out loud but he winced once he realized he'd said it out loud. "Shit don't answer that." I'm gonna fuck this up, he's gonna take it back, he's gonna regret saying that to me. There's a reason no one's said that shit to me. Now his brain was in overdrive and he just didn't have any words so he just looked at Morgan, hoping he wouldn't be mad at him for being so.... useless in this moment.

MORGAN could hear a pin drop in the quiet diner after he'd just confessed his love for the other man. He was sat there, on his side of the table, face slightly red and breathing heavily after the big speech. He wasn't the type of guy to do this stuff. He didn't make up romantic speeches or confess his feelings for other people to hear like this. But Puck and Eva made him want to shout it from the rooftops. They made him want to chase them down, so he could win them back. Being confined to the cafeteria had him thinking, and seeing Eva had only brought back the feelings. His brain and his heart were finally on the same level and that was all he needed to know what he wanted; it was them. He just sat there, staring at Puck, waiting for an answer. He didn't even look at the waitress as she came over. Instead, his eyes stayed right on the other man, not wanting to miss it if he had an answer. And after a while, he finally did. It was like he could finally breathe, but then the meaning and the reason behind Puck's question had him back to that same familiar feeling of being unable to breathe. Those small insecure cracks that Puck had shown previously in their relationship had no fully started to develop, and Morgan sighed. He couldn't do this, so far away from the other man. Getting up from the bench he sat on, he moved to scooch into the one Puck was on, his arm draping over the back of it as he faced him. "Puck," his hand moved to cup his cheek. Where would he even start? "You're an amazing man. You're a loving dad, a loyal brother, and a sweet son. I've seen the way you are with people. I've seen how you treat everyone with respect and kindness. You're gentle, and smart, and funny. Why wouldn't I be in love with you?" His thumb gently caressed the skin, feeling that five o'clock shadow under his fingertip. "Don't answer that," Morgan gently smiled, hoping it would offer a bit of lightheartedness that he imitated Puck. "I'm lucky to just be in your presence."

PUCK had been doing so well with not giving into his heart and his body since he walked in here. Hadn't initiated any touching, didn't flirt with Morgan, hadn't tried to just sweet talk him into a smile and easy conversation. Hadn't tried to use sex as an apology or way to avoid verbal communication. It all worked because Morgan was across from him, He wasn't close enough for casual touches or not so casual one. They were sharing a space but they weren't in each other's space. It worked so long as there was space. But now, he's confessed his love and Puck watched as the tall man got up and part of him thought he was going to leave, maybe go pay the bill or go to the bathroom or just run out. Anything to give Puck more space. But instead as he eyes watched him slide on the the bench right next to him, his heart started racing and he could smell him, he was so close. God, he'd missed his smell, it was comforting and usually it calmed him, but right now he'd never been less calm. Then a large hand cupped his cheek and he let out all that tension he'd been holding since Morgan had texted him to talk. His eyes closed briefly as he, against his better judgement, leaned into the touch. As he opened his eyes, Morgan actually answered his question and every word made him swoon, there wasn't a better way to put it. Made his heart swell and his stomach flip. All he wanted was this man and Eva and whatever life they could build with each other. As he used his words against him, he felt the corners of his mouth move into a smile. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against the other man's so he could just breathe him in. "I'm lucky just to be in your presence." Suddenly his father's voice started to whisper. 'He wouldn't be saying that if he knew what kind of man you really were. Tell him Noah, tell him while he was realizing his love for you, you were fucking someone else. Fuck, he wanted to kiss him, he wanted to say it back but he couldn't because he didn't deserve any of this. Morgan only thought those thing because he didn't really know him, hadn't figured out he was only useful for a good time, not a long time. He's a prett smile and night fun, that's it. Morgan deserved to know. Pulling away, the hardest thing he's had to do in a while, he made himself look at his former lover. "I punched a wall in lockdown. That's how I hurt my hand. But before that, I got wasted and slept with someone else. I'm not the man you think I am. I'm not good and I'm not worth loving." A pause as he held back tears for the second time in two days. "I'm my father's son." His voice cracked on the last word and a tear escaped and rolled down his cheek.

MORGAN wanted to lean in, wanted to kiss Puck's soft lips and just move on from everything that had happened. Sitting there, getting to look into his deep dark eyes had the man craving being close to him, in the way that he almost had himself crawling into his lap, but he kept his control and didn't. But dammit, if he didn't want to pay for this half-eaten breakfast so the two men could just go home and be pressed up against one another. His hand moved from Puck's cheek to his thigh, giving it a soft squeeze as he slowly started to lean in, wanting to seal his speech with a kiss. But he stopped when Puck spoke up. Not only to hear him out, out of pure respect, but also because there was a confession involved there. Puck had slept with someone else. Again. Leaning back again, Morgan kept his eyes on Puck's, searching for that "JUST KIDDING" that would maybe follow what he'd just admitted. But it never came. His jaw clenched, and he removed his hand from the other man's thigh. He ran it through his beard instead, looking away from Puck as he tried to gather his thoughts. What the hell was he supposed to say? "Y'know," he sighed, before looking back at the other man. "You might've done those things, but you are still every single thing I just told you - you are still every single thing that I feel for you," Morgan told him, before getting up from his seat. "You're no one else but your own person, Puck. And maybe takin' ownership of that, instead of minimizing yourself to his worth would help you see what Eva and I see and feel for ya," he pulled his wallet out, and put the cash onto the table, paying for their meals. "And maybe - hopefully - it'd stop you from drinkin' and havin' sex with people you don't have feelings for," he sniffed, feeling his throat close up. "I'm here when you've figured that out, okay?" And with that, Morgan turned around, walking out of the diner with a big gaping hole in his chest, where his heart once was.

#character tag ( noah puckerman )#puck ( ft. morgan weston )#threads ( noah puckerman )

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puckhq · 4 months ago

Text

right now the right kind of love is the love that lets go || MORUCK

tagging: Morgan Weston ( @morgan-weston ) & Noah Puckerman

date & time: October 20, 2024 in the morning time

location: A little diner of the side of a road halfway between Puck's house and Morgan's Ranch

warnings: none!

summary: After both men had a crying Eva on their shouler, Morgan reached out to Puck so that they could talk and neither one of them though this is where they would end up.

word count: 5,038

#morgan weston ― 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙖𝙜 #f2f °( ft. morgan )#― interaction tag #°𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙖𝙜 ↳ f2f

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kcnnarys · 4 years ago

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I can't quite believe that they didn't learn from last year and uploaded the chapter description so early. Looks like they arent doing anything about the spoiler problem

well i mean what is there to do. even if they upload chapter descriptions less than 24hrs before people still post about it. i am not experienced in this field at all so i dont even know if it's possible to restrict access to scr*pts and ass*ts

#but in any case people are getting WAYYYYY too brave about posting sp*ilers so publicly like keep that $h!t out of the main tags. pb #employees have said in the past that they look through the main tags and pulling scr*pts and ass*ts is a violation of the terms of service.#and obviously yes i talk about sp*ilers on here sometimes but i do it over dm as much as possible and anything thats public is censored #idk people should be more worried about this i think idk. and i know people also talk about [REDACTED] openly and in the main tags which is #way more dangerous but sp*iler culture has gotten out of control at least from what ive seen #asks #anon

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snelbz · 4 years ago

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Life As We Know It {Chapter 24}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the late post! My baby shower was today, so Tara and I have been extremely busy! Look for Chapter 25 on her blog on Monday!

Warning: 18+ content.

Cassian got to the restaurant and took a look around. There were people everywhere, bustling about, getting ready for the night’s grand opening.

It had become the talk of the town - and the local groups on the internet - so they were expecting a good turnout.

At least, that’s what Cassian’s guess was.

He hadn’t talked to Nesta since he stormed out two days before, with the exception of one text exchange.

Cassian had texted, Tell Nyx I love him and I will see him tomorrow.

Nesta had replied, Ok.

Now, he was searching for that tiny little man with a mop of dark, black hair.

When he finally found Nyx, he was in his stroller eating cheeto puffs off the tray. When he saw Cassian his eyes lit up and he was instantly reaching for him.

Cassian laughed as he unbuckled him from his stroller and picked him up, giving him the biggest hugs. “Hey, buddy. I missed you, too.”

“This is his third helping of cheetos,” Helion said, from where he leaned against the wall. “Sorry about the next diaper.”

Cassian chuckled. “All this going on and Nesta stuck you on baby duty?”

Even saying her name out loud hurt, but he didn’t let it show.

He gestured toward the kitchen and said, “She’s been here since six and she’s in one of her moods. I decided I’d rather be on baby duty than caught in the crossfire.”

He winced, figuring that didn’t bode well for the two of them today. “I’ll stay in the bar, then.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Helion replied, looking him up and down, before pushing the stroller behind the counter. Cassian had the distinct feeling he was looking for a crack in his armor. He didn’t bother telling him that he’d been broken for two days, and the only person who could fix him was currently yelling at some poor employee in the kitchen.

Cass crossed the threshold into the bar area and let out a low whistle. He’d had a hand in the design, but most of this was all Nesta. It accented the restaurant perfectly and he immediately loved the place.

“Nice, right?”

He turned to find Kallias carrying a tray of fresh glasses from the dish area and the smile on his friend’s face was infectious.

Cassian nodded as Kallias said hello to Nyx. “Yeah, it looks amazing.”

Kallias nodded. “You and Nesta did good.”

“Thanks,” Cassian muttered, not wanting the conversation to go any further. “How long have you been here?”

“Just got here,” Kallias said, as Nyx started playing with the strings on Cassian’s hoodie. “Viv will be here soon to help out. She said she can watch Nyx while we work.”

Cassian nodded. “That would be great.”

It would be helpful, of course, to have Viviane help out watching Nyx. Cassian had a ton to get done in the next six hours before the opening began. He didn’t want to let Nyx go, though. Two days. It was the longest he had been away from Nyx since...everything happened.

“Well, little man, until then, you get to help me unpack liquor bottles,” Cassian said, trying his best to sound excited.

Nyx giggled. “Ba ba ba ba ba ba.”

“Yeah, different kind of bottles,” Cassian chuckled, and carried Nyx with him into the back room.

Kallias had been at the bar for the past two days, getting most of the stock ready to go. A few texts to explain the situation was all he’d needed and Cassian was thankful he had such a loyal friend and coworker.

Elain hadn’t been as understanding the first night he’d been there, but after talking to Nesta, even she backed off. He had no clue what Nesta had said to her, but her frustration turned to sympathy and she was back to treating Cassian like the brother-in-law she loved and not like a man who’d hurt her sister.

After pulling the carrier out of Nyx’s stroller, he strapped the baby to his chest and set to work, carrying case after case of liquor up to the bar. Kallias was busy stocking the assorted glasses they’d need, so the two worked in silence for the most part.

He had just walked back into the store room, short one case of whiskey, when he heard Nesta talking from the dry pantry separating the store room and kitchen. Cassian’s heart lurched and he was about to make his way back into the bar, but Nyx squealed as he heard her voice.

The swinging door flew open as Nesta hurried into the store room, wondering how Nyx had gotten in there in the first place. She froze when she found Cassian there. Their eyes locked and she blinked.

“Hey, Nes,” he said, quietly.

“I…didn’t know you were here,” she breathed.

He shrugged, turning back to the boxes of bottles. “Got here about an hour ago. Didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Nyx was reaching for her, so he unclipped the carrier and gave him to her. He giggled happily as soon as he was in Nesta’s arms, but she froze, unsure of what to say. “You should have let me know you were here.”

Another shrug. “You were busy, and I knew what I needed to do. Kal said Viv would be here later to watch him.”

She nodded, silence filling the space again.

Nyx pointed at Cassian, reaching for him. “Dada.”

Cassian stilled.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed his mouth.

A second passed.

Then, at last, he said, “What did he just say?”

“Dada,” Nyx repeated, and clapped his hands together. He reached for Cassian. “Dada!”

Cassian took Nyx, although he was moving slowly, stunned into silence. Nesta watched as a thousand different emotions crossed his face.

“Dada?” Cassian breathed, looking from Nyx to Nesta. “He just called me-.”

“He’s been saying it for the past two days,” Nesta said, staring at a spot on the wall behind Cassian.

For a moment, Cassian didn’t say anything, but then he asked, “You didn’t bother to tell me that?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed and she slowly met his gaze. “You left.”

“A simple text letting me know that Nyx said his first word wouldn’t’ve killed you,” Cassian snapped. “Especially since his first word was…” Cassian shook his head, that fury fading as quickly as it had come. He looked at Nyx and chuckled, softly. “Dada, hmm?”

“Dada,” Nyx said, taking Cassian’s face into his hands before patting his stubbled cheeks with his chubby little palms.

Cassian watched Nyx for a moment, chuckling softly, before asking Nesta, “Has he said anything else?”

Nesta shook her head, even though Cassian wasn’t looking at her. “Just that. Probably wondering where you were. He’s been saying it nonstop, after all.”

“I’m sorry, bud,” he said, softly. He kissed the top of his head. “I’m still right here though.”

He was about to buckle him back into the carrier when Nesta reached for him. “I can take him. You’ve got a lot to do.”

“No more than you,” he said, settling him back into the carrier. “And I’ve missed him. Viv will come see Kallias when she gets here. Let me keep him.”

Her hands fell to her sides. “Fine.”

The tiny room felt like it was closing in on him, looking at her. They were so close together, whether they wanted to be or not. Without another word, Cassian grabbed the closest box and shouldered his way back through the swinging door.

Kallias caught the look on his face as soon as he came back. “That must have been the first conversation you two have had.”

Cassian grunted in response, letting Nyx continue to pat at his face.

“And how’d it go?” He asked, leaning against the bar.

“About as well as you think.”

Kallias watched his old friend for a moment before nodding, deciding to let the conversation drop. Cassian was grateful for it.

He was thankful for Nyx, too, for an endless amount of reasons, but right now, he was a distraction. With Nyx here, he was only thinking about Nyx, not about Nesta.

Cassian spent the next couple of hours lining up liquor bottles, and when Viv got there, she happily took Nyx and let Cassian work.

Once Nyx began playing with Viviane, Cassian’s thoughts were once again on the last person he wanted to be thinking about.

He continued to work, trying his best to keep his mind on that. It was kind of hard, though, when the owner of the restaurant was Nesta. He guessed he was part owner now, too - owner of the bar, anyway.

The hours flew by and by the time Cassian decided to check his watch, he realized he only had thirty minutes until the doors were opening for the main event.

He needed to get out of his old hoodie and into something nicer.

After making his way into the stockroom, he pulled off his hoodie before digging into his backpack for the black henley he’d brought. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but it was sure better than his ripped hoodie.

The door swung open as he was pulling his shirt over his head, and when he turned around, he saw Nesta, once again.

She stilled just in front of the door. “Are you planning on being in here every time I come in?”

It was meant to be a joke, something to lighten the mood, Cassian knew, but the light didn’t exactly reach her eyes.

He looked down at his shirt. “Just had to change. Didn’t think a hoodie was appropriate for an opening celebration.”

Nesta nodded, giving him a forced smile. “Couldn’t have gone all out with a button down?”

“This is Azriel’s,” he said. “All of my nicer things are at…home.”

He said the last word hesitantly.

Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut. He knew she was dying to say something, but what it was he couldn’t tell. He thought he knew her well enough to read her face. It seemed he was wrong though.

“I’ll come by and get my things on my day off this week,” he said, saving her the request. He pulled the Henley over his head, leaving his backpack against the store room wall. “You won’t even know I was there.”

“Cassian…”

He pushed back through the door without waiting to hear what she was going to say.

This was agony. Every moment of being around her hurt, because every time he saw her, he knew that he’d wasted the past three months of his life. He’d wasted his time falling in love with her, because she still hadn’t said it back.

“Dada!”

Nyx and Viv sat at one of the new tables, Nyx munching on some crackers, and even Kallias’ eyes dragged to him. Nyx’s blue eyes were the only ones he cared about though.

“That’s new,” Kallias said, from where he leaned across the bar.

Nyx’s new favorite word was one of the few things that had made him smile all day. Even if it tore him apart at the same time.

He didn’t mind Nyx calling him that. He was still too young to understand what had happened to Rhys. So one day, he’d explain to him who he really was, and who Rhys was. But until then, he was content to be Dada.

Cassian lifted him out of the high chair he was in and smiled, wistfully. “Hey, buddy.”

On the other side of the room, Nesta pushed through the double doors and into the restaurant, making sure everything was in order as the clock ticked down.

Cassian couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.

He wondered if she knew.

This was the biggest night that Nesta had in quite some time. A new bar would be amazing for business, and she was expecting a hell of a crowd.

And she wasn’t disappointed.

At exactly six, people began to pour in. They sat, and they ate, and by the Mother, they drank. She was amazed at how well Nyx was doing. She kept expecting to see him sleeping in a corner with Viviane, but he was being passed around to Viv, Kallias, Helion, and Cassian, having the time of his little life.

Nesta was glad someone was enjoying their night.

She should be enjoying her night, should be pumped at the booming business, but she could hardly focus.

All she could think about was him.

Cassian.

Every time she even got a glimpse of him, she wanted to run into his arms and tell him that she loved him. But she couldn’t do that. She had no clue what the repercussions of their relationship would do to Nyx, especially if something were to happen. If they were to break up, would this be their future? Barely speaking, passing the kid back and forth, both of them in misery?

Even when Elain and Azriel got there, both giving her hugs and warm smiles, the one on her face wasn’t real. She knew Elain could tell, knew she wanted to pull her aside, get the whole story, and quite possibly talk some sense into her, but she wouldn’t.

She couldn’t.

Not tonight.

As much as she tried to spend most of her time in the dining room, greeting guests and asking how they liked the drinks and new menu items, she kept ending up in the kitchen.

She got word that there had been a small grease fire on the line and she was about to rush into the kitchen when Helion stepped in front of her.

“Take a breath.”

“I can’t,” she replied, pulling her hair back off of her face. “There was a fire and-.”

“And it’s under control,” he said, gripping her by the shoulders. “It’s been put out, and I can go deal with Emrys and Luca and any potential fallout. Go have a drink, relax with your sister. You deserve a glass of wine and a moment to sit down.”

Nesta hesitated, but Helion wasn’t having it.

“Go,” he said. “Kallias is currently manning the bar. Go order a drink before the next wave of people come along.”

With a huff, Nesta nodded and exited the kitchen. True to Helion’s word, it was Kallias that was behind the bar. The second he saw Nesta coming, he was pouring a glass of wine.

She took a sip as soon as she reached the counter. “Vodka.”

Kallias blinked, then obliged her. He poured her a shot, Nesta downed it and thanked him, then took her glass of wine around the room to greet people. She eventually found Elain and Azriel, and was getting ready to take a seat by them, until she noticed Cassian already sitting with them, Nyx in his lap.

Bypassing their table, she gave them both an apologetic smile, before redirecting herself towards the bar. She breezed past it and Kallias, draining her wine and leaving it by the sink, before she entered the store room.

Cassian must have handed the baby off to Elain or Viviane, because not even a few seconds later, he was right behind her.

“Is this how it’s gonna be, Nes?” He asked, not stopping until he was right in front of her. “Are we just going to avoid each other, unless Nyx is concerned?”

The door hadn’t even finished swinging shut, but she noticed Kallias stacking a few boxes in front of the door.

For all intents and purposes, do not enter.

Their first night working together and already a fight. She couldn’t blame his frustration, this was all her fault.

“It hurts to see you,” she breathed. “It hurts to see you because I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

“You don’t know what the hell is going on?” He asked, incredulously. “I don’t know what the hell is going on! You’re so-.” His words fell away and his eyes shut as he rubbed his temples.

Nesta arched a brow. “I’m so what?”

“Infuriating,” he said, and met her eyes with a pained expression that knocked the breath out of Nesta. “It hurts for you to see me? It kills me to see you, but you know what? That’s on you. I wasn’t the one that started questioning everything. And you want to know what’s ironic? You’re pushing me away because you’re afraid it won’t work out. But, it’s not working now, Nesta. In pushing me away, you made what you’re worried about a reality.” He shook his head, slowly. “What the hell is the point of that?”

Nesta didn’t say anything. Her jaw locked and she refused to break his gaze, no matter how much it tortured her.

“It’s better for it to happen now rather than later,” she said, and hated herself for it the second the words left her. “It’s better for it to end before it really begins.”

Cassian chuckled, humorlessly, and shook his head. “That's bullshit and you know it. It already began, Nesta.”

He took a step toward her, and in such a small room, it left very little space between them.

Nestas breath hitched, and judging by the way Cassian’s eyes flared, he definitely noticed.

“Tell me you don’t care about me, and it’s done. We’ll pretend these past few weeks never happened, and we can move on,” he whispered, and she could feel his breath fan over her face. “Tell me this all meant nothing to you, and it’s over.”

Her eyes flashed down to his lips before meeting his own. “I can’t do that.”

Cassian wasn’t sure who moved first. If he grabbed her face or if she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, but before he knew what was happening, he had her back pressed against the store room wall. Gods, it had only been a few days, but kissing her again, the feel of her lips on his, it felt like he hadn’t been able to breathe.

Her hands were clawing at his back and he found her thighs, lifting her up to wrap her legs around his waist. He hadn’t even noticed she’d changed into a loose, sundress but thanks to her own wardrobe change, there was very little fabric between them as she let go of him to fumble with his belt buckle and jeans.

There were no words necessary, not when they both needed the other as badly as they did.

Their lips never broke, that contact remained, hungrily, needily, as Nesta pulled Cassian’s cock out and, moving the thin scrap of fabric beneath her dress aside, he pushed himself up into her.

Nesta moaned into his mouth at the feeling of him filling her. He bit her lip, and that moan deepened as he began to thrust deep inside of her, over and over again.

There was no foreplay.

Foreplay wasn’t necessary, not this time.

Two days, two nights, had been far too long when they had become so accustomed to this same ritual every night, time and time again.

Cassian’s head fell back as he fucked her, relentlessly, then he met her lustful gaze. His forehead fell against hers as he slowed his pace. With a soft, reverent curse, Cassian breathed her name.

She clung to him, the smell and taste and feel of him making her feel far more drunk than the wine or liquor had. Nesta buried her face in his neck, trying to cover the sounds tumbling from her.

He captured her lips again, knowing her body better than his own at this point, and thrust into her as hard as he could.

The bottles on the shelves rattled gently, but he didn’t care if anyone could hear them in the bar. He didn’t care if anyone caught them. All he cared about was that he was deep inside of her, listening to the quiet whimpers and moans that she couldn’t stop.

There was no way she could walk away from this.

Not just from the sex. Which, yeah, was incredible, but there was more to it than that.

Their souls were connected, which is what made the sex so mindblowingly phenomonal.

It was more than just sex.

It was something that Cassian swore no one else had ever witnessed before. Or, maybe they had. Maybe this is what it felt like when you found the person you were meant to spend forever with.

No, Nesta couldn’t walk away from this.

He swore, hoped, prayed she couldn’t.

He wanted to say those little words. Wanted to tell her, so desperately, that he loved her, but he didn’t.

He just kept saying her name over and over and over again with every thrust of his hips.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

“Nesta,” he breathed, and she cried out as her legs began to shake around him. He cursed, his fingers digging into her thighs as his body flooded with the need to explode.

As soon as her release slammed into her, he met his own, her name a groan as he spilled into her. They stayed like that for a moment, him still buried inside her, even as his seed started to drip down her legs. Thankfully, the sound of the party out front had covered any and all noises they’d made. Her breathing was still uneven as he pulled out, and he pulled that ripped hoodie from his backpack and silently used it to clean her up.

Tossing it back towards his bag, not caring if it made it inside or not, he paused in front of her, and tried to tilt her face up to his.

She refused.

He breathed, “Look at me, Nes…”

She shook her head, and damn him if those weren’t tears starting to spill down her cheeks.

He gripped her chin, forcing her eyes up to meet his. “Damn it, Nesta, talk to me. Just talk to me and tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I think you need to go,” she breathed.

He hesitated. “What?”

“You need to go,” she repeated, but there was no bite in her voice.

Cassian took her face in his hands and brought her eyes to his. “I’m not leaving. Not after that.”

“Go,” she repeated, and another tear slid free. “Go, Cass, please.”

He shook his head, fury, frustration, utter misery filling his core. He dropped his hand and stepped back. “Damn it, Nesta! What do you want?!”

“For you to leave,” she hissed.

“You’re a fucking liar,” Cassian snapped. “You say you can’t tell me that you never cared, you fuck me in a damned store room, then you ask me to leave?”

“You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

“I’m making this harder?” he asked, breathlessly, unable to stop his darkened laughter. He looked away from her and sucked in his bottom lip.

A moment passed, and Cassian refused to meet her gaze. “I don’t get it,” he said, at last. “I don’t get it. I don’t know what you want. I don’t know what you want from me.” His words were coming out rushed, frazzled. “Know what? Fine. If this is the way you want it, this is the way it is. I’ll be at Elain’s and Azriel’s tonight, and I’m taking Nyx with me. I’ll bring him by tomorrow, when Viviane is there.”

With that, he was gone.

And Nesta was left alone, her hands flying over her mouth as she sobbed, still able to feel the soft, tender, alluring feeling of his lips on hers.

#snacmc lawki #snacmc collab #snelbz tacmc collab #life as we know it #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

Text

statistically significant | 6 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

Mina, Kaminari, and Bakugou did not waste any time.

No sooner had Bakugou spoken than he had you on your feet, shepherding you to the door. His movements had completely changed--no longer was he loud, aggressive, the most volatile thing in the room. Now, he slipped behind you like a shadow, his body pressed firmly and protectively over you, lithe armor at your back.

Mina and Kaminari moved with you, looking solemn.

“We’re going for the surveillance room,” Bakugou growled, “Need to see what the fuck is happening.”

The hall was barren as you emerged into it, silent and still until another explosion rocked the foundations of the building.

“And fast, we need to get Y/N out,” Mina added.

You didn’t protest. You didn’t know what the hell was going on, but you knew distant explosions couldn’t mean anything good.

The surveillance room made it all too clear exactly what was happening. Tens of people were pouring into the top levels of the building, smashing through windows on the business floors, blowing the sides of the building clean open near marketing. A few men dressed in dark coats appeared to have the gall to waltz straight through the front entrance. Everywhere, Miruko’s civilian employees were fleeing in all directions, uncertain of where to run in the chaos.

Your pulse spiked wildly and you watched as Bakugou’s gaze narrowed to scarlet pinpricks as he seemed to spot something familiar to him.

Kaminari made a choked noise. “Is that--?”

“Sugimoto,” Bakugou growled, tapping the image of a tall man surrounded by some kind of glowing purple forcefield quirk. A crackle of sparks lit off from Bakugou’s palm, hot and sharp, and you jumped in surprise.

“What’s Sugimoto?” you asked, looking up into his face.

His lip curled disdainfully. “He’s head of a crime syndicate. Miruko agency raided them a couple months ago in coordination with the police, took down almost the entire syndicate in one straight shot. Miruko killed both of his brothers during the firefight--I’d bet anything he’s here for revenge.”

You suppressed a shiver. Either the man was incredibly confident in his own ability to take on the number seven hero and her entire agency, or he was fucking insane and desperate for revenge. Either way, you did not want to be caught in the crossfire.

“Raccoon, Pikachu, get up to the business level,” Bakugou commanded, a calloused hand closing around your arm. “I’m gonna get the nerd out first, and then I’ll be back to roast Sugimoto in his fucking skin.”

Kaminari nodded and Mina gave you a smile and a reassuring pet over your hair. “Don’t be too late or we’ll get to have all the fun,” she said to Bakugou, winking.

And then she and Kaminari were gone, disappearing in the direction of the stairwell. Your heart rate stuttered nervously, watching them go. Mina’s confidence was reassuring--she was fucking terrifying when she was in her element, and Kaminari was powerful too. But there had been so many people flowing into the building, like the rising tide of a sudden tsunami. You hoped they would be okay.

“You in there, nerd?” Bakugou’s voice cut through your flurry of doubt.

You looked up at him, steeling your features. He was still streaked with dirt and scratches from the training room. You hoped having trained so much already wasn’t going to disadvantage any of them in their fight. “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”

He considered you, blonde brows turned down. “You’re gonna be fine, nerd. I’ll kill anyone who fucking looks at you.”

A small strangled noise like a laugh escaped your throat. He was so bad at being reassuring, it was almost reassuring in and of itself. He still was going to be entering the fray several hours into using his quirk already, however. You wondered if his self certainty was going to be enough.

“You don’t think I will?” he demanded angrily, looking absolutely incensed. He looked like he might storm out of your office again, like you had just said the word help to him.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” you said. “When you go back in, just--be careful, okay?”

His eyes picked over you curiously. Then a small, mortifying smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. “I fucking knew you had a crush on me, you little freak.”

Your face heated as you gabbled out a protest. “This is so not the time. And I didn’t say that.”

Bakugou rolled a strong shoulder, looking far more relaxed that he had any right to. “Yeah, whatever. You’ll be singing a different tune when this is over.” He watched you for a long moment, his expression looking strangely contemplative.

And then he leaned down and kissed you on the mouth.

Your brain went empty. This could have been just another day at the office for all the thought you were giving the fight upstairs. This could have been any day anywhere, because suddenly you couldn’t remember where you were or what the fuck was going on at all. Bakugou’s mouth was hot and insistent, and he curled a strong arm around your waist to draw you closer, biting down gently on your lip.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt for dear life, knees going strangely weak, as he swore into your mouth and pressed you into him harder.

“Fuck, I’m not finished with you,” he said when he released you, pressing one last hard kiss to your mouth. “You’re gonna stay right the fuck where I put you, got it?”

You nodded dumbly, trying to will your fingers into unclenching from his shirt. “Y--yeah.”

He smirked, looking far too pleased with himself. You felt your eyebrow twitch reflexively, despite everything that had just happened. “Alright, stay close, nerd. I’m gonna get you the fuck out of here.”

You nodded again. He pulled you behind him, letting you fist your hands in his shirt again, and then lead the way down the hall, keeping close to the wall, the line of his body tense and alert. Some of your earlier uneasiness settled back over you, oppressively heavy, weighing down your every step. The training had been truly terrifying but this was much, much worse, the dread and anticipation coiling in your gut until you thought you might be sick.

You made it to the stairwell and flipped up several floors without incident, though you could hear with some clarity the scuffles ongoing on the floors above you. You encountered no one, not even fellow heroes or civilians, until you hit the ground floor.

Bakugou reached behind him, pressing you even closer to his back with a firm hand. “Alright, nerd. Stay close while I move. If I stop, stay still and trust me, alright?”

Your blood pounded in your veins and you took a calming breath. You could hear the sounds of a fight just beyond the door, but there was no other way out of the stairwell. You’d just have to go through the main floor. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Good girl,” he said. And then he kicked open the door.

Your brain short circuited and you had just enough mind to register that he was moving, scrambling to keep up with him as he stalked forward through the doorway. You held on to the back of his shirt, pulse spiking wildly, and not just because of your apprehension.

There was a deafening boom like thunder and the hall in front of you went up in a flash, the walls splintering into pieces. Over one of Bakugou’s broad shoulders, you could see the explosion blowing two men straight through the window at the end of the hall, glass shattering around them.

From down the hall came Miruko’s harsh tone, her breath a little labored. “Katsuki, fucking watch it! That’s my window.”

“Yeah yeah,” Bakugou growled, not sounding the least bit chastened. He pulled you to the side as something cold went sailing past your left shoulder, firing off another blast from his palm to shoot the person right through the hole in the window he’d just made.

The two of you crossed through the halls slowly but surely, Bakugou sending anyone who came across your path straight through the wall. To your surprise, he ducked into rooms as he went, demanding that the agency employees hiding under their desks “stop acting like little piss babies and get a move on.” Soon there was a small squadron of people following after his back, and Bakugou had you out of the building and blinking in the sunshine before any of the villains caught the group escaping.

“Stay with these extras,” Bakugou commanded imperiously, shoving you after the group of employees towards the end of the street where the growing swell of sirens could be heard. “I’ll see you soon, nerd.”

He paused, fingers brushing over your mouth for a moment. And then he was gone, shooting himself straight back into the fray. The sirens at the end of the street got louder, and soon several squad cars were pulling around the corner. You joined the flow of people streaming out of Miruko’s agency towards the police, though you couldn’t rip your eyes from the agency building.

The windows had been blown out tens of floors up, and you could hear the crackle of quirks in use, see the flash and bang of Kaminari’s lightning, the blue glow of an unknown quirk on the fifth floor, a tangle of vines wrestling several men out of a window on the fourteenth floor. Mina appeared at a window briefly, covered in acid hardened to an armor, easily deflecting what might have been a devastating blow and kicking a yakuza straight through the glass.

You bit down on a whooping cheer. Now wasn’t the moment.

You tried to keep sight of what was going on as the police shepherded you behind a makeshift blockade, cordoning off the area and sweeping the nearby buildings to help evacuate. The crowd of people around you chattered and shifted restlessly. The longer the fight dragged out, the more anxious you became, your senses heightened to the point of strain, looking for any sign of Bakugou and the others.

Then, to your horror, detonations went off on several of the floors, blowing out the remaining windows, and the building itself shuddered and groaned. A chorus of screams went up from inside the agency as pieces of the building began to detach themselves, crumbling to the ground. Your heart leapt into your mouth, blood icing over in your veins.

A few terrified looking civilians appeared at the windows on the top floors, clinging to the window frames as the foundation lurched. You went still, hardly breathing. Oh my god, were they going to jump? They were several stories up, odds were low they would survive if they did. But--the building shuddered again--fuck, they weren’t going to make it if they went back inside.

Oh my god you were going to watch people die right in front of you.

No sooner had you had the thought than someone was rocketing straight up at them from the ground. Your heart rate spiked, recognizing that mess of blonde hair--Bakugou. Without ceremony he grabbed two people and leapt back off the side of the building, using his explosions to slow their descent. They’d barely met the ground before he was up again, catching another two around the middle and hurtling straight for the ground once more.

Your fingers twisted in the hem of your shirt, watching him anxiously. There were just a few more, just three more people and he would have everyone. You willed your breathing to slow, eyes glued to the scene before you.

Then there was a purple glow, and Sugimoto appeared behind the civilians.

You stopped breathing.

Sugimoto kicked one of the civilians in the back of the knee, sending him out of window, careening head over heels towards the ground. Bakugou had barely just enough time to react, tackling the man in mid air and hitting the side of the building hard with his shoulder before he was able to correct their trajectory.

The building gave another rattle as he did, a crack splitting straight up the middle, spiderwebbing into a thousand smaller fissures.

A blur of pink appeared at the base of the building, Mina materializing just as Bakugou hit the ground with the civilian. A crowd of heroes dragging injured civilians followed her, several of them immediately grabbing onto the people Bakugou had gotten to the ground and towing them out of arm’s reach.

You looked back up to the top floor where Sugimoto had the last two employees in his grip, the edges of that forcefield rippling and roiling over him. His mouth moved like he was saying something but you were too far to hear it, though you could guess the implication. He had a forcefield quirk in a building he’d engineered to collapse. The heroes could choose to go after him but the building was seconds away from imploding, and there wouldn’t be enough time to grab both him and the civilians. Even if Bakugou went up, he only had enough capacity for two people--he’d have to pick between the civilians if he also wanted to grab Sugimoto. And besides that, he wasn’t indestructible. Bakugou didn’t have a quirk that could shield him the same way Sugimoto did as the building went down.

The idea hit you at the same time it appeared to hit Mina and Bakugou. The people around you began to murmur in alarm as Bakugou sank back on the concrete, laying down flat on his back like he was going to take a nap in the sun. In the midst of a crisis the visual was certainly out of place, and a soft “what the fuck is he doing?” from behind you reaffirmed it.

Quick as a flash, Mina had coated herself in hardened acid, and then she was stretching out over Bakugou’s lean form, her vicious smile visible even from where you stood. Bakugou raised his hands to her stomach and called something to the heroes nearby. They all went stumbling back, tearing away from him as fast as they could.

All was still for a second. And then a blast of heat and fire ripped through the street, a roar like thunder rendering you deaf for a moment. You closed your eyes against the wave of hot wind and dust Bakugou’s explosion kicked up, and when you managed to crack one open, Mina was hurtling through the window like a rocket, hitting the edge of Sugimoto’s shield and driving him straight back into the building.

The civilians dropped from his grip.

Bakugou braced his hands against the ground and let off another massive explosion, propelling him straight upwards. He met the civilians in seconds, managing to grab them and flip around in mid air, aiming another series of blasts at the ground to control their fall.

A shocked cheer went up behind you when they hit the street, and you couldn’t contain your own gleeful noise that escaped you, though you couldn’t tear your eyes from the spot where Mina had disappeared.

Bakugou barely had time to get the civilians clear before the top floor began to crumble as the building shook, plaster dislodging itself from the ceiling and slapping down in loud thuds you could hear even from where you stood. You watched anxiously, waiting for Mina’s reappearance, as the building gave one final shudder and then caved in.

The second it did, a head of wild pink curls appeared and Mina flung herself off the top floor, just as the floor gave out underneath her. Bakugou was already moving, breaking into an all out sprint. He flung his arms out behind him, explosions ripping up the ground underneath him, and he collided with Mina mere feet from the ground, wrapping an arm around her and blasting them both back up just as chunks of the building slammed down where they had been.

The entire building came crumbling down in a shower of grey dust, shaking the street and sending a wave of car alarms sounding. Bakugou and Mina came down in a semi-controlled spiral, managing to hit the street just beyond the police barricade, Bakugou rolling in the same move he’d done with you earlier to disperse some of their momentum.

A wild cheer went up and you shouted too, elation rising in you like a flood, crawling through your limbs like a slow shiver.

Miruko hopped the barrier beside you, rushing over to where Bakugou and Mina lay. They were both panting, covered head to do in grey dust, looking worse for wear but alive.

“Sugimoto?” Miruko demanded.

Bakugou pushed himself up on an elbow, the red of his eyes bright against the dust covering him, like a spot of blood on a tissue. Mina popped up next to him, nosy bloody, but grinning.

“Unconscious,” she announced. “Shoved him out the back of the building before it collapsed. I melted the floor under him and he lost focus for a second. That’s all I needed to hit him and encase him in acid. He should be a little injured from the fall but alive.”

Miruko grinned savagely, leaning down to ruffle both of their hair. “You did good work, brats.”

“Get the fuck offa me, hag,” Bakugou complained. You noticed he made no move to dislodge her hand, though, and you stifled a laugh at how obvious he was. Mina had said he had a thing for girls who fucked with him...

Then Kaminari was bursting past Miruko, throwing himself onto the two of them in a whirlwind of tears and flailing limbs.

“That was the coolest shit I have ever seen!” he declared at a deafening volume. “You launched Mina through a building! It was fucking awesome!”

“I’ll launch you through a building if you don’t get the fuck off me,” Bakugou growled, shoving Kaminari’s weight straight onto Mina. He rolled to his feet before Kaminari could come back for more, cocking his head to look into the crowd like he was looking for something. An EMT to patch him up? An officer to make a report, maybe?

Then his eyes locked onto you, and you realized.

Oh, he was looking for you.

He was on you in seconds. You didn’t have time to even squeak out his name before he was swallowing it up, pulling you close to him. He tasted like ash and dust, frankly kind of gross, but you were so disturbingly relieved that he was okay that you didn’t even care, pressing even harder against him as he kissed you.

And okay. So maybe you did have a thing for him, you thought. Maybe. Just a little.

He was still annoying as hell, but he’d just saved a ton of people. Just now, you hadn’t even seen him engage in combat except to rescue people, he’d saved dozens of people including you and Mina, and he’d pulled off the most awesome assist that you had ever seen, letting Mina take down the big bad instead of haring in after the dude himself.

He could, maybe for now, totally get it.

Bakugou smirked down at you when you finally separated, red eyes and white teeth bright against all the grime on him. He leaned in, placing a hand on your cheek.

And in the haughtiest, most migraine-inducing tone ever, he said: “Now who’s the fucking best?”

You made no effort to conceal your eye roll. Well, you supposed, there was only so much about a person that could change in a month.

Instead of complaining, you let him kiss you again.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou

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bobathots · 4 years ago

Text

smokescreen

i wrote the first draft of this in a lust-fueled haze in less than 24 hours a few weeks ago and then i watched a movie where tem was just absolutely off the rails h word and my brain went “haha smoking kink go brrrrr again” so literally this is just an excuse for boba to smoke. @jon favreau give him a cigarette u coward mob boss! boba/female reader. smut 18+ ~10k tags: pwp, smoking, oral sex, shotgunning, at one point u give boba a blowjob while he smokes also on ao3

He wasn’t expecting anyone — or at least, he wasn’t expecting you , that much was clear from his body language. You weren’t even sure it was him until you got close enough to see the dim streetlamp cast a familiar shadow across his face, until you could make out his staple leather jacket wrapped around his form. The tip of his cigarette stood out cherry-red in the evening light, hanging loosely between his index and middle finger. He tensed and turned his head as you approached.

“Boba!” You kept your voice light and even; you didn’t know how to talk to the man at work, much less in a situation like this. You hadn’t exactly expected to come across him in the middle of the night, in a dark alley situated neighborhoods away from where you both worked. But, then again, it wasn’t as if this was part of your normal schedule.

He dipped his head toward you in greeting, then brought his hand up to his face to take a drag from his cigarette. Your gaze remained transfixed on the motion, how he rested his index finger on his tip lip while his hand remained splayed, as if he was trying to hide the action. You spoke before you could think, the words tumbling out of your mouth, “I didn’t know you smoked.”

His inhale sounded like a sigh. Dropping his hand back to his side, he courteously turned his head away from you and exhaled billows of ash-grey smoke from his mouth. “Meant to keep it that way, too.” Oh. You winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He shook his head as if to waive away your concerns. “Don’t. I’m the one smoking outside in public.”

“At midnight,” you added, knowing that he probably chose this time and place specifically for privacy. Privacy that you were now infringing upon.

“...At midnight,” he echoed, the beginnings of a wry smirk on his lips.

The conversation died out there, but you remained standing next to him, casting your gaze out onto the buildings. Distantly, you could make out drunken conversations from the surrounding busy streets so filled with nightlife, mixed with the occasional prickle of Boba puffing his cigarette. A cool breeze swept through the leaves and across your skin, causing goosebumps to pimple out in response. You hugged yourself tightly, palms wrapped around your bare arms, as if you could chase away the evening chill.

“Speaking of midnight —” You glanced back at Boba; he pinched the end of his cigarette between thumb and forefinger and dropped it to the ground, crushing it underfoot with his heel, “— you shouldn’t be out alone this late.”

“It’s not so bad in this part of town.” It felt weird having your boss express concern for you, as subtle as it was, even if it was in his nature to take care of his own , as he put it. You figured you were more like a blimp on his radar; it wasn’t like you were a crucial employee. You hardly ever needed to interact with him at work. “The streets are always lit,” you continued, “and always crowded.”

“Right. Which is why you decided to go down a dark alley in the middle of the night.”

Heat rose to your face. “Because I thought I saw you!”

He let out a sound which might have been a chuckle — god, it was so hard to tell with him — and he pushed off the building he had been leaning against. “Let me walk you home, then. An apology for causing you to make a stupid decision.”

You can’t tell if he’s being mean on purpose, but regardless, you didn’t want to impose on him. “Boba, it’s okay, there’s no —”

“Start walking,” he ordered. His voice was stern, commanding; the tone he took when giving instructions at work, and that meant there was no room for argument, no wiggle room to barter or bargain. The words yes, sir sat on your tongue, burgeoning with desire, but you swallowed them down back to the pit of your stomach where they belonged.

Another breeze blew in. You shivered, both from the temperature and from Boba’s intense presence, but finally nodded in acquiescence. “It’s not far,” you assured him, turning to walk back the way you came. “Maybe like five minutes or so.” Then, something heavy and warm draped itself over your shoulders and you paused, turning back once more to look at Boba.

A now jacket-less Boba.

“I...oh. Um. Thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” He kept walking the direction you set out, leaving you to play catch-up. You took a moment to slide your arms through the sleeves, and it thrilled you to find out just how much extra fabric hung past your hands. Even bunching it up at the wrists caused it to slide down from how loose the jacket sat on your body, so you simply clutched the hems in your palms to keep the fabric from slipping over your fingertips. The rest of it draped over you, his frame much larger than yours, and you felt weirdly protected in his jacket. It smelled like leather and faintly of cigarette smoke, but most importantly it smelled like him, a scent you had no other words for. It was the same smell that lingered in his office long after he’d left, something masculine and oddly comforting. Wearing your boss’ jacket was like being wrapped in a second-hand hug, and you were ashamed to admit how much you liked the idea.

You had to do a little jog to catch up to Boba. Maybe it was the night air, or maybe it was the fact that you had genuine one-on-one time with the man you’d been admiring for so long, but you were suddenly emboldened to nose into his personal life. “So...am I allowed to ask why you don’t smoke with the others?” The “others” you referred to were a sizable group of Boba’s underlings that you often noticed smoking together by the backdoor.

“Not a social smoker.”

You wouldn’t call Boba a social anything , to be honest. “Okay, so why not in your office? I mean, you spend a lot of time alone there anyway.” You would have remembered if he kept an ashtray or a pack of cigarettes anywhere visible, and his office never smelled like smoke.

Silence stretched out between you. You thought maybe he was done with your invasive line of questioning — after all, this was the first “real” conversation you had had with him that didn’t involve work-related topics — but he spoke up after an elongated pause.

“It’s a nasty habit I can’t kick. I try not to indulge if I can help it.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Boba almost sounded embarrassed at having a vice. “My turn to ask a question.”

“Hm?”

“There a reason you’re leading me through back alleys instead of taking the main streets?” He cast a sidelong glance at you, and even with the glint from the streetlamps you couldn’t place whatever subtle emotion danced in his gaze.

“Oh, uhm. It’s just a faster shortcut,” you said, hesitating despite your honesty. “I...normally don’t feel safe enough to do this at night, but…” The implied since you’re here hung heavy in the air between you. You drew his jacket tighter around your body, relishing in the shield it provided against the chilly evening air.

Seemingly satisfied with your explanation, Boba lapsed into silence beside you. You lead him around a corner and stopped at the base of a sloping hill, turning to face him. “Um, the house I’m renting is just up the road from here,” you started, nerves sitting at the base of your chest. The thought of Boba — your boss , who you were crushing on hard — knowing where you lived? It was almost too much to bear, because you were certain you’d do something stupid like invite him in for a drink, which would naturally lead to you into shamelessly begging him to do unspeakable things to you. You couldn’t.

Instead, you shrugged off his jacket, internally mourning the loss of warmth and security it radiated. “Thanks again. And thanks for walking me home.”

Boba acknowledged you with a slight dip of his head as he pulled his jacket back around his own shoulders. You gave him what you hoped was a natural and normal smile that didn’t let your nervousness show, and turned to walk up the long sidewalk that led to your ramshackle house.

His gaze burned on your back the entire time, only letting up when you unlocked the door and stepped inside the safety of your home.

The second time had to have been a coincidence, an alignment of your schedules, because you found him at the exact same spot at the exact same time a week later. The only difference was that this time, he was grinding out a cigarette and raising a zippo to light another in the same moment.

You never took him for a chainsmoker.

“Boba —”

“What did I say about walking alone at night?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, necessarily, but neither was it condescending or patronizing. It was almost concerned, if you could call it that.

“I only have the same excuses as last time,” you admitted. He made that noise again, the little huff you’d taken to mean he’s amused, and your chest did a funny little skip in response.

“Means I’m responsible for walking you home again, then.”

“I - no! Not if it’s some sort of imposition. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I’m sure of that, kid. But,” he paused to inhale, and deeply: his chest visibly expanded to fill out whatever room was left in his leather jacket, and he held it there for a beat, savoring the burn, before he breathed out in one fell swoop. “I’d like to see you safe with my own eyes.”

The white smoke obscured his gaze for just that moment, and all you could see was the bright burning end of his cigarette like a wine stain on a white tablecloth, like a gunshot wound through a white shirt.

You swallowed thickly. “Y-yeah, okay. Thanks, Boba.”

Something like gratitude settled over your shoulders, but there was also something else there, something you didn’t know how to describe. It meant enough to your lovesick heart to know that he cared , at least in some capacity, about your well-being. Enough to walk you home twice .

Even when Boba looked away, gaze on some distant point down the alley, you couldn’t keep your eyes from him. He looked so good , so imposing at all times, and the cigarette only helped add to his appeal. He was every bit like an intimidating mob boss, like he might decide to put his cigarette out on some thug’s eye for mouthing off — and you were only a little ashamed to say that the mental picture made you want to squirm.

At the same time, you could tell there was a different edge to him tonight. Something more coiled and tense, like he had a bundle of energy he needed to burn off and burning a cigarette was the closest he could come.

If he had been savoring it that first night, he was flat out devouring it now. It was aggressive, in a way; how he’d barely let his lungs take in a full breath of oxygen before he filled them with nicotine and tar again.

“You smoke?”

His voice startled you from your thoughts, bringing you clear back to the current moment. “N-no. Why?”

“You keep staring. Made me wonder if you wanted a puff.” He had caught you red-handed in your shameless oogling, and you supposed you should’ve felt embarrassed, but you were too enraptured with the way he spoke with his cigarette hanging from his lips, how the smoke leaked out in little wisps with every word. Deftly, he thumbed the filter to flick ash from the butt and immediately brought it back to his lips again. Your eyes followed every movement. “But it’s a good thing. Don’t start.”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” you said, which was the truth — the truth that existed before you knew Boba was a smoker, anyway. It wasn’t like you had a craving to smoke for smoking’s sake. Instead, you wanted to taste from the same filter that sat in Boba’s mouth, imagining it stained with the imprint of his lips; you wanted to inhale the same smoke that he exhaled and pretend that you were sharing breaths like lovers, or fuckbuddies; you wanted to kiss him and taste the nicotine on his tongue —

— but he was your boss, and a good deal older than you, and he’d never be interested in the first place. Instead, you had resigned yourself to watching him in the act with the hopes that you didn’t give off creepy vibes and that he’d fire you. It’d be best if you could turn your mind away from more unsavory thoughts, you decided. You would rather be a friend to him than someone he cast aside. You figured his stress came from the current negotiations between him and a potential business partner, but said partner was well-established in this area and, to the best of your knowledge, kept raising their “prices.” You didn’t know much about it because it simply wasn’t your job to know, but word did get around. “Are the talks not going well?”

He let out a derisive snort. “Hardly.” He exhaled and smoke escaped through his nostrils, giving him the momentary impression of a dragon. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“It’s just…” You paused to search for the right words. “You seem very stressed. I thought it might be because of that.”

Boba grunted in response. He held his little nub of a cigarette between forefinger and thumb as the smoldering end continued to eat away at the filter. For a moment, it seemed like he was honestly considering trying to finish it off, but then he breathed out a quiet sigh and tossed the butt to the ground.

“....So it’s a stress thing, then, huh? The reason you smoke?”

Boba crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his full weight against the building behind him. “Supposed to be,” he answered. “But then I got addicted.”

“You picked up smoking to cope with stress?” You couldn’t keep the incredulity out of your voice if you tried. Your response to stress was just to cry, something arguably way healthier than what Boba was currently doing.

He breathed in deep, then out, and caught the tail-end of a worrisome cough as he exhaled. “Stress used to make me angry,” he explained, taking a moment to clear his throat. “When I was younger, I picked a lot of unnecessary fights, broke a lot of bones.”

“Yours?”

“And others’.” You didn’t miss the uneven slant of his mouth, the slight grin he wore at the admission, as if he was proud . “But it was a dangerous outlet, so I found something else.”

“Like smoking is any less dangerous,” you pointed out.

“A cigarette kills slower than a bullet, kid. And besides, you’re...what, half my age? Maybe more?” He lifted himself off the building and beckoned you to follow him with a jerk of his head. “I’ve been smoking longer than you’ve been alive. There weren’t many other options beside violence or drugs when I was younger.” “Oh. I’m...I’m sorry,” you said lamely, not really knowing how else to respond. “Don’t be.”

He was leading you home, you realized with a start, both amazed and terrified that he remembered the route you showed him exactly once. As you walked, you stayed close to his side; the evening was no less chilly, and even though you were wearing a thin windbreaker of your own, you were still cold. Boba radiated body heat, and you tried to soak up some of his without being in direct contact with him.

“You don’t look stressed,” you offered after a minute of companionable silence.

He turned to look at you fully, an obvious cue to continue, but his unwavering attention made you nervous, and you started to blabber. “I-I mean, like… just in case you were worried that you were projecting the wrong image. Whenever I see you on base I just think you look so cool and intimidating, so even if these talks are stressing you out, it doesn’t show, and you still look as powerful and scary as ever, and so —”

“Thanks.” His voice made you shut up instantly , though there was no harshness or anger behind his tone. You were glad that he stopped your rambling; you were certain that if you had continued, you would’ve said something you couldn’t come back from.

You stopped at the same place last time, at the base of the hill, and turned to Boba with a slight smile. “Well, thanks again —”

“No, kid.” His hand fell to the small of your back, so big and solid and warm , and for a moment your brain short circuited as you tried to process the contact. “I said I wanted to see you safe with my own eyes. I’ll walk you to your door.”

“Uhh, y-yeah, okay. Yeah. Good. Sounds good to me.” To your surprise, as you started walking again, Boba’s hand remained a constant on your back. Were he any closer, you could pretend he had his arm slung around your waist as if he were a lover, or your boyfriend, your partner — but, desperately, you attempted to put a stop to those thoughts. They were all fantasies, anyway, unreachable things that you were never meant to hope for.

You stopped in front of your house steps. They were shoddy and showed more tear than wear, and the building clearly needed some love and care. It was, however, home , for the foreseeable future.

“Um, this is me,” you said awkwardly. Boba’s hand finally fell from your back, unfortunately not stopping anywhere on the way down, and he glanced up to take in the state of the building. You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or not — his expression was virtually unreadable — and you didn’t want to imagine what he was thinking, or what information he could extrapolate about you based on your residence. “I wanted to say thanks for walking me home. Again.”

“You shouldn’t be walking alone in the first place,” he said in lieu of acceptance, his brows furrowing ever-so-slightly.

“I know, I know, just —” You shuffled awkwardly, half-wanting him to leave, half-wanting to invite him to stay. “Thanks.” You hoped it was obvious that you weren’t just thanking him for seeing you home, but for sharing pieces of himself with you, for allowing you to see the bits of himself he never showed at work.

For a moment, his eyes seemed to look you over, top-to-bottom. He dipped his chin slightly in response. “Get some rest, kid.”

And then he was gone, the phantom touch of his hand hot and heavy on your back.

You formed a ritual together after that.

You’d meet him at the same place every week, always around midnight, and he’d smoke while you had an easy conversation. He smoked depending on his mood: sometimes, it was just one cigarette, enjoyed slowly, the stick held between his fingers more often than his mouth. Other times, he’d smoke multiple in quick succession, never more than three, but always with a sense of quiet urgency, like he wanted to finish them as fast as possible. He’d usually smoke them down to nothing, too, leaving barely anything left to count as litter.

Consequently, you grew closer to him than your schedule at work would ever have allowed. Some nights, the conversation would stick to work or work-adjacent topics. Other nights, you’d talk about more personal things, like when Boba revealed how his father died and you stepped in to overshare about your own sob-story childhood — but no matter the topic, there was a general acknowledgement that your relationship had Shifted, with a capital s . The dynamic between you two was no longer strictly boss and employee, but neither was it just a friendship. It was something precarious, dangling over the edge, desperate for something to disrupt it.

And you were desperate to keep it there. Sure, Boba had gotten a little more physical with you in the sense that he always had a hand or an arm touching you as he took you home, and maybe he gave you his jacket more often than not these chilly evenings, but otherwise he was still...Boba. Still kind of hard to read, still a little emotionally closed off, and most definitely not into you. It sucked, but you had learned to be content with the crumbs you got, and it came with the added bonus of having a secret together that no one else at work knew about. It wasn’t scandalous, or taboo, but it definitely felt a little gratifying knowing that you got to see a side of the boss that most everyone else wouldn’t know existed.

Your weekly meeting was a ritual. A sacred thing.

Until it wasn’t.

One night, Boba simply wasn’t there .

His silhouette was missing . There was no figure leaning against the building, there was no cherry-red glow of cigarette embers, there was no one.

You checked your phone: just a little past midnight. Was he sick? Or busy? He had your number for work-related reasons, so surely he would have texted you if —

But why would he? It wasn’t like this was anything serious , right? It wasn’t a meeting he needed to cancel, or a failed date you could excuse your way out of. This was just… a thing . A repeated thing with a date and a time and a place, sure, but…

Nonetheless, you found yourself drawn to your phone, the screen casting a soft blue glow across your face as you waited for a notification to pop up over your messaging app. You wouldn’t call yourself a romantic, but surely expecting a courtesy message wasn’t beyond whatever little ritual you had going on, right? At least, as your employer, he could treat it like —

A hand grabbed your shoulder. On reflex, you twisted around and flailed your arm wildly, hoping to hit whatever would-be assailant in a place that would hurt.

He caught the fist you carelessly slung in one broad hand, his fingers wrapped around your wrist tight to hold it in place.

“ Boba! ” you gasped, both relieved and irritated at the same time. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

He let your hand slide from his grasp, and if you were in the right mind to pay attention, you would have noticed how he purposefully let his fingertips ghost longer on your skin, how they ran from your wrist to fingers instead of dropping away outright. “Don’t stand oblivious in an alley. At least keep moving if you’re alone.”

You slid your phone back into your front pocket. “I was waiting for you . I didn’t think you were coming.”

At that, he raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly. “Wasn’t aware I could be late.”

And, well — he was right. This was his thing, after all, his late-night smoke break that he just happened to be so kind as to let you participate as a spectator. Of course he could change his mind, of course he wouldn’t think to let you know. It was your fault for getting attached and thinking it was something more —

“You should stop walking alone so late at night.” Boba was close , you realized. The brief panic earlier had drawn you two together and you hadn’t parted very far, your chests merely inches from each other. It was closer than you had ever been to him before, at least face-to-face, and as a consequence he spoke quieter, his voice coming out as more of a husky rumble than an actual vocalization.

“I’ll stop when you stop smoking,” you countered, your mind too focused on your proximity to Boba to filter your words properly. You were worried he might pick up the true meaning, that it was the act of Boba smoking that lured you to him each week, but instead he huffed out a chuckle.

“We’ll see about that, princess.”

Princess . That was... oh . It sounded like a proper pet name, and the realization made a rush of heat go to your face.

“P-princess?” you finally squeaked out. “Really?”

“You’re spoiled often enough,” Boba said plainly, though the hint of a grin pulling at his lips made you realize he was teasing you.

Something overwhelmingly warm and pleasant tugged at your heart, replacing practically every negative feeling you’d experienced in the past ten minutes. “I’m spoiled, huh? How am I spoiled?”

“You usually get what you want.”

You hummed at that, trying to think of something he might be referencing. He didn’t interact with you much at work, and typically it was usually the opposite in your experience. “I don’t think so,” you finally said, drawing up blanks.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Oh.

You hadn’t considered that maybe he kept up with the ritual for your sake. Maybe he didn’t smoke at the same time and at the same place on a weekly basis, but instead decided to show up because you expected him there. Because that made sense.

Guilt ate at your heart, replaced quickly by a sense of affection.

It meant he enjoyed your talks, then, right? That he at least enjoyed your company? You couldn’t think of anyone he might just hang out with other than Fennec, and even then, you couldn’t picture him going through the trouble of all of this just to talk with her.

“Boba…” Tentatively, you reached out and placed your palms against his chest, looking up at him. He smelled like leather and smoke and himself , and you were so close that if you wanted, you could… you could….

Thunder crackled sharply overhead, and you jumped back in pure surprise. Boba’s hands came to settle around your elbows, keeping you from fully peeling away.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathed. Ozone filled your nose — the threat of rain.

“Didn’t think it was supposed to storm tonight,” Boba admitted, and the change in weather made disappointment surge through your veins. You doubted he was the type to enjoy smoking while soaking wet, meaning you’d likely have to call it quits for tonight.

Unless…

“You could…” Oh, god. You already knew that the offer would be a mistake, but you swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat. “You could smoke. In my house. If you wanna.”

He regarded you quietly. “If I want, huh?”

“I-if you want,” you repeated. “But would a ‘please’ help influence your decision?”

“No.” And oh, that made your heart drop in your chest — but then he curled a finger under your chin and applied enough pressure to keep you gazing up at him. “But I want to hear one anyway.”

You couldn’t look away if you wanted to. There was something in his eyes that had you absolutely mesmerized , something burning like the smoldering end of a cigarette. God , you wanted to fucking kiss him. “Will you please come to my house?”

His lips curled into a small, self-satisfied smirk that bordered on a grin. The way he allowed you to see a flash of teeth seemed almost predatory , and it made you want to run away, or run toward him. “I’m not in the mood to get soaked,” he finally said. “Let’s go.”

You thought he would pull away from you entirely, leave you wanting and waiting, but instead his arm curled itself around your waist to pull you against the warmth of his side. The gesture was so obviously possessive that it made your heart swoon . You tentatively leaned into him, a hand braced on his chest, but he took your weight easily, as if it were nothing.

The walk to your house was usually a quick affair, a five minute walk at most . Yet, now it felt like you were getting there at a snail’s pace, your body and brain hyperaware of your surroundings, dragging the walk out into one long punishment. Boba’s hand had slipped underneath the hem of your shirt to touch bare skin and it burned with promise. His body was so warm, and so solid, and he smelled so good that you just wanted to bury your face in his chest and just breathe.

To anyone else, you would’ve looked like a typical drunk couple enjoying the evening together. You were invisible, and that knowledge made you almost giddy . He was no longer your boss and you weren’t his employee. The circumstances of your relationship didn’t matter, and for a moment you could pretend that you two were just —

Well, that you two were something together. Something with a future.

Too held up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the pebble in your path, and you caught your foot on it and stumbled. Boba’s arms wrapped around you before you could pitch forward and he dragged you up to hold you against his chest, one strong arm braced around your middle. “Easy.”

His lips were right by your ear, so close that his voice had come out as barely more than a low rumble. You instinctively tensed in his arms, one hand resting atop his own, and turned your head back to look at him.

Christ , you were impossibly close. The angle meant that there were scant few inches separating you from him, and that a small adjustment would be enough to allow your lips to brush his, to allow you to have a taste of him that you’ve craved these past few months —

Thunder boomed overhead and you startled in his arms, enough so that you jerked away from him. You gave a nervous laugh moreso to assure him that nothing was actually wrong than anything else. The first few fat drops of rain splattered your skin, shockingly cold, and you both looked up at the sky in unison.

“We’d better hurry,” you suggested, knowing how easily torrential rain began in storms like these.

You reached for his hand this time, settling your small hand in the palm of his own, but it was Boba that pulled you along to your house with a renewed sense of urgency as rain began to darken the concrete in small splotches. The clouds threatened to open up and drench you both, but there was something a little more primal in the way he handled you, like it wasn’t just the rain on his mind.

By the time you reached the steps leading up to your door, he was practically manhandling you up them, and instead of allowing you to stop and fish your keys from your pockets, he kept himself in your space, crowding into you, forcing you back against your door. He braced an arm over your head, the other settling on your hip, and when he pressed his knee between your thighs you parted your legs willingly for him.

Boba stared at you. Water droplets dusted the shoulders of his leather jacket, shining dimly in your porch light. The same light reflected warmly in his brown eyes, eyes normally so hard and closed off, but soft for you , like he was sharing a secret, like he was barring some hidden part of himself just for you. Only you.

His thumb skimmed your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up, drawing slow and smooth circles that didn’t match the intensity of his gaze or the way your heart pounded in your chest. When he swallowed, you watched how his adam’s apple bobbed and longed to put your mouth there, to feel the motion against your lips.

“You gonna invite me inside?”

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to give him a snarky reply for all but forcing you up your stairs, or call him something that involved the words cheeky and asshole — but his breath kept ghosting tantalizingly across your lips and his damned smirk was so attractive and you felt like you had been waiting for this for literal years, desire and want and longing all bound up fit to bursting in your chest. “Only if you kiss me,” you challenged breathlessly.

Boba surged forward, hands sliding to cup your face between his broad and calloused palms, and he kissed you with more teeth than lips, something ferocious and desperate . His knee slotted itself higher between your thighs, purposefully rubbing against your center, and you moaned into his mouth, clutching desperately at his wrists. Against the awning, the spattering of rain turned quickly into a flood and for a moment you couldn’t differentiate between it and the blood rushing in your ears.

You never thought you’d find the taste of cigarettes appealing, but you did — at least, you liked them combined with whatever it was Boba tasted like. Maybe it was your attraction to him warping your senses but you couldn’t get enough. You licked into his mouth, sucked lightly on his tongue, teased his lip with your teeth — literally anything to keep him pressed against you.

His hands left your face which made the chilly air feel all the more cold against your cheeks. Instead, they ran down the length of your torso, mapping out the curves and planes of your body. You arched willingly into his hands as they reached around to your backside, sliding into the pockets of your jeans —

— only to be met with disappointment when you heard the jangle of your keys as he pulled them from your pocket. “Could’ve — asked ,” you managed between breathless kisses. Boba hummed into your mouth as he reached for the doorknob to your side. Reluctantly, he pulled away just long enough to slot the key correctly into the lock, and you busied yourself with tasting the expanse of skin on his throat that the new angle provided.

One hand still remained cupping your ass, and you squeaked when he suddenly grabbed a handful and squeezed. As he turned the doorhandle, he used his hand to pull your weight forward against him so that you wouldn’t fall backward into your house, which had the added advantage of pressing your chest to his.

“C’mon,” he murmured lowly, playfully swatting your ass. “Inside.”

You barely registered the sound of your keys hitting your tiled floor as he ushered you indoors, because the moment you both were safely inside you fell on him again, lip-to-lip, hands trying to work off his leather jacket. He took the hint and shed it quickly, letting it fall to the floor, and immediately he urged off your own shirt, breaking away from you long enough to pull the fabric up over your head.

His hands felt so big against your body like they were everywhere, his rough palms a stark contrast against your smooth skin. He thumbed just under your breastband, one hand settled on your back to keep your pelvis pressed to him as his other hand groped your chest over your bra, rough and demanding, and you whined into his mouth. The pleasure threatened to sweep your thoughts away, to turn you mindless and dumb and completely receptive to his whims. You turned your head away from his lips, trying to find the words to speak as he continued to grab handfuls of your flesh. “Boba —” you started, cutting off abruptly with a whine as he teethed at the delicate skin of your neck, each nibble a promise of a later bruise. “W-wait, Boba, I thought you came here to smoke?”

In an instant, his hands fell to his sides, leaving you completely untouched. If you weren’t keyed up and desperate, you might’ve appreciated the gesture, but now it just left you feeling frustrated and unfulfilled. He looked down at you in concern, brows slightly furrowed, but all you could focus on were his lips . They were slick with saliva, kiss-swollen, and you felt a twinge of regret that you had pulled away at all.

“....Do you not want —”

“No! No, I do, I just thought that maybe, y’know…” You gave him a sheepish grin, aware of how hot your face felt. “I thought that maybe you could...do both?”

Concern gave way to slight confusion, then he chuckled in amusement. “I should have guessed.” Boba reached back into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out his lighter and a carton of cigarettes and carefully shook one free. “You have a thing for smoking, huh?”

“No!” It was a gut-response to deny; smoking was gross . It was yucky . It did awful things to people’s bodies and it stained clothes and fingers and yet — “Or at least, I didn’t,” you amended, voice softening. “Not until I saw you that night.”

He paused, lighter halfway to his mouth. The cigarette dangled attractively from his lips. “You should have better taste.”

You choked on nothing. “Wh — you should have better stress relievers!” “Are you offering?”

That made you stop, heat rising to your face at the implication. Sure, you wanted him — but the thought of being his little toy , someone he came to when he needed a quick fuck to ease his frustrations — you liked the thought of it a little too much. Boba was smirking at you, but he seemed to understand to leave well enough alone, at least for now.

There was a flash of light, steel hitting flint, and then the familiar smell of smoke filled the air, more potent in your tiny house. He motioned his head toward your couch as he breathed out a mouthful of smoke. “Go sit.”

The command was almost unneeded; Boba practically steered you there himself, hot on your heels, his hand right back on your lower back like it belonged there. You settled yourself on the cushions, half expecting him to sit beside you, or maybe cover your body with his own — but when he sunk to his knees in front of you, nerves bubbled up in your stomach.

“Oh, Boba, I’ve never...No one has...gone down on me before.”

He grunted, deft fingertips already at the button of your jeans. “Don’t see how that impacts me.” You raised your hips to help as he tugged at the hem of one pantleg, and he slid your jeans off in one smooth movement. He placed your legs over his shoulders and jerked you forward so your ass was off the couch, hips suspended in midair by his arms hooked underneath your thighs. It left you trapped and pinned in place, your back slouched awkwardly against the back of the couch. He puffed on his cigarette before transferring it between his first two fingers, the burning tip pointed away from you as he gripped your thigh. Smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke, “Unless you want me to stop?”

You shook your head, and whatever nervous thoughts you had about tasting or smelling weird, or not looking the way he expected, or not being groomed the way he liked instantly left as Boba ran the flat of his tongue against your clothed cunt, so hot even through the fabric of your panties, and you jerked your hips both in surprise and want .

“Be still ,” he growled, so close that you felt his breath against your center. “I don’t want to burn you.”

“You won’t,” you breathed. You trusted him not to even accidentally harm you, like accident wasn’t a word in his vocabulary. Instead, you felt his arms clamp down on you harder, giving you even less potential wiggle room than before.

A moment later, his mouth was on you, his tongue licking broad stripes against your panties. It felt good even without direct contact; you had never had someone’s mouth on you before, and it had been a long time since you had anything but your hand to pleasure yourself with.

“You’re already so wet.” He turned his attention to your inner thighs, and pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to your heated skin. His free hand rubbed you through your panties, spreading your slick into the fabric, and you moaned . “Is it because of me, or are you just excited?”

“You. It’s you.” He hooked his thumb under the edges of your panties and pulled the fabric away from your crotch, exposing your heated core. Your breath came in short puffs as he finally touched you, skin against skin, his thumb dipping into your folds to collect your slick on his fingertip. “I’ve — thought about this for so long.” “About me eating you out?” You were so wet; you could see how your juices glistened on his thumb as he brought it to his mouth, letting his tongue loll out lewdly as he licked your taste clean from his finger. You whined at that sight alone and imagined his tongue tasting you for real, imagined how wet and hot it would feel against your bare cunt. He brought that same hand down onto the meat of your thigh, slapping you light enough to get your attention but not enough to leave a lasting sting. “I asked you a question, princess.”

“About this,” you repeated, as if it clarified anything. “About you. About — Boba, please —” You tried arching your hips off the couch to tempt him, tried to explain without words what you wanted as your voice died off into a needy whine.

His hand returned to your cunt, fingertips grazing over your clit through your panties. They were so soaked with his spit and your slick that it was barely a barrier at all, made translucent by all the fluids. “Don’t make me guess what you want,” he said. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

Frustrated, you groaned and covered your face with your hands. “It’s embarrassing to say it.”

“It’s embarrassing, huh?” Boba teased the edge of your underwear, flicking it against your skin as a reminder that his fingers were right there , that you could have what you were desperate for if you only asked. “Is it embarrassing if I say that I love how you taste?”

“Boba….” you whined weakly.

“I want to taste more of you,” he murmured, voice growing husky. He nosed against your clothed mound, breath fanning hotly against your core. “I want to bury my tongue in your little cunt and take everything from you. I want you to come undone on my mouth, princess.” He pressed an oddly-sweet kiss to your thigh, his lips lingering on your skin. “But I can’t unless you tell me what you want.”

You felt hot and extremely bothered by the casual way he said those things, how he just uttered his desires as if they were nothing. It wasn’t embarrassing to ask him to eat you out, but you found it embarrassing that you wanted it. You swallowed thickly, and when you finally looked out from under your hands you found Boba looking up at you through hooded eyes, just waiting. Watching.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please eat me out.”

“ That ’s it." In a blatant show of strength he ripped your panties right from your hips, tearing the cloth with one strong pull. You didn’t even have time to articulate a response, because a second later his mouth was on your bare pussy, his tongue eagerly lapping up the liquid that glistened on your folds.

“ Boba! ” You jerked hard in his grasp but he pinned you down with his hands alone, his grip on your thighs so tight you knew that there would be ten marks in the shape of his fingers the next morning. He was relentless, lapping and slurping at your cunt like a man starved, and the sounds were so lewd and so pornographic that you’d have found them gross were you not so aroused.

You wanted to snap your thighs closed and rut against his mouth so bad , but his hold on you was unforgiving. He kept you spread and held in place, completely at his mercy as he licked and sucked and devoured you. Little gasps and moans kept escaping your lips, mixed in with mindless repetitions of Boba and please and yes, yes, like that. This was the loudest you had ever been; months of pent-up desire and sexual frustration had you quickly approaching an orgasm, vastly helped by Boba’s skillful tongue. The urge sat heavy in your gut and only grew with each passing second until you were frantically trying to grind into him, hips moving minutely in his iron grip.

And then he began to pull away. Your hand shot out to grab the back of his head to hold him in place, a desperate whine leaving your throat. “No! No, Boba, please, I’m so close, please —”

“Shhh.” He turned his head to place a soft kiss to your inner thigh. “Relax, princess. I’m not going anywhere.” His assurances were enough to cause you to let go, and he rewarded you by peppering more gentle kisses to your slicked skin. “You got an ashtray?”

You had to think through the haze of want that clouded your thoughts. “A... huh? Why?”

“Don’t want to burn you.” He motioned toward the cone of ash on his cigarette, which had been steadily burning the whole time his mouth was on you. Carefully, he unwound his arms from around you and you slumped, boneless, back into the couch. “Unless you want me to use the carpet?”

“N-no, god, my landlord would kill me.” You spotted an old mug sitting on the endtable right next to the couch and reached for it, almost spilling the scant liquid left inside as you haphazardly handed it to Boba. “Use this.”

Sitting back on his haunches, he flicked the excess into the mug and then brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. You watched the fabric of his shirt stretch across his chest as he breathed in, how his shoulders seemed to broaden with the action. When he exhaled, he blew from the side of his mouth, keeping the smoke from reaching your face.

Which was considerate and all, but… “ Boba .” You stretched your lower half toward him in need, letting your thighs fall open. “Please?”

“You invited me here to smoke,” he reminded, even as his free hand slid up to brush tantalizingly close to your slit. “You gonna make me waste a cigarette?”

“N-no, but…” Tears pricked the back of your eyes; you had been so close , and the longer you went without his mouth on you the more you worried you wouldn’t get to come at all. “ Please .”

Boba flicked ash into the mug again and set it aside on the floor, out of reach of flailing arms and legs. “Spoiled little thing,” he said, so affectionate, and then he was upon you, his head back between your thighs. And, fuck, maybe you were spoiled, but it was his fault for indulging you and giving you an inch so you could take a mile. His tongue just felt so good, and without his arms pinning your legs open you rutted freely into his mouth, moans and pleas rolling off your lips anew.

Boba turned his head to the side as he took another drag from his cigarette, holding the little nub a safe ways away from your skin. He exhaled before he wrapped his mouth around you again, hotter than before, and his lips latched around your clit.

“Fuck!” Pleasure shot up through your spine and you moaned shamelessly, your eyes shutting tightly against the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you. “Fuck, fuck , Boba, please, oh my god —”

“Gonna come from my mouth alone?” His lips barely left your cunt as he spoke, his hot breath only serving to further tease you. “Wanna come for me, sweet thing?”

“ Yes ,” you hissed. “Yes, Boba, please , wanna come on your tongue —” You weren’t even wholly aware of what you were saying, just babbling mindlessly as he kept torturing your clit with attention. The urge you were chasing earlier came back full-force, leaving you teetering on the edge. “Please, please , Boba, Boba —”

“Then come,” he ordered. “Come for me.”

It might have been his voice, it might have been because his teeth skimmed your clit, but you came and you came hard . You think you screamed, or blacked out, or screamed and then blacked out — and when you finally relaxed, body no long tight and taut, you opened bleary eyes to find Boba’s face still buried between your legs, his tongue lapping at your sensitive pussy in slow, languid movements.

“Boba,” you whimpered, pushing at him weakly. “‘S’too much, please …”

He peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses on the heated skin of your inner thighs as he pulled away, settling back on his knees. To your embarrassment, his mouth and chin shined with your juices; he turned his head to wipe himself clean on the sleeve of his shoulder and replaced his cigarette back between his lips. It was evident he’d enjoyed himself, too, because there was a sizable bulge tenting the fabric of his jeans.

“Hey.” You stretched a leg out, brushing a toe across the top of a clothed thigh. “It’s not fair you’re still dressed. Take off your shirt.”

He exhaled slowly, smoke drifting lazily upward from his mouth. “Take off your bra if you want it to be fair.”

You had completely forgotten that you were still wearing it, and you realized how ridiculous you must look: stripped nude with your bare pussy on display, but still wearing your fucking bra. It wasn’t even cute .

Sitting up, you hesitantly reached behind yourself and unclipped your bra. You let the straps slide down your shoulders but left the cups covering your chest, suddenly very acutely aware of everything: the couch beneath your bare thighs, the drying slick on your skin, Boba’s warm eyes focused intensely on you .

“Don’t get shy on me, now.” Gentle and slow, he reached a hand up and helped ease your bra the rest of the way off your chest. He palmed your bare breast, pebbling your nipple underneath his thumb. “Beautiful.”

You flushed at the compliment but gently pushed his hand away. “Your turn. Fair’s fair.”

He extended his cigarette out to you as he stood up from his knees, and you didn’t miss the quiet noise of exertion he made at the effort. “Hold this.” It was burned down to almost nothing, wasted, but as you took it from his fingers you remembered how often you’d imagined holding the filter between your lips, how often you dreamed of tasting him second-hand.

“Want to try?” He must’ve caught you staring; when you glanced back at him, he was bare-chested, and you marveled at the power that flexed underneath his skin, at the tattoos that spanned his chest and upper arms. You’d have to ask about them later.

“I thought you didn’t want me to start?”

“You’re an adult. I’m saying the offer’s there, if you want.”

You considered it — you really did — but then you thought about how sweeter it would taste coming from his mouth, and you passed it back to him.

“I...can we try something?

The end of it burned red-hot as he inhaled. “What?”

Your earlier shyness came back, your nerves sitting heavy in your chest. “What if...you kissed me, right? But with your mouth full of smoke? And then...y’know….” You wrung your hands in your lap as your confidence died out.

But Boba merely chuckled and took a seat on the couch next to you, the cushions dipping under his weight. “You won’t like it,” he warned.

“I don’t care.” Half-surprised he agreed, and half-giddy with desire, you crawled loose-limbed into his space, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth as you settled into him. “If it’s from you, I don’t care.”

You had tucked yourself into his side, but Boba hauled you into his lap instead, swinging your legs across his own. His clothed erection pressed into your hip and you had half a mind to ask if he wanted his pants off, too — but then he grabbed your chin between one large hand and held you in place as he puffed from his cigarette. His lips ghosted across your own, soft and tentative, and then he kissed you for real.

Unlike before, this was gentle and sweet, the slow molding of his mouth to yours, until he urged your lips to part. On instinct, you inhaled, and the smoke that entered your lungs was hot and spicy . You coughed once against his mouth before you had the chance to turn away. Your lungs and throat burned and tears quickly filled your eyes as you coughed away the sensation.

“I told you,” came Boba’s smug reply, and you narrowed your leaking eyes in a glare even as small coughs wracked your body. Gently, he smoothed his hand up and down your spine. “Wanna try again?”

“So you can —” you stopped, coughing, “— laugh at me?”

“Not laughing.” He wiped away some spittle on the side of your mouth. “It’ll be easier if you just hold it in your mouth. Don’t breathe it in.”

You nodded. After he took another drag from his cigarette, well and truly burning it to the filter, he kissed you again. This time, when you felt smoke fill your mouth, you fought off the urge to inhale. It almost tasted sweet beneath the bitter burn. You forced yourself to breathe out, the smoke pouring from between your connected mouths, but despite your best efforts you ended up inhaling a little anyway. You pulled away and coughed to clear your throat.

“Better?

You shook your head. “Not really,” you said sheepishly. “At least I know there’s one fantasy I don’t want to try again.

Boba extinguished the nub of his cigarette between forefinger and thumb and tossed it to the mug he left on the floor. “You fantasized about this?”

“Well, duh.” You sunk down against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder as he drew you close. “What else am I supposed to think about at work?”

It was a tease, mostly, but Boba pinched the soft skin of your thigh. “Naughty thing,” he admonished. “I pay you to fantasize, huh?”

“You occupy my thoughts even when I’m off the clock,” you admitted. As you shifted a bit in his lap, his erection pressed into your side, and you remembered another worktime fantasy and spoke before Boba had a chance to reply to your honesty. “Hey, you brought a whole pack with you, right?”

He huffed out a chuckle. “You trying to give me lung cancer?”

“No! No, no, just —” You squirmed. “Do you maybe want a blowjob? While you smoke?”

He answered you by reaching into his back pocket to pull out his lighter and cigarette carton. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“W-well, I mean, I thought you might like it. It’s supposed to be every man’s fantasy, right? A good blowjob and a smoke?” You eased yourself onto your knees before him as he lit up another cigarette, smoothing your hand over his broad thighs.

“Never considered it before,” he said as he began to undo his belt, “but I won’t say no.”

Your deft fingers helped undo the button on his jeans, and you pulled the waistband down just far enough to free his aching cock. “Oh, fuck ,” you breathed. He was big . Bigger than anyone else you’d taken, and you felt a phantom twinge of pain in your jaw just imagining him in your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Boba grinned down at you, his freshly-lit cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth. Oh, he knew he was big. He knew it, and he knew you liked it.

You wrapped your hand around him and almost moaned when you realized you were barely able to touch your thumb to your middle finger around his girth. “Holy fuck , Boba.” You had never wanted to suck a dick as badly as you did now, even if you were questioning how any of it would fit in your mouth. Would he even fit in your cunt? If things escalated to that point, would you be able to take him, or would he just split you in half?

You subconsciously squeezed your thighs together and leaned in, pressing kisses up along his shaft. He smelled good , like musk, like Boba , the scent that you could never name. You parted your lips and dragged the tip of your tongue along his shaft, feather-light, stopping to take his leaking head into your mouth. He tasted salty on your tongue and you braced your hands on his thighs as you leaned in farther, relaxing your throat as his girth stretched you mouth impossibly wide. Already, it was almost too much, your jaw threatening to ache, and you worried you’d have to give him a handjob instead.

“‘Atta girl,” Boba praised, and oh if that didn’t make you feel like you could do anything . He ran a hand through your hair and settled a palm on the top of your head — not pulling, not pushing, but a comforting weight that held promise. Potential.

You pulled off his cock, tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes. “You can be mean,” you breathed, cognizant of how his hand tightened in your hair. “It’s okay.”

Boba hummed low in his throat, as if he were considering it. “Some other time,” he promised. “You have to learn to take me. I can’t break you on the first day.”

His words made you whimper automatically with want as your brain immediately filled in the gaps. Boba exhaled a mouthful of smoke around his cigarette and applied a little pressure to the top of your head, encouraging you to bend down again. “C’mon, princess. Take me into your mouth.”

You held his gaze for as long as you could manage as you wrapped your lips around his cock again, sinking down on his length. Despite his size, you wanted to take him deep in your throat and feel his jeans rub against your chin. You tried to relax as much as possible as you sunk lower but he was just too much , and you ended up gagging audibly.

He gave a sharp tug on your hair, pulling you off his cock. “Go easy ,” he stressed. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Spit dribbled down your chin. “I want to take all of you,” you whined.

Boba’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb smearing your saliva across your lips. “Be patient. I’m not a small man.”

“You make it sound like I’ll get another chance to do this.”

“You will. If you want.” Ash fell from the end of his cigarette and onto the cushion below, but in that moment you couldn’t care less about your stupid couch. “I’d like to have fun with you again.”

You hid your grin behind kisses as you peppered them along his shaft. “Okay,” you finally said. “Okay, I’ll go easy.” Boba made it sound like you’d have all the time in the world later to train your throat to take his cock — and hopefully there’d be time to train other things, as well.

No longer focused on deepthroating his entire cock, you worked on fitting as much as you could comfortably handle into his mouth and settled into a rhythm as you sucked and licked. You stroked the rest of his shaft with your hand, aided smoothly by your excessive saliva that drooled down his length.

You took a chance to look up at Boba, and found him with his eyes closed, an arm thrown over the back of your couch. The cigarette bobbled in his mouth as he inhaled around it. “ There you go,” he murmured, smoke trailing from his lips. “Just like that. Easy.”

You swallowed around him and his hand tightened in your hair. The taste in your mouth grew saltier with each passing second as his precum leaked from the tip of his cock and mingled with your spit. Boba groaned above you, something guttural and almost primal , and you felt the ache between your own legs grow in response.

“Want my cum, princess?”

Grateful for the chance to give your aching jaw a break, you lifted from his cock and licked a broad stripe up from where your hand had been. “ Yes ,” you plead. “Yes, please, will you come in my mouth?”

“Gonna swallow me, huh?” At your enthusiastic nod, he grinned. “Good girl. My good girl. Scoot back.”

He moved to stand up from the couch and you realized at once what he intended to do as you shifted backwards, sitting pretty on your knees. He towered over you in this position and you couldn’t take your gaze away from him; at this angle, he seemed larger than life, intimidating and scary and huge , and the cherry-red of his cigarette burned brighter than ever.

Boba cupped your jaw in his hand, tugging at your bottom lip. “Open your mouth.” You whined and clutched at the fabric of his pants as you obediently parted your lips, moving your head so that the tip of his cock was pointed at your mouth.

He fisted his cock in one hand, jerking himself hard and fast, and with the other he gripped the back of your hair and held you in place. “Gonna come, princess. Stick your tongue out for me.”

You stretched your tongue out of your mouth as far as it would go, lips parted wide, and stared longingly up at him. Each of his exhales contained a mouthful of smoke, and it gave him the impression of standing in a translucent cloud, the tip of his cigarette standing out amongst the white.

He grunted something unintelligible and you felt something warm and thick land on your cheek. The next one hit your upper lip, and Boba drew you forward so that the head of his cock sat on the tip of your tongue. The rest of his cum landed hot and salty on your tastebuds.

Boba jerked himself from base to tip, coaxing out whatever droplets he could give you. “You look so good,” he murmured, voice husky. “Good girl. Swallow.”

You obeyed, opening your mouth wide after to show him. His thumb came up and helped guide the mess he left on your face into your waiting mouth, where you sucked his tongue clean each time.

“You did so well,” he praised, and even though your jaw ached and there was a dull throb between your legs, you beamed . You pressed your face into his clothed thigh and sighed happily as he rested a hand in your hair, stroking down the strands he’d mussed earlier. He took his cigarette from his mouth and tapped the ashes off into what you hoped was the mug.

A sort of quiet peace settled over you, and even though you were completely nude and it was late and you kind of wanted to invite Boba to stay the night (or forever), you were content to just sit there on your knees as he ran his fingers through your hair.

Besides. He told you there would be a next time — there was no reason to rush.

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #star wars #writing #this is extremely vanilla #i am surprised at how vanilla it is #i mean. theres some other stuff i would have written that wouldve immediately made it not vanilla #but no one ele would be into it but me #and i want my stuff to be read <3 #also i did say its a modern mob au but u can disregard that if u want #theres not like. any actual backstory or plot i just needed a way to have boba smoke actual cigarettes instead of Space Cigarettes #wtf is a death stick. its a cigarette #also i personally dont smoke so if any of the desc seem off like abt taste let me know LMAO im going off of second hand knowledge

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liesoverthec · 3 years ago

Note

the post hasn't surfaced yet so please use this ask to talk abt the objectification of the 911 men!!

Ahh May you’re too nice but also thank you, I’m gonna 😂💛

This got. CRAZY long bc I just had a million thoughts so I’m gonna stick it under a cut.

To be honest, I think the reason they do *any* sort of objectification at all is that middle aged and older viewers are used to being able to objectify actors to a certain extent. Lord knows it happens on literally every other single piece of media, and this is a mainstream broadcast show, not an indie series or the likes, so I think they have to cater to those people as well as us, and the WAY they do it is so interesting to me bc even when they’re doing it, they use it as a way to drive home other, deeper messages.

For starters, I feel like the show OG was trying to be in the pilot and the first few episodes would have objectified the men WAY more than we see now if there hadn’t been that shift in tone - the sex addict plot could have been SO much more extended and given us a lot more opportunities to see Buck shirtless and to objectify him and his body. So I find it SO interesting that around the same time as Bobby opening up about his family and his past, we also stop w/ Buck being blatantly shirtless all the time. Narratively, it signals to me the point where the writers moved away from the the typical tv show that will treat their actors like meat, and moved more into a “female gaze” show. And then what’s really interesting to me, is that for Buck, after that, when he has sex w Taylor Kelly in s2, both times we NEVER see him undressed. The second time they don’t get very far, but he’s wearing a buttonable shirt. He absolutely could have been wearing that shirt closed, and she could have opened it, and he could have been wearing nothing underneath it, and we would have seen his chest again in a sexy scenario - but they didn’t. In fact they made the DELIBERATE choice to give him an undershirt. And of course with the first time they cut away and just left us w the understanding that sex was happening, yet again taking away an opportunity to show O.S. at least partially undressed. Which is SO different from how s1 goes about it, where we actually see Buck w his shirt open and his underwear exposed MULTIPLE times. So it’s so incredibly interesting to me that while none of the (main/regular) women’s stories are ever about sex like Buck’s is, I also think it’s REALLY interesting that the objectification of the men was, and could have been, much worse and that they didn’t have to move away from that, but they did.

But then secondly! The very last time we get into a plot that revolves around the men’s bodies specifically is in 2x01, which is SUCH an interesting plot. Surface level - it’s just about the men competing about who’s more attractive, and we get lots of muscle flexing and hot manliness to go along with it. And it is, at a surface level, incredibly shallow. But simultaneously they use it to 1. Introduce the idea that Buck wasn’t a sex addict bc he was “dealing w the stress of the job” like s1 mostly implied. It was bc he’s desperate to feel useful and wanted by someone, and at that point he really wanted that acceptance within the firehouse, rather than from other people. (Bc lbr, Abby didn’t do shit for Buck. It was Bobby, opening up and accepting the family, and specifically Buck, that gave him the connection he’d been seeking through sex.) And then 2. They also use it as an opportunity to SPECIFICALLY, IN CANON, say that it’s what you do that makes you attractive, and that makes you a hero, not how you look. Which is just!!! A crazy message!!! Especially considering they follow through on it, particularly in the areas where the women are concerned!

And in regards to 2x01, it’s soooooo fucking interesting to me that the ONLY time we really truly see Eddie shirtless, he’s actually putting clothes ON. They literally do the opposite trope of 'giving the hot male an excuse to take his shirt off'. And sure, they make it a sexy moment, but there's absolutely interesting commentary there about him actively covering himself up at the moment he is most sexualized, and it being taken as a sexy thing. Something about how you don't have to be naked to be attractive, it's about your intent in your actions, rather than your physical body. (Probably me reading too far into it, but again, they COULD have had him striping off his regular shirt, a good few seconds of him shirtless digging through a bag, and THEN the sexy slow mo pulling shirt on. At the very least, when they objectify him there, they make it MUCH shorter than they could have, which is SO DAMN INTERESTING to me).

But then finally, we still do have shirtless scenes! But the fact that it’s Chim who’s shirtless is just SO FASCINATING. Bc THE WAY THEY DO IT - they're never dunking Chim in a lake, or having something spilled on him, like other shows would do, to get his shirt clinging to him and him to whip it off in a spray of water or whatever. It's in scenes where it makes sense for him to be shirtless, and its NEVER treated like a big deal. It's just Chim, in his body, comfortably living his life. So I think the way they do it gives him more respect than other shows give their male characters, let alone their female characters 💀

And it's SO interesting to me that they use Chim (I mean, besides the fact that K.C. clearly has muscles for days and wow of course you'd use Chim). But I just think - on any other show, it would absolutely be Buck who we see casually shirtless. And that WAS almost this show, which is why we saw him shirtless at all. But failing that, it should have been Eddie. And then of course, after Eddie, it should be Bobby. I mean, plenty of other shows go for the 'sexy middle-aged white man' (cough cough LS) so Bobby would be the next logical step in the "who are we gonna make our hot man?" ladder, also - P.K. has BICEPS THAT COULD CRUSH ME so I would not blame them for making him the hot one.

But - like I said in my tags on my original post - I'm always thinking about Chim's story in 2x01 with the calendar, and feeling like he never gets to be the hero (WHICH I COULD GO ON AND ON ABOUT HOW BEING THE HERO IS EQUATED THERE TO BEING THE HOT ONE, SO LIKE, CHIM BEING SHIRTLESS, SUBTLE REINFORCEMENT OF HIM BEING A HERO!) I love that for him, being the truly hot one on the team. And then you throw in his story from 2x04, and feeling like his life wasn't going anywhere and seeing him now, comfortable in his body and his life and being happy??

I wish no one had to be objectified and shirtless but I know this is broadcast tv, and honestly, the choice for it to be Chim, with his story and his background, in itself is I think a choice that makes me happy.

Of course, the show is nowhere near perfect, and I’d argue that it’s one of the areas they fall shortest in. Buck sleeping w his therapist would never have happened for a woman on this show, and it CERTAINLY wouldn’t have been brushed off again as a joke like it was in s3. And it really bothered me in 4x07 when the lady slapped Eddie’s ass, esp since he was clearly uncomfortable with it. I’d actually really enjoy seeing them write a plot for one of the men that addresses them feeling oversexualized as firefighters, and how people seem to think they have permission since the men are all public employees, bc I think the show could do it really well, and I think it’s an area that hasn’t been addressed on other shows recently (plus lbr I know I’m biased but I think OG would do it better if it has been done…)

So idk. I don’t know if I have a solid conclusion here. The show does SUCH a good job with the women, and a solidly less good job with the men - but I also see some really interesting choices at work that I really respect.

Thanks for the opportunity May, sorry if there was no coherent thread to this. 😂🤷‍♀️

#911 fox #asked and answered #evan buckley #eddie diaz #chimney han #the one area re:the men I think they do super super well in #is the fact that none of them experience or act w any sort of toxic masculinity #we’ve seen all of them cry MULTIPLE times #and they’re comfortable being vulnerable w both men and women #and none of their personalities are built are ‘hello I am a MAN’#which I really really like and enjoy

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lovely-necromancy · 4 years ago

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both. The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

#creepypasta fanfic #ticci tobyx reader #brain thomas x reader #timothy wright x reader #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #reader insert #no clue if I'm reaching a wider audience than AO3 but I'll try this out #Crossposted #as of now 13 chapters are over on AO3 if you wanted to read #other wise I'll post a chapter every 3 days on here until I catch up with AO3 #Ao3 has priority #A cure for insomnia

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perriwinklesblog · 3 years ago

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I know some people prefer consistent content but I like to take it as it comes and sometimes life happens and other projects need to take priority.

So right now, I consider this to be a mid season break. Techno going into the prison was like the midseason finale for the Dream Prison Arc and Wilbur and Ranboo’s stuff was like their midseason finale and the Red Banquet where the egg was contained, was a midseason finale and alllllllll the mini episodes we’ve had since there are like specials etc.

You know, like how in Dr Who you can go a few years without a solid season but get a special at Christmas and New Year? You know like that.

So like all other programs, stories, videos I watch, I am coming up with ways in which the next bit could go. Some are a bit out there and definitely not happening, others I could see happening.

This is long and pointless and full or errors both grammatically and spelling wise but I had fun thinking of what could happen next. Read if you want.

Dream escapes prison with Technoblades help. A server wide man hunt comes for Dream but unlike his videos he had stolen the spare armour in the prison and so is pretty OP making it easier for him to put distance between his enemies and himself.

Technoblade returns to the artic and him, Phil and Will come to an in pass, a slight disagreement. Philza whilst having sided with Dream before, knows he’s not a good guy. Only used him to help destroy lmanburg for his own morals. It was not because he agreed with Dream. In his eyes, he was using Dream for his own goals. Plus, now he’s seen the aftermath of Dream’s terror on the citizens he realises the man perhaps shouldn’t be set to run entirely free. This slightly goes against Techno’s beliefs but the main issue of tension between them is Technoblade willingly placing himself in danger when he didn’t need too and helping release the man who tortured Tommy and clearly has something going on with Ranboo thats bad.

Wilbur is angry because Techno won’t say where Dream has gone due to an agreement between the two and Technoblade is a man of his word. Wilbur wishes to thank and meet the man who saved him. This also worries Philza because he’s worried he’ll revert back to the man he saw the day he blew up L’Manburg. Over all tension between the three

Niki and Wilbur finally meet and it is as heartbreaking as it is beautifully tragic. Wilbur apologises but misses the mark, misses what hurt her which hurts her more. There’s an explosion with their argument that leaves a stunned silence. Niki asks Wilbur to leave. He does so.

This leads to a Wilbur and Ranboo conversation where Ranboo tries to reason with Wilbur about Niki’s side. Wilbur brushes it off because much like the blue counterpart we all miss, he’s not a fan of the negative emotion. He tries to focus on the business etc and let’s slip that Dream has escaped somehow. Ranboo leaves. Wilbur is confused but distracted by a confrontation with Quackity.

Ranboo then starts his stream and he’s in the fucking panic room and he’s panicking because there are signs so many signs and they don’t make sense. Theres lesson rules, asking about the missing journal and it’s like every issue he’s ever faced is staring right back at him because Ranboo has never really resolved any issue, just pushed and moved on. He’s tried but that usually failed and for a while he’s ignored all the issues and here they are in front of him, all at one. A big volcanic eruption of anxiety and stress, and it ain’t sitting with him.

Dream appears. But is it really him? We never know because after a conflict and a back and fourth about everyone in Ranboo’s life eventually landing on a threat about Michael and Tubbo, he blacks out and the stream ends.

Quackity is livid with everything thats happening, the careful empire he’s building is falling apart and he’s shifting the blame around from person to person. He manipulates everyone around them into believing this is somehow their own fault and that they must make it up to him because he has been nothing but kind and loving to them. He gave them a place, a roof on their head when they had nothing. He misses out the parts where he insulted and or destroyed their homes, but it works and his employee “family” become the main bounty hunters for Dream, with Bad and Ant tagging along since they’re guards.

Now the streams relating to the manhunt displays everyones wants. They’re all doing this wanting something, and whilst it’s to gain Quackity’s favour back they’re all doing that for different reasons. Their motivations are somewhat different even if on the surface they are the same and so on the man hunts, because there will be many, this is slowly picked apart and through that the manipulation of Quackity is revealed and then we see a parrallel between Quackity and previous people in power where they start to get desperate to keep control over the thing they’ve created. Because that’s been one of (not the only) issues with every leader on the server, the control and their feeling of lack of, even if thats not truly the case. But you get these moments between all the characters where they’re trying to outwit one another, trying to figure it out without blatantly saying it. Maybe Foolish does. He’s a bit of a himbo.

Ponk always said he’d leave the door open for Sam and I truly think something happens, whether it be a look in the mirror with one of his guards going too far with someone or a conversation with Quackity where Quackity holds the mirror up to Sam maliciously, that causes him to hit the rock bottom and just break and I want that breakdown in front of Ponk. And I want Ponk not necessarily to give him the second chance off the bat but give him that peace offering, give him that hand to pull him up. I want him to take Sam to Niki and explain to Niki we’ve done bad things in the past, this is a safe haven and I believe Sam needs help and a place he can truly feel safe and for a moment Sam does and this begins his raid to redemption in gaining back the trust of the people in his lives. He becomes Tubbo 2.0 spying on Quackity like Tubbo did for Wilbur, but maybe less... bad.

But what of the Fiances? Wellllll,. With Dream escaping him and George meet in secret. George confesses he doesn’t believe it’s real and for a long time has been struggling with reality. He misses the early days, misses when they’d just have fun. Dream says he was having fun and George says I wasn’t. Dream shows true regret for George but says its too late now, can’t change the past. George agrees. Dream asks him what he’s going to do and he simply replies with “Sleep” Ending stream.

Sapanps stream is a lot more WE ARE GOING ON A DREAM HUNT WE’RE GOING TO CATCH A BIG ONE, I’M NOT SCARED. vibes. He’s gearing up, he’s suiting up and he’s saluting pets on the way. He made a promise and with everything else going on in his life, he’s ready to throw himself into a distraction. He tries to convince George to help him but he waves him off saying, what’s the point? and mumbles something about divine powers and dreams which Sapnap just shakes off. He tries to find Karl in Kinoko but instead comes across Quackity. They have a blow up about how They abandoned each other, both did wrong but neither see the other side of things and eventually he tells him to leave. Quackity says okay, and the place blows up. Foolish cries in the corner. All that heard work but the boss said so. Sapnap ends the whole thing saying at least he’s there for Karl and Quackity pauses and is like why? And Sapnap is all like you care. Just go, you’ve done enough damage, I can’t have you damaging him too. And after a little more but but but between the two, Quackity goes. Sapnap leaves the place to burn, going to find Dream and hopefully Karl on the way.

Karls in space. That’s where his latest travels have taken him and where the other side decided was his time to visit. Here I see a Wizard in Oz scenario where solutions to some issues will be revealed for Karl in relation to the other side. When it comes to his Dream SMP stuff, he starts confusing names and people more and Sapnap is worried about him, considering keeping him in a safe place. The only place that survived was the library with Karls books. Karl says he’ll stay there. Thats where the answers are anyway. Sapnap is unsure and gets bad vibes but is distracted by a lead on Dream and agrees, he tells him he’ll be back soon.

They don’t see each other for a long ass time

I’m not sure on the egg stuff but I do feel Niki and Puffy should have a conversation about all the shit thats happened and Puffy trying to help Niki and vice versa. I feel like Puffy should reach out to Foolish and try and comprehend what the fuck is he doing with Quackity. They have a little argument but it comes to a point where Puffy realises she cannot shield Foolish from harm and that her son ,just make his own decisions. All she can do is guide him where she can and hope that when it comes down to it he will make the right choice. She hopes she didn’t fail this dependant like she did with Dream her duckling. Though only she sees it as failure.

Jack and Niki finally talk. She goes searching for some things and comes to his new place, he tells her to fuck off and that he doesn’t need anyone. They all abandon him. Niki pretty much does the verbal equivalent of slap some sense into him as she and him discuss how he is not the centre of everything, how he is not the sun. She was hurting, and he didn’t bother, no instead they just fed off each others anger and once he couldn’t feed of her or anyone else he isolated himself. She tries to convince him there are better things in life, there are better ways to place your energy etc. A lot of healing talk with Jack being stubborn. Eventually Jack finds himself at the door of Quackity after sticking to stubbornness, not quite ready to heal and he becomes the next member of Las Nevadas. A big blow to Wilbur too.

They finally destroy the egg with magic. I dunno how but either destroy or hatch. Either or would be great. Red comes out the thing and I want a gay ass villain please. Bring it Red. Let’s go. Invite him to the server, bring the fire, bring the plant power Red. He can be the villain that unites everyone in a begrudging way. Like they all hate each other but fine i guess we’ll team to stop Red and Ant.

Skeppy’s dead.

Tubbo and Ranboo have a fight but Ranboo says “Weren’t we enough?” and it’s in relation to him and Michael (this happens before panic room). Thats when Tubbo realises where the wires got crossed and he immediately rectifies it but explaining he’s happy with the two of them but he wanted a job, something to work towards. Family wise he’s got it all, he’s content with it all but he wanted a project and one that didn’t incite violence. Fun rivalry sure, but he’s done with violence, he’s doesn’t want to add to the nightmares he already has. He wants competition but not one that will put all he loves in danger. So they talk it out and Ranboo feels more confident and Tubbo asks him to tell him if he ever takes anything too far because he can get a little carried away sometimes. Ranboo agrees and then they have a cute playdate with Michael. Then Ranboo does the thing with Wilbur and ends up in panic room.

Tommy and Tubbo discuss everything and lay it all out on the table because Tommy doesn’t want to be on the other side again with Tubbo. Tubbo doesn’t understand why everyone is making such a big deal about his burger business and Tommy tries to explain the issues with Quackity and the level of intensity he’s seen with Wilbur but Tubbo just laughs it off. They eventually talk about Ranboo and Tommy relents saying he likes Ranboo although he does sometimes get jealous of how Tubbo seems to have it all. Tubbo tells Tommy of his nightmares and so does Tommy to Tubbo. They come to an understanding with each other and understand that no matter how long they go apart, there is always a space shaped to fit them perfectly in their lives for them. Tubbo and Tommy then go play some pranks.

Wilbur is unhappy with the pranks and gives a lecture and they get into a fight. This leads to Wilbur talking man to man to Quackity. Theres some weird sexual tension. Once again they’re trying to outwit one another. That when we get to the crazy stuff.

And here’s where I get crazy with my stuff.

Ponk is digging in his lil cave when he accidentally breaks through to a random room buried deep underground. Tommy’s there trying to scam him out of something he has. Tubbo and Ranboo too. When they get to this room Ranboo thinking it’s the panic one and freaks out, but the others calm him down. Ponk thinking theres diamonds in the room storms ahead setting off some traps but surviving. Tubbo opens one of the chests and just says theres a bucket in there. Ponk pulls it out and says it has a named fish in it.

You see where I’m going.

They empty the bucket whilst asking what the fish is called. They are interrupted by a voice. It’s Sally.

Dream had captured her and bound her to a bucket and put her in the chest and hid her from Wilbur.

She has been released. She freaks out over how much time has past because for her nothing has changed at all. She thought it might have been a couple of hours or something since Dream pulled that prank on her but clearly not.

They all catch up and the season ends with Sally and Wilbur meeting in front of Quackity, Dream in the shadows and Sally and Wilbur turning to see Fundy who just freaks the fuck out.

Oh and just a side, Callahan is the last member of the syndicate and God of the server and is having fun playing with the mortals.

And then I have the next season planned out and how I’d end the whole thing but like until then. This is it. Mid Season to finale. How I picture things happening.

None of this will happen but isn’t it fun to imagine?

46 notes · View notes

ilikemesometaetaes · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Hold Your Breath ~ jjk

Chapter Six (M)

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: As the CEO of an international government security company, you have the world at your fingertips. Living life lavishly and extravagantly has become the norm. Behind closed doors, however, you host a past that renders you lonely and, quite frankly, miserable. It’s only a matter of time before your past comes back to bite you right in the ass.

•••> Pairing(s): Jungkook/Reader, Taehyung/Reader (slight)

•••> Inspo: This fic is inspired by the song “SAVAGE ANTHEM” by PARTYNEXTDOOR. Thank you to @dariangarcia, @btssmutgalore, and @junghoseokit for supporting my work. To my mamas, Kaitlin, Adora, Lauren, Lanie, Lu, and Sher.

•••> Word Count: 7.81k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Warnings: angst, dirty talk, sexual teasing, heartbreak, cursing, pining, depression, breakup, emotional instability, arguing | Warnings are written specifically to chapter.

Taglist: @dariangarcia @apurpledheart @itsgottabeyoo-ngs @hytibm @namjinsbaby @ggukkieland @fan-ati--c

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, say so in a comment to this chapter or the DHYB Main Page, or send me an ask!

NAVIGATION: Chapter Five (M) <- | -> Chapter Seven (M) -> Mini-Masterlist -> Series Masterlist

•••> Official Playlist

~#~

“I put the dirt into dirtbag. Still got your jacket in my bag.”

THEN.

“Kookie!” You screamed in between breaths, eyes watering at the struggle. “Stop! Please!”

“No way!” His laugh was buried in your hair as he pressed his face against the back of your head. “Apologize!”

“For what?” You wheezed, attempting to get away from the curling fingers that tickled your ribs relentlessly. His long legs were wrapped around your body, restricting your movement and effectively taking away almost any opportunity to escape.

“For calling me a singing demon!” His hands continued their assault, sending you into another laughing fit. You fought helplessly against his tattooed arms.

You wanted to bite back, but the lack of air in your lungs prevented you from doing so. Your heart beat wildly, adrenaline spiking and arms flailing against his grip. Desperation flooding your mind, you wrapped your hand around the one that caged your neck and dug your nails into his flesh in hopes that the pain would get him to weaken his hold.

Jungkook only laughed again and hummed teasingly. “Oh, just like that. Harder, baby.”

Squirming didn’t help much, but when you shifted your hips and felt something poking into your spine, you huffed with defeat on the horizon. His obvious boner signified that he liked your struggle- a clear indicator that there was no way he was letting you go any time soon.

Unless…

With another shift of your hips to grind your ass upwards on him, seating his dick between your clothed ass cheeks, you let the situation take over your body with your brain rewiring into a horny mindset in order to distract him.

“Jungkook,” You whispered through a gasp, hoping the change of pace would throw him off. It was a stunt you always pulled; whether it be during an argument or sex, changing the pace would unfocus your boyfriend’s attention and give you the upper hand.

Sure enough, Jungkook’s embrace around you loosened so that he could give himself more room to slide his manhood against you.

“Oh, baby...” He grunted into your ear with a sliver of surprise tainting his lust.

Slowly, so as to not trigger him, you slid one hand down his stomach and slid two fingers below the waistband of his shorts. With your body on top of him, you couldn’t go further inward, so you settled on harshly scraping your nails across his hip while you dug your other hand harder into his forearm.

“Please.” You said with more air in your lungs. Finally, you could breathe.

“Are you begging for me to fuck you?” His dick twitched against you, desperate to bury itself between your thighs. “Or are you pleading for mercy? Tell me, Y/N,”

Jungkook flipped the two of you over so that your chest pressed into the bed and his entire body pinned you to the mattress with a swift cant of his hips. “Which one is it?”

For a moment, you rolled your eyes and struggled to look at him from your compromised position. It wasn’t until your eyes caught sight of the numbers on the clock sitting on the nightstand that you began struggling with a new burst of concern in your mind.

“Jungkook!” You wheezed. “The time!”

“Answer my question, Y/N. I can stay here all night. The stage can wait.”

“But you’ll be late!” Your voice increased in volume.

“Only if you continue avoiding my question…” Jungkook trailed off for a moment before he leaned down to murmur softly in your ear. “Well, I’ll only be late if you refuse to let go of your pride to ask for mercy and beg for my cock instead. I will rearrange your guts if that is what you’re asking for.”

You huffed in frustration, the desire to fuck your boyfriend dissipating with his words. You knew that Jimin would be through the roof by now, searching high and low for the lead singer of BTS to dress him properly.

“Mercy.” You finally grumbled in defeat, not wanting to delay him any longer.

Almost disappointedly, Jungkook grunted as he removed his weight from on top of you. “Fine.”

“I’ll go turn on the car.” You got up and swiped the keys off of your dresser, thankful that you were still dressed in your internship clothes.

“You go do that.” Jungkook chuckled whilst sliding his shorts off of his body to reveal a very obvious boner tenting his boxers that you pretended to be oblivious of. “You’re a master at turning me on so I trust you with that.”

“Ew.” You grimaced at the poorly-delivered joke. “That was terrible.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was clever.” Jungkook chided.

“Not at all.” You quipped. After you watched him slide a pair of jeans up his muscular legs, you turned to leave. You just needed to make sure he got dressed. “I’ll be in the car.”

~#~

Jimin’s knowledge of art always mystified you. His prowess wasn’t the type of intelligence like knowing how Picasso depicted the loss of innocence in Guernica or how the melting clocks of Dali introduced surrealism to the world of art- no, that was Taehyung’s strong-suit.

Jimin knew how to create his own version of art that left viewers wistful and in absolute awe by making a stage the vessel of his masterpieces.

As you sat on the balcony, overlooking the crowd while they all thrashed and jumped to the beat of Hoseok’s bass drum and the duo of guitars that was Namjoon and Jungkook, you just had to sit back in your chair and stare at the composition that was Jimin’s show.

Flashes of blue and red lights swept across the crowd, printing themselves temporarily into the crowd’s retinas so that when the opposite color came back, a light hue of purple was brought into the experience for a fleeting moment. Short puffs of fire whenever Namjoon strummed a power chord warmed your face, even from the distance in which you sat from the stage, and lasers shot through the crowd every time Yoongi penetrated the sounds of his group with the keys of his keyboard.

Graphics on the jumbotron behind the band, which were also of Jimin’s creation, outlined each member with curls of dark, tentacle-like wisps that matched the purple hue of the crowd with its raven color.

The last song of the setlist, Blue and Grey, was one you were all too familiar with. The lights faded to a soft blue for a moment as Taehyung began the first strong notes with his bass and the crowd in the venue whooped and hollered in excitement- Blue and Grey was BTS’ most popular song. A year and a half into their journey of being a band and they already had a crowd favorite.

As Taehyung continued his bass line with his guitar and tattooed strumming arm put on display by Jimin’s spotlight, Jungkook leaned into the mic and began strumming his own guitar.

“Where is my angel?”

You sighed and leaned forward in your seat, loving the way Jungkook’s voice carried throughout the performance hall.

Taehyung accompanied Jungkook with the intro until Hoseok joined in to transition into the first verse with his high hat and snare drum.

Once the chorus hit, you couldn’t help but stand from your seat as you began to feel the power of BTS’ music rocking the venue.

“I just wanna be happier. To melt the cold me.”

Jungkook’s neck veins bulged from his skin as he belted out the notes, sweat dribbling down his temples from exertion. Even as he huffed for breath in between his lines, the image of him dressed in all black and owning the stage while ripping his fingers through his guitar strings was one you could never get tired of.

The songs were full of angst- the dark, unspoken feelings that not many people talked about- and you loved how you heard them from Jungkook through music. If only he were this honest when it was just the two of you.

“Don’t say it’s okay, ‘cause it’s not okay.” Jungkook closed up his lines with a heartbreaking tone that every fan in the crowd sang along with as Namjoon prepared to sing his part. For a brief moment, your boyfriend met your eyes across the large venue.

“Please don’t leave me alone. It hurts too much.”

~#~

NOW.

You walked into your building, grateful for the warm protection it offered against the freezing winter of New York City.

Noticing the lack of staff around, being that there was only the elevator operator and the receptionist sitting behind the marble counter, you glanced at your watch to check just how long you spent working.

20:17, your watch read. You had been working in front of computer screens and reading contracts for almost 9 hours.

“Greetings, ma’am!” The receptionist stood from his chair. “May I be of any service to you this evening?”

You shook your head to the man and continued on your path to the elevator where the other employee in the lobby waited to take you up. “None needed. I’ll be leaving momentarily.”

“Very well. Please let me know if you need anything.” He sat back down and turned his gaze to the computer in front of him.

The sound of your pumps echoed against the vast but empty room until you stopped in front of the elevator where the woman already had the doors opening in preparation.

“Good evening, ma’am.” She said lowly.

“ ‘Evening.” You responded, stepping inside without another word. The woman kept the conversation at that, which you appreciated, so you smiled at her in gratitude after you placed your key in the penthouse slot. She returned your smile with her own before the doors closed to encase you in silence.

The ride up was quiet, warranting you to pull out your phone so that you could read over your conversation with Taehyung again.

Why am I wearing think socks? I hate thick socks.

Read at 8:01 pm

Trust me. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

Is that so? Why?

Read 8:03 pm

Just wear the damn socks, Y/N.

Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?

Read 8:04 pm

Negative, captain

Why am I a captain now

Read 8:04 pm

Cuz I said so. Now stop talking or you’ll make me give away my position

Alright.

Read 8:05 pm

I said stop talking

…?

Read 8:05 pm

Fucking hell.

You let a small giggle slip past your lips at how normal the text conversation was. It was as if you never stopped talking to him, slipping into the normalcy of having Taehyung back in your life as quickly as it had been to cut him out of it. You zoned out for a moment in thought.

The strange sensation of friendship didn’t take any getting used to as it settled itself back into your bones and filled your heart with warmth like it never left- like the ice covering the beating organ was only temporary. As you stood alone, staring shallowly at the increasing floor numbers, you smiled in content.

The elevator slowed as the cabin came close to reaching the top floor, bringing you back to your senses. Sliding your phone back into the pocket of your slacks, you looked up once the elevator doors opened, only to drop your briefcase to the floor loudly.

Jungkook sat against the wall beside your door with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. At the sound of your clumsiness clattering on the ground, his gaze snapped to you as he scrambled to stand up.

Anger flooded you immediately. You wanted to backhand him and rip his hair out. You wanted to scream and cry and lose your shit. However much you wanted to hurt him, though, you could not afford catching an assault charge on the man who defaced you once before.

There was a break of silence as you stood staring at him, unsure of how to handle the punch in your mood while the memories were forced to surface in your mind.

“Y/N…” Jungkook trailed, breaking the tangible barrier of tension. He took a step forward whilst obviously hesitating. “I-”

Instead of screaming at him, you went for the more sophisticated and controlled route to keep your lividity at bay whilst stopping his sentence in its tracks.

“How did you get up here?” It was a sensible question to ask. You just wanted to prevent him from deepening the conversation.

“I pulled some strings.” He murmured, looking down almost shyly, before piping up with more confidence. “But listen, I-”

“Save it.” You cut him off again, unable to control your facade much longer. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

His anxious expression turned worried- desperate. You didn’t miss the way his eyes became more expressive than you’ve ever seen them. “Please, Y/N.”

“Please what, Jungkook?”

“Please just give me a moment to speak.”

For a beat, you pondered his request. Taehyung’s words weighed heavily on your mind. We needed to talk.

Fuck talking. You have been done talking for ages.

“Wow.” You scoffed coldly, ice barriers slamming back into place over your heart. Taehyung had been able to melt them away, but Jungkook put them right back with fierce determination to completely ruin you. “You just want to take everything from me, huh?”

“Y/N, what-“ He blinked cluelessly, caught off-guard by your sarcasm.

“I gave you years to speak, Jungkook. I gave you everything.” You stepped forward, the boiling rage overtaking your body, and came to a stop in front of him with the fury of a charging bull. You wanted him to feel small and vulnerable.

“What else could I possibly give you? I have nothing left.” He took everything. The veins in your body were emptied and exhausted of every single ounce of energy to fight for someone.

You were unaware of the way Jungkook’s fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his palms.

You failed to notice how much he trembled under your gaze, physically struggling to protect his butterfly from your wrath.

Your vicious swings at the dainty being of hope were nothing compared to what he, himself, had done to it. Jungkook found it ironic that you gave him an aspect that he was just barely strong enough to protect yet took the darker things from inside him and destroyed them as if they were mere placeholders- as if you were his puppeteer.

You were too stressed to realize the toll it took on Jungkook to keep his act together. He needed to keep the door open long enough to be your friend. Anything to prevent losing you. Earlier, his demons swooped in and overtook him, suffocating him to silence once again, but for the first time, they ebbed away at the mere thought of you.

As he walked down the street with his stage persona flowing, the simple thought of your name empowered his butterfly to beat its wings so fiercely that it blew away all of the impending smoke and dark tentacles of smog that threatened to overtake his vision.

Once he thought of you, he thought of everything.

Your anger was justified. He understood that now. Watching you huff breath after breath following your question was somehow relieving- you still cared enough to be pissed off. Jungkook forced himself to look on the bright side of the encounter with you; he made himself see that you were still passionate about the past. You were passionately upset and he couldn’t be happier.

He had seen you with Taehyung. He saw the way you were happy again. Jungkook wanted a part of that because he was too selfish to back off and stay dormant in your life- too determined to make you silence his demons.

Even if it was just as a friend. He could deal with that.

“You’re right.” Jungkook stated.

You paused in your tracks at the concession. Anger no longer blazing- staying right where it was- you quirked an eyebrow at him. Any time the two of you fought, he would never come even close to alluding that you were right.

“You’re right and I’m sorry, Y/N.”

An apology.

Words always seemed minimal to you. Unless to communicate information, you found that words filled with feeling didn’t mean much from someone you didn’t know.

After Jungkook, anyone that told you they loved you was promptly deemed a liar. Kate worked hard to make sure you were aware of the fact that she would actually take a bullet for you because of how much she loved you. She spent moment after moment proving to you that she cared deeply even though she didn’t have to put up with you.

Your parents, despite not talking to you much, expressed their love and gratitude whenever you sent them money. You knew they were hard workers like you and didn’t have time to worry about trivial things like words. Instead of taking the easy way out by simply telling you that they loved you, they showed you.

But Jungkook, who claimed to love you in the way that a lover would- the only person to actually do so- lied.

You could never trust the words in that way again.

Still, you couldn’t help but be taken by surprise.

“I’m right? Really?”

“Y/N, you’ve been right since the beginning. I took and took and just stopped giving back. I understand that you’re angry and I want to fix it so that you don’t hate me anymore. I want to make it right.”

You were silent. You hadn’t expected him to admit his fault so easily. Jungkook changing the pace of your conversation ruined your momentum, sending you stumbling and scrambling for thoughts.

Jungkook sighed for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line as he let his eyes drop to the floor in your silence. He wasn’t about to lose the opportunity to elaborate further, though.

“Look, I know I fucked up. Bad. I know you can’t possibly forgive me right now, but I want you to know that I’m sorry for the things I’ve done to you.”

Your automatic reaction to being emotionally pushed came back, closing you down and disguising you as a cold woman.

“What the fuck do you know? What the fuck do you know about how badly you fucked up? I don’t need your lame-ass apology, Jungkook. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Stop pretending that you do. Sure, we fucked a little and kissed a few times, but that’s all that it was.” You grit out the last few words, lying through your teeth. “Now please move. You’re blocking the door.”

Shockingly, Jungkook obeyed. He stepped aside and clasped his hands behind his back without another word, allowing you to walk to your door and open it.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

No matter how many times you repeated the words in your head, commanding yourself to abide by the mantra as if it were law, the emotions in your head managed to break through and force your head to turn back after stepping through the doorway.

Jungkook stood as still as a statue, staring at you with a blank expression that was almost eerie. You glanced down quickly, unable to maintain the eye contact, and noticed that his knuckles were clenched.

It was almost as if he was a completely different person because of the fact that his appearance was drastically different from that of BTS Jungkook. The man that stood in front of you was no rockstar. He was not an idol nor a role model that millions looked up to.

He was a scared boy. The fear that riddled his eyes was extremely difficult to miss and it made him seem almost small whilst standing in the small junction between the elevator and your penthouse.

You shut the door in his face impulsively, hoping that you wouldn’t have to see him again.

Backing away from the door slightly, you waited until you heard the elevator signal that its doors were closing before going to look through the peephole. You finally released your breath and slumped against the door when you saw that he had left.

Without his presence putting you on edge and keeping you on your toes, you could finally reflect on the conversation that just transpired.

He admitted his wrongdoings and apologized for them. He showed you his belly and became vulnerable. He admitted defeat.

Jungkook wasn’t an apologetic person in the slightest; he wasn’t a forgiving one either. In all the years that you had known him, he was headstrong and stubborn- if you looked past the part where he closed himself off and cheated, of course.

This Jungkook, the one you had just spoken to, was not the one you remember. Maybe you were right. Maybe you didn’t know him anymore.

Your phone vibrating in your pocket distracted you from pondering any further over the epiphany, prompting you to pull it out and fumble with it to get away from the confusing subject. You were thankful for the distraction.

Kim Taehyung (BTS)

I’ll be out front in 15 mins

Cursing internally, you left the idea of Jungkook behind you and rushed to change into clothes better suited for the cold weather.

It was a given that a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips when you slid thick tube socks over your ankles. You hadn’t actually worn tube socks in ages because they didn’t exactly go with your usual professional style of suits and heels.

You zipped your coat up about three-fourths of the way before turning to look at yourself in your mirror with a huff.

Suddenly, you were bombarded with a memory as it flashed before your eyes.

“You know you look good, babe.”

You giggled as Jungkook came up behind you to look at you in the reflection, setting his chin on your shoulder while he used his tongue to toy with the hoop pierced into his lip.

“Thanks, Kook. Just want to look my best is all.” You met his eyes in your bedroom mirror, smiling softly.

“Well, you look beautiful.”

You were left staring at the empty space where his face was, unsure of how to react as you stumbled back from the intrusion. Another meaningless scene came barging into your senses before you could process the first.

“Wow…” You trailed off as you looked at the angry red spot on Jungkook’s chest. A brand new tattoo, the size of your hand, raised out of his skin and shined under the luminescent light of the tattoo parlor. With the tattoo artist cleaning up his station behind the two of you, you were left to admire his beauty in his reflection.

Jungkook stood shirtless in front of the full-length mirror as he smiled brightly at the last tattoo to complete his set. Your eyes drank in the way each exhibit of inked art contrasted with his smooth, caramel expanse of skin while you stood behind him.

The new piece, which was almost large enough to touch the Chinese characters stamped onto the side of his neck and the back of his ear, was a depiction of an angel falling from the heavens. The detail in the blackening feathers attached to the angel’s back was mesmerizing, drawing all of the attention from the rest of the tattoos covering Jungkook’s chest.

“Is there any special meaning behind it?” You asked, knowing that your boyfriend had a few meaningless tattoos that were part of his ‘woke-up-and-it-was-there’ collection.

For a moment, Jungkook stayed silent as he studied the work of art in the mirror. It wasn’t until you called his name again that he answered your question while meeting your gaze in the reflection.

“Nah. It just looked really cool to me.”

You pressed your hand to your forehead and looked away from your mirror, wondering why- now, of all times- you just had to remember those small memories.

You didn’t miss him- you know you didn’t. But something within you twisted at the thought of being with him- the memory of how it felt to be his.

The disconnect between the feelings of your heart and the thoughts of your mind, ever so obvious, shifted. His apology was unexpected, to say the least, but it was also surprisingly heartfelt and pulling on your need to forgive.

Saved by the bell, your landline phone began to ring.

You rushed to the bedside table and grabbed the phone from its dock, pulling it to your ear.

“Ms. Y/L/N? It’s the front desk. Mr. Kim Taehyung is here and waiting for you.”

“Got it. Thank you. I’ll be down in a moment.” You hung up the phone and grabbed your wallet and keys before shuffling over to your desk to grab your briefcase on instinct.

“Wait,” you spoke aloud, laughing at yourself and withdrawing your reach. “I don’t need that.”

As you opened the door to your penthouse, the sound of something lightly hitting your door had you looking down.

A small, navy blue bag, the size of your palm, swung from the doorknob and hit lightly against the wood from the momentum of you opening your door. Confused, you unhooked the loop from the doorknob and looked inside the bag to find a familiar-looking box inside.

Gingerly, you pulled it out and opened it. In the way of the box’s contents was a folded piece of notebook paper with your name scrawled across the top in Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

You held your breath after reading the note and looked down at the small charm.

Since you gave me yours, I’ll give you mine. -jk

In the fabric of the satin display lay the familiar gold chain that Jungkook gifted you those few years ago, but, instead of the small J that you were so familiar with, lay your own initial.

You knew Jungkook’s way with words well enough to know that the small note connected his intentions to the chain. You were instantly pulled back to the night that he gifted the necklace to you in the first place.

“It’s beautiful. Happy one-year, babe.” You whispered onto his lips with a smile.

After you sat back into your seat, Jungkook walked to your side of the table to put the chain around your neck. “I obviously have the describe how much this necklace means so that you never take it off.”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t even dream of taking it off, Kook.”

“I still need to explain. It was like a message from heaven when I saw them in the jewelry store.” He pouted, returning to his seat. “So the idea with these is that we’re wearing parts of each other. You’re wearing the part of me that belongs to you and I’m wearing the part of you that belongs to me.”

Jungkook continued as he raised his glass. “So even though you think this necklace is yours because it’s your letter, it’s actually mine.”

You cocked your head in confusion, struggling to understand the concept. “What are you talking about?”

“It sounded so much better in my head, I swear.”

You understood the idea now.

Push off the emotions. Don’t think about them.

You were hellbent on ignoring the weakness, knowing full well what path you would go down if you let them get to you.

Instead, you made your way down to the lobby with the bag gripped tightly in your mitten-clad hands, heading to the desk with determination furrowing your brow. Even as Taehyung stood from the small sofa in the lobby upon seeing you, you did not spare him a glance.

Forcefully, you thrusted the bag into the receptionists’ face, internally wincing at your rude gesture.

“Please put this in the lost and found. I have no idea where it came from.”

The receptionist did well at hiding his expression, however, you could still see a sense of somber recognition behind his eyes. You decided not to press him seeing as you want to avoid the topic of Jungkook like the plague.

“Understood, ma’am.” He took the bag from your grasp before you had the chance to rethink addressing his slip of emotion, placing it in a drawer by his knee. He looked back up and gestured to Taehyung after locking the drawer. “Mr. Kim is here for you.”

You sighed in a mild sense of accomplishment, forcing yourself to shut out the regret and sadness for giving away a formerly precious memory, before turning to face Taehyung with a small smile to mask your inner turmoil. Your smile faltered when you noticed that Taehyung mirrored the same expression on his face that the receptionist wore.

“What?” You asked, walking to him.

“I just-” He looked down for a moment, scowling, and you noticed he had placed his small barbell back into his eyebrow. “-nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me anything?” The two of you had walked to the door, stopping before going out into the cold so that you could finish your conversation.

“Like I said before, it’s not my place to say or judge.”

Taehyung opened the door to an icy gust of wind before you could protest, chilling you into a mind-numbing stupor as you whispered, “Holy fucking shit.”

“Good god, it is freezing.” Taehyung mumbled, linking an arm around your body and ushering you towards his SUV across the sidewalk.

Once sat inside the warmth of the cabin, you shivered in satisfaction at the heat gracing your body.

“Please tell me we’re not going to be outside for whatever we’re doing.” You pleaded to him. The light from the city was filtered by the darkened car windows, however, you could still see Taehyung’s shoulders moving up and down when he chuckled.

“Unfortunately, we are, but fortunately, I brought some heat packs for us.”

You whined in protest, looking up to the GPS screen in front of the driver to see if you could identify where the two of you were going. Without a route plotted, you were left even more curious.

About twenty minutes of small talk and a brief roast session targeting Hoseok later, you sat in front of the ice skating rink at the Rockefeller Center.

“We’re ice skating?” You asked, suddenly in shock. You hadn’t been ice skating since-

No. Stop it. Your mind warred with itself as it suppressed the memory threatening to spill over into your eyes.

“You’re quite the detective.” Taehyung’s sentence was drenched in sarcasm, functioning as the perfect distraction, and prompted you to lightly shove him with a giggle as you exited the vehicle.

“I thought I was a captain.” You pouted against the cold, pulling your hat down on your head even further in hopes of retaining your body heat and warmth from the van.

“You are.” Taehyung laughed again. “Captain Detective.”

You only rolled your eyes at his playfulness before you turned to face the rink from the sidewalk. A person passing behind you and bumping into your back lightly had you cursing New York City’s busy and bustling population.

Seeing all of the people on the rink, you instantly remembered that you did not inform Jay of your whereabouts.

“Do we have security?” Worry riddled your brain as you turned to look at him with your eyes widening in a panic. You became hyperaware of all of the possible outcomes to Taehyung being identified in such a crowded place.

Taehyung sighed as he walked you up to the ticket booth. “We don’t. I just want to have a normal and plain but fun time with my friend- without someone glaring at me like they don’t want to be here while they breathe down my neck.”

Despite understanding his statement, you couldn’t help the automatic stress to being in public without any form of protection.

“Taehyung,” You warned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Y/N,” He mocked your tone childishly before leveling it to his regular voice. “Relax, weirdo. We’re here to have fun and people are too busy having their own fun to notice us.”

“I doubt that.”

It wasn’t until you got your rental skates tightly secured onto your feet and began walking toward the ice that Taehyung mentioned a vital detail that he definitely should have mentioned prior to arriving at the center.

“You what?” You were baffled to say the least.

“I can’t skate.” He sheepishly brought his hand to the back of his head and adjusted his trapper hat under your scrutiny.

“Then why did we come?” You were almost yelling at that point.

“Because Brian told me that you liked ice skating!” Taehyung gripped at your fingers tightly, anxiety getting the best of him.

Fucking hell, Brian.

“Did he?” Your laugh was almost hysterical because of how wrong he was. You were becoming increasingly hesitant about giving your personal assistant a raise now.

Still, it was worth the effort. Brian was just trying to help the world’s most popular bassist when he came to him in need of information. It was a decent attempt.

“Yeah,” Taehyung huffed. “He did.”

“Well, Tae, I’ll have you know,” You moved towards the ice rink with determination. “I haven’t been ice skating in ages and I hardly like it. Hopefully, I still have muscle memory.”

“Oh god.” Taehyung groaned, tipping his head back as the feeling of imminent and utter chaos ensued. “Fucking hell, Brian.”

As soon as you stepped on the ice, you realized that you were still perfectly coordinated enough to complete the task.

Taehyung, on the other hand, clung to the walls like the world was attempting to swallow him into the ground. Dutifully, you stood next to him with a cautious hand on his back in the case that he went tumbling.

The sight was one to behold.

Kim Taehyung, hard core rockstar- the physical definition of a stereotypical ‘bad boy’- with tattoos littering his skin and a glistening eyebrow piercing that was winking at you from under his gray trapper, stood hunched over and afraid as he moved baby step-by-baby step to proceed further around the rink. You couldn’t help but giggle as the man who possessed the prowess of an elegant panther on stage adopted the likes of a stumbling newborn giraffe within the span of five minutes.

You were still concerned for him despite how funny it was. Tentatively, you reached your hand to grip his shoulder and urged him to look at you.

“Tae, are you okay? We can do something else if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay.” He wheezed in effort. “I got this.”

Making a show out of how brave he was, Taehyung stood up straight on shaky legs and began progressing forward by attempting to walk on the ice.

“I can show you how t-” Taehyung cut off your offer before you could finish it.

“I’ve been shown countless times how to skate and the best I can do is walk and maybe slide forward a little. I’m a lost cause, Y/N.” Even though he seemed upset, Taehyung couldn’t help but crack a smile at how clumsy he was.

You smiled pitifully at your clumsy friend before you stepped in front of him. “Here, hold onto my shoulders and we’ll slide forward together.”

All Taehyung could do was begrudgingly agree, hating the idea of having to lean on you for support but wanting to remain close to you for the majority of the night. Once he placed his hands tightly on your shoulders, you moved.

At first, you skated slowly so that Taehyung could adjust to the feeling of being pulled forward. Once he got the hang of keeping his legs locked so that you could move around easier, you skated at a normal speed.

After about ten minutes of joking around and catching Taehyung’s slipping form a handful of times, your mind was left free and without defense.

You hadn’t realized how vulnerable you were because of it.

“Y/N, slow down! I can’t go that fast!”

Your breathing came to a halt at the voice that echoed in your ears.

“Here, hold my hand and we’ll skate together.”

Panicking, you rushed your mind to shut it out. No. Stop.

Unknowingly, the chaos in your mind and the desperate need to get away from the memories had you gradually increasing your own speed to subconsciously escape your thoughts.

Taehyung’s nervous laugh and call of your name in warning fell on deaf ears while you furrowed your eyebrows in concentration.

“See? It’s easy. Just step and lean. Step- and lean.” His hand clutched yours as if he was trying to squeeze all of the blood from your fingers but you only squeezed back in reassurance.

“Don’t let me fall, please.”

Taehyung’s skate crashing into the back of yours served as the perfect distraction, yet it only lasted for a split second as the two fo you went tumbling to the ice in a hauntingly familiar manner.

In the process of falling, Taehyung had managed to wrap his arms around your waist and twist his body so that he could take most of the impact from the ice. Landing on top of him with an ‘oof’ reminded you of the last time you went ice skating.

Even with your face mere centimeters from your friend’s, all you saw was him.

Taehyung’s small puffs of air against your lips were an indicator of how close you were to kissing him. Truly, you could kiss him if you wanted to, needing only to relax your neck and let your head fall to close the rest of the minimal gap between you. He looked up at you with wide eyes, holding onto your gaze with an unreadable expression on his face.

All you saw, however, was a small mole dotting the underside of his lips. Fuck, you wanted to kiss Taehyung and rid yourself of the nightmare, but you couldn’t shake the sensation of how wrong it felt to kiss anyone but Jungkook.

“Y/N,” Taehyung called your name cautiously and pulled you from your thoughts. Instantly, your eyes welled with tears at the realization of how fucked you were.

You yanked yourself from him with abandon, needing to get far away from the reminder that you couldn’t move on.

Kim Taehyung was mature. He was kind and respectful- everything you could ask for in a man- yet the thoughts of Jungkook and the good memories you had with him outweighed the bad, preventing you from truly letting go.

Before Taehyung could protest, you stood and left him on the ice, making for a quick exit. You wanted to go back and help him up so that he wasn’t in danger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at his face in this setting.

Instead, you skated off the rink and walked to the skate rental area, plopping down on the bench weakly to untie the laces. Once you did so, you set them on the counter and waited for your boots with your eyes on the ground. You didn’t want anyone to see you on the brink of crying.

“Y/N!” Taehyung’s voice was loud and attention-grabbing. You had half the mind to be concerned that he would cause people to notice him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you finally got your boots and rushed to put them on. Taehyung was finally off the ice when you slid the first boot on.

“Y/N,” He called your name again, awkwardly approaching you with the blades still on his feet. “Please, talk to me.”

You could only sniffle in response and continue to put your boots back on, a fresh wave of tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You’d kept them at bay thus far but Taehyung was making it extremely difficult as his comfort approached you. The welcome yet heartbreaking aura he exhumed paired with your teetering emotional stability wouldn’t fare well in such a public setting.

Without hesitation, you stood and walked away once you were done securing your shoes back on your feet. Again, you felt the urgent need to be alone.

And again, Taehyung was right behind you as he ran without putting his shoes back on.

“Y/N!” He grabbed you as he called your name more sternly, forcing you to face him. Your eyes met his briefly before you looked back down to the pavement and cursed yourself once a tear slipped out. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Because I-” Your breath caught in your throat as it constricted due to the beginning of a sob building in your chest. You cleared your throat and struggled to breathe your way through your response- one you had trouble communicating. “-I just can’t.”

Taehyung grimaced, looking around with concern, before he ushered your body to begin walking away from the busy area.

Once you were a good distance down the street, he grabbed both of your shoulders and forced you to face him once again. Away from the well-lit area of the ice rink, the only light that shone in the middle of the dark night was that of the street lights. With bated breath, you looked up at your friend with your mouth closed tightly so that the sob in your chest wouldn’t come barging past your lips.

The pain was nearly unbearable. It anguished you, knowing that you were stupid enough to think that you could eventually move on from Jungkook. It pained you, being aware of the fact that Taehyung had offered himself to you and you did nothing but continue to look at Jungkook.

But most of all, it hurt that you still wanted Jungkook.

If only you could reach into your chest and tear your heart out so that you couldn’t feel anymore. If only you could shut off your feelings so that it didn’t agonize you like this. If only it were that easy.

Under the light of the street lamps with Taehyung’s look of pity- the one he held as he looked at you across the club on that dreadful night those few years ago- on you, you broke.

As you began sobbing, Taehyung pulled you against his body and backed up into the darkness to give you the privacy to cry without being seen.

The pain stabbed your heart repeatedly; quick blows, shallow at first, became increasingly deep as you drowned in the memories of what once was.

Falling so passionately in love became your biggest regret. For so long, you hated the idea. You hated the fact that you still loved Jungkook notwithstanding the things he had done. You denied the fact until you started seeing the good memories again- until it was an unavoidable and objective truth.

The truth that you still loved him.

As Taehyung held you tightly in his embrace while you held your hands to your face and dug your nails into your skin, you sobbed uncontrollably at how completely and royally fucked you were.

“W-why-” You blubbered into your palms. “-why do I-I still lo-ove him?”

“Because your heart wants what it wants, Y/N. You have no control over that.”

At this point, you had to tell him how you felt- how you truly felt.

“I w-wish that it wa-anted you. I’m so sorry, T-Tae.”

“Hey, now. Don’t say that. It’s a waste of time to wish for things that you have no control over. Don’t waste a wish on something stupid like that.” Taehyung pressed his face to the top of your head, pressing his lips there to leave a small kiss. “Besides, I have someone waiting for me back home so you don’t need to worry anymore.”

Instantly, you looked up at him in shock while still hiccuping. “You do?”

“Of course.” Taehyung laughed warmly, smiling down at you. “I wasn’t gonna be stuck on you forever. One way or another, you move on.”

“It’s been years since I’ve even seen him, Tae. The fact that I still haven’t moved on despite that has to tell you something.”

“Which is why I told you that you still need to talk to him. You can’t move on or do anything about the way you feel unless you communicate it.” He pulled back to bend his body to become eye-level with you so that he could look you in the eyes as he spoke. “There’s things you don’t know.”

For a moment, you weighed his words in your mind. If they’re things that Taehyung can’t tell you because they’re ‘not his place’ to say, then you figure that the matter must be a serious one. Your curiosity was getting the best of you. It wasn’t long before you gave in.

“Yeah…” You trailed off in hesitation, suddenly regretting shutting out Jungkook. “I guess I do need to talk to him.”

“Please just… take your time and be patient with him.” Taehyung winced slightly. “He’s hot-headed but he’s a lot better than he was before. I promise you that.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Taehyung.” You scowled as you backed out of his embrace.

“You know I don’t. I would never suggest that you talk to him if he was the same as he was before.”

A few beats of silence passed before you asked the question that had been nagging at your mind since your revelation of remaining love for the lead singer of BTS.

“Do you think we still have a chance?”

Taehyung answered immediately. “That’s not my place to judge. All I know is that you guys did something sad like being broke up even though you had life.”

“Good god, Tae,” You huffed out a laugh. “Are you quoting Lil Dicky right now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Taehyung crossed his arms and let out a small ‘hmph’ as he lightly stomped his foot onto the sidewalk. “And you can’t stop me.”

For a while, Taehyung let you catch your breath and calm down while looking up and down the street. It seemed as if he was planning something.

Before you could process what he was doing, Taehyung took you by your arm, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and began walking across the street. You looked up in the direction of your path and noticed that you were heading towards the quaint coffee shop that seemed to be the only open place at the current hour.

Your eyes hurt from crying. Your chest ached from sobbing and hiccuping. Your heart and head hurt as they came to blows with each other. You were slowly beginning to freeze as the calming of your emotions slowed your heart and cooled your body. It was so fucking cold.

You could use a coffee right about now.

~#~

Thank you for reading, reader! If you’d like to check out the rest of my work, feel free to visit my Masterlist!

279 notes · View notes

betweentheracks · 4 years ago

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Hello and yay for this blog!!! I have a question :D. If a certain Chinese star were to wear jeans that say "my cock is gluten free" and "pull me down and fuck me," do you think his stylist would have chosen this knowingly, or do you think it's possible they just were like "hmm english words looks good" and didn't bother to look up the meaning? If they did know the meaning, would they have likely informed the star? Very desperate for the thought process behind this Choice hehehe. Thank you!

Ah, I was wondering hoping if I would get asked about those infamous jeans and here you are!

First and foremost; the following is all speculation from my experiences in the business and is wholly subjective.

It isn’t impossible that they weren’t aware of what was written on the jeans, but it also isn’t all that likely either. When you pull up these jeans on the Dsquared2 site there’s a listing of what is doodled and written on the jeans and it’s not something that would be overlooked by neither stylist nor client.

That said, Yibo does know some English and while he may not have known these words exactly, there’s more than enough ways of discerning their meaning. I would also bet half a year of my salary that his stylist would have known what was written here, or any number of personnel that works with them for that matter. I would also take into consideration that even if the jeans had slipped by all these people that may or may not have had the ability to see what was all over them, some of Yibo’s fellow idols should have (looking at you specifically, Seungyoun).

Setting this aside for a moment, I’ll go into who I think is responsible for the jeans being worn to begin with - Wang Yibo himself is the likely culprit.

Why do I think this? There’s many reasons but most are inconsequential while two points frame the scene as I see it.

This is markedly not a choice a stylist would make. Stylists, at the end of it all, are employees and therefore it shouldn’t be too surprising to know we have rules in place we must abide no matter if we are working outside the purview of the company we are housed under. Even when we work exclusively with a client, we are still taking the name of our company as well as our own with us and are operating as an extension of the brand the company promotes and promises. I don’t know of any company here (and I live in rather free faring place which welcomes eccentricities, mind) that would allow these jeans to be submitted as part of a pitch to either buy or borrow unless they were very specifically in line with a client’s public image and style. Technically these jeans would classify as offensive and profane which means they would invite trouble and cause a stir. While stylists are not associated much with the PR side of things we are still essentially a team playing for the same client - this selection, if gone badly, would be like asking for lightning to strike twice in one place at the same time. If a scandal amounted from them PR would have to handle it and that means the stylist would come under fire for making such a bold and risky choice, most especially with a younger client that thus far didn’t have the sort of image one would think to associate with jeans such as these.

The second reason is that, from what I can tell, this is in line with Yibo’s personality. He’s very serious about style and engages with it as he does most things; by overtaking it completely and rebranding it to suit him to the point that it makes one wonder if the style wasn’t designed with him in mind. He makes full use of what fashion is all about at it’s core; expression. These jeans in particular would have suited the Yibo of the time he wore them (2018, if I remember right?) as he was trying to break away from the image he held as a pretty boy with demure and soft looks which held the shock value of being in such contrast with his dancing and rapping. He’s mentioned before that he doesn’t really like being “cute/sy” and having to do things in the way of that since it’s not true to who he feels he is. Which, honestly, a lot of idols and stars go through this experience where they no longer wish to be constrained by the persona they play for the public and one of the most impactful means of going about it is to address the styling since it is the focal point of public image.

The Dsquared2 jeans don’t only say “my cock is gluten free,” there’s actually quite a lot to them and I think it would help if more were aware of it so here’s the description of them on the website:

D Squared Limited Edition Jeans. Sexy Twist Printed Low Rise. Fun, Evil Boy, Love Sucks, Pull Me Down, Open Me, Unzip, Buttons, Wine Is My Water, Tic Tac Toe, Dean & Dan, Sex, Gluten Free Cock, Hot Patches

The jeans actually say “pull me down and fuck me” right there on the ass, but naturally they can’t list the expletives in the marketing. Not strictly important to this post, but still worth mentioning given the hushed treatment of what the placement of such words could easily imply and the effect that could have had.

Anyway, the bit that is very telling in my opinion is that “evil boy” tag. I’m not terribly certain due to having never been fortunate enough to work with these jeans myself and the internet only has so many pictures from so many angles, but “evil boy” is either written somewhere (which I think is the case since there’s devil horns present as well) or they’re being promoted as such for aesthetic value. Regardless, I am fairly certain this would be the feature which caught Yibo’s eye. It’s on brand for someone seeking to shatter the conceptual ideal of being naive, innocent, youthful, or soft.

The jeans as a whole fit with Yibo’s sense of humor, as I’ve seen it at least. He lost his mind and fell into full laughter and hysterics over a dick joke, not even minding that he was being filmed or anything. He was still laughing about it even after the other hosts had moved beyond it, making them circle back around to it and in turn making it all the more hilarious for him to enjoy. You can see it clearly in the bts footage from the CQL set that he enjoys being mischievous and stirring things up and having a good time.

This is who he is, I believe, and it makes a lot of sense for him to have made this stylistic choice and then either convince his stylist to let him run with it or change out at the last second. Both of these are possible, though one of them is less probable than the other given how tricky it actually would be to sneak a wardrobe alteration past the many people that make up the staffing roster for any events, and then to be able to change in the limited time frame available between exiting the dressing room to being in the public sphere would be one in a thousand. Much simpler to goad your stylist into being lenient enough to give you free reign over your own styling - we can only hold out and say no when the grounds for it are met, which this wouldn’t have done in all likelihood - and most of the time we build up a good enough relationship and rapport with clients that we end up doting on them a bit and heed their requests when we can.

That’s all from me on this token moment in Yibo’s very stacked fashion history. Thanks for asking!

Furthermore, there’s the third possibility that this wasn’t a styling choice whatsoever. Or at least not one that involved the stylist in any real regard. It is very plausible that this was just Yibo in his own clothes, having dressed down after the main events wound down. I’ve never actually watched to see what that night looked like overall, but from the videos I have seen it looked to me like the actual do had passed and they were all just goofing around and having their own dance competitions and such when he was wearing them. I can’t say for sure that he did or did not have them on for the whole thing or if they were his own self packed casual wear. In which case it would fall back to his studio to tend to since stylists generally don’t hold authority over personal clothing choices and only ever have a hand in it when it is expressly stated in contracts or temporary clauses, and it just isn’t too common anymore.

Worth a quick mention for means of distinction, here in the US this choice wouldn't have raised many eyebrows no matter if it was chosen by an artist or a stylist. The only reason I feel it necessary to say this is simply because this is not so in China and that alone lends context to the controversy of these jeans. In the scope of conservatism these jeans are outrageous and I think that a stylist would steer clear of utilizing them at all if they value their job. This is why I don't consider it likely at all that Yibo and his stylist collaborated to make use of these jeans as a way to shake away the remnants of his pretty boy aesthetic.

#wang yibo #dsquared2 #racks asks

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jq37 · 3 years ago

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The Report Card – Fantasy High: The Seven Ep 3

Let’s Split Up and Look for Clues!

Welcome back to the Seven and the Museum of Adventuring. My previous pronouncement of combat was a little premature but hold tight, we’ll get there. For now, we’re back with Antiope who just saw a glimpse of the Ending of Things (aka, Ending) and is freaking out a bit. She tells the others and they all do various checks to see what they can find out.

Ostentatia casts Commune With City and clocks that there is some kind of abjuration shield magic on the government buildings in town, stopping them from being spied on. She also clocks some lingering undead-ish magic and a weird divination effect on Antiope, specifically on the Aguefort logo of her jacket, like someone scryed on her and just got that she had something to do with Aguefort. At this, Penny reminds her that the only true piece of info they gave Ending when they broke her out is that they were from Aguefort.

Sam with a 19 Insight still feels the connection she and Ant have with Ending because of their spells turned against them in the initial encounter. Yelle does a Perception check (27) and once again doesn’t really get bad, dreadful, menacing vibes. But also, she recognizes that she’s chill with a lot of things most people don’t love.

Antiope reiterates that she texted Charity that she’s interested in the internship so she can learn more info--even better now that they know the buildings are safe from scrying. Yelle remembers Aguefort’s warning about people watching them and Sam asks Zelda if her “weird boyfriend” (“he’s actually really cool”) is friends with the elven oracle. Zelda says yeah, they’re both friends with Adaine, she can ask about any weird divination stuff. Sam makes sure to specify she should look into TK but NOT Ending, no doubt remembering what happened when she tried to do a spell on her.

It’s been a big day as Zelda says so they all go to the TGIF-esque Slappy McFinnigans to celebrate (which Sam has problems with--the fact that they’re celebrating I mean, but she’s mainly ignored). They’re quickly kicked out because Katja can’t help herself from trying to brush the mane of their centaur server and they reconvene at the more their speed SlamBurger, where a horse can fully destroy a soda machine to absolutely zero reaction. Zelda says that Ostentatia was right in that they should all do the quest because it doesn’t close any doors and they have the 2 weeks to figure things out. They all seem a bit more on the same page (though Sam is still pretty frosty towards Ant) and start making plans.

Before they leave, Yelle pulls aside Ant and Sam and says hey, first of all, you two are still linked to Ending from before. Second of all, I know y’all are Going Through It right now and you don’t have to talk about it or make up right away but you need to get your heads in the game and you need to know that you’re both loved and still family.

Penny, Zelda, Katja, and Ostentatia go back to the museum to try and get more information for their quest. Katja goes to the information desk (horse in tow, of course) and just starts asking information about TK. She’s told that she’s one of the museum’s benefactors and has been missing for years, and hey, do you understand that a museum’s info desk is about where the water fountains and exhibits are, not just random information about the world?

Ostentatia bails her out by calling her over so she can do her plan which is just to walk into the back area like she owns the place. Now, Aguefort students do have a certain level of clearance to be back there and she does have her school ID. But instead of explaining that, she tried to use her Earrings of Diamond Charm to charm the employee she runs into which fails. And then she does a pretty good tag-team lie with Katja about how they NEED to pass a class but that doesn’t fly. Then Ostentatia tries flirting which ALSO doesn’t work. Zelda at this point steps in and just headbuts the dude so they can book it away. I personally would have gone with, “Do you know who we are? We killed the dragon that’s your current main exhibit,” but you know. No backseat adventuring.

While this is happening, Penny is stealthing like a pro, looking for anything Arcana related. Ostentatia and Katja also did checks (O getting a nat 20) and we’ll go through all their info gathered now.

Katja basically gets info on TK we kind of already knew. She was a benefactor of the museum. She’s centuries old like Aguefort. She was concerned with consciousness and divinity and specifically how will and divine will manifested, as well as elemental magic.

Ostentatia gets a lot of info with her Nat 20. She gets a full map to the temple where TK went which is called the Temple of Earth Defiant. The point of the temple is that it’s up in the open air and harsh winds--wind being a symbol of chaos and unpredictability to dwarves--but they still use it as a place to honor their heroes and they rebuild and upkeep it despite the erosion and how hard it is to get there. It’s hallowed from evil and lots of stories about it involve heroes racing there for sanctuary. It was made by dwarves but it’s a pilgrimage site for other primordial beings like goliaths and earth genasi (which is what TK is). There are 3 heroes who have big statues here: Asha Hammerheart (a SUPER dope name I must say), Yvonna of the Sundering Hills , and Kora Ironbrow.

Penny finds that, amongst Kalvaxus’s hoard there were 7 unrecovered artifacts--the Mirrors of the Eidolons (which are the smashed mirrors they found it seems). Eidelons are kind of like the elemental plane version of angels/celestials. They’re primordial (remember Katja saw primordial language on the wall of the dragon cave) and kind of aligned with things like titans and genies. Raw element with no agenda (unlike celestials and demons and such which have a clear alignment which makes up the D&D religious system). It is said by wizards--who look at these things in more of a nuts and bolts way than say clerics who take the fuzzier religions view--that Eidolons are the hands of the gods because gods are beings of spirit--how could they form the physical world. Will of the divine manifested by elemental beings? Sounds right up TK’s alley.

Sam decides she’s desperate enough for information that she calls her mom who she is understandably snippy with. Her mom gives her a contact to talk to when she asks about TK but Sam stonewalls her on show business talk. She tries to play the “mother knows best, you’ll thank me later,” in a kind of Gothel-y way while acting like anything in the past never happened and says Sam is attacking her but when Sam accuses her of neglect, she proves her right by hanging up the phone.

Sam then calls the number and it turns out to be Lola Embers (Fig’s agent) who has been waiting for Sam’s call for ages and wants to talk to her, even though she’s currently chasing her dog across the park. She says she met TK once at a genasi woman networking thing and also says she once saw Charity get into an argument with TK over government funding or not getting a grant or something similar. She then says she’s in a lake trying to get her dog and Sam, being a water genasi who can breathe underwater and also a fundamentally good person even though she’s currently being aggro as hell, goes to the park to help her. Lola assures her that if she’s ready, she’ll help her get new acting gigs and that the world is ready for the new her.

Yelle meanwhile casts Speak With Plants on some trees near TK’s office and, after a super stoner to stoner conversation, gets a magical footprint trail of where she ran off to when she absconded 12 years ago.

Antiope (who is in a sports bra because she destroyed her top with the Aguefort logo since that’s what was pinged, revealing in a wild, nat-1 fueled retcon that she got a tramp stamp reading “Leader” in the Red Waste) goes to see Charity to fill out some paperwork, ingratiate herself, and perhaps get some info. Charity has her hot, young, assistant (who Antiope is instantly crushing on) give Ant his shirt (and Charity’s lack of surprise at seeing his 4 horses pulling a chariot tattoo makes the group think they’re def banging). She kind of explains what the Ministry does and Antiope boils it down a bit to snitching on other adventurers. Charity says it’s more of a who watches the watchmen situation and visibly twitches when she has to say the word “snitch”.

When she takes a second to call Antiope’s dad, she accidentally leaves a tab open on her computer which has TK’s file open (probably up from when the Maidens asked about her earlier). Antiope sneaks a peek and learns that the artifact that TK stole is called the Legendarium Extrodia and it tracks quests. It seems that at some point TK must have had top level access to get her hands on it. It also shows that TK was marked for assassination (which seems like a pretty good reason to get the heck out of dodge). Brennan also says she’s learned enough that she can use the L.E. if she finds it.

At this point, Yelle tells everyone to come back ASAP so they can follow the magic footsteps. Antiope wants to come but doesn’t want to burn bridges with Charity (or chances with Preston--equally important) so she, at Katja’s suggestion--pretends to have diarrhea and is Nat 20 convincing. Interesting choice for the end of the first meeting with a person you’re crushing on. But Preston is actually pretty supportive as she races out the door as fast as possible.

The Seven follow the footsteps out of Solace and it becomes clear that TK was headed to the dwarven temple Ostentatia learned about. This is a multi-day journey so Cinnamon sings a glorious, magical, horse song and summons mounts for everyone which I will now name because this is obviously the most important part of the episode:

Snowfire - Danielle

Taffodill - Sam

Alagonia - Antiope

Candyheart - Penny

Starforge - Ostentatia

Strawberry Dancer - Zelda

Crucial info.

As they travel, Antiope casts Primeval Awareness and gets that there is something ancient in the mountain. They travel through Pilgrim’s Pass (a village area most travelers to the temple pass through) but find it completely razed to the ground. They investigate.

With an 18 Survival check, Antiope finds tracks that seem halfway between dog and cat. There are more than 4 legs and it’s hard to tell how old they are because there’s not a lot of rain in the area. They could have been left long ago and been undisturbed. Regardless, these are clearly from monstrosities. On a 26 History Check, Katja knows that this area used to be protected by Blink Dogs (teleporting dogs) but they seem to be all gone now. On a 22 Nature check, Yelle sees a weird feather made out of plant material. It seems like fae stuff but bad vibes. On an 18 Insight check, Sam knows this was a purposeful slaughter.

And on Penny’s 30 Arcana check, oh boy. Penny finds broken common scrawled on the wall in human blood talking about a queen of the mountain who rules the skies. That only the queen may see and none may see themselves. And that the people were told to destroy the seeing glass and did not obey. In from of that message is a bear hide covering something magic. Penny lifts it with reckless abandon and sees tons of mirror shards.

Friendship bracelets! She thinks.

Gotcha bitch, the thing in the mirror says.

Uh-oh.

Penny calls over her friends to let them knows she may have made a tiny mistake. The group is pretty split between, “Understandable,” and “Girl, WHAT?” In her defense, she did try to cast Friends on the person on the other side of the mirror shards but that’s not enough to stop an entire pack of 50-60 Displacer Beast (magic tentacle cats)/Blink Dog hybrid monstrosities along with the Harpy Queen (voice from the mirror) and her plant feathered harpy minions to start rapidly making their way to their location.

It is at this point that Ostentatia remembers that abominations and monstrosities cannot step into the temple which means it’s time to RUN.

And NOW it’s combat time.

The premise of this fight is that the girls are on their horses, moving towards the center of the temple as fast as they can while fending off the closest enemies. I won’t give an exact play by play but the two highlights are as follows:

Yelle conjures up a bunch of geese with raptor stats (...so normal geese) to swarm the head cat/dog abomination and has to do a truly stunning amount of math for which she is rewarded with SEVENTY POINTS OF DAMAGE.

Antiope does some insane arrow trickery and gets the Queen Harpy in the wing (which Ostentatia helpfully gets on video so she can show Preston later) and then forces her to take damage as she falls. If not for an extremely lucky Box of Doom nat 20, she may have been down for the count. Antiope still comes away with more than FIFTY points of damage on her though.

And we end the episode mid-combat! We will catch up on our girls next time!

Superlatives

Penny: Most Likely to Make Friends During a Hostage Situation

As a companion to Danielle’s superlative last episode, Penny gets this award for reading or misreading every situation as an opportunity to make friends or make friendship bracelets for the ones she already has.

Random Thoughts

Did you guys notice that with Katja having Cinnamon and Charity’s assistant being Preston, that’s two of the main pet NPCs from A Crown of Candy?

Antiope’s Reaction to Yelle Saying That Maybe Things Ending Isn’t So Bad: Rail against the dying of the light! Why are you OK with this?

Penny’s Reaction to Yelle Saying That Maybe Things Ending Isn’t So Bad: Entropy is TERRIBLE! Everything needs order!

The greasy cashier’s response to Ostentatia’s flirty, “Come here often?” is “To my job? Honestly no.” Brennan? Chef’s kiss.

My other fave line this episode is from Sam. “I believe Cinnamon fucks.”

It’s very cute that Penny is like, “I gotta text Riz about this Eidelon stuff!” Not because she wants help. Just so they can geek out together.

The joke that Brennan didn’t think about the birds is so funny considering all the bird facts in Misfits.

Also re Birds attacking: “They made a movie about this Brennan!”

Good on Ant for refusing an Aguefort sweatshirt from Charity when offered after the little scrying incident before. Remembering things like this saves lives.

It has been brought up several times that Ending isn’t necessarily Bad just Ancient and Powerful and I trust Yelle’s vibe check but also, like, a forest fire doesn’t have malice behind it but it can still devastate a city while it clears out dead trees that need to be cleared, you know? Not ready to start wild speculation yet but I am curious. And am similarly curious about the sisters Ending has mentioned. Oh and the parallels of 7 Maidens, 7 mirrors. It’s all there, we just need a little more info.

Honestly, get you a man who will see you rushing out of a building, loudly claiming to have diarrhea, and instead of being grosses out will just supportively confess his own stomach issues. I wish he was just a little younger cause I want that for Ant.

I do like that D20 has been playing a little more fast and loose with the RP ep/combat ep format. I think it really helps with story flow.

In this episode Antiope and Brennan as various non-Zelda NPCs rolled 2 Nat 20s. O rolled one. Ant rolled 1 Nat 1--which was on a self imposed roll to see how she responded to Sephie’s tramp stamp improv. And O may have rolled one for initiative also but I wasn’t sure.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fantasy high #the seven #spoilers #sorry this is a little late #life happens

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hoodoo12 · 4 years ago

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Doll (1/2)

More Robo Fizz s-m-u-t you thirsty, thirsty people.

NSFW

@go-commander-kim @monsterlovinghours @mimiscappinisideblog @jester-junk @jesterfestivle @beetlebitchywitch @realmonsterboyhours @yankyo

Enjoy!`

You didn’t show it to anybody, and you definitely didn’t keep it out for anyone to see if they ever came over to your tiny one room flat, but you had an old Robo Fizz doll. It was a hold over from your imphood, and it had been your favorite toy. A constant companion when you were young, the doll was now ragged and worn; not only was the colorful costume discolored and his face a grimy grey, but Robo Fizz had had multiple repairs in uneven stitching, and his left shoulder cap no longer had a frowning face. You’d rubbed it off with your thumb because you wanted him to always be happy.

Now his plush limbs were lumpy from where the stuffing had clumped and flaccid in spots where the stuffing had settled elsewhere. Any original texture was threadbare. You didn’t care, you still occasionally cuddled it when sleep didn’t come easily.

None of the hundreds of Robo Fizz dolls in the window of the souvenir shop looked anything like your old doll. These were all bright and shiny and brand-spankin’ new.

Jostled repeatedly by a seemingly never ending string of the implings and their either exasperated or also overly excited parents, you finally just went along with the crowd and entered the store.

Inside was a marketing director’s wet dream. If the Robotic Fizzarolli himself had come in and vomited, it would probably look like this place. Robo Fizz merchandise was everywhere, and if it wasn’t his exact likeness, it was the colors that made up his outfit. Everything from breakfast cereal to pencils to kid’s outfits to hats to water filled globes with glitter and a tiny Robo Fizz inside to keychains to posters to . . . there was so much you could barely take it all in. You decided to stick close to the display of dolls.

They were of varying quality. The smallest were vague and minimalistic in their likeness of the star of the carnival. The larger ones had much better workmanship and one, in a glass display case, purported to be wearing a vintage costume the Robotic Fizzarolli had worn in one of his shows. The dolls that were the same as the one you had loved through your imphood were somewhere in the middle, towards the lower end.

You picked one up out of the pile. This pristine doll in your hands had pom-poms on his collar that weren’t compacted balls of felt, like yours. You’d forgotten that originally your doll had had metallic fabric edging the costume; this one’s fabric was uncracked and gleamed in the overhead lights. All of his limbs were properly stuffed. It was tempting to buy a new one. You did love your doll, and were still a fan of the Robotic Fizzarolli. But all these shiny, mass produced dolls didn’t have the personality of your well-worn and well-loved Fizzy, and it felt a little like a betrayal to buy another.

Just as you were setting the doll back on the pile, a impling shoved between you and the display. You stumbled back. The doll flew out of your hands. It landed almost back where it belonged, and you managed to keep your feet under you. No one apologized: not the impling, not his parents who were now also crowding you out as if they hadn’t seen you or, more likely, didn’t care.

You should’ve put up a fuss but it wasn’t worth it. You wandered away from the large display of toys to look at the other bobbles. Just like the dolls, some had cheap and shoddy quality, while higher end products were better made. Their price tags reflected it.

At the back of the store, near a wall rack of shirts emblazoned with his face, a doorway with a beaded curtain caught your eye.

You’d been in this gift shop at Loo Loo Land before and had never seen that door. Granted, it was when you were a young imp, and your brain had been overloaded with sugar and the joy of getting your very own Robo Fizz doll. It was partially behind the cashier’s counter, but there was no sign that indicated it wasn’t for the public.

The imp in a smock at the register looked a combination of bored to tears and annoyed at her situation, so you didn’t feel comfortable asking about it. Out of the corner of your eye you watched two imps disappear through the door, and feeling bold, you followed.

The beaded curtain parted and one strand trailed along your horn as you went into the back room. There was a very short hallway, and a turn to the right into another room, which was why you couldn’t see anything past the initial doorway.

Inside the room was another plethora of Robo Fizz merchandise.

However, there were no implings, only adults, and the few customers there, although excited, all seemed to keep their glee subdued.

Looking to your right, your eyes widened at the wall display of dildos in various shapes and sizes, all their packaging proclaiming they all were authentic Robo Fizz replicas, exactly like the original Robo Fizz’s assortment of phalluses. Past that display was a large selection of bdsm products, including handcuffs that mimicked Robo Fizz’s cuffs, and whips that looked segmented, possibly to look like tentacles? You weren’t exactly sure.

In front of you were standing racks of clothing again, but these were lingerie, all designed as riffs his jester’s outfit. A couple was looking through them; one skimpy bra and panty set was held up and they both seemed pleased it was in her size.

There were piles of lollipops molded like his tongue, tentacles, and again, various cocks. A huge shelf of DVDs all had Robo Fizz on the cover, each touting to provide a different sexual fantasy.

Along the far wall, there was another large display of dolls.

Like in the front of the store, you were drawn to them.

Although there was still a wide assortment of size and quality, none were smaller than the one you had at home and all promised a more intimate encounter. The top of the line was a Personal Companion Robo Fizz, which you’d heard about but never had the chance to see one in person. It towered over you, looking vaguely menacing standing so still and lifeless compared to its manically boisterous original.

“It comes with a free gallon of lube. You can get a subscription to have a gallon shipped to you on a monthly basis,” someone said behind you. “Uh--what?!”

An employee in a smock like the imp’s out front stepped up beside you. Nodding towards the Personal Companion, she said, “You buy it, it comes with the first gallon of lube. You might need more, if he’s receiving, but even if you use if more for giving, you still need some to make his tongue more pleasant. No one likes getting eaten out by a cold mechanical mouth with zero lube!”

She shuddered dramatically. You weren’t quite sure what to say. Luckily--you guessed--she continued. “He’s top of the line, of course. Everything you’ve heard on the commercial is here. He’s got the BDSM feature, has two tentacles that you can attach so you can be double penetrated and spit-roasted at the same time, has so many speeds and patterns for vibration, and is super easy to clean! There’s a standard set of phrases he can say, but he can also be programmed to call you whatever you’d prefer, like Mistress or sweetie pie, and you can add a few other personal words too. And if you upgrade to the semi-AI package, he learns your preferences and his interactions with you can be even more life-like!”

You blinked up at the Personal Companion, overwhelmed by the enthusiastic sales pitch. Even if you were interested, there was no way you could afford it. Maybe, if they offered rental of him, you could swing half an hour, but more likely only fifteen minutes.

You thanked her and told her it was out of your price range and made to move away. She grabbed your arm and pulled you down the line of dolls. “I get it. A Personal Companion is expensive. But there are lots of other options!”

The grip she had on your arm was relentless, just like her sales talk. She gave you the specs and features of each type of doll available. They all had different attributes, some only vibrated, some had interchangeable cocks, some were designed for imps who preferred to penetrate. Several of the middle to high end dolls had a ‘sparking’ feature for a more authentic experience. All of them were machine washable.

Despite yourself, you began to think maybe you did want a new doll.

You still couldn’t afford something fancy. There was one type that was similar in shape and size to your old Fizzy, but came with a single cock folded up under his costume. It had a bit of a heft to him, and the sales clerk told you it was because of the motor--it didn’t have thrusting gears, but did have three different vibration settings. The price was slightly higher than you expected so you hemmed and hawed, but with the sales clerk smiling encouragingly, you decided to buy it.

“Excellent! Listen, since you’re a first time customer I’ll throw in a voice chip for you. Free of charge.”

You nodded your thanks, and followed her to the register to ring it up. She made sure the “adult” attributes of the doll were tucked away and the button was off, and it looked like any other innocuous Robo Fizz doll in the gift shop’s bag. She also tucked a tiny bottle of lube into the bag for you too, another free gift.

She thanked you for your purchase and you went back out into the main room of the shop, clutching your special Loo Loo Land souvenir to your chest.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Robo Fizz #Robo Fizz x reader #robotic fizzarolli #helluva boss #helluva fizzarolli

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animedaddymilkers · 4 years ago

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Kinkmas 2020: Day 21

Prompt: Yandere/Spanking w/ Inoichi

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Yandere, Mutual Pining, Implied Stalking, Mild Dubcon, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Aftercare || Characters: Inoichi Yamanka, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

this fic contains yandere and mild dubcon themes, if that makes you uncomfortable please do not read!

With a content sigh, you unlocked the front door to your apartment, a slight fuzziness blurring your vision and limbs thanks to the alcohol coursing through your veins. Your keys were discarded into the cutesy trinket tray, your shoes kicked off into the ever-growing pile nearby. The date was an okay one, nothing extremely exciting but, hey, he was cute and it was a fun time. It may have sounded obnoxious when said out loud, but no men your age interested you. Not like you didn't give a plethora of them chances, and you still made friends with most of them. You just never seemed to form that romantic attachment you craved so desperately. What that said about your mental health wasn't totally lost on you, but not like you could (or wanted) to do a whole lot about it.

The sweater covering your shoulders was thrown onto a chair, your constricting belt quickly following as you made your way to your bedroom. At first, you didn't notice it, didn't notice anything at all. You simply continued walking on past the kitchen and living room, into your bedroom where you stripped your shirt and pants off. Trudging back out to the bathroom in your underwear and bra, your brows furrowed. You didn't remember turning one of the lights on… Chalking it up to the kitchen stove light you always left on, you continued your mission of brushing your teeth and face. When you came back out of the bathroom, you headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, freezing when you saw a figure sitting in one of your chairs, contently reading a book.

"S-Sir?!" the big kitchen light was on, illuminating the stoic face of one of Konoha's strongest shinobi.

The older blond man placed his book down, seeming annoyed it took you this long to notice him before he started with a huff, "I pay all my employees well, even ones as low down on the ladder as you. One would think that allows for better locks. And it's about time you arrived home, considering you have work tomorrow, no?"

Confusion was about the only emotion you could feel as your boss all but scolded you, besides the dull horny you always felt when it came to the man in front of you, though you suppressed that part for now, "Better wha- What the hell are you doing in my house?!"

Inoichi stood slowly, towering over you and making you regret the harsh tone you used, "Because it seems you forgot whom you belong to, dearest rosebud."

Besides the fact that his reply gave you more questions than answers, you silently gasped at the pet name he used. It was the same pet name your secret admirer had been using for you. You never saw the constant flower bouquets, food deliveries, or expensive gifts as harmful. They were, if anything, an ego boost to you thus far. All delivered to you with the sweetest notes, describing how ethereal you were, and always addressing you as rosebud, albeit also sounding a bit possessive. Additionally, in the six months, you had been receiving gifts, you hadn't been on any dates, instead choosing to focus on your new career supporting the Torture and Interrogation Department. A career that found you moving up the ladder fast, though you were still just doing menial tasks. Briefly, you wondered how much Inoichi had to do with those promotions, but he took a step towards you, cupping your face in his hand, and tore you from your thoughts.

"I think it's about time you come home. To your true home, don't you?"

Your heart thumped loudly in your throat and you nodded against your better judgment, "I do."

The smile you were met with sent a warm tingle through your body, and you returned a smile of your own. Inoichi nodded and picked his book up from the table, his other hand patting the top of your head. The silent praise had your chest swelling with pride for some reason unknown to you. It should have alarmed you how easily you accepted his offer, though you rationalized that you didn't have much choice, fearing that if you rejected him the trained ninja would take you anyways. Better to go willingly than be taken by force, right? Well, that and you were still a bit tipsy.

Before long, you were tucked snugly into the side of the blond man, his arm wrapped protectively around you. The route to his home was longer than it should have been, you suspected he was purposely avoiding the main streets. Being a high ranking shinobi taking a girl home during the early hours of the morning would raise questions. Especially a girl that worked under him. His warm touch was protecting you from the cold and the smell of his expensive cologne was intoxicating. It had you snuggling into his side more, an act which made him smile, he knew his rosebud wouldn't deny him. This definitely proved you deserved a present larger than anything he gifted you previously.

The Yamanaka clan complex was expansive and the main house was nothing to sneeze at either, easily dwarfing your apartment several times over. He led you inside, showing you around and you took notice of how similar his place was to yours. Not in the layout or big furniture pieces, but he had the same type of napkins, your favorite drinks, even your shampoo in his bathroom which you assumed was his daughter's. It didn't dawn on you until he took you on a tour of his room just how deep you were in. In his room, you found clothing that was unmistakably yours, items that had gone missing months ago and some just last week. They ranged from shirts and leggings to underwear and even a pillowcase. You tried not to take note of how some pieces were stained with white spots. Uneasiness began to grow in your gut as you wondered what exactly you had gotten yourself into when your phone buzzed with a notification. You pulled it out, only to have Inoichi take it from you and punch in your passcode.

His face soured, "You really think that lowlife deserves a second date? Before you give me even <em>one</em>? Disgusting."

Your date from earlier must have texted back after you replied you wanted to see him again. He was about to slide your phone onto the dresser when it began to ring. If the scowl on his face told you anything, it was, unfortunately, your date calling. The guy did say he preferred talking over text and at the time, you didn't mind, but now, it was really rather annoying.

"Answer it. Reject him. Reject him like you know you want to," the direction was clear and stern, leaving no room for discussion as he thrust the phone in your direction.

Nervously, you took the device from him and answered the call. Rejecting someone, in general, was an anxiety-inducing task, but to have an overbearing admirer glare you down while doing so was all the more nerve-wracking. Your voice wavered slightly as you talked and although Inoichi still frowned, his hands played through your hair, skimming the ends of your locks. The guy on the other end was rightfully confused while you explained you never wanted to see him again because just an hour ago you texted you were looking forward to it. Part of you hoped he would pick up on the odd behavior and come after you, but the realistic part of your brain told you the boy was too daft and a measly coward. The opposite of the man in front of you.

Once the call was complete the smile returned to the blonde's face, "Good flower! I knew you wanted to be with me. But-," his face fell again, a look of complete seriousness that made you swallow hard, "I can't forgive your little indiscretion. Not yet. It seems you need a punishment to truly remind you of whom you belong to, rosebud."

Your face grew cold at the implications, yet still, you allowed Inoichi to lead you towards the bed. He sat on the edge and patted his expansive thighs, hardened with all the training he did. You should be refusing, should be running far, far away from this situation. But, it was too tempting. How many times does the man you fantasize about return your affections so vigorously? Additionally, a spanking from him sounded like time well spent and you did deserve it for trying to date someone else when you were meant for him. You laid yourself across his legs, the pants you haphazardly put on before leaving being tugged down to your knees. His hands caressed your backside, massaging your ass cheeks before giving a playful swat to them.

"Count them. If you lose count we start over. We'll stop when I think you've learned your lesson. Got it?"

You nodded before squeaking out a, "Yes, daddy."

The name seemed to both please and shock the man, as his hand stalled in mid-air before he grinned. Then, he brought his hand down to your cheek, prompting you to call out the number. A second smack was quick to follow onto the other cheek along with a third, his hands only stalling to hear you mutter out the number. Thankfully, he was merciful in his technique, alternating cheeks and making sure to smack the untouched parts of your backside. A couple even landed harshly on your folds, the wetness gathering there only intensifying the pleasure-pain you felt. After spank thirty, it was hard to find an area that wasn't welting up, and so he went over the areas he already smacked. It made it all the more sensitive as your legs jerked slightly and hands clutched at the comforter beneath you. Your ass was raw and bleeding slightly in a few places, yet still, his hands struck you, enjoying each conflicted whine that left your mouth.

At fifty, you prayed he would be finished, but he kept on spanking, making sure to land more smacks over your pussy. He'd make comments that were a mix of degrading praise about how wet you were for him and how well he was going to fuck you. The promise of being railed by the ever-growing hard-on beneath you was the only thing keeping you from begging him to stop. You were determined to be a good girl for your daddy, despite the burning pain you felt on your rear. Somewhere in the midst of the sixties, you actually came on his hand after he smacked your pussy again, earning rumbling praise from the man above you. Finally, at seventy-five, he stopped, most likely because his hands were sore at this point too. Your reprieve was capitalized by him affectionately rubbing and massaging your abused cheeks as if it pained him to hurt you. Without restraint, you whined into his chest as he held you, hips grinding down against his.

He laughed softly and kissed along your jaw, "Have you learned your lesson? Are you ready to accept me as your one and only?"

"Yes, I've learned my lesson, daddy. You're the only one I want in my life. Now and always, please never leave me," you held onto his shirt as you locked gazes with him, your best puppy dog eyes on display.

They worked their intended magic, as you could see his expression soften almost immediately, "Good little blossom. I'll never leave your side and you'll never leave mine. Especially not after we become one, petal."

The notion was intoxicating, being loved by someone so much they'd do anything for you. But right now, the love you needed was physical and with the goal dangling right above your head, you were desperate to reach it. Your hands slid under his shirt and peeled it off, your own being removed soon after. Within a flash, you both were naked and kissing each other feverishly. Inoichi laid back on the bed's pillows, admiring the sight of you perched atop him. You didn't mind being on top, taking the advantage to push his cock into you quickly. As you sank down on him, his hands stroked up and down your thighs, giving a testing thrust up into you. You sat on his cock as much as your body would allow and without hesitation, began to bounce yourself on him. He sighed in pleasure as you wrapped around him so perfectly, telling you he expected nothing less from his perfect rosebud. The praise drove you wild, finally getting the recognition you deserved, albeit in the form of compliments on your sex technique.

When your thigh muscles began to clam up from overuse he laid your body down on top of him. His thick arms wrapped around your torso and he wasted little time in thrusting up into you. Hands caressed your shoulders and he locked gazes with you, unable to tear his eyes away from your face. In the midst of your passionate throes, Inoichi couldn't help but get lost in your otherworldly beauty, only the noises you made and the movement of his hips kept him grounded. It felt like your pussy was made for him, wrapping around him so perfect and driving him insane, he had trouble restraining himself from fucking into you harder. His lips met yours fiercely, kissing and holding onto you like you might disappear at any time. You put a hand on his cheek as you kissed him back and snaked a hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit. Though, your hand was soon removed, being replaced by one of Inoichi's, who explained he was determined to be the one who pleased you. As if you'd have any qualms about that.

His surprisingly smooth fingertips rubbed at your clit and with the constant feeling of his cock pounding against your cervix, you quickly came a second time. Yet still, his fingers kept moving, only stopping for a brief moment to let you ride out your high. The look on his face let you know he was close to orgasm himself, the blush covering his cheeks made your own heat up. Seeing the older blond man so lost in ecstasy, lost in your body, was absolutely pussy clenching. He groaned and held onto you tighter, his face burying into your neck as he moaned your name. The number of times you imagined him calling out your name in pleasure had absolutely nothing on the real thing. You whined into his chest and dug your nails into his shoulder, relishing in the way his cock pounded into your hole, hitting the same spot over and over. Every little thing was mind-blowing when added together and when you heard Inoichi announce he was cumming inside of you, you easily spiraled into another orgasm of your own. You clenched around his twitching cock, milking him for all he was giving you.

After you coaxed a second orgasm from Inoichi you let him pull out, both panting hard and nearly passed out. Yet somehow, he managed to get you into the bathtub and cleaned you up, personally washing you as he whispered constant praises in your ear. You nearly fell asleep like that, if it wouldn't have been for the cold surrounding you once the water was drained. Inoichi sat you down in front of the vanity after he dried your body and affectionately brushed your hair while blow-drying it. Again, the attention and repetitive actions almost put you to sleep, your daddy coaxing you awake with kisses to your jaw. He instructed you to pick out something to wear in the closet while he waited for you in the bed. You assumed he meant to pick something of his to wear for the night, but once you entered the expansive walk-in closet, it all became a bit too clear. The wall opposite of what you assumed was Inoichi's was filled with clothes that fit your exact aesthetic. A few flips through and it confirmed, they were all in your size, some items were exact copies of things you had in your closet, others literal things that you had gone missing. The sight should have disgusted you, creeped you out, something. But looking at the wall of clothes and shoes all you could think of was how thoughtful it was of him to so thoroughly prepare for you moving in.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

#naruto #naruto x reader #kinkmas 2020 #smut #naruto smut #inoichi yamanaka #inoichi x reader #x you #reader insert #yandere #yandere x reader #mild dubcon #mutual pining #imagine

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 3

Here is the next chapter! Yay!

Words:5500

Warnings: mild swearing, possessive Ivar (maybe?), mild sexual tension, hint of violence

Series Masterlist

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius

"Korítsi, one of these days I'll convince you to take a day off." (Greek: girl)

Kari smiled as she re-tied her ponytail. Glancing over at her boss, she replied. "You would miss me too much. Besides you know I like working here."

The woman shook her head. "You need a life outside of working- friends, a lover, anything besides this studio."

"You just like listening to drama."

"I'm happily married with my dream job; I need you ladies and your drama to keep me entertained.

Kari could only laugh along with her boss. Lydia Hansen was the best boss she could ever have asked for. The woman was in her mid-thirties, settled in life and always happy with a smile on her face and a kind word to share. She also had a mischievous side where she loved listening to the drama of her female workers, many coming to her for romantic advice or to vent about relationships.

Lydia leaned forward in her chair, putting an elbow on the desk beside her as she watched Kari. Even under the fluorescent lights, Kari thought the woman looked beautiful with her naturally tanned skin, short black hair and strong Mediterranean features. Kari could not help feeling like a used ragdoll next to her.

"Why don't you come in at nine tomorrow morning, I can open the studio."

Kari turned around after grabbing her purse from her locker. "Tonight is date night for you and Nels, which means several glasses of wine and you naked in your bed. If your stories are to be believed. So I'm guessing you don't want to be here at six-thirty tomorrow morning. Really, it's fine. I don't mind opening. I do it often enough."

"And that's the problem. You've opened the majority of the time the past two weeks."

"It's only until Sasha comes back from her family's funeral." Kari reminded her.

"Fine." Lydia huffed, then pointed a finger at her. "Then you're taking time off. I'll bar you from coming to work if you try to sneak in."

"What if I want to come for classes?"

"No. I'll kick you out of my studio. Do your yoga at home. By the skies above, you are a yoga instructor yourself. Just pretend to be teaching but alone….and at home!"

The brunette smiled at her boss, knowing all of this was because Lydia actually cared for her employees. Both their physical and mental health. "No promises. Tell Nels 'hi' for me. See you tomorrow."

"Go do something fun for once!"

Kari walked out of the office, chuckling. She waved to a coworker as she passed the front entrance before stepping outside into the late afternoon sun. Checking the time on her phone, she tossed it into her teal hobo bag and slung it over her shoulder, making her way towards the bus stop. In her black leggings, sneakers and purple racerback tank top with Whole Wellness Yoga Studio printed on the front, she could not help but feel slightly out of place as she walked the streets. Though no one gave her a second glance, she always felt like a fraud as she passed others by. The location of the yoga studio she worked at was certainly in the more affluent part of the city, and it showed by the manner of businesses in proximity and the looks and clothing of those who passed her by.

At one time she had worn expensive clothing, never paying attention to price tags, but those days were in the past. Although she adored working at the yoga studio, it barely made ends meet. Lydia mentioned once promoting her in the future to a manager, which came as a surprise since Kari had only been working there for just over a year. For now though, she was content with life. Happier than she had been in a long time. Even if her life seemed boring to others, only focusing on work and what the next book or TV series to enjoy was. It was her life, her choices.

For a brief second, she paused in her walk, thinking she had heard someone call her name. Which was highly unlikely since, truthfully, she hardly knew anyone in this city. With a mental shrug, she continued on, enjoying the feeling of the sunshine on her exposed skin.

"Kari Larsen! Don't you ignore me!"

The sudden scream made the brunette freeze in place, stunned and slightly terrified. Hesitantly, she turned, scanning around to see who had yelled for her attention. Luckily, it did not take long to notice the tall, blonde wearing the thigh-high boots and white, boho dress waving like a mad woman as she leaned over the short half-railing, separating the sidewalk and the restaurant's seating.

Smiling, Kari made her way back towards the woman, who beamed at her. "Gyda! When did you get back?"

"Just yesterday. I know I say this every time but jetlag is a bitch." Gyda sighed dramatically, though her eyes twinkled in mirth. Leaning against the half-railing, she towered over Kari. On a good day, she stood just under six feet but with the short-heeled boots today, she peered down like a goddess from Valhalla surveying the lesser mortals.

"I don't know how you do it." Kari shook her head, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"Eh, you make it work." Gyda turned and peeked over her shoulder for a second before looking back at Kari. "What are you doing? Just get off work?"

"Yeah. Heading home."

"Do you want a ride?" She offered, tapping a finger along the railing.

Kari could feel the stares of the other patrons sitting outside and the wait staff, most likely wondering why someone like her was conversing with Gyda. Awkwardly, she toyed with her trusty diamond stud in her earlobe. "Not this time, but thank you. I'm sure you want to get back to your friends."

"It's just some of my many siblings and Torvi."

"Oh, you'll have to tell her I said 'hi'."

Gyda was a regular at the yoga studio when her schedule allowed. As a freelance writer, her schedule was chaotic at the best for time. Lately most of her works had been commissioned for traveling magazines, so her time coming to the studio was sporadic based on when she was in the country. It was through the studio that Gyda and Kari met. They would occasionally exchange pleasantries before or after Kari's class or in passing. Their friendship solidified only after Gyda found Kari standing at the bus stop in the cold rain months ago and offered to give her a ride home. They had met up a handful of times so Kari could hear all about the latest places Gyda visited and see the pictures she took, satisfying her own travel-wandering soul, sealing their friendship.

And through Gyda, Kari met Torvi. Though both women were at least ten years her senior, she enjoyed their presence and conversations. Torvi only came occasionally with Gyda as her guest to the yoga studio. At first, Kari was surprised when she learned they were sisters-in-law because of how close they seemed. Yet she found it refreshing, since most of her experience with family was tense to say the least. It was nice to know her own family's tendencies were not the norm.

"I will." The blonde exclaimed, her smile widening. "Oh! Do you want to meet Bjorn? I know you've heard Torvi and I talk about him enough that it's funny you haven't met him yet."

"Oh, I'd hate to interrupt…."

"Shut up. You're meeting him. Come on, I'll let you in through the main door, meet me over there." Then she spun on her heel and sashayed away, garnering a few lingering looks from nearby patrons.

If there was one thing Kari learned over the past several months of knowing Gyda, it was that the woman was head-strong and always got her way. So with an amused roll of her eyes, Kari headed around the restaurant to its main entrance just off the side of the busy sidewalk. The restaurant screamed money and prestige, something Kari learned both Gyda and Torvi had in spades. It was unnerving at first but their welcoming and kind presences help alleviate Kari's fears of being viewed as less.

Sure enough, Gyda stood waiting for her by the door. Chatting like a bird, she slipped her arm through Kari's and led her past the shocked waitstaff. The restaurant was even more impressive inside than how it appeared from the street. It was modern with a sharp black and white color scheme, tasteful and exquisite photos on the walls, and dark wood tables and chairs. Kari figured the price of a meal here was similar in cost to her monthly rent.

Gyda led her to a table that was outside in the sun, but partitioned from the street by the half-wall railing she had leaned over earlier to get Kari's attention. The brunette quickly counted five people already sitting there, apparently carrying on a lively conversation if the laughter meant anything. Before she could get a good look, Gyda directed her towards Torvi who reclined next to a man with an imposing physique and a long, blond, braided ponytail in a smart suit.

"Kari, this is my brother and Torvi's husband, Bjorn."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Kari smiled politely, taking his outstretched hand in a handshake.

"Likewise. So, you are the famous yoga instructor these two go on about?" He asked, with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "I must confess, I find yoga a peculiar activity but with it helping Torvi's flexibility while we…."

Torvi smacked his shoulder, making the men around the table laugh. "Ignore him, Kari. I don't know why I bring him out in public."

"Hey!" He pulled her closer and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. "You love me."

"Mmm…. most days."

At that point, Kari looked up to peek at the others sitting at the table, ready to greet and then head out. Except the first thing she saw was a pair of stunning blue eyes that captured her gaze. Unable to move or look away, as if he was physically restraining her with only his gaze, her heart soared and stomach dropped simultaneously.

It was only when Gyda started to introduce the others at the table that she ripped her gaze from his, all the while feeling his eyes never leaving her.

"Let me introduce these other assholes quick. At the head of the table is Uncle Floki, and the two idiots across from us are Bjorn and my half-brothers, Hvitserk and Ivar."

Hvitserk greeted her with a flirty smile on his boyish face; while the strange-looking man, Floki, just gave a single nod in acknowledgement.

"We've already met," Ivar said with a wicked smirk, letting his eyes blatantly trail over her form while he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, "isn't that right, kitten?"

Kari hated how just from the sound of the pet name, her heart beat increased traitorously and a flush rose to her cheeks. It brought to mind how his hands gripped her hips, caging her to him, how his lips and tongue caressed her skin, the peak of pleasure that crashed over her without warning...and about all the ice cubes and make up she had to use to get conceal the marks and hickeys he decorated her skin with. "Um, yeah, sort of. I…. I didn't catch your name though."

"It's alright. I can't blame you as we were otherwise…. preoccupied." The blue-eyed devil teased, either uncaring or not noticing the inquisitive looks from the others at the table. It was unfair how striking he looked in a simple black t-shirt, showcasing his broad shoulders and muscular arms that were award-worthy.

Mortification was the best description of emotion causing Kari to further flush but also avert her gaze to the food-laden table. For some reason she figured the likelihood of her ever meeting Ivar again was slim to none. Clearly they ran in different social circles and really they had no reason to bump into one another. Apparently universe, fate, whatever decided her life was going too well and decided to throw a curveball at her. Then to make matters worse, here he sat arrogantly and alluding to what occurred between them in front of his family.

It had not gone unnoticed by her that Gyda mentioned Ivar was her half-brother, making her a Lothbrok too, even if she did not go by that last name.

Kari peered around the table, a polite smile on her face in a poor attempt to mask any further revealing thoughts. "Well, it was lovely to meet you all but I need to be going."

"You sure you don't want a ride?" Gyda kindly offered again, already reaching over to grab her own purse. "It's not a problem."

"No, stay. The bus should be here in a couple minutes. Your food is getting cold."

Gyda opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to reconsider and instead gave her a quick embrace. "Ok, I'll stop by the studio this week and we can catch up."

"I'll hold you to that." Kari returned the hug; her body tingled as if bugs crawled all over skin making her want to flee the restaurant even faster. With a hurried "goodbye" to everyone else, trying to avoid Ivar's penetrating gaze, she headed out of the restaurant. With the looks she received from the waitstaff and patrons, she quickened her pace, feeling like an intruder in the lavish establishment.

Soon as she stepped outside, back onto the busy sidewalk and warm sun, she inhaled a deep breath. A part of her felt awful for how quickly she ditched Gyda, who had only ever been kind to her. Truthfully, she had wanted to meet Bjorn because of the stories both Gyda and Torvi shared.

All of that had been eclipsed by the sight of the man she had made-out with over a week ago in that dark club…. Ivar Lothbrok.

Never aloud would she admit how often she thought about him since their encounter. Yet she knew it was best to stay away from him, ever if a part of her fought the notion. It would be safer, for both of them.

Now suddenly coming face-to-face with him, her emotions warred within her as to how she should feel.

Her feet hurried along the sidewalk, worried she would miss her bus because of her detour in the restaurant….and maybe a piece of her needed to put distance between herself and the handsome, cocky man that plagued her thoughts. At the crosswalk, she practically bounced on her toes, willing the light to change color faster. Her mind whirled with the new information of Gyda's relations. Could they still be friends? It also answered her unspoken question of where the wealth came from that Gyda and Torvi were accustomed too. The Lothbroks may not be a household name but it was certainly known in the business world, especially since the many sons had stepped up and expanded its empire.

Without warning, a firm hand grabbed her upper arm, whipping her around. A shriek stuck on the tip of her tongue at the unexpected action. She turned to be greeted by a stunned pair of eyes and open mouth.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else." The flustered man said, retracting his hand from her and rubbing his beard with it self-consciously. "No wonder you didn't answer when I called…. I thought you were ignoring me. Are you OK? I'm so sorry again. "

She placed a hand over her chest, heart hammering almost painfully. The man appeared so concerned about scaring her, it was endearing. "It's fine. You just startled me, I guess I was thinking too hard."

He shuffled his feet for a moment, looking down at them before looking up again. "I'm Daniel, by the way."

"Kari."

"You headed, ah, to the bus stop too?"

A genuine smile touched her lips as he sided up next to her amongst the crowd of others waiting to cross the street. "Yeah, actually. Just got off work."

"Hey! What a coincidence. I plan on going home, eating whatever is in my fridge that doesn't have mold on it yet and sitting on the couch watching TV for at least the next three hours."

"That sounds amazing. I may have to steal that idea."

He turned to face her, placing his hand on her shoulder, and stared at her in mock seriousness that made her giggle. "I give you full permission, no need for thievery. And don't eat something healthy, it's a perfect night for gluttony."

Before she could respond with her own quip, someone grabbed Daniel from behind, throwing him to the ground. Bystanders barely made it out of the way as Daniel just caught himself on his hands and knees.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!"

Kari stared in horror as Ivar loomed over Daniel, fists clenched and eyes blazing. Everyone nearby drew back, creating a wide circle and warily watching the fight that was threatening to happen.

"Ivar, stop!" Kari tried to move between the two men but he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back behind him effortlessly.

Daniel hesitantly got up, scraped hands held up in surrender. "Sorry, man. I swear I wasn't trying to make a pass on your girl. Just making conversation."

"Sure. Now fuck off and don't let me fucking see you around her again." He seethed; the words spat out from between clenched teeth.

Eyeing Ivar as if he expected the man to suddenly attack him again, Daniel started walking away in the opposite direction, casting occasional glances over his shoulder.

At this point the light for the crosswalk turned green and those bystanders waiting began to move, all the while still leaving a wide berth around Ivar and Kari. Though she tried to ignore them, she could not help but catch a few looks of concern and pity directed towards her.

Pulling away from the arm still around her waist, Kari made to cross the street when Ivar grabbed her wrist.

"Where are you going?" He demanded, lingering fury coloring his tone.

"My bus is just up there. I need to go or I'll miss it."

"No, I'm giving you a ride home."

"What? No, I don't need…. I told Gyda it's fine."

He scoffed, relinquishing his hold on her wrist. "I'm not doing this for Gyda, now come on."

"No, really, I…."

"It wasn't a suggestion."

Equal parts dumbfounded and angry, she looked back up the street only to see the doors of the bus closing. She closed her eyes for a second, begging for patience and understanding. What she really wanted to do was ignore Ivar and walk away, find somewhere to wait for the next bus. But if Ivar had followed her from the restaurant and was now demanding he give her a ride home, she figured he would not be beyond dragging her over to his car, or whatever he rode in, and continuing to make a scene. It made no sense why he would follow her to offer a ride or attack a random man. She wondered if this was the Ivar Lothbrok that her friends warned her about.

Deep down, she found herself still wanting to be around him again. To see if the man she met at the club was the real him or just a mask…. plus, she hated to wait for the next bus. There was a creepy lady that liked to sit next to her and tell her about the latest escapades of her many gerbils or the newest “friend” her adult son brought home for the night.

"Fine." She stated, turning back to him.

"Good girl. This way."

Silently, she followed him back towards the restaurant and down the next street to a luxury Mercedes car. In her mind, she decided that just because she was getting a ride from him did not mean she had to be friendly. Her plan was to ignore him and stare out the window. Hopefully that was enough of a hint to leave her alone. He was the one who chased her down to give her a ride. His infuriating actions may have spurred her pettiness to supersede the wisdom of ignoring him, especially knowing he was a Lothbrok.

The driver held the door open for both of them to slide in. The bench seat was spacious with a detailed leather interior and that unique new card smell. Another time, Kari may have loved to ride around in a vehicle like this, pretending to be a celebrity or someone important. Now she just wanted to get home. Even if that traitorous part silently ogled him, an arm’s length away from her.

"Where to, sir?" The driver asked once he took his seat in the front.

Then with an arrogant smirk, Ivar rattled off Kari's address.

Kari's plans to ignore him flew out the window. She stared open-mouthed as he leaned back in the seat, brace-covered legs spread out obnoxiously. The first real trickle of fear since meeting him danced up her spine.

"How? I mean…. are you…. stalking me?"

He laughed, cocking his head to the side, to eye her lazily. "You're harder to track down than most people. No social media really. Pay most things with cash. It's like you're trying to hide something."

She gulped, the revelation he could find out all that about her so easily was unnerving. But his last statement hit a little too close to the truth to bring her comfort.

"But it wasn't too difficult." He added brazenly, apparently ignorant of the anxiety his prior statement caused. "And now I found you."

"Why? I mean… why were you looking for me?"

He stared at her, those predatory eyes prying into her soul. She shifted awkwardly, wishing to be free from his gaze but unable to tear herself away on her own accord. Caught in his trap, his web, all she could hope for was mercy. Unconsciously, her eyes drifted down to view his lips, the memory of them against hers at the forefront of her mind…. even more than the anxiety still skating on her nerves.

In an instant, he reached over and hauled her across the bench seat and into his lap. A squeak flew from her as she abruptly found herself sitting sideways on his legs.

As her mind raced to figure out what to do, and honestly how to feel about this, his lips descended on hers and all prior thoughts vanished. His tongue invaded her mouth, forcing hers to comply, demanding attention. Without hesitation, she gave in. Her hands traced his sideburns and the braids on the top of his head. No matter how many times she tried to forget his touch, his kisses, it haunted her. Now having his lips on hers once again, she found even her memories were incomparable to the actual feel, of his lips, his hands, his breath, his body, his scent. It all drew her in like a beacon, directing her to her greatest desire and darkest temptation.

"All I can think about is you." He murmured, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. "Fuck…. how good you taste, how good you feel…. I could barely focus on work."

"Ivar…" she moaned, feeling herself melting under his touch. As he pressed kisses along her jawline, a quiver ran through her but instead of feeling ashamed like before, she tilted her head to expose more of her neck. Normally so reserved with physical touch, for some unexplainable reason, she felt safe enough to embrace her wanton side with him. Somehow, she knew he would not make fun of her actions. Perhaps it was because of his reaction when finding out her virginal status. All she knew was his touch, his very presence, drew forth a side of her previously unknown while making her feel safe.

His hands gripped her with an almost possessive hold. "Gods, I want you." He groaned against her pulse point, the sound wicked with the sheer desire infused in it.

And for some reason, those three words broke the spell holding her hostage to him.

She froze. Slowly she leaned back to stare at him. The truth, the confession, tasted like poison on the tip of her tongue.

"I…. I can't." She whispered, hating how weak her voice sounded.

"What are you talking about?"

"I won't…. I'm not having sex with you."

What lust and tenderness towards her vanished in the blink of an eye. His hands that had been caressing, now gripped painfully. Eyes that beheld her as a goddess, now threatened to cut her without remorse. The very air between them threatened to catch fire with a single spark due to the tension.

"Why not? Cause I'm a cripple?" He snarled at her like an enraged animal. "You'll kiss me and let me get you off but you won't fuck me? Or did your friends tell you who I am? Is that it? Now that you know who I am, you're going to run away?"

"No, it's not… no, I don't think I'm the kind of girl you'd want." Tears welled in her eyes, both from fear and the physical pain he was causing with his forceful grip.

"And what the fuck does that mean? You know me so well, huh?"

That poisonous truth dripped off her tongue once again. How could she tell him that if he truly knew who she was, he would reject her? It was not even a question but a fact. It was better for both of them to stay away, to never see one another again. How twisted was her truth, how deceptive was she in the face of a man known for his violence. Even as her innermost being begged to let go of her past self and embrace this…. embrace him.

"I'm nobody. I'm boring. I don't have money or influence. I just am…. You'd get tired of me in like two days." She took a steadying breath, her hands fiddling in her lap as to avoid his piercing gaze. The lilac color on her nails was starting to chip at the edges, redirecting her attention for a brief second. Even if all she wanted to do was run, avoid this conversation like the plague, she knew in a way, she owed him the truth. Her next words came out in a rush, otherwise she knew they would never pass her lips. "And I don't want to have sex until I'm ready and with someone who cares about me."

She wondered if this was the spark to set him off. How quickly he would reject her, push her off his lap, laugh in her face for her orthodox ideal, call her frigid like others before. Mentally, she prepared for it, even if every time the words were still a dagger to her heart. This time would be no different.

What she did not expect was after almost a minute of painful silence, for him to gently grip her chin and turn her head to face him once again.

"Go on a date with me."

She balked. "What?"

He stroked her cheek, his hand that had been gripping her thigh, most likely leaving vivid bruises, now created soothing circles. It was his voice that shocked her the most. What had been harsh and unrelenting in cruelty now was soft and gentle. "Let me take you out. I'll even follow your damn rule of no sex. Though I know you want me just as much."

"Ivar…."

"You can't deny it." He taunted, with a devilish grin, "You like the idea of me touching you, bringing you pleasure, showing you what you've been missing with my fingers," teasingly, he glided his fingers along her inner thigh, close to her core, "and my tongue," he licked the shell of her ear before whispering the next part, "and my cock. Tell me you haven't thought about it."

Her breath hitched with each movement of his, his filthy words making her wet without her conscious approval and the cocky bastard knew it. "I…. please stop…." She tried to plead, only to make him laugh.

"Stop lying to both of us."

"Please, don't do this. I just can't."

"Why not?" Jaw tense, he regarded her with a look of pure hunger but also exasperation. "Give me a damn good reason."

"It's better if we don't."

He leaned back fully in his seat as if examining her. That devious and deadly gaze pinned her, reading her very thoughts and secrets. Beneath it she felt vulnerable and naked, something she detested. She tried to squirm out of his lap, to put necessary distance between them. His hands only tightened on her, keeping her restrained in his lap.

"It's not…" he started then stopped to lick his lips. And there it was, a glimpse behind the mask, that vulnerability she caught a peek of when they were at the club, "...because I'm a cripple?"

"What? No, not at all. That doesn't…. no, you're beautiful." Soon as the last word left her mouth, her absolute shock at his question morphed into humiliation. Both of her hands flew up to cover her face, burning with embarrassment.

"Beautiful, huh?"

"Shut up."

He chuckled, running his nose along the column of her neck and sending a shiver down her spine. "And you still won't go on a date with me?"

Cautiously, she eased her hands from her face to meet his amused gaze. "I'm sorry." She replied with a shake of her head.

He eyed her as if trying to suss out more of her secrets, head tilted to the side and eyebrows furrowed slightly. After a long moment, he smirked. "Alright. We'll see about that."

"What?"

"You heard me. You'll change your mind eventually. I can be very persistent with something I want."

With a push of a button on a nearby console, loud music filled the air but he did not release her. Instead, he continued to stroke her back or legs as he gazed out the window. Every time she tried to squirm out of lap, he would tighten his grip on her hip or thigh, silently demanding she remain. Finally, she gave up and relaxed against him, enjoying his soothing touches and the warmth of his body.

Ivar Lothbrok was the most complicated man she had ever met. Just in the past hour, she witnessed him go from cocky to murderous to sensual and now dare she even say…. charming. It baffled her that he purposefully sought her out, even if it was stalker-ish. That he wanted to go on a date with her, knowing she would not put out at the end for him. Her image of him and the one painted by her friends were so vastly different…. she wondered which one to believe. Not that it truly mattered, since they would not be seeing each other after this. She could not open that door. It was better this way.

She was disheartened when they reached her home. The way their bodies fit perfectly together, how comforting his touch and presence was, it was unnerving and intriguing. A small part of her wished the drive was longer so they could continue remaining in this bubble of illusion. That she could soak this feeling up just a bit more, for something to hold onto when she was alone. How life could have been between them if fate was different.

The driver pulled up the luxury car in front of the unoccupied, short driveway. With no car there, that meant her roommate was not at the townhouse. Probably for the best, since if Alana had seen Kari getting out of a vehicle with Ivar, she would have lost her shit.

"Come on… tonight." He whispered into her ear, entwining their fingers, those exquisite eyes begging for her to change her mind. "Let me take you out, kitten."

"I can't…. but we can be friends... if you want."

Soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed. What kind of stupid thing was that to say? She needed to stay away from him, she knew it. But seeing that last hopeful gleam in his eyes and the despair that replaced it as she told him 'no' once again…. it was too much.

A cocky smirk slowly spread on his lips, like he knew something that she was not privy to. He laid a kiss on the back of their entwined hands. "If you say so."

Carefully, he helped maneuver her off his lap, and out of the vehicle, his hands grazing over her hips and thighs quickly. She turned around and raised an eyebrow, for him to only stare at her in an innocent expression. Instead of being upset, like she should have been, she just rolled her eyes and unsuccessfully tried to keep the smile off her lips.

"Um, thanks for the ride."

"Yeah. See you soon…. friend." With a teasing wink, he closed the door and a second later, the vehicle pulled away.

She watched the car drive away and wondered why the word 'friend' left a sour taste in her mouth.

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