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cloudycrystalkpop · 4 years ago

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SMOKY | Hell Below

Blind! Prince! Mingi x [unstated skin deformity] fem! reader

Words: 2k+

Warnings: self harm, possessiveness, demonic interaction

au: crown royal au | moodboard

series masterlist: SMOKY

Seonghwa paced back and forth in front of your door. He was placed on guard duty this evening and it was slowly torturing him.

Normally he would never complain, more than happy to forgo his own rest to know that his princess slept safe and sound. However, he was very aware that at the moment, his princess was not sleeping at all.

He gritted his teeth as he heard your voice moan out a name in pleasure. The name of your husband. A name that wasnt his.

Seonghwa squared his shoulders. He had made you a promise, one a very very long time ago.

When he was the man having you sing such pretty praises. When he wrote his name in calligraphy with his tongue between your thighs.

A promise he painted into your skin, one very late night. Kissing every patch that made you shy. Every inch that your family frowned upon. Every piece you had ever wanted to burn off.

"I will protect you, until the day my heart stops beating, And surely even after."

he is more than just a knight. No, after holding you, bare as the day you were born, shaking in his arms. After the words of hate and disgust at the case your very soul lived in, at watching you take blades to try and peel the unwanted flesh away, he would never ever let you hurt yourself again.

He would never abandon you, even if you took his heart right out of his chest, it was always yours anyway.

Seonghwa held his head in his hands. He was always yours anyway.

"They sure are loud huh?" Seonghwa jumped and reached for the sword on his belt at the voice.

"Sorry, bad night?" Hongjoong asked, standing before the heartbroken man.

"Yeah just, stuck in my own head." Seonghwa admitted. The other man nodded, scanning him with curious eyes.

"You and your princess sure are, close." he stated. The words curled on his tongue, watching Seonghwa flitched as the sound of a high pitched groan came from the lover's room.

"We... Used to be." he replied.

"I see. Makes sense why youre not so fond of that Duke." he quirked an eyebrow, a sly grin pulling at his features. "Hey, you wanna know a secret~" the man purred.

"Not tonight Hongjoong. Im not in the mood for your teasing." Seonghwa frownd.

"Hmm~ if you say so." his smile pulled into a playful childlike one, before Hongjoong skipped off down the hall, leaving Seonghwa alone with his thoughts once more.

Hongjoong purred to himself as he glanced over his shoulder as the knight stood at the lovers door. Lust is a very powerful tool in his bag of tricks, one that, it looks like, will do him very, very well.

you spent your days now often with Yeosang, his experience and wisdom helping you greatly in easing your nerves. he told you many stories, explained much about the kingdom you had never dared to venture around in.

whenever you did leave your family's estate, it was always with Seonghwa as your loyal guard. a long veil to hide you away from the world, or heaven forbid you simply, existing taint your family name.

you remembered the day The King died. he was an old man, had been sick for years. while not beloved by his people, he was well respected, and yet. when he passed, no one knew anything about him. there was no mourning, for there was no loss.

The Queen had fully stepped into power then, ten years younger than her husband she was more than capable of leading. and so it had been since your early teens. The Queen was now however, ready to pass her power, rather than see it out live her too, just like her husband.

and that, was where the crown prince and princess had come in. the pair lost at sea in a tragic shipwreck, the kingdom scrambling to find a new replacement. you and Mingi were nobles, sure. second rate royals even, your father once a prince, a second born. Mingi was next in line to become a Duke, chosen over Yeosang for your hand in marriage for, such a trivial reason. or so you thought.

“my family comes from the Valley, My Lady. Lord Mingi’s comes from the Sea.” Yeosang explained, an, almost forlorn look in his eye. “when yourself and your husband were married, it showed a joining of the land and the sea. loosening trade deals with other lands, its... business I'm afraid.”

“that’s all marriage is good for after all anyway. its just business.” you gazed off out the window, watching the roses sway in the morning breeze. the garden was beautiful, flowers in full bloom.

“I’m sorry you feel so my lady. but, you must admit how darling and romantic an idea it is.” Yeosang followed your gaze.

“to be married?” you wondered.

“the prince of the sea, wed to the princess of the forest. and a man who cannot see, tied to a woman never allowed to be seen.” he hummed softly.

“sounds like a horrible tragedy of a play to me.” you shook your head, eyes falling to your lap. “I should have a word with the playwright.”

“would you have preferred a different ending?” Yeosang wondered, dropping his head down to force you to look him in the eye. you chuckled, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle in a smile.

“I haven't decided.” you answered. “...are the flowers in the valley in bloom this time of year?” you asked.

“oh yes. the wild flowers were always my favorite as a boy. my sisters and I used to go out and make crowns out of them.” his voice was soft, eyes far away. caught in a memory from boyhood.

“...will you take me there some time, Yeosang?” his gaze focused back on you once more.

“if you wish to see it My Lady.” he grinned. “I will braid you a crown so lovely the royal jewels will be jealous.”

“promise me?” your voice betrayed you. a crack of pain hidden away there.

such a very different ending you could have had. one where you could spend your life safe, hidden away from the judgment and piercing eyes your mother always frightened you of. flowers in your hair, children at your feet, a husband who could provide for your every need. free to play in the forest of your childhood. there was no judgment from the trees, nor would you find it in the open fields.

“you have my word... My Lady.”

but your life was no fairy tale. you were to be queen of a kingdom you barely knew. sure, you had a husband, a man to wear the title of “king”, but both you and Mingi knew, the queen is the most powerful piece on the board.

“My little Prince~” you called to the darkness of the room as you returned to your chambers for the evening. “Mingi?” you cooed once more, looking around for the tall man.

“we need to talk.” you nearly screamed, the voice was not your husband’s. upon turning on your heel, you came face to face with...

“Seonghwa! you nearly had me jump out of my skin!” you huffed, smacking the man on the side of his arm.

“hey! I'm sorry I scared you but, I'm serious.” he sighed, rubbing his arm.

“very well.” you huffed, seating yourself on the plush bed and waiting for his explanation. Seonghwa shuffled, changing his weight from one foot to the other, gaze fixed on the floor. “well? when did you become so awkward?”

“since I had to listen to you having sex for hours last night.” he growled. your ears glowed hot, but you choked the embarrassment down.

“I am sorry, I'm sure that was a bit.. uncomfortable-”

“you don’t get it do you, Princess.” he lifts his eyes to meet yours. “I love you.”

a lump forms in your throat. you do not move, only stare him down, unblinking, unreactive.

“I have been in love with you for almost five years now. I was the one who took your virginity, I was the one who held you when you cried, I was the only who protected you from the evils of this world. and I-” his voice cracked. Seonghwa, your loyal knight in shining armor, the one who had been by your side for the better half of your life, was in tears before you.

“I love you! I'd do anything for you! I've been with you since you were just a young girl! I've stood beside you through everything! and I can't pretend that it doesn't hurt me anymore!” his eyes sparkled with tears, cheeks damp and voice horse.

“... I-” you never got a chance to finish your thought as the door swung open once more.

Mingi stood in the doorway, blank eyes staring straight ahead of him, his face blank of any emotion.

“get. out. of. our. room.” never had you heard the intimidation in Mingi’s voice before. his voice rumbled deep in his chest, but his tone now, was that of a final, deadly warning.

Seonghwa stared at Mingi, shoulders taught, fists clenched. but he didn't say a word.

“...you are dismissed Seonghwa.” you finally broke the tense silence between the two man.

“as you wish, My Princess.” Seonghwa made his way towards the door, stepping past Mingi, only to be halted by said man shoving him against the wood, hard.

“if you dare, to even think of touching my wife, if even the thought of her in such context even passes your mind,” he growls. “I will have you executed for adultery.”

Mingi stepped away from a very shocked Seonghwa.

“she may be your Princess, but she will be your Queen. and never, for a moment forget, she will only be your queen, and she is my wife.” and with that he slammed the door shut.

Mingi developed a possessiveness over you, you must admit you didn’t expect. the once shy boy who could barely speak to you, now kept one hand on your person at all times you were together. when asked he said he preferred you guide him over a staff member. but you know by now Mingi knew this castle perfectly fine. he didn't need help or a guide anymore. he was lying.

he also got rather upset if you were left alone with another person too long, without himself or his chosen guard close by. his chosen guard? Hongjoong.

you woke one morning to find bruises so deep on your hips and chest they looked like black ink in the mirror. Mingi was marking you now. like you were something that belonged to him.

knowing who you needed to speak with, you snuck away one morning, before the sun rose. to find Hongjoong.

“your highness! what a pleasant surprise~” the handsome man cooed.

“may I speak with you? in private.” you glanced to the rest of the guard, Seonghwa the only one not meeting your gaze.

“oh? absolutely. please, come with me.” Hongjoong lead you out into the gardens, just as the first touches of dawn peeked over the skyline.

“alright creature. out with it. what have you done to the prince.” you growled, arms crossed as you glared at Hongjoong.

“such mean words from the ‘princess’ herself~” he smiled a grin, one a little too long and a little too wide for his face.

“why are you here?”

“what a stupid question! you already know that answer~ otherwise you wouldn’t have asked to speak to me, alone.”

“fine, who summoned you?”

Hongjoong chuckled, one in tone too deep for the voice he speaks with. “the dead king of course. but that was a long time ago you see.”

“speak to me truthfully creature, did you make a deal with Mingi?” you glared him down. while your experience with his kind was limited, you understood the one true weakness they had. they cannot directly lie.

Hongjoong grinned once more, that same unnatural once, the one that extended too far up his face, showing teeth a human man wouldn’t have. his eyes crinkled at the edges in the grin, the white parts of his eyes turning dark as a bruise.

“no.”

you held back a whimper at his voice. inhuman. demonic. bloodcurdling.

“...thank you. you are dismissed.” you blinked, and the man was back as he was. charming smile and handsome features glowing once again in the dawn.

“as you wish, your highness.” and with that, he walked back into the castle. leaving you alone in the garden, a ring of dead grass surrounding where the pair of you had stood.

#mingi x reader #smoky au #prince au #demon au #knight au #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #Hongjoong x reader #mingi au #Seonghwa au #Yeosang au #Hongjoong au #Ateez x reader #Ateez au #Ateez sereis #mingi series #royal au #fantasy au

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gurneyhallecks · 5 years ago

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PAPERCLIPS | a Javi Peña x reader fic

rating: T for dramatic elements; will change to M in future parts

summary: You think your crush on Javi goes unnoticed - until Steve and Connie take matters into their own hands.

a/n: ive had this story idea in my head for months and im so glad it’s finally out of my head and actually WRITTEN!! there will be a part two for sure, and others if i feel inspired!!

Paperclips

Being Javier Peña’s neighbor isn’t the worst thing to happen to you. Being a secretary at the DEA office is. Seeing Agent Javier Fucking Peña every day of the week is slowing killing you. His cute little ass in those tight ass jeans. He knows what he’s doing, and you hate him for it. The suits are just as bad. Displaying his broad shoulders, showing off his sharp jaw. You want nothing more than to yank him to your level by one of his ties and kiss him harshly. Yeah. You hate him.

But you won’t do anything about this hopeless crush. You haven’t done anything for weeks.

Your desk sits up higher, you look down at the boys from your perch. Javi’s desk faces away from you, which allows you to stare at the back of his head (and ass) all day. Every once and a while you get lucky and see his face when he leaves his desk to go out in the field, or when he comes into work in the mornings. He’ll turn and offer a nod or a simple wave good morning.

You are friendly acquaintances. You’ve spoken on occasion at the dreaded office parties. The only reason you ever have gone to those are the free food and the small chance to see him.

Your staring at the back of his head is the most you do lately, your crush too strong to get up the nerve to ask him for coffee. Luckily, he can’t see you pine away for him.

But unbeknownst to you, there’s a watchful pair of eyes that have seen your longing gazes at the back of Javi’s head.

One Steve Murphy.

He’s seen every glance. Every flustered look cross your face. He doesn’t want to pry, not at first. But then he remembers how his buddies set him up with Connie. And hell, Javi could use someone nice like you in his life. Someone less dangerous to get involved with than communist informants.

Steve’s told Connie every detail, it’s much more entertaining to discuss then the heavy topic of death and drug lords. Connie’s only concern is the office romance drama, but she’s your friend. And she wants the same thing for you – Javi is a good man. And being neighbors with you, she’s also seen the looks you’ve given as Javi walks down the hallway.

They are planning more on how to get you with Javi than you are.

So far, your plan is hoping he’ll need a paperclip and will come ask you for one. And then suddenly ask you to coffee and then take you back to his place and-

Oh shit.

Javi’s wearing a blue shirt today, your favorite. And you might have let your eyes linger a little too long. And you’ve just made eye contact with Steve. He quirks a brow at you, and a small smirk appears on his lips. His piercing gaze just past Javi makes his partner curious, and the object of your affections turns his head in your direction.

When Javi’s eyes meet yours, you quickly avert your gaze. Trying to busy yourself with something important. Which consists mainly of organizing your already organized desk.

Javi is none the wiser, he shrugs and goes back to work. But Steve, he saw all that he needed to see.

You spend the rest of the day with your head down. You’ve had enough embarrassment for one day. It pains you that you’re missing out on the blue shirt though.

Normally after work you come up with some excuse to try and say hi and bye to Javi on his way out. He almost never goes straight to his apartment after office hours because he’s typically working out in streets. It’s your small chance to get some form of interaction with him.

Tonight though, you get out of there as soon as possible. It kills you to leave, you can hear Javi and Steve laughing at their desks. You want to turn around and see that smile you dream of.

So instead, you get out and head home.

You look forward to a quiet evening. You need a distraction. Something, anything to keep your mind off of him. Which only seems to make you think about him even more.

It’s getting later and the wine in your system has you feeling warm. There’s a warm buzzed feeling that spreads over your body and settles between your legs.

Maybe the wine wasn’t such a good idea. And you’re being ridiculous. So, Steve saw you looking at Javi. Is that a crime? Javi is handsome. Most women in the office notice him, even the married ones get a little smile on their face when he walks by.

It’s more than that. Having your crush discovered isn’t the end of the world.

Maybe you know that if Javi was interested he would have done something by now. Maybe you know that if Steve tells Javi about your crush that something will happen. Or that something won’t.

You want to get over this crush, but all you can think about is the arousal between your legs. You’ve seen him bring women home, but it’s been some time. That’s given you a false hope you think. Regardless, you know he’s a good lover. Thin walls.

You ache.

Those nights when he’s brought a woman home have been awful. You don’t listen on purpose, and more often than not you wish you couldn’t hear. Couldn’t hear women scream out his name, wishing it were you crying out his name into the dark.

On top of all that, you know that most times when he brings someone home, it’s been a bad day for him. He brings a prostitute home to ease his sorrows with the high of a release. You want to be there for him not just sexually, but emotionally. Living next to him isn’t the worst thing, but not being able to help him when you’ve seen the weight he carries is.

You’ll see him at work the next morning and try not to pretend you didn’t hear the headboard thwacking and how much you wish it were you.

Yeah. That wine wasn’t a good idea.

You’ve created a fantasy which you entertain, maybe it’s wrong but right now the wine is talking. Your fingers tease yourself and you’re close to the edge when you hear a rapid knock on the door.

Feeling flushed and disoriented, you quickly tug your pants back on and hurry to open your door.

You’re met with the sight of a woman, obviously drunk.

“Is Javi here?” she laughs twirling her hair with her fingers. You feel sick.

“You have the wrong apartment,” you tell her and point to Javi’s front door across the hall.

Disrupted by the noise, Javi’s door opens. His eyes widen in slight shock at seeing the two of you talking. He pushes his door open, and this other woman walks past him into his place. His eyes flick up to you in a silent apology and he closes the door behind him with a click.

The silence in the hallway is deafening. You stand in your doorway in disbelief. You can hear muffled voices across the hall, and you slam your door behind you in anger. You wince at the slam, then you sink down to the floor. Tears fall from your eyes, who were you kidding?

You get no sleep that night, and every sound that drifts over from his apartment to yours fills you with dread. You’ve heard nothing sexual in nature, but that doesn’t make you feel any better.

You don’t even want to go to work. You don’t want to see him. You’re mad at him, even though you’re actually mad at yourself.

Most of the day goes by before you really get a chance to see him. And for that you are grateful.

You smell his cologne before you see him, and his tall frame hovers by your desk. His voice comes out gentle and raspy.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he starts. A small part of you hopes he’ll apologize for what it looked like, apologize for hurting you. “I’m sorry she disrupted your night.”

Oh.

“Thanks,” is your weak reply. You can’t even bear to look up at him. Shit, he smells really good too. He almost never comes up to your desk. And now that he’s here, you just want him to go away.

“Javi, I-“ you manage to look up at him. And you don’t have a clue what you’re gonna say. His eyebrows raise as he’s ready to listen to what you have to say.

“Great!” You hear Steve’s voice cut through. “I’m glad I got you both together!” he claps his hand on Javi’s shoulder. “Connie and I are having a little get together tonight, and we want you both to come! Be there at 7!” he squeezes Javi’s shoulder and gives you a nod and leave before you can tell him no.

Javi shakes his head but gives you a soft smile. “Connie’s cooking isn’t that bad,” he jokes getting a laugh from you. Even though you curse yourself for laughing, you’re still mad. But when you see him smile at your laugh, you’re not….completely mad.

You spend the rest of the day and afternoon panicking about what to wear. Who else was going to be at this “get together”?

You can only assume it’s a casual thing, but still. Knowing Javi will be there has your insides churning.

You arrive early to help Connie, and to compose yourself. You’re helping her to set the table when Javi walks in. He gives a polite nod, and Steve is quick to greet him with a beer.

You flush, and Connie sees you actively trying to avoid any looks. She gives you a gentle nudge with her elbow, getting you to look up at her.

“It’s alright,” she whispers. “He’s into you.” She looks over at the boys in the small living area. Javi’s shrugged his jacket and is sitting with Steve, one of them laughs at a joke.

You nod your head ‘no.’

“He isn’t,” you tell her with a small shrug. “Is this all that’s coming?” you ask trying to change the subject. It dawns on you then that this is a setup, a double date. You start to panic.

“Hey,” Connie’s words are soft but firm, “it’s just dinner.”

She’s right, and you know she is. But you’re not sure if you can handle looking at him. All you can think about is the woman who came knocking on your door last night and him taking her in. What else would she have been there for other than to get a little taste of Javier Peña?

It’s hard to avoid those big brown eyes when he’s sitting directly across from you at the table. The conversation is light and humorous. But the way Javi is looking at you, it’s as if he knows something. Like he can read your mind.

“Dessert?” Connie’s cheery voice tears you from your thoughts.

“I’ll help,” you tell her. You need air, you feel like you’re suffocating under his glances.

“I’d say it’s going well!” she giggles once the two of you are out of earshot in the kitchen.

“How can you even tell?” you groan. “He’s not into me Connie.”

“I don’t know, he’s been making eyes at you across the table.”

“Connie,” you hiss. “He is not into me. He brought home some woman last night. Why the hell would he be into me?”

“How do you know-“

“I know. I know!” you hiss sharply trying to keep your voice down. “He brings those women home for a fuck, I know I’ve heard! And I will NEVER be one of those women.”

And not that you want to necessarily be one of them, that he fucks only – but-

“He doesn’t want me.”

“Who said that?” Javi’s voice has you turn in the little kitchen. You almost drop the plate in your hands. Connie and Steve exchange a look. Your eyes are fixed on Javi. You wish the earth would swallow you whole.

Embarrassed and upset, tears start to well up in your eyes.

“C’mon,” Javi offers you his hand. Your arms are crossed tight against your chest, but at the softness of his voice you relax and take his hand. He guides you out of the apartment, and you turn to Connie – she gives you a smile and a nod saying, “it’s ok.”

So, you follow Javi. He guides you down the hall to his apartment. He pats his pocket but doesn’t feel his keys.

“Shit,” he laughs, “they’re in my jacket pocket-“

“We can go in mine,” you reply pulling out your keys and open your apartment door.

You’re not entirely sure what is happening, but you open the door and he follows behind.

“I didn’t bring her home for sex,” Javi tells you the moment the door closes behind him. “She’s an informant, she only pretended to be drunk so no one would be suspicious. Her idea, not mine.”

“So, you know?” your voice hesitant.

“Know what?” he leans against your kitchen counter. Your arms have crossed against your chest again.

“Know how I feel?” your face heats up.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly. “I could feel your eyes burning the back of my head, and my ass,” he says out of the corner of his mouth. He gives a gentle wink, his eyes bright and eyebrows lifted.

You bury your face in your hands, “was I that obvious?”

“Honestly, I thought you were checking out Steve at first,” he laughs. Your laugh joins his, and you feel more relaxed. “The only reason I never said anything was-“ he nibbles on his lower lip trying to think of what he wants to say. “I thought you wouldn’t want me.”

“What?” you gasp. “How could you think that?”

“My life is fucked up baby, why would you want in the mess?” He takes a step closer.

“All I wanted was to be there for you,” you admit, fiddling with the hem of your jacket.

“That’s all you wanted?” he takes another step closer. You can feel the heat of him. You look up at his face, he’s standing so close. His brow is raised. “That’s all you wanted?” he repeats in a whisper.

“Javi,” you whisper and melt into him as he closes the gap between you with his lips. His mustache tickles your upper lip in the way you hoped it would.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your lips and kisses the corner of your mouth.

“You don’t have to explain,” you cling to his shirt. You start to laugh and press your forehead against his solid warm chest.

“What’s so funny?” he laughs.

“This isn’t how I thought this would happen.”

“Oh?” he raises that eyebrow again.

“I thought-“

“What?” he kisses your forehead and cheeks.

“I just thought you’d come up to my desk and ask me for a paperclip or something and then ask me for coffee.”

“Baby, I will ask you for a fucking paperclip if that’s what you want.”

You snort out a laugh and he squeezes you tight. He kisses you again, and you feel dizzy.

“I don’t do this. Ever,” you flush.

“It’s ok,” he whispers kissing you again, “all I came over for was a paperclip.”

MASTERLIST

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javi #narcos #my gifs #mine #my writing

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medicifm · 4 years ago

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* not me actually writing an intro the night before like i always mean to 😳 hennyway hey biddies , i'm chloe , im in the snowy part of pst , & i use she / her pns . i’ve been . . . . . . . scouring the tags for an rp like this so im so excited to bring this newish muse of mine here ! im here to do the honours of introducing my himbo - on - the outside , manipulative - shit - on - the - inside . . . oscar 🤡

( twenty three , cis man , he / him ) ✉ ― hey babes , have you met OSCAR MEDICI ? they’re working here as THE HEAD CHEF AT LORENZO’S , a few villas down from where you’re staying . you might hear them singing ALRIGHTY APHRODITE BY PEACH PIT playing from their villa , it’s their favourite song . yes , they hear that they look like JACK GILINSKY a lot , actually - it’s really uncanny . their friends back home in SYDNEY , AUSTRALIA say that if they were on a tv show , their trope would be THE WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING , how funny is that ? ✎ chloe , 22 , she/her , pst

𝐢 .

pinterest | wanted plots |

𝐢𝐢 .

name : oscar gabriel medici

age : twenty three

dob / sign : december 4th , 1997 / sagittarius sun , leo moon , libra rising

pob : sydney , australia

gender / pronouns : cis man & he / him / his

career : head chef at lorenzo’s , full - time heathen , professional disappointment for mothers everywhere .

drinking / drugs / smoking : yes / more often than he’d admit / never .

religion : jewish background , currently non - practicing .

physical : jack gilinsky fc , dark brown / black longish curls ( reference ) , dark brown eyes , canon jack g’s tattoos , no piercings , 6′2″ , 175 lbs , lean but strong . tattoos a la canon!jack , pearly white smile that he may . . . or may not . . . use crest 3D white strips weekly to maintain . lots of burns & scars from kitchen mishaps on his hands & arms .

traits : hard - working , flighty , intelligent , hedonistic , charismatic , intense , volatile ,

other : speaks weird french ( aussie accent tings ) , tans easily but wears sunscreen nonetheless , works hard parties harder , can’t read a lick of french but spends a lot of his free time with a coffee & a new paperback , has a bit of an internal vendetta against rich people ( for no real reason , he just doesn’t like most of them ) , has ins with a bunch the local farmers & visits them weekly , pretends he isn’t lowkey addicted to nicotine administered via a puff bar , liquor of preference is tequila or red wine , drives a lil vespa around town for the gag of it ( loves seeing it haphazardly parked amongst a bunch of luxury cars ) ,

character inspo : jess mariano ( gilmore girls ) , gordon ramsey 🤡 , patrick verona ( 10 things i hate about you ) , ferris bueller ( ferris bueller’s day off ) , han solo ( star wars ) .

𝐢𝐢𝐢 .

oscar’s arrival was as unwanted to his parents as could be : a father whose tendencies leaned towards alcoholism & abusing whoever was in arms reach , a mother whose life was more or less spent at the nursing home she worked as a nurse at , evading home . he became a self - inflicted loner , preferring to do literally the exact opposite of what was expected or wanted from him . he had a few friends he ran with , but watching them all go off & study or prepare for university solidified in oscar’s mind that the non - traditional route was for him . growing up by the water , oscar always felt more drawn to skip school & head to the beach than he did obeying his parents wishes .

one of his solaces was his grandfather , gabriel , who owned an italian restaurant in a beach town north of sydney . whenever the weather was bad & oscar felt like ditching class , he’d head over to his nono’s restaurant where his ass would be put to work as soon as he set eyes on the restaurant . it was tough work , but challenging in a way that fanned the flames in oscar’s heart , rather than dimming them . by the time he was a teenager he was working in the restaurant everyday after school , an agreement between him & his grandfather framed on the back wall that stated that as long as oscar kept from flunking out , he was allowed to spend as little or as much time in the kitchen as he pleased .

his absolute defiance of anything traditional & following the rules made him unpopular with adults , but lowkey cool with the girls . by the time he was sixteen , he was losing his focus on the restaurant & his grades & spending more & more time chasing after girls . his nono tried to get oscar to come back & focus , but as always , anything he’s asked to do quickly becomes the thing he’s running from the most .

tw : death , cancer . around his eighteenth birthday , his grandfather suddenly fell ill with a rare form of cancer that took his life six weeks after diagnosis , which rocked oscar’s world . he felt overwhelming guilt that he hadn’t spent more time with his grandfather , which manifested itself as oscar dropping out of school a year shy of graduation to commit himself fully to perfecting his grandfather’s techniques , learning all of his recipes ( read : pouring over dozens of handwritten cookbooks ) in some failed attempt to get back some time with him . oscar hadn’t been close with his parents in years , more or less seeing them as wardens of a prison he wanted nothing to do with . his grandfather’s will left him the deed to the restaurant , with an ask that oscar would promise to act on whatever he felt called towards , rather than doing what others expected of him . to be candid , this whole situation crushed him .

eventually , he decided he’d had enough of the stifling community he’d grown up in . he sold the restaurant to one of the regulars , a wealthy man who he’d come to acknowledge as somewhat of an uncle ; a safe pair of hands who would treat his grandfather’s legacy with as much passion & respect as oscar himself would . so he packed a bag , texted his mom that he was going traveling , & got on a flight that evening . he traveled all around - first through central america , then through europe , throughout asia & africa , & spent a few months driving a van across the continental united states & canada for fun .

eventually , he started getting low - ish on money , & decided to settle in one of his favourite places he’d visited : southern france . he arrived in early 2018 , taking on whatever menial tasks he could while learning french until he got a position as a line cook in an italian restaurant . a few years later , he’s made his way up to filling the head chef position , an honour he takes with pride . he’s implemented many of his own recipes while using flavours he’s learned from his travels , with ingredients straight from local farmers . he’s earned the restaurant a two michelin star rating , & is constantly striving for more to get that last star ( both for his own ego as well as a secret debt to his grandfather ) .

𝐢𝐯 .

ok but that vid where gordon puts two pieces of bread on someone’s head & calls them an idiot sandwich ? that’s oscar . intense as fuck in the kitchen , & best nobody catch an attitude about it bc he will not hesitate to hand them their ass on a silver platter .

another gordon reference : you know how he’s the spawn of satan with adults , but the sweetest , most helpul guy with children ? that’s oscar with his staff vs people he wants something from . whether its to sleep with them ( usually his first instinct to be fair ) , their money or clout , or to get into some wild adventure some random resort staff wouldn’t dream of getting into , he can turn on the charm whenever needed .

can go from absolutely demoralizing someone in the kitchen to stepping out into the lounge to schmooze with his friends or cougars who leave phat tips in 0.2 seconds . the speed at which his mood can completely 180 is one of the seven world wonders ( last i checked ) .

his love language is absolutely acts of service . catch him actually falling in love once in a blue moon & making it his mission to cook her extravagant meals everyday .

the wolf in sheep’s clothing label epitomizes his nice , helpful , charismatic exterior , while ulterior motives & disdain for those who grew up with more money than he did lurk beneath the surface .

he can be MEAN when someone fucks him over or pushes him farther than he wants - isn’t afraid to go for the low blows or send someone home with an identity crisis if it protects himself .

lowkey alcoholic but he’s not ready for that conversation yet . he sees it more as perks of the location & atmosphere he’s found himself in .

also lowkey falls in love HARD , like this man is a closeted romantic but self - sabotages all potential relationships before they can get to that point out of fear he’ll be unable to live life of his own volition ( takes a flaky philophobic sagittarius to know a flaky philophobic sagittarius 🤡 ) . has probably only had a few real relationships besides flings bc he’s afraid .

𝐯 .

check out my wanted plots tag listed here , as well as my pinterest wanted plots board here . here are some other suggestions hehe :

best friend / ride or die : someone who knows about his past , keeps him grounded when he’s lk spiraling & wants to drop everything & flee to some far flung corner of the earth .

actual relationship : it was fast - burn with deep feelings ( not them thinking they’re soulmates after dating for a month . . . pete & ariana type beat ) but completely unrealistic . they have their own life , he’s pretty much tied to the restaurant , not to mention his lack of sharing anything about his childhood / life back home . they loved & cared for each other , but crashed & burned fairly quickly because of how idealistic it was . they can either be on bad or good terms now .

hateship with sexual tension 😈

summer flings !!

fake boyfriend : he shows up on her arm to her family’s events where she’s expected to have a partner . it’s not a real relationship , but her parents don’t need to know that . he plays the part & satisfies her parents beyond the bare minimum , & in return she invites him to parties , takes him out on her family’s yacht , etc etc . we luv some symbiosis

i can always use more fwbs hehehe

squad : a group of people who do everything together , have a chaotic group chat , have nicknames for one another , are utd on each other’s sex lives , party all night then show up to brunch hungover together .

cat & mouse : someone he’s pursuing who isn’t quite giving in , & vice versa . maybe it’s been going on a few years , everytime they’re in st tropez they have this weird lil flirtationship thing goin on until she leaves , they forget about one another , then pick it right back up when she returns .

confidant : preferably someone from a working class background who understands his plight of being a worker amongst people who expect to be waited on .

enemies : they don’t like his attitude , & he doesn’t like them in return . lots of eye rolls , shit talking , & tension between their mutual friends .

we’re sleeping together but we shouldn’t be but that’s half the fun : for whatever reason they became friends , starting hooking up despite it not being a good idea ( read : he’s exes with one of her friends , her parents want her focused on career , they’re part of the same friend group , etc ) . . . but now they can’t stop . lots of stolen glances across rooms , squeezing past one another in a crowded club just close enough for a quick touch to the back , quietly leaving one another’s places the morning after & playing dumb to anyone who asks .

#villasintro #eeeek im hyped !!

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seriouslyhooked · 5 years ago

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The Same Soul 8

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here. Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7.

Our world AU where Emma and Killian knew each other as teenagers. Killian was sent to spend a summer with family in America. He met foster kid Emma while there. They fell in love but then he was forced back home and she couldn’t take the memories so she ran away, trying her best to move on from the dreams they’d always hoped for. A chance meeting brings them back together years later, and this time nothing and no one will keep them apart. Rated M.

A/N: Hey everyone! After waiting for my inspiration to strike again with this story, I have been on a relative roll and it feels so good. The cuteness continues in this chapter, and we’re hitting a major milestone too. As such, we are edging ever closer to the end of this story. Honestly, I would say there’s only two chapters left, one of which will likely be an epilogue. That being said, I hope that you guys will enjoy what I’ve done in this installment. As always, I would love to hear what you all think and I thank you so much for your continued support and kindness!

God, to think, even a month ago, that this would be my life. I’d never have believed it.

Emma smiled at the thought as she moved about Killian’s kitchen, bringing together the few needed ingredients to put together this morning’s pancake mix. She might live on her own, but Emma always took pleasure in the little things, and a home cooked meal was one of those investments that made a huge difference in her day. Making something for herself was a powerful experience, but making something to share that she knew would be appreciated was even better, and in about fifteen minutes or so, Killian would wake up, wrap her in his arms, wish her good morning and marvel at these pancakes before eating damn near every one. She chuckled at the thought, knowing that, if habit held, Killian would put away at least six of these bad boys, as well as tons of bacon and eggs, praising her and thanking her endlessly all the while.

It was surreal to comprehend all of this – her and Killian, back together again, and not just reunited, but happy and domestic. This was becoming a routine. Lazy Sunday mornings at one of their places had been going six weeks strong, and they followed Saturday day and nights spent almost exclusively together. On Sundays, Emma weirdly woke up with the sun and Killian had a tendency towards sleeping in, a total reversal of the rest of their week. Not that Emma was in a hurry to leave. She always spent a little time in bed, just enjoying the feel of Killian holding her tight, and only when nature called did Emma sneak out of his arms, throw on one of his t-shirts, and get ready for the morning.

With anyone else, establishing a routine like this, especially so early in a relationship, would be impossible for Emma. Routines involved counting on someone and trusting that they would come through. For everyone else, that trust was hard earned and seldom given, but with Killian things were different. Emma had believed in him and given him her heart so long before, and now that he was back it felt natural to hand them over without any more muss or fuss. Having overcome her worries early on, she was now committed, all in in a way one had to see to believe. It was miraculous really, and yet Emma didn’t go too deep into why or how. Overthinking was the fastest way to heartbreak, and instead she was doing everything she could to make this work and treasure every moment she and Killian had together.

With thoughts of the two of them dancing in her head, Emma kept pouring batter and flipping cakes, monitoring the other pieces of their meal, but largely focused on the pancakes that would take center stage. She made one and then another and another until the plate was piled high with golden circles of deliciousness. Then when she was nearly finished, and thinking that it might be time to wake Killian up, he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and breathing her in. Emma sighed happily, closing her eyes for a moment and soaking this sensation deep into her soul before twisting in his grasp and smiling at him. His hair was disheveled from sleep, his eyes still a little dazed, but he was handsome as ever. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, brushing against that extra bit of scruff that had appeared overnight and she couldn’t help kissing him. She went for something quick, but when she tried to pull back, he demanded more and she melted against him. Soon everything else was forgotten and Emma had only one thing in mind, but before they could get there, Killian ended the kiss, grinning at her as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I’ll never grow tired of us being like this,” he murmured, his eyes flicking down to her lips, as if he was tempted to taste her all over again. Still he held back, glancing at the stovetop and shitting off the gas before her last pancake could burn. “Will you ever wake me up and let me help you with all of this?”

Emma shook her head and bit her lip to keep from grinning too widely. He had asked her every weekend to wake him up so he could help, claiming that he loved this thoughtful breakfast, but that it was too much for her to take on herself. Emma didn’t agree. She was totally willing and able to make them a meal to share like this. Besides, this wasn’t a totally selfless act. She got to enjoy the food just as much as he did, and then after, when they were finished, Killian would pull her close and drag her back to bed, determined to remind her of what kind of morning they could have when they did wake up together.

Trying to hide the flush that came to her cheeks would be useless. She was blushing and there was no remedy, especially not when Killian grumbled out a heated promise that he’d ‘satisfy her soon enough.’ Yet despite the butterflies of anticipation, she ate her pancakes and fruit with total contentment. This was easy and relaxing, peaceful in a way she could never have imagined, and somehow, through some beautiful twist of fate, it was becoming their new normal.

“So, you never did tell me if you had any plans today,” Emma hedged, when breakfast was done and they’d brought all the dishes back to the kitchen. In a lightening fast move, Killian reached for her hand and then pulled her flush against him, leading her back to the place in the world she loved most of all.

“That’s because I don’t. The only thing on my agenda is spending every moment with you that I can. Aside from that, I have no wish left to fulfill.”

Emma’s heart warmed at his words which were genuine and real. Everything he said was big and bold, but he never exaggerated. That was what made Emma feel so safe in this relationship. Killian felt so much and he candidly showed her the extent of his emotion. He loved her deeply, and even if they went years apart, she knew he had loved her since the moment they met. Her hand raised to his chest, her fingers tracing above his heart, as she relished this feeling of total and complete connection. Closing her eyes she let out a deep, contented sigh, thrilled at the idea of having another day with Killian with no cares or worries to be had.

“Actually, I stand corrected.” Emma raised a brow at his sudden change of tone. “I do have plans. Plans to keep you in bed and in my arms as long as humanly possible.”

When he swept her into his arms Emma laughed, letting slip a sound of shock that melted into pure excitement. She loved when this part of him came to the forefront, controlling and needy and demanding. He was the sweetest man she’d ever met, but he was also the sexiest, and when he flipped that switch to claiming her… God, she almost fanned herself just thinking of how it would be. In seconds she was riled up, desperate for what was coming, and then a knock sounded at the door and both of them froze.

“Are you expecting someone?” Emma whispered, as if the person on the other side of that door could somehow hear her.

“No, love. No one even knows where I live. Well, except for work and -,”

“Open up, brother! I know you’re in there!”

“Liam?” Emma and Killian both asked at the same time, and now her pulse was racing for a different reason. Oh shit – his brother was here? She’d never even met him and currently she was… Emma yelped. Jumping down from Killian’s arms and trying to get away. She was wearing nothing but his t-shirt and here was his brother come to visit! Oh God this was a nightmare.

“Emma, love, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was even in the states, never mind coming here.”

“I believe you,” Emma said, but she felt antsy now and desperate to get dressed and appear more presentable. She had imagined the moment she would meet Killian’s brother a thousand times, and it was safe to say none of those imaginings were anything like this.

“It’s going to be all right, Swan,” Killian said, kissing her quickly and staring into her eyes with an intensity she had to accept. “It’s sudden, but we were always headed to this. I love you for now and always. You’re a part of me, and so is Liam. It’s only right two of my favorite people should finally meet.”

Emma smiled despite her fear and nodded. “Okay. I’ll be quick.”

“Take all the time you need. You know I’d wait forever for you.” Emma stayed wrapped up in him for another moment, but then another knock sounded at the door.

“Killian! You better not be sleeping! Damn, just our luck, we surprise the lad and he’s dead to the world.”

“We?” Emma mouthed to Killian as another voice in the hallway responded.

“Give the boy a minute, Liam. He’s likely… tied up at the moment.”

“Uncle Benjen,” Killian said with a grin though his eyes still shone with confusion and Emma groaned. Tied up? Oh they totally knew she was here. God this was embarrassing!

Before she could wallow any longer though, Emma moved into the bedroom, locking the door as she heard Killian open his apartment to the family who loved him. Immediately Emma could hear the happy greetings said between them, and as she changed into clean clothes and tried to brush her hair she did her best not to panic. It was going to be okay. Kilian loved her and she loved him, and that would be enough. She could impress his family. At least she hoped she could.

Gathering her courage, Emma exited the bedroom and made her way to the living room where Killian stood with two men who looked so strikingly similar it gave Emma momentary pause. The younger of the two was Liam, and immediately Emma knew that he and Killian were brothers. They carried themselves the same way, though Liam was much taller, and when they both saw her and smiled, they mirrored each other so acutely. Then she saw Killian’s Uncle and she was shocked. He looked so young still, or maybe he was just aging very well. Either way it felt that looking at this man was getting a snapshot into what Killian may be like years from now. He obviously took care of himself, probably staying away from rum and dessert and any other vices one could have, but even in his age he looked youthful. Perhaps it was the mirthful glint in his blue eyes, that matched his nephews in every way.

“Liam, Uncle, this is Emma,” Killian said, coming over and taking her hand as he smiled at her lovingly. “Emma, this is my family.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Emma said her voice soft but steady as she relaxed in Killian’s hold. “I’ve heard a lot about you both.”

“Not nearly as much as we’ve heard about you, I’m sure,” Liam retorted with a sharp laugh. Emma reached out her hand to shake his, but he disregarded it, pulling her in for a giant bear hug that left her somewhat pressed for breath. “Now where the hell have you been all these years, lass?”

From the corner of her eye, Emma could see Killian looked stricken, but she just laughed, knowing Liam’s words were harmless. When he let her go she shook her head and shrugged, playing it cool. “Oh you know, around.”

“Well I’m glad he finally found you.”

“Me too,” Emma replied honestly before turning her attention to Benjen. Just like Liam he pulled her in for a hug, but this one was gentler and felt more like a father’s embrace than that of a rowdy older brother.

“You’ll have to forgive our informality, lass. It feels like you’ve been one of us a long time. A missing member of the family.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say,” Emma whispered, trying her best not to get choked up.

“Well don’t get used to that. We Jones men are hardly known for being sweet,” Liam said with a grunt and now Emma laughed, knowing he had to be kidding.

“Is that so?”

“You doubt me, lass?” Emma shook her head no but it was hard to keep a poker face. She found it too funny a concept.

“Ah give her a break, boy. Can’t you see they’re in love? What is love if not a bit of sweetness?”

“Always the poet,” Killian replied to his Uncle, before pulling Emma in and kissing her temple. “Now then – just what the hell are you two doing here?”

Liam and Benjen quickly told them the whole tale, about how Liam was here on business, having given up the British navy for the chance to have his own security company. He was meeting with an international client here in the city, and on a whim had mentioned it to Benjen. Since the man was now retired, he was eager to come and see both his nephews at once, something he hadn’t been able to do in many months. And they were also both eager to see Emma, since Killian spoke of little but her and their lives back together again.

In the end, this was really the only day they’d have the chance to spend quality time together. Liam had a week filled with business, and Benjen was headed back to his estate near the coast tomorrow morning. It was just a short, spur of the moment surprise, and at first Emma wondered if she should let the three of them spend it alone, but that idea was quickly thrown out. Half the reason for their being here was to meet her, and to finally understand why Killian and her had shared a love for so long, and though Emma was a bit shy in the face of such an examination, she knew it would all work out, and that these men were all kind and good and without judgment, something she truly valued.

They spent the day moseying about the city, playing tourist in a place Emma had come to know so well. With the job that she had, so much of her time was spent looking for people and for clues, and to do that effectively she’d seen every corner of this city more than once. Along the way she found diamonds in the rough, and more than a few real gems scattered in amongst the more popular tourist dives. Her knowledge of the landscape gave her a chance to guide others in the things she loved most about this place, which she never got to do on a normal day. Feeling like an expert was a heady thing, it made this place feel more like home, and as the day went on, she watched as all of them took in the most beautiful parts of this city, many of them hidden from the guidebooks or any average tour. They filled the day with sight-seeing, new experiences, and a lot of laughter. Killian and his family never met a joke they wouldn’t tell, and Emma couldn’t remember having such a good time. It was so easy and light, and by the time the sun was setting, and the day was drawing to a close, she was sad to see it over, wishing, as so many people often did, that Sunday would last just a little bit longer.

Eventually they made it back to Killian’s apartment, where Liam insisted on cooking them all a meal truly fit for a king. He was a wonderful cook, and required very little help, but Emma did her best to chip in. Soon enough they ate, enjoying the food and the company in equal shares, and when it all was over, Emma made her way into the kitchen to prepare some dessert for all of them as a last little hurrah.

“Okay, now that she’s gone – what the hell is your problem, brother?” Liam asked and Emma stilled, hearing his words as if he spoke them right beside her thanks to the acoustics of this house.

“Liam, keep your voice down,” Killian whispered and now it was harder to hear. She knew she should stay as she was, offering them better privacy, but curiosity got the better of her, and she moved over towards the wall, giving herself more of a chance to overhear.

“She can’t hear me, and if she could why should that matter? I’m not saying anything bad about her. I’m saying you’re a fool.”

“Watch it,” Killian replied with a low warning tone.

“I will not. You’ve got a rare bird in there, Killian. A woman like that doesn’t just stumble into your life over and over again, and here you are wasting your chance.”

“I’m not wasting shit,” Killian said, and Emma agreed. After all, they saw each other ever day. What more could they really ask at this point?

“Tell him, Uncle Benjen,” Liam said with a huff, and Emma stood there transfixed and trying to anticipate what Killian’s brother was getting at.

“She’s a hell of a woman, lad,” Benjen announced, making Emma’s eyes water as he said it with such conviction. “But you know that already. It’s why she never left your heart.”

“Not for one second,” Killian agreed.

“So I believe what your brother is trying to say is, what the hell are you waiting for then? Put a ring on her finger and make her yours. You find the woman you belong to and you tie her down. Any sane man knows this.”

“I want to. More than anything, but it’s too soon -,”

“You’re not serio-,” Liam tried to get out but he was cut off.

“Liam,” Benjen said with stern warning, and Killian’s elder brother went quiet. “Excuse my crass American turn of phrase, Killian, but bull shit. You’ve only just told me that the love you carry for her has been here for years, aye?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s clear as day she feels the same. So spare yourselves the heartache and ask her. You of everyone should know how rare these chances are. Would you ever forgive yourself if it slipped away?”

“No. But I’ll never let that happen. She’s never leaving me again. Never.”

Emma finally managed to pull herself away from where she’d been listening and she found herself filled with hope. He wanted to marry her? He truly saw forever together? What a wonderful thing to know, and how amazing it felt to realize that he felt as much as she did. Was it crazy to move so fast? Maybe. But hell if she cared. Killian’s Uncle was right. They were living through something most people never had a chance at. Finding love like this once would be a blessing, but finding it again when all hope seemed lost? Well that was just a fairytale. Except for them. For them it was real, and knowing that, Emma didn’t want to wait. She never wanted to take this for granted. Every moment mattered when so many moments had been lost. She wished she could tell him that, but it wasn’t yet the time do so.

As she brought the dessert back into the dining room, she made sure to make a lot of noise, announcing herself so they didn’t know she’d heard them. They were all very complimentary of the cake Emma had raved about, but Killian was quieter. He kept hold of her through dessert, always touching her leg or her hand, and never wandering far, but she could see that he was troubled. No doubt the conversation she’d heard part of was weighing on him, and even as his family made their goodbyes, he was still tense and strung tight.

“Emma, I can truly say it has been a pleasure,” Liam announced as they were slated to leave, wrapping her up in a big hug again.

“Same here, Liam. Hopefully you’ll be back soon?”

“You can be assured of that,” he said with a grin before going to speak to Killian. At that moment Emma felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked back to Benjen whose blue eyes had grown soft and thoughtful.

“I always prayed that somehow Killian would find you again, lass. I’m very glad that those prayers were answered.”

“Me too,” she whispered. “Sometimes I wake up, convinced this is all a dream. But it’s real.”

“Aye, as real as love can be, I suspect,” he quipped before patting her hand lightly. “See that you take care of my boy, Emma. Nothing in the world he needs more than you and your love, and I can tell, it’s the same for you.”

Emma nodded that it was before bringing him in for a hug, noticing that Killian had missed their little exchange. She was almost remorseful that he had. Surely that would have calmed him some, to know that she was in this too, but as his family left the apartment, leaving she and Killian alone, Emma could sense that he was troubled.

“Killian?” she asked, waiting for him to look at her while he hesitated for the first time in all the weeks they’d been reunited.

“I love them, truly I do, but right now… right now I’m so bloody mad at them I could scream.”

“Mad? Why would you be mad?”

“Because they came in here, took one look at you and saw exactly what I do. They saw you’re brilliant and beautiful and too damn good for me, and they…”

“They what?” Emma prodded, stepping to him and trying to console him though she felt her heart might climb out of her chest.

“They scared me, Emma. They took the goodness I was feeling, they took my peace and they shattered it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was never the same without you, love,” he said, and her throat tightened at this emotional mention of the past. “When you were gone, a piece of me went with you, never to return until I found you once more. I did my best to survive, but I wasn’t living, not really. Finding you again has given me everything I want. All I ever asked for was to see you again, to prove to you that I was worthy and that what we had was right.”

“You didn’t have to prove anything,” Emma assured him. “I knew you were my soul mate, Killian. I never ever doubted that.”

“I swore to whoever is up there listening that I would never ask for anything again. If I could have you, I’d be content for the rest of my days.”

“But you’re not?”

“No, I am,” he promised her, cupping her cheek and gazing at her with complete assuredness. “God, Emma, I’ve never been so happy, you know that. Being with you like we have been these past few weeks, I’ve gotten back to who I was. I feel like the whole and complete person I always thought I could be.”

“But you want more,” Emma said, finally understanding what he was getting at. “More than just what we are right now.”

“Aye,” he said, looking almost ashamed at how much he wanted her, which made no earthly sense. “And that’s why I’m mad, Emma. I need to take this slow. I want to make sure that you feel as secure in this as I do. It doesn’t matter that I want to marry you, have kids with you, build my life with you. Until I know you’re ready, I can’t -,”

Emma realized this was the kind of moment where words would fail. She could never tell Killian how misguided his worries were, but she knew that she could show him. Pulling him down for a kiss, she poured herself into this embrace, sharing everything with him and hopefully nullifying the fear and the anger that had swept into their world once and for all. By the time they broke apart, Emma could sense his calm returning. He looked at her, with eyes that shone with heat and impatience, but still he waited for her to make the next move. As ever, he was putting her first, and now it was her turn to show him that he could do that and have everything he wanted.

“Marry me,” she said, less an ask and more a hopeful demand. “I promise you it’s what I want. The time is right, right now. I don’t want to wait. I’d marry you tomorrow if I could, but there’s that pesky thing called work we both have to get to.”

“Damn Sundays,” Killian said, but the words had no real conviction as his smile appeared and he nodded.

“Is that a yes?”

“Technically you never asked.”

“Oh, right. Killian Jones, will you -,”

“Wait!” he said, interrupting her thought as he moved to take a little black box out of his pocket. Emma’s hand came to cover her mouth as she let out a gasp. He had a ring already? But how?

“I’ve been carrying this with me since the morning after our first date, love.”

“You’re kidding,” she said. Oh my God he was serious! But that was so dangerous. There were so many places he could have lost it. Someone could have taken it. They could have…

All her thoughts flew from her mind as she felt him take her hand and watched him get down on one knee. Tears stung at her eyes, but she smiled, doing her best to memorize every bit of this, so she had this memory forever.

“I know you meant to ask me, Emma, but the thing is I’ve been dreaming of this day since I was a boy. I always pictured more than this, with flowers and romance, but sometimes when it’s right, you know. So, Emma Swan, will you make me the happiest of men? Will you be my wife?”

“Yes,” she said, watching as he slipped the gorgeous ring on her finger.

And with that, the two of them celebrated this next step in their lives, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that this was truly their forever, and that they never again would suffer the fate of two souls ripped apart when they truly are one.

Post-Note: So there we have it. I cannot believe this story is wrapping up, but at the same time it feels right to really close out this AU. As I said there are still two chapters left, ones I hope you will enjoy. My goal is to get them up and published in a timely manner, but realistically speaking I am in the homestretch of my final year of school, so god only knows when I’ll really get to write. I do have a bit of the next chapter crafted, and some mixtape chapters done though, so there’s more cuteness on a number of fronts still to come. I have also begun (as some of you know) to create a new AU that will likely come in late spring or early summer, but I want to make sure I see this project through and have written it all before I allow myself to follow a new story. That being said, I truly hope you have all enjoyed and I thank you for your continued support. Hope you have a great rest of your weekend and see you next time!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs ff #cs au #cs fluff #cs smut #emma swan #killian jones #ouat au #ouat fic #ouat ff #captain swan fluff #the same soul #the same soul au #the same soul 8 #cs second chance au #cs second chance

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ais-n · 5 years ago

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2| and where is the trauma? both hsin and boyd were severely sexually abused. and emilio's illness is always treated as a joke. look Ais, your series has done me so much good between the bad it did. i found i'm gay lmao and i'm grateful for that. i'm grateful that you wrote this ok. but there are things that were offensive, and maybe it was unconscious, since i doubt you wanted to be racist or write a mlm relationship but more like hetero. i wish i could just enjoy the books but my heart breaks

3| idk what the one who questioned that could possibly mean between all the things but thats what i mean. i appreciate you a lot. i hope this didn’t make you feel worse or whatever. but some people really did end up hurt badly after reading icos and im one of them. with all respect, and hope that i didnt disturb you much, farewell.

++++++++++++

Aha I just realized I can put both 2nd and 3rd asks in one! Which is good because, again, the gay comment makes me laugh out loud XD As I said in the other post, thank you again for reaching out, for explaining your concerns, and for the courage you no doubt had to bring forth in order to do so.

I’m getting right into the answers in this one although I will probably ask more questions for clarification on some of the points, as I did on the first one, to make sure I’m not misunderstanding or misinterpreting anything.

More below the cut! :)

EMILIO’S ILLNESS

I’m really sorry but I wasn’t sure what you meant by that. Which illness? How is it treated as a joke? Could you clarify?

TRAUMA

So this I thought was super interesting that you felt there was no representation of trauma in ICoS, or I assume you also mean its aftereffects. That’s actually one of the few points I feel pretty confident saying the series does portray a lot of, both in some cases the experience of it and in other cases the repercussions.

One of the reasons both of them are so severely dysfunctional individually and together is because of trauma.

I don’t want to muddy up this post with a huge tangent but someone had asked a few years ago about the result of the Aleixo mission on Boyd, if he was diagnosed with anything, and so on. If you’re interested, I wrote a long ass reply about the psychological effect of sex trafficking on survivors/victims and talked about some of the things you see Boyd do that are a bit reflective of that. More info at https://aisness.wordpress.com/2015/01/28/boyd-aleixo-psychology/

I think there probably would be more information on all this by now, or at least I certainly hope there would be, but at the time of writing Fade that was the sort of research that was available.

Although, full disclosure, I don’t tend to write characters looking up the DSM symptoms for this or that; I write what feels right for them psychologically, mentally, emotionally, and oftentimes later look it up and realize they would have likely been diagnosed with this or that thing or they could be displaying traits of this or that.

At any rate, with Boyd, his trauma started early on, and pretty much everything about him is a reflection of that in some form. I don’t see trauma as specific to sexual assault; it’s most certainly a result of that but also of many other things. Boyd dealt with a lot of neglect and/or emotional abuse as a child, he was bullied by his peers, and generally speaking it was difficult for him to feel like he belonged anywhere. He was very often judged by others, often negatively, for things completely outside of his control, like his parents, their jobs, his home, the amount of money his family had, his looks, etc.

If you look at the Mayo Clinic’s list of child abuse, Boyd falls pretty well under emotional abuse and a bit under neglect, and you can especially see the toll that had on his personality by reading the signs and symptoms of emotional abuse in particular:

Loss of self-confidence or self-esteem

Social withdrawal or a loss of interest or enthusiasm

Depression

Avoidance of certain situations, such as refusing to go to school or ride the bus

Desperately seeks affection

And general symptoms:

Withdrawal from friends or usual activities

Depression, anxiety or unusual fears, or a sudden loss of self-confidence

An apparent lack of supervision

Self-harm or attempts at suicide

If you look at Complex PTSD, and in particular Developmental Trauma Disorder (DTD) you can see a lot of Hsin:

Attachment – “problems with relationship boundaries, lack of trust, social isolation, difficulty perceiving and responding to others’ emotional states”

Behavioural control – “problems with impulse control, aggression, pathological self-soothing, and sleep problems”

Dissociation – “amnesia, depersonalization, discrete states of consciousness with discrete memories, affect, and functioning, and impaired memory for state-based events”

I wouldn’t say Hsin dissociates quite that extensively but I feel like he does display some dissociative tendencies at times.

Boyd has some too, like

Self-concept – “fragmented and disconnected autobiographical narrative, disturbed body image, low self-esteem, excessive shame, and negative internal working models of self”.

I think in some ways you could argue they both display aspects of:

Affect or emotional regulation – “poor affect regulation, difficulty identifying and expressing emotions and internal states, and difficulties communicating needs, wants, and wishes”

When Boyd was little, he often wondered why other people were treated better than him - why, when he was getting perfect grades, he was going above and beyond whenever possible, when he was trying to be “a good boy” all the time, when he went out of his way to stay quiet and not bother anyone – why, despite all his attempts, other people were celebrate yet he was reviled, even if the people being celebrated were awful people doing awful things. He used to study other people relentlessly, trying to understand what it was about them that made them acceptable and what it was about him that made him not.

That’s why, despite being such an introvert, he’s good at blending in and going undercover; it’s why he can adjust to new situations and, in a way, act - because he always had to monitor and adjust himself his whole life just to feel seen and loved. His dad loved him on his own so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but with the trauma that came from the loss of his dad, and what happened with Lou, plus everything afterward, it really messed everything up.

Boyd was not a victim of childhood sexual abuse, but more of emotional abuse. Well, I guess, I should say for the most part he wasn’t.

Hsin was definitely a victim of childhood sexual abuse and probably physical abuse (that bit I can’t recall for sure). He was raped even as a small child, and that led into different aspects of his life. One reason, for example, he would go berserk and was seen by the Agency as unreliable in cases of him seeing sexual assault was because he saw, in some way, himself in those victims. It was probably his way of protecting people when he hadn’t been protected, himself.

I can’t speak too much on Hsin’s specific mental health status or repercussions because I didn’t write him so I’m not fully in his mind, but I do know that sort of berserker aspect is part of what came from his sexual abuse and physical abuse and just generally how he grew up. If I recall correctly, a lot of that led into why he was so unstable and dangerous when Emilio first found him; why it took so long to get Hsin to find a way to deal with the violence and aggression and anger in him, in addition to everything else that would have happened regardless of that childhood trauma. Why, too, it was such a huge deal when Boyd was able to earn Hsin’s trust, because he had learned in his life to trust almost no one.

You can see some of the way they both display aspects of C-PTSD as adults as well in the list at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Complex_post-traumatic_stress_disorder#Adults

I should be clear: I am NOT a psychiatrist or psychologist so I’m not suggesting that they would be specifically diagnosed with any of these disorders were they to get official diagnoses. However, the reason I bring it up is to show that a lot of the series reflects the way their coping mechanisms lead them to interact within themselves and with the outside world, all of which is often directly or indirectly tied to trauma.

Why is Boyd so terrified of anyone seeing him without his shirt in the beginning? Trauma. Why is he depressed? Trauma. Why is he suicidal? Trauma. Why does he go out of his way to avoid a certain block? Trauma. I would have to look at specific symptoms of different things but I would guess that you could also tie back some of his instability and his sometimes inconsistent reactions to trauma as well. Sometimes he does things or says things that may seem a bit reckless, or cold, or some other unexpected thing at that time - and a lot of times it’s probably in part related to how he learned to cope with things and what his levels of defensiveness are or his fears are at that moment. But he also has a complete inability to see the good in himself for a long time which also ties back, I would think, to some of the things he experienced growing up/previously.

Boyd is an incredibly unreliable narrator. He spends most of his narration thinking about how awful he is, how he should just die, how he isn’t doing a good enough job, and so forth. Yet, that fails to show the impact of some of his choices and decisions. Boyd was pretty much the first person to treat Hsin like a normal human being, to not see him as a surrogate of anything or anyone, to not have any ulterior motives or expectations of him (no matter how well-intentioned), and to truly gain his trust as a result. Yet, Boyd didn’t really see it that way. He didn’t see how important it was for Hsin that he ended up in his life; he didn’t get why Hsin was exasperated the times Boyd said he (Boyd) should just die, that there was no value to his life. He didn’t believe he could be loved so he couldn’t see it was even a possibility at first. Therefore, he spends a lot of his narration over the series belittling himself and downplaying any of his own achievements while simultaneously rewarding or acknowledging what others around him are doing. Not every moment of his narration, of course, but his default state of self is to think he sucks and others are probably better.

Conversely, Hsin is a confident narrator. He often doesn’t doubt himself, doesn’t care what other people think, and is very sure of himself in a lot of aspects like his physical prowess which, itself, is already above and beyond nearly everyone else. Yet he also learned not to trust or rely on anyone else in his life, so he’s incredibly suspicious of others because that’s how he had to learn to be. So, especially in the beginning of the series, in his narration he tends to be very factual about his own achievements and not shy away from acknowledging the things that are powerful about him (even if he doesn’t always see it as anything that special), while simultaneously seeking out anything untrustworthy, unreliable, incompetent, or unworthy about those around him. His narration tends to point out the flaws of those around him because he learned that if he doesn’t protect himself, he’s vulnerable, and when he’s vulnerable he gets hurt.

The result of that is, if you read their narrations straight as if it’s all perfectly reliable, Boyd seems even more unreliable and Hsin seems even more perfect than they actually are, because their default states of being overlap in a manner which magnifies the flaws in Boyd and the merits in Hsin.

Both of them learned to be how they were because of how they were raised, what they went through, and more. Same as how they react to various things throughout the series.

I can’t more specifically comment on anything without knowing what in particular you were thinking of when commenting in the ask about trauma and sexual abuse. But I think generally speaking, they already start the series having learned coping mechanisms that work for them based on trauma they already individually experienced. Those coping mechanisms end up oftentimes being challenged and at times destroyed or reworked throughout the course of the series. That is what leads to a lot of their ups and downs as individuals and as a couple; why their story isn’t a straight arc going up but instead derails a lot. And why they both spend the entirety of the series coming to terms with who they are both internally and externally, and what that means for their relationship, and how they can find a way to grow as a person and a significant other. They both ultimately have to work on trust; Boyd has to learn to trust himself, Hsin has to learn to trust others, and they have to learn to trust each other.

The way people deal with trauma is not the same for everyone. Sexual abuse doesn’t result in the same reaction for all people. I’m not sure if maybe one of the things you were thinking is maybe about sexual abuse during the series itself? I already linked something that goes more in depth on Fade so I won’t touch on that book, and I really can’t speak for Hsin because he isn’t my character so I don’t want to misrepresent his thought process as hidden behind narration or actions at different points.

The only other thing I can think of that maybe you’re thinking about is Boyd’s valentine status, and how he doesn’t seem to have overtly strong reactions to anything until Fade. If that’s one aspect of what you were thinking about, part of that is just how Boyd deals with things. He tends to avoid things that are difficult for him or he has difficulty focusing on, and oftentimes shuts down emotionally.

I think honestly he probably dissociated to some extent during a lot of things; kind of separated his body from his mind and felt like whatever happened, happened. For a lot of the time that he was a valentine early on, he had such little love for himself that regardless of how upsetting anything was, how little he wanted to do certain things, he felt on some level like he deserved it. Some things were probably a subconscious form of self-punishment for being born, for being who he is, for surviving when Lou didn’t, for surviving when his dad didn’t, for never being enough for his mother, for just plain existing. Then as time went on he grew to rely on Hsin and find strength in him. It’s also not like every mission he had was a valentine one, or even that every valentine has to end in anything physical.

That’s why he was able to find ways of dealing with things in some form, even if he didn’t like it or was uncomfortable at times, until the Aleixo mission. He thought he knew how to handle things; he thought he had found apt coping mechanisms. But that mission tore that all apart and nearly destroyed him. His coping mechanisms didn’t work the way they had and now he had to find a new way to survive, and from there came a lot of his instability and more that you see in Fade and as I mention in that blog post.

But in short, I feel like the majority of the series ends up touching, indirectly or directly, on some form of trauma as experienced currently or in the past by one or more of the main characters, and their resulting actions then drive the plot. That is one thing we were very specific about doing: having the plot adjust to the characters rather than force the characters to adjust to the plot. That’s why Afterimage exists, actually; the original plan was sort of like 3/4 of Evenfall and then kind of jumping into aspects of Fade. But we realized at the end of Evenfall that certain things would occur which would then lead to Afterimage and Afterimage then led into aspects of Interludes, which then led into aspects of right before Fade, which then affected a huge part of Fade itself, which then informed 1/27. We didn’t set out to write a series specifically about trauma, it’s just sort of one of those things that happens if you take two characters who have been treated so cruelly or poorly for so much of their lives, and put them together as any sort of team - but especially a team that becomes a couple, and a couple that becomes all but married.

+ +

Regarding the other stuff, I haven’t had a chance yet to check if you answered my question about the hetero relationship comment, so I can’t comment on that until I know more of what you mean. But I would say that generally speaking, I don’t know that I believe it’s necessarily fair to label anything as strictly “hetero” vs “m/m” vs anything else for a relationship. That brings with it a lot of assumptions of what it means to be not only gay or LGBTQIA+, but also straight. It seems to suggest there is only a single way or a very strict set of ways for a cis male and a cis female to be together both in a relationship and to have sex, and I guess I don’t feel like that’s necessarily reflective of reality. People are very complex and so are their relationships, as well as their sex lives.

I’m not sure how specifically the series ended up hurting you but I’m very sorry you felt hurt by anything. That’s a terrible feeling to have to experience. I hope that in whatever way, however it may work best for you, you have the time and space to reflect and recover and rejuvenate. You, like everyone, deserve it.

And honestly, if that means you have to leave the series completely in your past, never to think about it again, if that’s what’s healthiest for you, I truly wish you are able to do so. Stories are there to connect with other people, to share our thoughts and sometimes help us work our way through our own while reading. No story is worth your mental health being put in question. If it is truly upsetting to you to think about the series, it is absolutely not worth your energy. You are more important than a story will ever be. Everyone is. And I say that despite how much I love and rely on stories to get me through life.

If part of your duress is you like aspects of the writing style but the series itself and its contents upset you, you could try reading some other stuff. I have some things I wrote solo that you can find on my AO3 if you want. But also you can find other writers entirely. Depending on what you’re looking for in a story, and the sort of topics you’ve learned work well for you or don’t work well for you, you should be able to find a ton of great series out there and great authors out there who will leave you with the happier aspects of your reaction to ICoS without anything more detrimental like it sounds happened for you with ICoS.

Regardless, I truly wish you the very best. As I said in the other one, please stay healthy and safe! And, if you’re in a place to manage it, stay happy as well :)

Brightest of blessings to you and yours, my friend!

#ask ais #icos #in the company of shadows #Anonymous

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ankhlesbian · 5 years ago

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FEFemslash February - day 4 - shine (mirrors)

Game: FE Three Houses

Pairing: Edelgard/Dorothea

Rating/Length: G, ~800 words, light angst. yes im cool and edgy

Dorothea and Edelgard go through their morning routines. Easier said than done.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Who’s the fairest of them all?

…-.....-...

Dorothea jolts awake with her heart thundering in her chest. Is there a performance today? Did she oversleep? She pushes herself out of bed, bare feet stumbling onto cold ground, sending shivers up her spine. Is she going to miss breakfast? Is there time to get her makeup on? She reaches her vanity, and there an unfamiliar face stares her down. Pallid skin, dark circles, limp hair. She blinks, and so does the stranger. Ah.

It’s her. She can’t help but laugh aloud, raspy voice filling the silence of her room. She’s at Garreg Mach, one of the only commoners to enter under the banner of the Black Eagle house. And far be it from her to bring any more shame to her name. Powder, lotion, curlers and poultice for her hair, a stick of charcoal. Eyeshadow and highlighter. Her fresh uniform. And can’t forget to accessorize. Earrings, bracelets, choker. All gifts from those who sponsored her entry into the Academy.

After a good hour of preparation, she peers back into the mirror. Much better now. One last touch. She twirls around, mood improving, and plucks her hat off the post of her bed. One of the few personal items she’d picked out herself. And it was fashion-forward. Not everyone could pull off the off-center, angled hat. She was a trend-setter, after all. And finally ready to face the day.

…-.....-...

Edelgard was awake before dawn, more often than not. So much to do, and only so much of it could be accomplished in the light of day, under the watchful eye of Rhea’s monastery and knights. Sometimes, Hubert forced her to promise to attend to no extracurricular tasks. “To catch up on sleep. A tired heir to a throne is a dead one.”

It was nights like those that were either a blessing or curse. Once in a while, she managed to sleep undisturbed, and wake feeling clear-headed and energized. Yet on other nights, like this one, she found herself haunted and awake, eyes burning as they gazed at the ceiling above her bed.

It was no use. It was near enough to waking hours that she could at least move about without disturbing her classmates. She got up and paced, paced, paced. If she wore herself out, perhaps she could manage to fall asleep undisturbed. Instead, her gaze caught on the mirror to the side of her room. Like a magnet, she couldn’t look away once she noticed it.

She hated it. There was a feeling inside her, a discomfort she felt bone-deep. In that mirror there should be someone just a little taller, with hair much darker. She flexed her hand, watching as her muscles moved at her command. There was nothing more to be done her. She slung on her cape and adjusted her hair, keeping her eyes stubbornly looking anywhere except the mirror. She couldn’t break it. She needed to ensure she kept up the proper appearance for someone of her position. Couldn’t dress sloppily or look hesitant.

The dining hall would just be opening. The halls were empty, at least until she headed downstairs and almost ran headfirst into Dorothea.

“Edie! You’re up early.”

“I have to set a good example, don’t I? With Linhardt and Bernadetta around, someone has to convince people that Black Eagles are alive before noon.”

Dorothea giggled. “At least Bernie’s awake. If you walked by her room, you’d know she was in there.”

The two fell in step automatically as they continued on their journey to breakfast. Dorothea couldn’t help but give Edelgard a once over. She looked… tired. And her hair…

“Did you accidentally fall asleep on wet hair last night?”

Edelgard frowned. “No. Why do you ask?”

Dorothea tapped at the side of her head, where Edelgard usually had her ribbons tied in. “It’s, well, a little out of whack.”

Well, she had tied them in without looking.

“I could fix them for you,” Dorothea offered gently. “Save you the trouble, dear princess.”

Edelgard huffed at the tease. “That would be much appreciated.”

They paused off to the side of the path, out of the way.

Dorothea made quick, efficient work of mess. She had done plenty of different styles and updos for her fellow singers, after all.

“There. No one’ll ever know they were askew.”

“I’d hope not.” She’d probably have to find a mirror now, anyways. Dorothea pursed her lips. She reached out to pat Edelgard’s shoulder.

“Hey, you look fine. Trust me. I can tell you need more sleep than you get, but everyone else won’t notice. Except maybe Hubert, but he knows everything you get up to, so he doesn’t count.”

Edelgard swatted her hand away. “Was I that obvious?”

Dorothea’s lips quirked up, but it couldn’t be called a smile. “We all have those days. Even me.”

…-.....-...

Mirror, mirror, on the wall. I don’t like what I see at all.

#edelthea #edelgard von fresberg #dorothea arnault #dorogard #femslash february #fe16 #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #it writes

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fipindustries · 5 years ago

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Mhmm seems the quarentine has finally gotten to me. Im back to having anxiety attacks. And that anxiety is making me convinced i have corona. A few days ago i had a persistent cough, throat pain and sniffles. I dismissed it as just seasonal flu. The symptoms went away. But then today i woke up unexpectedly early with a heavy sensation in my chest and the feeling i was suffocating. It was like no matter how much i breathe it never seems to be enough air. Now admittedly this could all be the anxiety playing a trick on me. I read that this is a common thing that is happening to a lot of people these days. It doesnt help the fact that my country seems to be undergoing a suddent spike in the rate of new cases. I have taken my teperature multiple times today and i had shown no signs of fever and as i understood fever in the most common sympton. Yet anxiety persists. There is something about the concept of suffocating no matter how much you breathe that i find mind shatteringly terrifying. I cant stop breathing manually out of some irrational fear that it wont be enough if i leave it ti my body's autonomous system. I cant go to sleep because im afraid i wont wake up. This is full blown panic. I hope there is nothing to it. Just a stupid brain misfiring. Will keep you guys updated

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redrobinfection · 5 years ago

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(15) Horror Movies

SociallyAwkwardFox’s Spooktober - Day 15 “Horror Movies”

~*~

Tim loves his boyfriends. So, so much. But one thing that Jason and Dick both love that Tim just can’t wrap his head around: horror movies.

They’re watching one right now, the third of a trilogy Jay and Dick love, and Tim is sandwiched between them on the couch, feeling faintly ill.

Jay and Dick are the kind of people that get that something from a horror movie, the adrenaline or the enjoyment of their terror or whatever it is that hooks people. Tim isn’t and he gets nothing but is a sick feeling in his stomach and the impression that all the color has been sucked out of the world.

It isn’t the scenes themselves that get to him, because as terrible as it is to admit, he’s seen and experienced thing just as terrible, maybe worse, in his time as Robin. All of them have. Brutal serial killings, human trafficking tragedies, figurative and literal monsters left and right, not to mention the rogues. A run-in with Scarecrow’s fear toxin? That would make most horror movies seem like a pleasant summer picnic. Chasing and being chased by Killer Croc in the sewers in the dead of night? Monster B-flick gold. And the Joker? ‘Nough said.

No, for Tim it’s more about the way the scenes are presented - the cold, dark filters; the unnatural lighting; the haunting music and grisly sound effects. It turns a factually horrifying scene into an garish exaggeration, like a scene from one of his nightmares - you don’t fully believe its real, but it still strikes a chord deep in your psyche.

He can handle one movie. Easy to shake off. Maybe two, in the daytime. But tonight they watched three, using their one night off from patrol to stay up into the wee hours of the morning–as if they would ever think use that time to catch up on sleep or something.

Three-quarters of the way through the third movie, Jason notices Tim getting twitchy and asks if he’s okay.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just getting late. I keep nodding off and then every time someone screams, I jump awake again,” Tim tells them, playing it off with a laugh. Dick and Jason laugh with him.

“No problem, Babybird, we’re almost done. We’ll let you sleep in peace soon enough.”

“Did you mean 'rest in peace’, Jaybird?”

“Ugh, Dick, staaaahp.”

They laugh and kiss over Tim’s head, then come at him from both sides when he makes a disgruntled noise for being squished between them, showering him in kisses and noogies and awkward side hugs. The warm moment of affection between the three of them almost distracts Tim away from the grim mood affected by the movies. Almost.

When they settle down into bed an hour later, Tim snuggled between the two of them–all of Dick’s limbs wrapped around him and Jason drooling onto his shoulder–the sick feeling, mental and physical, doesn’t budge. Tim spends the rest of the night staring up at the dark ceiling, mind circling the imagery of the movie in endless spirals. He closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep when Dick gets up at 4:30 to pee, and again at 5:15 when Jay startles awake for a few seconds at the sound of a car alarm blaring down on the street. When they all get up at nine the next morning, neither Dick nor Jason seems to be the wiser to his deception.

Tim spends the next day exhausted, but makes up for it with a jam packed schedule–keeping busy always helps–and copious amounts of caffeine. That night he goes out for a quick patrol, then turns in early, hoping to make up for lost sleep.

He can’t. He’s still awake, his mind bombarding him with the images of a decapitated zombie child crawling toward a screaming young woman in the grey rain as “mama, mama” whistles in the wind; the sounds of a man sobbing as he clutches his dead partner in the snow–her womb torn out messily–and the smells he imagines a child clinging to their mother’s green, long-dismembered corpse would experience when Dick comes in at three AM. He’s still awake–and pretending he’s not with every Bat-trained skill he has–when Jay comes in a half hour later.

He’s seen just as bad in real life–and how messed up is it to say that?–but here the imagery is also accompanied by such a deep sense of sorrow, lasting pain and depression. Lives, minds, souls ruined. He’s still wide awake as dawn begins to light the sky. He extricates himself from their sleepy dogpile while Jason and Dick are still in the deepest stages of sleep and heads down to the gym to get a few hours of training in to pump him up for another exhausting day.

He struggles through day two, barely functioning as he makes his way into night three. He volunteers to stay on comms for the night, citing some bullshit excuse about a sore ankle he wants to rest to keep Dick from worrying and Jason from asking too many questions. He stays up late, working on case docs, hoping that if works himself to utter exhaustion that he can just pass out at dawn. He tells Dick and Jay he’s doing it to make up for not going out, and they seem worried, but he promises he’ll rest in the morning.

He doesn’t. Daylight doesn’t bring any relief from the wild thoughts and images that pop into his head any time he tries to quiet his mind. He pretends to nap on the couch until Jay and Dick leave, then goes into Wayne Enterprises and works late.

He goes out as Red Robin that night–night four–but turns in early after he gets a call from Alfred asking about unexpected telemetry from the vitals sensors in his suit–racing pulse, high rate of respiration. He excuses himself with claims that he’s in a bit of pain from his “sore” ankle. It’s a lie. His body and his mind are hitting their natural limits, his anxiety levels increasing and his organs screaming for rest. He meditates for the rest of the night, feeling somewhat refreshed the next morning.

Day four is like a bizarre dream, time zooming past or crawling by in fits and starts. He loses his appetite and even coffee starts to lose its appeal, the smell of it making his stomach twist. By five PM swears the shadows at the corner of his office have started to ooze toward him and he jumps at every little sound.

That night he skips dinner, disables all telemetry in his suit, and goes out for solo patrol. Just a loop around his territory. Then he’ll stop, take a sedative, and pass out for twelve to fifteen hours. Sweat it out as the drugs force him to stay under no matter what nightmares may come.

His patrol is patchy, if that makes any sense. Some moments he is clearly aware of where he is and what he’s doing, and then there are whole stretches of time that are total blanks. Halfway through his loop he gets sidetracked to a neighborhood outside his scope after he hears about of a drug deal going down outside a middle school.

He handles the would-be dealers–high schoolers dealing to middle schoolers who were lucky Red Robin caught wind of the deal before Red Hood did–then retires to the roof of the school for a breather. He sits down between two AC units and lets his head fall back against one for a few moments…

—

Tim slowly comes awake to the sounds of quiet conversation around him, gentle fingers combing through his hair, and a soft bed under him. He blinks his eyes open, squinting in confusion at the overhead light of the room he shares with Jay and Dick. Who left the lights on? Wait, why is he in his uniform? Did he forget to take it off before he dropped into bed?

“Dick. Dick, shut up a second, I think he’s coming around. Tim? Timmy? You with us?”

Tim turns his head to the side with a grimace. His neck is sore like he slept hanging off the side of the bed half the night.

“J-Jay?”

The hand leaves his hair and Tim turns his head minutely to see Dick sitting beside him on the bed, running both hands through his own hair, expression a blend of relief and worry.

“Holy cow, Tim, you scared the crap out of us. What were you thinking?” Dick demands of him. Tim blinks, confused.

“Whoa, whoa, ease up, Dickie, give 'im a sec to reboot, 'kay?” Jason chides, settling down near Tim’s bare feet–-oh, someone removed his boots, gauntlets, belts and cape and unzipped the collar of his suit. He rubs a soothing circles into the arch of one foot. “Hey, Timbo, you know where you are?”

“The 'partment,” Tim answers slowly. Did he hit his head on patrol?

“Yeah. You know what time it is?”

Tim blinks. It’s dark outside, so he knows it’s nighttime, but when he tries to think back to the last time he remembers he can’t get it straight. He was on patrol? Which patrol? He can’t remember. Did he get drugged? Shot?

“No? You know what day it is?”

He doesn’t. He starts to panic. What happened to him? He tries to sit up.

“Easy, Tim. Just rest for a minute,” Dick soothes, easing him back down with a hand on one shoulder. Tim flops back, heart racing. He’s missing something, something important, something awful he should remember.

“Breathe, Tim, don’t force yourself,” Jason chides. Dick’s hand returns to his hair and Jason lies down beside him, now rubbing circles into his exposed hand.

Dark spots cloud his vision and he starts to shake. Why can’t he remember? Now that he’s more aware, why do his joints ache and his limbs feel like they’ve been filled with cement? Why does he feel so cold? Is he dying? Is he dead?

“Jay, he’s hyperventilating.”

“No shit. Timmy? Tim? Breathe with me okay?”

“Breathe with Jason, Tim. Nice and slow.”

“Hey, fo– on m–”

“Ti–”

Their voices fade out along with the sensation of fingers feeling for a pulse and hands pulling off his suit. Darkness fills his vision until there is nothing left but the darkness.

—

When Tim comes around again it’s with a hiss for the bright overhead lighting of the Batcave’s med bay. You’d think with all their resources they’d invest in a light dimmer at some point.

“There he is. Rise and shine, Timbo,” Jason’s voice calls from his left. He groans and tries to squeeze his eyes closed.

“Ah, ah, ah, no falling asleep again until you endure the wrath of Big Bird and Alfie. They’ve got a lot of choice words for you, Babybird,” Jason chides, squeezing his hand. Tim tries to curl onto his opposite side but freezes with a gasp when a sharp twinge in his right arm informs him of the IV inserted there. The numb, slightly clammy feeling on his right index finger speaks to the presence of a pulse oximeter clip. Did he get injured, he wonders?

No. Bit by bit, Tim’s head clears and snatches of memory come back to him. He’d been on patrol. He stopped to rest. No dinner. No sleep. Wayne Enterprises. Disabled telemetry. Solo patrol. The teenaged dealers. A middle school.

Disabled telemetry. Shit.

“H-how long was I out?” Tim asks, croaking around the dryness of his throat. He turns back to Jay in time to see Alfred and Dick walk into med bay, expressions stern and relieved in equal measure. Jason snorts at whatever expression Tim makes in response to theirs.

“About a day, in and out of it,” Alfred replies smoothly, voice cool and unamused as he raises the back of the bed to help Tim sit up. “You gave Masters Dick and Jason quite the fright, not to mention myself, going out alone and under the radar the way you did. I thought we had taught you better than that, Master Timothy.”

Tim shrinks in on himself. You know you’re in trouble with Alfred when he calls you by your full first name. “Sorry, Alfred. Dick. Jason. I haven’t really been myself the past couple of days,” he admits, thinking back on the past week. He cringes internally as he thinks about their last free day and all the stupid things he did in the resulting funk.

“I imagine you wouldn’t be, skipping meals until you passed out from exhaustion,” Alfred lectures sternly as he deftly removes the IV and pulse oximeter. Dick looks sad and disappointed. Jason looks unconvinced.

Tim shakes his head. “I wasn’t skipping meals - mostly - I just wasn’t sleeping very much.”

Dick raises his eyebrows. “Define 'very much’? Why weren’t you sleeping?”

“Uhhhh, well… not at all?” Tim replies shrugging with an apologetic grimace. Alfred shakes his head as he leaves med bay and Jason’s eyes blow wide. Dick makes a sound of indignation.

“Not at all?!” Jason echoes. “What the hell, Babybird? What were you thinking!”

Tim scrubs his hands over his face and deliberately ignores the question in favor of asking one of his own. “What happened? I remember stopping to rest on the roof of Parkview Middle and then briefly waking up back at the apartment.” He looks around the med bay then takes stock of himself. He feels fine now, but he vaguely remember feeling like he was dying the last time he was fully conscious. “Did I get hurt?”

Dick doesn’t look happy about the redirect, but shakes his head and takes a seat on the edge of the gurney. “Well, after me and Jay got home at four AM, realized you weren’t there, and found your suit was missing, we called Alfred and Babs to see if you’d been out that night.

"Alfred said he hadn’t heard from you, and neither had Babs, but she eventually tagged you in a couple of surveillance feeds along your route. We tried to call you on comms: nothing. Then Babs tried to find you on live surveillance: still nothing.” Dick’s expression is dark and his eyes drill holes into Tim.

“We were freakin’ out, Timmers,” Jason continues. “Like, did you get hurt? Did you get kidnapped? We tried to check your telemetry and got fuck all. No vitals, no location. Dickie here was nearly shittin’ himself thinking you’d gone and gotten yourself killed or somethin’”

Tim’s face heats up in shame.

“In the end we pulled out the nuclear option and activated your subdermal GPS beacon,” he explains, gesturing to the stretch of skin on Tim’s arm under which the small capsule resided, a measure they all–Bruce included–agreed to take in order to avoid situations just like this one.

“We found you on some random-ass roof four blocks off your route, passed the fuck out. When we tried to check on you, you nearly cleaned Dickie’s clock, kicked me in the cup–it still hurt, even with the cup, so thanks for that–then tried to throw yourself off the roof. After we got you to calm down and wake up a bit, you seemed to recognize us, understand where you were, and we escorted you home.

"Everything was fine until we got into the apartment, at which point you threw yourself across our bed, cowl up and belts on, and passed out again,” Jason explained, rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of it. “You weren’t outwardly bleeding and your pupils reacted appropriately to light, so we thought you were just a little tired or whatever. When you woke up again, you were disoriented as fuck and freaking out. Then you went completely non-responsive and we freaked out. We brought you down here just to make sure you didn’t have a brain bleed or a punctured lung or something.

"A million scans and some bloodwork later and Alfie concluded you that probably hadn’t been taking care of yourself,” Jason concludes, pinning Tim with a severe look of his own. “And now we’re hearing from you that you haven’t been sleeping? Cough it up, Timbo. How long?”

Tim clears his throat and shifts his legs restlessly. “About five days.”

“Five days!” Dick exclaims, jumping up from the end of the gurney. He rounds to the other side, across from Jason. “Why?”

Tim shrugs and looks away. “I dunno, I just haven’t been able to fall asleep. I couldn’t shut my brain off.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you had insomnia?” Dick asks.

Tim shrugs again. “What would you be able to do about it?”

“Make sure you didn’t do something stupid like stay up all night filing reports or go on patrol with all your tracers turned off, probably,” Jason replies wryly. He stands up, bracketing Tim between himself and Dick. He narrows his eyes.

“You know, I can tell when you’re keeping something from us, Timbo. Spit it out. What’s been so heavy on your mind that it hasn’t let you get a wink of sleep for nearly a week?”

Tim tenses and curls in on himself subconsciously. “Nothing. It’s not important.”

Jason laughs mirthlessly and Dick frowns. “If it’s important enough for you to lose sleep over it, then it’s important to us,” Jason insists.

Tim mumbles under his breath, avoiding eye contact.

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles a little louder.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, Timbelina,” Jason belts loudly into his ear.

“It’s your damn horror, movies okay!? I couldn’t sleep after we marathoned that trilogy on our night off,” Tim shouts back, scooting down the bed and throwing off the sheet. He swings his legs over the side, stands up, and only sways a little as the room swims around him for a second.

“The movies? They scared you?” Dick asks uncertainly as he steadies Tim with hand around his upper arm.

Tim shakes him off. “No, they’re just depressing as fuck. We see enough horrible stuff in our line of work, so sue me if watching it presented in a way intended to be emotionally gripping as possible puts me in a bit of a funk.”

He moves for the doorway, pretending not to be embarrassed that his ass is hanging out of the back of his hospital gown, only to be stopped by Dick darting in front of him, closely followed by Jason. They’re both watching him with concern, worry, and a tinge of guilt. Tim deflates. This was exactly what he hoped to avoid.

“Babe. You never told us they bothered you,” Dick starts while Jason says, “A bit of a funk? It must really bother you if it’s keeping you up for days.” They look at each other, then Dick nods to Jason. Tim sighs.

“What’s really going on, Tim,” Jason asks.

“That’s really all it is,” Tim replies, crossing his arms. “We watched the movies, I didn’t sleep that night and then it kind of snowballed from there, the sleep dep feeding the funk.” Looking at it objectively, after a good night’s rest, he can admit that the situation never should have escalated past that first morning; he should have taken a sedative and a day off right then and there to avoid falling deep into the funk.

“Is it really that bad? Why didn’t you tell us you don’t like scary movies?” Dick asked, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. Tim groaned.

“It’s really not a big deal. Not usually. They don’t scare me, they just kind of… I dunno, haunt my thoughts for a while afterwards. You know how it goes; I overthink everything,” Tim admits, waving a hand dismissively. “And I didn’t tell you guys because I didn’t feel like being made fun of for being 'too scared to watch a scary movie’. Who would have believed me if I said they’re not scary, just emotionally disturbing?”

Dick opens his mouth like he’s going to object but Tim cuts him off. “No, don’t even try to tell me that you would. Look at Jay, at least he’s honest with himself.”

They both look at Jason, who is nodding along, looking chagrined. “Yeah, I’ll admit, if you’d said something, I probably would have teased you about it.” He gives Tim a look Tim can’t decipher. “You’re an odd one, Timbo, but there’s no arguing with the results. If it bothers you, it bothers you, whether it’s frightening or not. But if it bothers you so much, then why watch with us? You could have just told us you don’t like horror and gone to bed.”

“And not spend time with you guys?” Tim asks incredulously. “We get one night off together every two weeks, and you think I would just give that up and go to bed alone?” He shakes his head at them. “I put up with it because I wanted to spend time with you guys and I wanted you guys to do something you both enjoy. I didn’t want to be the wet blanket in the room that put a stop to that.”

Both Jason and Dick’s faces fall on hearing this, and in that moment Tim is done with this conversation. He tries to skirt around them, but Jason blocks his path.

“Move, Jason, I need to pee.” He does. IVs are great and all, but sleeping for twenty four hours through one, maybe two liters of fluids equals one very full bladder. He’s grateful Alfred didn’t stoop to inserting a urinary catheter just to punish him, even if it would have done him a favor in this one thing.

Jason crosses his arms obstinately.

“I will pee on you,” Tim warns.

Dick steps between them and places his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “Tim, it means a lot to us that you would put our enjoyment above your own, but it hurts a little to think you don’t trust us enough to let us know when something’s bothering you.”

“What Dick said,” Jason seconds. “Yeah, we’d probably tease you at first, but eventually we’d get that horror makes you uncomfortable and picked something else to do. We care about you just as much you care about us, ya know?”

Tim looks away, uncomfortable.

“Look, we’re not trying to blame the victim here, we’re just saying give us a chance next time, okay?” Jason clarifies, tone softening. “We deserve the opportunity to prove ourselves assholes or saints for ourselves, yeah?”

Tim snorts softly. “Yeah.”

They smile and Dick draws them both into a hug, sandwiching Tim between them. “Good. And we’re sorry, Tim. We should have noticed you weren’t having a good time and asked.”

“You did,” Tim admits, “But I told you I was 'just tired’ and you guys bought it. That’s on me.”

“Yeah, well, dealing with you–the guy who lies to Batman–we should have pressed the issue no matter how convincing you were,” Jason replies, pressing his face into Tim’s hair. “And you shouldn’t feel like we won’t take you seriously. That’s mostly my bad for teasing you so much.”

Tim presses his face into Jason’s chest and shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Dick says softly at his back. “But it will be.” Tim feels Jason smile into his hair and nod. He lets them hold him tight and close for a long minute.

“And no more horror movies around Timmy!” Dick exclaims belatedly, making Tim and Jason laugh.

“Definitely. We’ll save it for our solo dates, right Dickie?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay, this was nice and all,” Tim begins, squirming a little, “but I wasn’t kidding earlier; someone needs to let go now or I’m going to pee on Jason.”

“Eh, I’m fine with that,” Dick replies lightly.

“Dick, you dick!” Jason shoots back, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Stop making me laugh! I’m really going to pee on him!”

#my writing #christmasriverswrites #jaydicktim #spooktober 2019 #saf's spooktober prompts #polyamory #ot3 #my writing in the raw: barely edited #organic and covered in typos #does spellcheck count as editing?#tw brief mentions of gore #tw horror #tw sleep deprivation #tw panic attack #this is how I personally feel about horror movies; they don't scare me but i go into this horrible headspace and sometimes i just can't stop #thinking about how awful life can be sometimes #how messed up some psychological states get #it's not just horror; i don't like to watch a lot of fiction and non-fiction crime shows for the same reasons--i just overthink *everything*#maybe it's just me and i'm a weirdo but for the sake of fiction tim will be weird with me on this #this is four THOUSAND words. when. where. why. HOW. did that happen. it was supposed to be 800 max. *facepalm*#i betcha with the ''keep reading'' i'll get like 8 notes max #prove me wrong tumblr

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cybernightwanderer · 5 years ago

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“ My Reiki and Yoga New Free Soul Brother - Once an abuser manipulative thieve , money driven leach “

Well thats a big tittle to describe one person entirely. So my ( midle ) brother across my kid years and then teenager developing to adult, my brother was an interesting person. For example, in school my brother would pretend he didnt know me , and if i even dared to aproach him he would shame me in front of everyone, even thought they already knew i was his sister, i was bullied a lot in school so at the start i tried a few times reaching out to him , specially because i didnt have any friends and id always be alone. This motherfucker who was already a teenager completly dismissed me , BUT would actually seek me out or talk to me when he needed lunch money because he already “ spent his”, funny enough hed get mine to eat coz he didnt wanna use his, and if i didnt gave him even though i hadnt eaten , he would guilty me badly , and being the kid that i was , my brother was everything to me , even tho he didnt gave a shit about me.

So in consequence i started drawing a distance line between me and him, at home id start to distance myself and ignore him. And he started getting like a really attention whore, hed always annoye me , and force me to hangout, and i didnt he would threaten me or do some shit at the house and blame me for it , because my mother at the tinniest shit at home would beat the crap out of me , so me being the little kid that i was tired of getting beatings for no random reason , id play along. My brother would literally antagonzie me and scare the shit out of me while so. Everytime my family went anywhere , for example the beach, id try to go to the water alone for some peace this motherfucker would sneak behind me and try to drown me as a joke , like every 5 minutes, id yell in panic and my mom wouldnt do shit, eventually id end up actually chocking on water and hit my head on the sand and cry the rest of the time. So yeah FUN ! Did my mom do anything ? ofc no , “ hes just playing around “. I had BD collections that id buy with my lunch money that sometimes id save up, disney movie cassettes and so on. Sometimes id have snacks in my room to eat when studying or something. My brother, being a full grown ass teenager that he was , would steal everything without me even catching a glimpse of it. My brother would “ borrow “ things without asking then hide them because he wanted. I had two final fantasy collectible caracters that i spent my leftover bday money on, and my brother would take it as his own. Yes because whatever birthday money i got wether it be 50 euros or even 20 from my grandma or aunt, my mom would take it “ borrowed” for herself with no justification, shed always say “ Ah lend me i need it / or / I always buy you clothes and everythings, i buy you food , you owe me this , thats the minimum you could do / “ or / she would just take it without me knowing , she would inspect my bday gifts and take it before hand , the problem is that my grandma or aunt would always after if i was gonna save it up and id ask what and they would question what i did with the money and i would ask what money and blah blah , you get where this is going.

OH and if i didnt give my money the money she would beat me up ! wich is funny asf. My brother literally sold all my things behind my back, my original BDS, MY FUCKING POISON IVY STORYLINE BD, my disney cassetes , my collectibles, and my snacks he would steal and eat. If i had saved up money hidden, first he would try to borrow it and guilty me with the “ im such a good brother to you , you cant even lend me money ? i will pay you back, trust me “ ... ofc he never payed me back , but every two weeks he woul do this shit. And if i by any chance didnt gave him , hed just steal, or sell my things, wich regardless of me lending him , he would do it anyway. Fast forward to my early teenage years, i had to start working , i quit school because we entered that internet deth with my moms company, wich my brother also contributed to but let the blame to me ofc, i was already the punch bag of the family what is one more thing. My brothers were always my moms “ babies “ even tho one was already a full grown ass man and the other was already on his way. My brother did nothing at home , didnt take the dog outside, didnt take out the trash, didnt make food, didnt wash the dishes, didnt clean the house, basicly sit on his ass all day playing video games and eating, and selling my shit for money. My brother was unemployed for 3/4 years in between those i studied and worked at the same time , and did all the house chores, even if i had to walk the dog as 2/3 am after work i would have to, even tho my brother was in bed all day. My mom would literally yell at me and make my life a living hell and threaten to hit me if i didnt do it or even dared to complain. I would get home trying to study , trying to recorver at school ,and she would yell non stop until i didn every house chore, wich i would only manage to finish at midnight or later, and then id be too tired and unmotivated to do anything so id just sleep, and id always get late to class thanks to that. When my brothers started working, it was at my dads wearehouse, where i was forced to work too. Id work 8 to 10 hours , sometimes more, because we got payed by publicity stock packs, each pack was worth 1 euro, wich also 1 pack took 1 hour and 15/20 minutes to make. So if i wanted to make the day worth anything i had to rush , no eating breaks or pee breakes. My hands at the end of the day would literally be filled with newspaper and printed paper ink and dirk, and tons of cuts and sores , that would be leeched in paper ink, wich make it hurt even more at the end of the day, and was really hard to take it out. My brother would take breaks every 30 minutes to smoke , be on his phone or even go to bathroom or eat randomly, i wouldnt stop the 8 hours straight, and when i actually had to go to the bathroom or eat something because id get sick, my brother literally stole packs from me, or try to “ negociate my help for X “, the thing about my brother is that hed always try to negociate something , ofc it was always entangled for his own benefit and not both.

So it was like this my brother came up to me all excited and say “ oh if you do this to help me , ill split the profit that way we will make more and will be less exausting “ stupid like i was id always give in, specially because if i didnt hed steal anyway.... Hed always change his methods and works, and guilty me if i didnt do it, so id always have to do so. If i didnt hed just change the pack registration list either way, without me even seeing it, and fake my signature, i only found out we had to sign an official paper a few months later when my dad asked, before that my brother would always tell me to note them on my phone then send the numbers by the end of the week, and since he was the bosses son , every one backed up that story ofc. Eventually when i started to get older , i cut ties with my brothers and dad. And my ( midle ) brother was constantly trying to reach out and play nice and shit , also he was still working at the wearhouse . Anyway , fast forward when i got unemployed after the 5 star hotel due to rape attent and shit like that, i was unemplyoyed for 4 moths?! My brother tried to reach out , and even came home before my mother to try and persuade me to enter one of his schemes, i explained to my brother that i didnt have any money and that i wouldnt believe anymore of his stupid schemes and blah blah. He swore he was only trying to make up to me , and the plan was , i would pretend to work at my dads wearehouse, but i would just be there 2 times a week and he would give me a cut of the protfit, coz if he didnt want my dad to hire some random slow guy, so he set up to do a two persons work, and give me 30 % of the monthy rate and all i had to do is show up a few times for my dad to see i was there, and then go home. That motherfucker insisted for 3 days straight promissing it wasnt a scheme and that he was serious this time. OBVIOUSLY THAT DIDNT HAPPEN OBVIOUSLY- with the last 10 euros i had, i bought train tickers to the wearhouse, the first week he actually stick to his word, a few days later the shit started, he actualy forced me to deliver shit and stuff. Wich for me was really difficult because its when i started to develop hernias, and the pain was too overwhealming, and that fucker didnt care and still forced me to, eventually i told him i was out , and found out he still used my name in his shit plan and pretended i was still working there to my dad for two whole months , and then begged me to lie to my dad on the phone, hed literally call me before my dad trying to get me to lie, and promissing the money, and hed ask my mom to pressure my to help him. What could i do??!! what happend after you may ask? did my brother gave me the money? OFC NO ! NO! He gave me 115 euros of the cut , and he made 996 euros to himself. And told me it was only for the days “ i actually worked “ NEVER IN MY LIFE I VERBALLY EVER SAID TO ANYONE , FAMILY OR NOT “ I hope you die, you are shit , you are nothing to me , seriously i hope you die “ and acually meant it and wished it. For the first time in my life i actually wished so hard for my brother to just die. I was done, i was officialy done , i had never been so done with someone. I was officialy done with my family. I blocked my dad on everything, i told my dad to fuck off. I told my older brother to fuck off. I told my middle brother to go die. And the last person was my dying grandma who was a snob ass piece of shit who only gave a shit about me when i was a little girl ( because its only cute when they r kids ), to stop trying to call me and told her to just go and die. She literally sent me a voice message of 5 minutes crying beggin me to see her, and i just told her to go and die, its not because she is dying that is gonna erase the fact that she didnt gave a shit about me after i actually grown. And the fact that i did this apparently scared the shit out my dad and brothes, specially because i did it so naturally. AND TO THIS DAY I DONT REGRET WHAT I SAID AND I STILL DONT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT HER. OH AND PLOT TWIST SHES NOT DEAD NOR WAS SHE DYING, LAST YEAR SHE TRIED TO SCHEME MONEY OUT OF MY MOM, AND BEFORE THAT SHE WOULD ALWAYS TREAT MY MOM LIKE SHIT AN CALL HER NAMES, FUNNY ! Now they try to sneak into my life really AGAIN ... ffs Since the end of last year, apparently my brother turned into reiki and yoga and shit and is now driving a motivational fuck page for people who wanna “ grow spiritually and open the third eye “ and is trying to reconnect with me again, obviously i cut him off before he could even talk to me. So he spent 3 months or so , coming here and trying, and since he didnt get anything since january and february hes trying to manipulate me behind my mother, my mother is venting to my brother about me being closed off to them , and my brother is DIAGNOSING ME AS A PROBLEM, BECAUSE HE IS SO WISE AND ENLIGHTED... WTF??? diagnosing me??? ur not a fucking therapist you asshole ! The other day i heard him tell my mother in the living room , that “ SHE CANT LIVE LIKE THIS ITS VERY TOXIC FOR HER, SHE HAS TO TALK TO YOU AND BE A BETTER SISTER AND DAUGHTER SHE NEEDS TO BLAH BLAH YOU NEED TO KICK HER OUT IF SHE IS LIVING OFF YOU “ WHAT THE FUCK?? im living off my mother?? the woman that forced me to give her more than half of my paycheck, thats doesnt give me privacy or respect and that literally threatned me if i ever tried to leave that she would chase me down???????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OR SEND ME TO A MENTAL HOSPITAL????!!!! ... My older brother is doing the same, keeps trying to get me to go visit his kid, and to meet his kid, keeps trying to get my mother to see pictures of the kid or to call them. They keep trying to guilty me “ oh you cant take it out on the kid, its not the kids fault , he needs to know his aunt, you are his family “ BITCH FAMILY?????? FAMILY??? family doesnt mean shit. Yesterday even sent photos of his kid trought a new number LOL. I actually did went to the kids birthday, first time a few months ago, and guess what , my brother still the NO ONE ASKED- OPINIONATED asshole he was about my whole life, he literally takes one glimpse of me and judges my whole life and starts yelling shit at me ...ofc thats not gonna happend again. People dont change. People. dont. change. PEOPLE DONT CHANGE ! BITCH ?? WHAT? WHO THE FCK?? HOW THE FUCK??? In conclusion my brother is still the same piece of shit he was , and now even more narcisistic, and manipulative, he cant get what he wants from me , so now hes resourting to my mother again. I NEED TO LEAVE THIS HOUSE, I NEED TO LEAVE THIS FAMILY OMFG. Funny enough he does this shit then tries to get me to go to his house to celebrate his birthday because he “ MISSES ME AND THE OLD DAYS” ???? OLD DAYS OF YOU MENTALY ABUSING ME ? NOT TO MENTION THAT YOU ALMOST BROKE MY ARM BECAUSE I WOULDNT LEND YOU MY COMPUTER 3 YEARS AGO????? my mom literally told him we were gonna go there without even asking me if i wanted or even if i was gonna go. LOL, shes trying to emotionally manipulate me with older pictures of me and him , and games we would play together LOL. OMFG PLEASE SOME ONE, I DONT EVEN KNOW I NEED TO DIE OMFG... I CANT TAKE THIS FAMILY ANYMORE.

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arysafics · 6 years ago

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Hungry

Summary: Clarke isn't really interested in having a dick shoved down her throat until Raven tells her all about their boss's huge dick.

Prompt: clarke and raven at the bar, and raven is just telling her how she enjoys it when her boyfriend shaw fucks her face and how it makes her gag and shit. and clarke is just like "im so glad im also attracted to girls. i dont see the whole appeal of having a dick in your mouth so big you cry like i use this thing to breath" and ofc the bartender bellamy there who she sees every week is gonna try and prove her wrong and clarke actually finds out shes what the kids call a size queen or something? bonus if he grabs her hair roughly, or chokes her a little

Rated E, ~4.2k

Clarke had tried to persuade Raven to go to a different bar tonight. It’s her night off, she doesn’t want to hang around work when there are so many other bars they can go to, where her boss won’t be there to see her trying to pick up. But Raven had persuaded her by pointing out that Bellamy will likely give them free drinks, or at the very least, a discount, since they work for him. And being a struggling artist during the day, Clarke jumps at the words free and discount.

Which is how they end up sitting at the bar at Augustus’. Bellamy evidently has a thing for Roman history.

“Here on your night off?” he grins as he greets them. “Just can’t stay away, can you?” His flirtation is directed at Raven of course. The two of them are always flirting, despite the fact that Raven has a boyfriend. She claims Shaw doesn’t care who she flirts with, as long as she’s only sleeping with him.

“Because you’re going to give us half price cocktails, right?” Raven hints.

Bellamy gives her an unimpressed look. “You can have one cocktail each, on the house. After that you can pay for them, or you can drink half price beer.”

“We’ll have two Orgasms,” Raven says. “And two cocktails as well,” she says cheekily. Bellamy glances at Clarke and she rolls her eyes.

“I’ve actually got just the thing for you,” Bellamy says to Raven. “Clarke? What’ll it be?”

“I’ll just have a Cosmo.”

“Coming right up,” he pats the bar then goes off to make their cocktails.

“Okay,” Raven says, turning on her stool to survey the moderately crowded bar. “Let’s see who you can go home with tonight.”

“I’m capable of doing that myself, thank you,” Clarke says.

“Yeah, but I have a boyfriend and I have to live vicariously through you.”

“Aren’t you like—in love with Shaw?”

“Sure I am. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss dating sometimes,” Raven says. She turns back to Clarke. “Although, you know, the sex just keeps getting better and better the longer we’re together. It’s like he’s making me realise I’m into things I never thought I would be into.”

“Like what?” Clarke asks, although she’s wondering if she should have waited until she had some alcohol in her to ask. Raven already shares way more of her sex life with Clarke than Clarke cares to know.

“You know how I told you Shaw has a really big dick?” Raven says, not bothering to lower her voice at all.

“I remember.”

“Okay, well sometimes he just like—fucks my face. Like just shoves his dick down my throat and makes me gag and choke on it. It’s so hot.”

“You like that?” Clarke snorts. “God, I don’t even like sucking dick at the best of times, let alone having one shoved down my throat. This is why I prefer going down on women.”

“Come on,” Raven says, trying to coax a different response out of her. “You don’t find it a little bit hot?”

“No. Gross,” Clarke screws up her nose. “How are you even supposed to breathe? I just don’t see the appeal of having a dick in your mouth so big you cry.”

“Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it,” comes Bellamy’s voice.

Clarke whips her head around, her face growing hot. Of all the things for him to overhear.

“Have you tried it?” she quips, despite her embarrassment.

“Giving or receiving?” he grins. Clarke already regrets asking. Bellamy doesn’t seem to be embarrassed in the slightest, while Clarke’s face is already three shades redder. Why does she have to have a crush on her boss? It’s the worst. He winks at her, and her stomach goes all mushy.

“You might like it,” he says, his voice dropping low. Clarke’s breath hitches. Is he offering?

“You have no idea what I like.”

Bellamy tilts his head, as if to say maybe, maybe not. He places two cocktails on the bar, a pink one and an orange one. “A Cosmo and my new invention, the Raven Reyes.”

“You made me my own cocktail?” Raven says, delighted. Bellamy laughs. “What’s in it?”

“Vodka, mostly,” he says, still grinning. Clarke pouts, taking a sullen sip of her cocktail.

“Relax, Princess,” Bellamy says, noticing her displeasure. “I’m inventing one for you too. And then we’ll see if I know what you like or not.”

He winks at her again, then he wanders off to serve someone else, leaving Clarke staring after him, open mouthed.

“Is he allowed to say that to me?” Clarke asks Raven.

“As if you didn’t love it,” Raven snorts. She takes a sip of her cocktail. “You should try it,” she says.

“It just looks like a regular Screwdriver to me.”

“There’s definitely something else in here,” Raven says, studying the glass like it will tell her the secret ingredient. “But that’s not what I was talking about. You should try having your face fucked by a huge dick.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Even if I did want to do that, what am I supposed to do, just stand up on this barstool and ask the room who has the biggest dick?”

“Just ask Bellamy.”

“Does he make all his patrons show him their dicks? Is that a new policy?”

“No, I mean, he has a huge dick. Bigger than Shaw’s even.”

Clarke almost chokes on her Cosmo. “How do you even know that?”

“I fucked him like… a week after I was hired.”

“And you’re only telling me this now?”

Raven shrugs and takes a sip of her not-Screwdriver. “I didn’t want you to be jealous.”

“Jealous?” Clarke sputters. “Why would I be jealous?”

Raven raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Please, Clarke, your crush on him is so obvious. So why don’t you just go over there and tell him you want his dick in your mouth? We’ll all be happier for it.”

Clarke looks over to where he’s flirting with another patron. “He’s not interested in me,” Clarke mutters.

“But you do want his dick in your mouth?”

“No,” Clarke says. Except, she would totally suck his dick if he wanted her to. Even if it’s as big as Raven says. She feels a throb between her legs, and she squeezes her thighs together tightly, telling herself she’s not turned on by the thought of having his huge cock in her mouth.

“Whatever you say, Clarke,” Raven snorts. She turns back around to survey the room. “We’ll find you someone with a small dick, shall we? Or no dick? Wouldn’t want to get you out of your comfort zone.”

Despite Raven’s best efforts at finding a target for Clarke to go home with, Clarke ends up going home alone. She feels too awkward trying to hit on someone when Bellamy is right there. Not that she thinks he’s watching her or anything, or paying even the slightest bit of attention to her. But he’s her boss and it would be weird. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that she has a crush on him.

She clambers into bed, still half drunk, and switches the lamp off. She’ll probably scroll through social media for a while before she goes to sleep. She gets a text from Raven, that at a glance reads: Look what I found. You’re welcome.

Clarke opens it, then sits bolt upright, her heart pounding, when she sees the picture attached. Bellamy’s cock. She knows it has to be his, even though his face isn’t in the picture. But it’s his skin tone, and his hair colour, and covered in freckles, just like his face. And it’s fucking huge. Clarke almost whimpers out loud at the sight of it, and she can feel her panties getting damp. Which doesn’t make any sense, because Clarke doesn’t even like big dicks. She’s pretty sure.

Another text from Raven comes through informing her, in case she hadn’t already figured it out, that is, in fact, Bellamy. Clarke doesn’t respond. She stares at the picture for a hell of a lot longer than is probably healthy before she puts her phone down. The image is burned into her mind now anyway. How is she supposed to sleep after seeing that?

She lies there, cunt throbbing, willing herself to think of anything else. She slips her hand under the covers, pausing at the waistband of her pyjamas, before sliding underneath and pressing her fingers into her slit. God, she’s wet. So fucking wet. She pulls her fingers away hastily, curling her hand into a fist. She’s never masturbated to the thought of him before, and she’s not going to start now. It’s not because she’s never wanted to. But she’s sure if she did, he’d somehow know. Which is ridiculous, but she still can’t take that risk.

So she keeps her arms on top of the covers, but she still thinks about his cock inside her until she falls asleep.

She hurries in to the bar the following night, dressed in black jeans and a low-cut tank top. The more cleavage she shows, the more tips she gets.

“I’m not late!” she yells at Bellamy as she passes, heading out the back to the staff area. She throws her bag down, scoops her hair on top of her head and ties it there, making peace with the fact that she’ll have to put up with the strands that fall out.

It’s busy already when she gets back out and takes her place behind the bar, and the first couple of hours go quickly. She barely says two words to Bellamy. She does, however, find herself constantly distracted by him, and she keeps glancing at his crotch. Not that anything is visible in his dark jeans. But she knows what’s under there now, and she can’t stop thinking about it.

He touches her a few times, as he passes behind her, or reaches in front of her, and each time her heart stops for a moment. Is it possible her crush got even more unbearable overnight?

Eventually the night winds down, and they kick the stragglers out in the early morning so they can close up. Clarke stacks glasses while she watches Bellamy wipe down the bar, her eyes following every movement of his muscled arms. She’s never been more aware that it’s just the two of them, alone in an empty bar. She should feel exhausted after that shift, but she’s never felt more awake.

They clean up in silence, which isn’t totally unusual, but it’s not exactly usual either. She’s not sure if it’s a they’re both tired and want to go home kind of silence, or a I’ve been thinking about your cock for the last twenty-four hours and I don’t know how to talk to you kind of silence.

“All done?” Bellamy eventually asks, snapping Clarke out of her little fantasy in which he pushes her down onto her knees right here in front of him and shoves his cock into her mouth.

“Um, yes,” Clarke says, her cheeks heating up.

“You ready to try something new?”

“What?” Clarke says. Her heart is thrumming in her chest and her mouth has gone dry. Surely he can’t mean—?

“Remember what I said last night?” Clarke nods slowly. She remembers all too well. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. “Don’t you want to try it?”

Clarke stares at him. She can hardly believe he’s asking, or that he’s being so casual about it. Especially after how she responded to him yesterday. Does he know she’s been thinking about his cock all night? Maybe he caught her constantly looking at his crotch.

“Okay,” she whispers hoarsely.

“Okay, just give me a second—close your eyes,” he says. Clarke’s eyes flutter shut. She has no idea what’s happening, but she’s all too happy to let him take the lead. Her cunt throbs. She can’t believe how much she wants this.

She fidgets nervously. She can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She can only be glad he’s not making fun of her for her quick change of heart. She had been so adamant last night, and all it took was a picture of his cock to get her to change her mind.

“Okay,” Bellamy says. He’s standing right in front of her. She can practically feel him, though he’s not touching her at all. “Open your mouth.”

Fuck, she’s so nervous. “Shouldn’t I be on my knees for this?” she asks. She hardly recognises the sound of her own voice, it’s so weak and desperate.

“On your knees?”

Clarke opens her eyes. Bellamy is standing there in front of her, holding a pink cocktail in a martini glass, a little paper straw pointed towards her. Oh.

“Oh my god,” Clarke whispers. Her gut drops. He meant the fucking cocktail. Because of course he did. “Um, thanks,” she says, taking the cocktail from him. Her face is hot as hell, and she’s pretty sure she’s never been more embarrassed in her life. There’s no way she can sweep that on her knees comment under the rug, right?

Clarke downs half the cocktail quickly. It tastes amazing. Like peach, mostly. She’s sure she’d enjoy it more if she wasn’t feeling like the biggest fool on the planet.

“Clarke—did you think I meant—”

She can’t look at him. “It doesn’t matter,” she says quickly, shoving the half full glass back into his hands. “I’m an idiot. The cocktail is very nice, thanks.”

“Guess I do know what you like, huh?” Clarke wants to die. “Clarke, look at me,” Bellamy says firmly. His deep voice is so fierce and commanding, she can do nothing but obey. He’s not laughing at her. He doesn’t look offended or disgusted. His pupils are blown wide, mirroring her own, Clarke is sure.

Bellamy puts the glass down on the bench beside him. He folds his arms and Clarke watches his muscles tense. God, everything he does is so sexy.

“Bellamy—” she starts, though she has no idea where she’s going.

“Get on your knees,” he says. Clarke feels a thrill go through her. She bites her lip, searching Bellamy’s eyes to make sure he’s serious. He stares her down.

Clarke swallows, then slowly sinks to her knees in front of him, her eyes never leaving his. He steps forward and pulls the tie from her hair so it cascades around her shoulders.

“What do you want, Clarke?”

“I want your cock in my mouth.” God, she wants it so bad. “Please.”

Bellamy’s hands move to his belt, and Clarke watches as he undoes it, mesmerised by his big hands. She should’ve known his cock was huge just from looking at his enormous hands. He undoes his fly and drops his pants. Clarke’s heart speeds up with every movement. She can see the outline of his erection in his boxers.

She looks up at his face again.

“You can take them off,” he tells her.

Clarke tries not to look too eager as she turns her attention to his crotch again. She edges his boxers down, revealing his cock. The picture really didn’t do it justice. It’s so much bigger in real life, so much bigger than she could comprehend from the picture. It’s all freckled and veiny, and hard, just for her.

“Open your mouth,” he commands her for the second time tonight. Clarke drops her jaw for him. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.”

Bellamy threads his fingers into her hair, then fists it into his hand, tugging her head back roughly. She gasps, making her mouth open wider, and then the head of his cock on her tongue, invading her mouth.

He tastes a little of sweat and a little of salt, but nothing overpowering. And anyway, the taste of him is irrelevant compared to how he fills her mouth.

“You like that, don’t you?” Bellamy says as he pushes his cock further into her mouth, still holding onto her hair. “Knew you would. Knew you’d love having my huge cock in your mouth. You’re a closet size queen, aren’t you? And maybe a closet submissive too?”

Clarke flushes, but she can’t answer with his cock filling her mouth so completely. He holds her head in place so she can’t move.

“You look so pretty like this, Clarke. On your knees, your pretty little lips wrapped around my cock. So greedy for it. You want to choke on it, don’t you? Want me to fuck your face, take me so far down your throat you can’t breathe.”

Clarke whimpers, the growing need between her legs telling her he’s right. She hums against his cock, letting him know that’s exactly what she wants. His cock hits the back of her throat and she gags.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Bellamy says, pulling back slightly. Clarke feels a swell of shame that she’s disappointed him. There’s still so much of him left, and she’s eager to have his whole cock inside her. She has this desperate need to please him, to show him she can take it all, that she can be good for him.

“Let’s try again,” Bellamy says. This time when Bellamy reaches the back of her throat, Clarke manages to stifle her gag reflex. “Good girl,” Bellamy whispers, shoving the rest of his cock down her throat, pushing her face against his crotch, his pubic hair tickling her nose.

Clarke’s throat protests the invasion, wants to close up, dislodge the intruder. The rest of her body welcomes him, feels proud that she can take all of him. Her pussy aches, desperate for something inside it. Tears form in her eyes as he holds her there, and she chokes a little. It’s too much. She can’t breathe. She’s going to die from choking on his cock. But what a way to go, right?

He releases her, saliva dripping from her mouth as he pulls his cock out. She wipes her mouth, face flaming as she looks up at him. As overwhelming as it was to have his cock in her throat, she misses it now that it’s gone.

“Don’t worry, I’m still going to fuck your face,” Bellamy tells her. “Just giving you a little break.”

“Okay,” Clarke says.

“How’d that feel, huh? Having my cock shoved down your throat? You liked it, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Clarke nods.

Bellamy considers her for a moment. “How about your take your clothes off? Think I want to see you nice and naked for me.”

Clarke nods. She can feel his eyes on her as she pulls her tank top over her head, then unclips her bra, revealing her breasts to him. Then she unbuttons her jeans with shaky hands. She goes to get to her feet so she can pull them off, but Bellamy puts his hand on her head to hold her down.

“No,” he says. “You’ll stay on your knees until I’m done with you.”

Clarke nods, then pulls her jeans and panties down as far as she can. God, she feels dirty. She’s essentially naked on the sticky floor of her place of employment, her boss’s cock inches from her face. This is so not the kind of girl she is.

Bellamy looks down at her, and she flushes under his appraising gaze. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he says, almost as if he’s annoyed about it. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I hired you.” He strokes his cock as he talks and Clarke eyes it, her mouth watering.

“You’re so hungry for it, aren’t you?” Bellamy whispers. “Desperate for my cock.”

Clarke nods. “Please,” she whimpers. “Use my mouth. I want you to. I need it.”

Bellamy fists his hands into her hair, and she opens her mouth wide. He doesn’t take it slow this time. He shoves his cock into her mouth as far as it can go, lodging himself in her throat, showing her exactly who she belongs to and what she’s good for.

He pulls back slightly, but it’s only so he can thrust in again, and then he’s fucking her face in earnest, his hands tight in her hair, his balls slapping against her chin obscenely. Clarke can hardly breathe, and tears stream from her eyes, as he thrusts against her face, assaulting her mouth as if she’s just a hole to be used.

It’s overwhelming, degrading, and a little painful. But, god, she loves it. Her cunt pounds. She wants to slip her fingers between her legs and finger herself. The sounds he’s making, the grunts, the groans, let her know just how much he likes it too.

“Fuck, Clarke,” her swears. “Feels so good. Bet you’re desperate for something in your pussy, too, aren’t you? Bet you’re wet as hell.”

She makes an attempt at an answer, but all that comes out is a muffled moan as he continues to fuck her face.

“Touch yourself, Clarke,” Bellamy says, panting. “Want you to feel as good as I feel.”

Clarke doesn��t hesitate, her hand dropping between her legs, straight to her clit. She’s in no state to tease herself and take it slow, and she rubs her clit with the same vigour of Bellamy’s forceful thrusts.

“I’m gonna come, Clarke,” Bellamy groans. “Gonna come in your mouth, just like you want.”

She whimpers at that, obsessed with the thought of his come on her tongue, filling her mouth. It should disgust her, right? Why doesn’t any of this disgust her?

He grabs her hair harder as he comes, tugging it roughly as he spills into her mouth. Clarke lets his come fill her mouth, still fingering herself, almost there. She speeds up her motions, desperate now, and then her orgasm hits her, just as Bellamy finishes.

Clarke gasps, and come spills out of her mouth, dripping over her bottom lip and chin. She swallows the rest as Bellamy pulls out of her mouth and she rides out her orgasm. She collapses onto her thighs, breathing heavy, the taste of come in her mouth, her face all sticky with it.

She looks up at Bellamy, feeling dirty and a little embarrassed, but satisfied. Bellamy grabs a handful of napkins from the bar and hands them to her.

“You okay?” he asks her. Clarke nods, taking the napkins and wiping her face. Bellamy grabs some napkins of his own to clean up his dick.

“I’m a little—surprised at myself,” she admits.

“I gotta say, I’m a little surprised myself,” Bellamy grins. “You changed your mind pretty quickly.”

“Um,” Clarke says, blushing. She watches him as he pulls his boxers back up, and then his pants. Clarke is aware that she’s still naked on the floor, but part of her wants him to tell her what to do still. So she waits for his permission to get dressed. “Raven sent me a picture of your dick. That’s what made me change my mind.”

Bellamy laughs. “That impressive, was it?” He looks her up and down, then seems to realise she’s waiting for him to tell her she can get dressed. “You can put your clothes back on,” he says.

Clarke is silent as she dresses, Bellamy’s eyes on her the whole time. He holds out a hand to help her to her feet.

“You did like it, didn’t you?” Bellamy asks, searching her eyes. “You didn’t just—do it because I’m your boss or something?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I wanted it,” she confesses. She doesn’t know how she’s going to fuck anybody else after that. After knowing what his cock looks like, what it tastes like. All she wants is to know what it feels like in her cunt. She’s going to have to buy herself a bigger dildo. “Is it going to be weird now?” Clarke whispers. “Working together, now that we’ve done that?”

Bellamy shakes his head. He surprises her then by reaching forward and taking her hand. So gentle after the way he used her mouth only minutes earlier. She looks down to where their hands meet, her heart racing.

“Listen, I know that was a lot,” Bellamy says. “And definitely not a romantic start for us,” he grins. “But would you want to maybe date me?”

“Date you?”

Bellamy nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I like you a lot. I’ve liked you for a long time, but I never said anything because you work for me. But I feel like that line might have already been crossed now.”

Clarke ducks her head, smiling. She can still taste his come. “You’re probably right.”

“So what do you say? If you say no, I promise I won’t be weird about it and I’ll just go back to being your annoying boss.”

“You’re not annoying,” Clarke tells him. “And yes. I want to date you.”

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #mine

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years ago

Text

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 3

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle. It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes. With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3 | Masterlist

—

Malcolm didn’t get a second of sleep that night. After more than an hour tossing and turning in bed, mind racing, he reluctantly reached for his tablet and glasses, turning on the bedside lamp.

A simple Google search turned up hundreds of thousands of articles on inheritance, but none seemed to offer any solutions to receiving the inheritance without meeting the stipulations of the will. He was an old man, perhaps he was going senile? Why would he do this?

He shot off an email to the will executor and solicitor, asking Is it possible he was not in sound mind? Is there a previous version of the will that doesn’t include this marriage requirement?

It was likely a vain hope, but he had to try. Resolving to forget about the marriage idea for the moment, he turned his attention to finding a job posting board. After a few false starts he tried charity administrator openings London, and with a sigh, began reading through the first posting.

No matter what happens, this is going to suck. Thanks a lot, Uncle Wally.

Friday

By the time his alarm went off he was dressed and ready to go, texting Graham to cancel his morning pickup and deciding to take the Underground instead. Pausing just outside the gate and staring up at the townhouse, he realized with a jolt, Everything I have is tied up in the Estate. If I lose this inheritance, I lose everything.

At twenty-seven he’d fled Glasgow before the ink on his divorce papers was dry, bringing Clara to London for a fresh start. His uncle had been kind enough to give him a job working for The Thistle Foundation in the mailroom, and he spent most of the next decade working his way up and earning his keep until Wallace decided to retire, leaving Malcolm in charge. The townhouse went with the Estate, having been owned by the family since shortly after it was built, and he didn’t so much draw a salary from the Foundation as receive a stipend from his uncle.

I’m fifty years old and have almost nothing to my name.

It had always been a given that he would inherit; Wallace had never had children, his only sibling Malcolm’s father, and Malcolm was in effect an only child, his brother having died decades ago. He’d never had to worry about assets, had few personal expenses. To lose the Estate would cost him everything.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost missed his stop, barely making it through the doors onto the platform before they closed. Coming up to street-level he looked around, catching sight of the little shop Rose usually got their morning coffees from, only recognizing it by the familiar logo.

Stepping inside, it wasn’t until he was facing the cashier he realized he had no idea what Rose usually ordered. “Erm, hi. I don’t do this, my assistant is usually in here – pretty, blonde, big smile, name of Rose? D’you-”

“Oh, you must be Malcolm!” the girl, Amy, gushed, eyes lighting up. “Of course we know Rose, she’s in here everyday! Oi, Mel, Rose’s regular order, stat!” She turned back to him, finding him blinking at her in surprise. “Always nice to meet a fellow Scot. Rose is great, isn’t she?”

“The absolute best,” he agreed proudly, unsurprised but touched by the impression she obviously left everywhere she went. That’s my gi- that’s Rose. “I’d be hopelessly lost without her.”

“Too right. Anyway, here we are, that’s ten quid,” she passed over two large takeaway cups of coffee and a pastry bag.

Right. Feeling like a moron, entirely out of sorts after first the previous day’s bombshell and then no sleep, he dug out a twenty-pound note and thrust it across the space. “Keep the change. Thanks.”

Picking up the order he made his way to the door, more focused on the drinks than where he was walking, elbowing open the door and slamming right into someone entering. “Shit!” He barely managed to keep hold of everything, coffee sloshing dangerously but only spilling a little, and he looked up to give the person a piece of his mind only to stop dead in surprise. “Oh, fuck me.”

Rose arched one eyebrow in response, a smile flickering over her lips. “I’d rather not get banned from here, if it’s all the same to you, ta.” She plucked one of the cups from his hand, lifting it to her nose before taking a large gulp. “What’re you doing here?”

Stepping out onto the sidewalk they started down the street towards their building, falling naturally into sync.

“I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d come in early. I saw the place, and…” he trailed off, shrugging one shoulder. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she echoed, rolling her eyes. “Clara stopped by, talked my ear off until half two. Decided to just get a move on.”

The silence was awkward, which only served to annoy him; they had always had a good rapport, after the first six or so months once she had settled into her role. Now, eight years later he considered their partnership to be a well-oiled machine, two halves of a whole despite the on-paper power imbalance.

He held the door for her as they entered their building, nodding to the security guards as they buzzed through. Rose hit the button on the lift for their floor, and they rode up alone.

Malcolm followed her to her desk, watching as she flicked on the lights and shrugged off her coat, vaguely curious to her routine; she typically arrived only a few minutes before him- long enough to be settled and ready to face the day, but recent enough that his coffee was always hot and fresh.

“Oh!” she yelped, turning around to see him leaning on the corner of her desk, watching her. “D’you need something? My computer’s still booting up.”

The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, before he sighed, shoulders slumping. “No, I’m good. Just- oh, you know what you’re doing. I’ll be in my office.” Extracting his muffin from the pastry bag he slunk into his office, falling into his desk chair and turning to gaze listlessly out the window.

What am I supposed to do?

It was, quite frankly, the worst day of Rose’s professional career. Things got done, most of her duties able to be completed on autopilot after so long, but she could muster no spark to put into any of it. No banter. None of her signature Rose Tyler charm.

Her computer dinged and she glanced up from where she was poking at her salad halfheartedly to groan. “Oh, you’ve got to be motherfucking shitting me.”

“Rose Tyler!” Malcolm’s delighted voice made her jump and yelp, “I’m so proud of you. That was almost a proper swear.”

“Missy’s on her way up,” she didn’t even look at him, clicking on the IM box from Mickey, the building’s security guard and one of her oldest friends. It was just an emoji, two wide eyes, but it was their code. “What do you want me to do?”

He sighed heavily. “Fine, I’ll see her. I swear, she must have my office bugged or something.”

The lift dinged, and she raised her eyes to glance at him. He looks like he’s having as rough a day as I am. He’d said he hadn’t slept; had it been for the same reason she hadn’t? No, he was probably thinking about the gala. Of course it was about that, dingbat. “I’ll send her in.”

“Thanks.”

He disappeared back into his office as Missy walked in, and Rose had to bite her lip hard to keep from laughing or rolling her eyes. What did he ever see in her? Missy Tucker was without comparison the most extravagant, eccentric person she’d ever met, and that included all of her mother’s rich society ‘friends’.

“Good afternoon, welcome to The Thistle Foundation, do you have an appointment?” Rose asked sweetly, as the older woman approached her desk.

“I’d like to see my husband, please.” Missy’s smile was just as fake-sweet as Rose’s, as they went through the whole song-and-dance. One of the very first things Rose had been taught on her first day, by both Malcolm and her predecessor Jo, was to stall Missy as long as possible, making enough trouble that she didn’t find it worth it to visit the office.

This is your best friend’s mother, this is your best friend’s mother, this is your best friend’s mother, Rose lectured herself, pretending to stare intently at her screen for a moment. “I can give you a few minutes, but he has a call at one that he can’t miss.”

“Thank you.” And she swept past Rose into Malcolm’s office.

Once the door shut behind her, Rose let loose an undignified snort. Taking a subtle picture with her mobile, she texted it to Clara with the caption Your mum’s here.

Missy Tucker was the subject of ongoing amusement amongst the three; every time she appeared after months of no contact she had an entirely different style, often with a slight tweak to her features suggesting she was a fan of cosmetic surgery. Today her chosen look was that of evil Mary Poppins, complete with a plum-colored ankle-length skirt and matching dress coat, a white dress shirt buttoned to the neck with an elaborate bow, black heeled boots, a delicate hat, and an umbrella Rose would swear was an actual prop from the movie.

She looked ridiculous, and like she would be right at home as the evil orphanage matron in a Victorian version of Annie!

Are you fucking kidding me? Clara pinged back almost immediately. I love my Dad, but God I wish I was adopted. Please tell me I didn’t inherit her fashion sense!

Snickering, Rose shook her head and returned to her work polishing up her resume. At precisely one o’clock she buzzed in on the intercom, using what Clara called her flight attendant voice. “Malcolm, I have that potential donor on line two.”

“Thank you, Miss Tyler.”

A moment later the door opened and Missy stalked out, a murderous expression on her face. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she threatened her ex over her shoulder, ignoring Rose as she stormed towards the lift.

Rose waited until the lift doors closed before rising and entering Malcolm’s office. “So?”

He was lying on his couch with his head back against the cushions, a crystal cut glass of scotch hanging loosely from his hand. “She wants to reconcile, says she’s changed, wants to go back to what we once were.”

“What did you say?” She settled gingerly on the end of the glass coffee table by his head, watching as he opened tired eyes to stare at her.

“That who we were went up in a flaming pile of shit twenty-three years ago when I caught her high in bed with the babysitter on our fifth wedding anniversary. That who we were was a childhood friendship that went too far. That who we were died many, many years ago.”

He looked so sad, Rose’s heart went out to him.

“It’s far, far too late now. A part of me will always miss that, always wonder, but… It’s ancient history. Never mind that this is all because of Wallace’s death and the inheritance. She didn’t say it, but I know her. Anything that even sniffs of money or power and she’s first in line, plotting how to get it.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose offered, giving him a kind smile. “You deserve better than her.”

Sighing, he struggled upright, turning to plant his feet on the ground and set the untouched glass of scotch on the coffee table next to her. “Thanks.”

Their eyes met, and for once, she didn’t blush and look away. Clara’s question from the previous night circled back through her mind, and she let herself actually see him. Ice blue eyes capable of such a coldness shined back, warm and open, something only a privileged few were allowed to see. His strong features could be severe, Clara had once called them attack eyebrows, but when he smiled… his entire face would light up, almost like he was a different person.

She'd always found him attractive, may have had the occasional fantasy involving them, a bottle of wine, and a hot tub, but love?

Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she automatically licked her own. She would be lying if she said she’d never wondered – didn’t everyone, at some point? He drew closer, and she realized that she was leaning in; they were both leaning in. Is this really happening?

Rose’s eyes fluttered closed, her heart pounding, and she could feel his breath against her lips when-

“Dad?”

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

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