#probably stuck them in a blender and had it for breakfast | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

parkmuse · 5 years ago

Text

Not So Honest (M)

Word Count: 9322 (Reposted) (Wonhopes Masterlist)

Jungkook has got a pretty BIG problem, and he desperately asks you for your help.

cr.

Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Dingdongdingdongdingdon-

You let out a heavy sigh, pausing your show as you get up from the couch to answer the door. That annoying repetitive doorbell rings could only come from one person.

“YAH! Where’s your fucking keys you brat-“ You stop mid-sentence from yelling at him because your eyes catch onto the large package he’s struggling to hold along with a mountain of grocery bags in his hands.

“Yeah, I forgot them this morning and remembered once I was at the store. By the way, this was at the doorstep-“ You immediately snatch it out of his grasp, twirling around as you let go of the door and let it slam back in his face. You run to the table, squealing as you set it down to try and go look for something to open it with. “My package arrived!”

You hear the front door rattle a few times before its shoved open again, him struggling to get all the bags in as he forces the door closed with a bang. “What the fuck Y/N? And I don’t even get a thank you for picking that up for you?”

“I didn’t ask for your help, Jungkook,” You replied, waving him off before you walked back over to your package.

You’ve been waiting a whole two weeks for another one of these Amazon packages. You did a little contract with some sellers there that you would test out their products for free and give your honest review in return that you get free samples of the items. So far you’ve gotten blenders, make up, wireless head phones, even a decent cellphone all for free. And all you had to do was type up a quick, honest review with the pros and cons of the product that took less than 5 minutes, then you could enjoy all your free shit. Did I say free already?

“What’s in the package? Another crappy phone?” Jungkook yells from the kitchen, placing all the food in their designated locations. You let out another heavy sigh before responding to him. “Why do you care? Go hangout with Jimin and suck each other’s dicks or something.”

“You’re just jealous cause I could probably get more dick or actually scratch that, any dick at all compared to you if I really wanted to.” You shot him a glare and he smirks, then sticks his tongue out before placing the milk in the fridge.

God, you hated that brat. You’ve hated him for so many years, basically all of your life since you’ve known each other since elementary. Your parents were great friends so you always had to hang out with him when you would go to each other’s houses, dealing with him pulling your hair and stealing all your food and toys from you almost three times a week. Once you hit high school you were even forced to baby sit him even though you were only two years older, but his parents baby him so much and think he’s not fit to stay alone in his own damn home that they’d throw him over at yours.

Even now, as two damn grown adults you are still stuck with him, forced to share an apartment since you two go to the same college because his parents don’t trust him alone or with strangers. It was a living nightmare since you basically had no privacy with this brat, always meddling in your stuff and your life and him walking out of his room practically naked every damn day. Sure, he’s grown up really well, and he’s always been cute I guess, but holy hell he gets on your nerves so much he’s lost the on chance that you would ever find him attractive. The only upside to this is that you get help paying rent, but honestly you think you’d rather live on the streets than be with this annoying kid.

At least your annoyance will be at its minimal today, too excited to let him cloud your day when you got more cool free shit-

“What the fuck?” You spit, eyes bugged and jaw dropped once you comprehend exactly what Amazon just sent to you.

“What? Another flip phone or some shit- woah,” Jungkook’s eyes widened as well once he peeks over your shoulder to see what the big deal was.

Sex toys.

Not one, not two.

A whole box full.

There were different kinds of toys like vibrators and silicone dicks in all the colors you could possibly imagine. You didn’t even know what half the shit in that box was either; there were weird looking eggs to obscure shaped things you assumed were supposed to replicate a dick but had an extended side that you couldn’t figure out what it was actually intended to do. You pulled out a box and on the cover read Sassy Anal Beads in fancy cursive lettering, finally making you lose your patience.

“Why the fuck would they send me this shit!?” You huffed, tossing the stuff back in the box. You had no use for any of this. Sure, they could keep you company since you were single as hell but you really wished they would have sent you something way more useful.

“Maybe they knew you needed it— OW!” Jungkook yelps as you punch him in the chest. He pouts as he clutches onto his pecs but you just roll your eyes.

“Shut up, you deserved it.” You walk back to the couch and plop on it with a sigh, resuming your TV show.

“Aren’t you supposed to review all this shit?” He says, digging through some more of the box as he pulls an unrealistic sized purple dildo.

“I’m not going to bother. I’ll just say they were all shitty or something,” You say as you bring your feet up to the coffee table.

“Well that’s not really fair. You have to give your honest opinion. What if King Cock Deluxe deserves five stars?” He snickers, waving it over in front of your face.

You scrunch your face in disgust, “Stop being gross.”

He laughs and tosses it back in the box, then pulls out another item. “What the hell is this thing?”

You see him examining it in his hands, his face scrunching up in confusion. It was small and black, a ring attached to the end and the top having two protruding bumps.

You’ve actually heard of that one before from one of your girl friends who was gushing all about it. It was a rabbit designed cock ring, the two ends from the top was actually a vibrator so when you had sex the “rabbit ears” would stimulate your clit. Your friend said although it looked really ugly it really did the trick, but her boyfriend never liked using it because it was way too tight on him.

“It’s a cock ring,” You said unamused, standing up to walk over to the kitchen.

“Cock ring?” Jungkook responded, still sounding confused as ever.

“Did I stutter?” You said, digging through the pantry.

“Does it make you feel really good or something?”

You turn back to face him so you can yell at him for asking so many questions, but stopped once you saw his face. He was still looking at the toy, examining it in his hand intensely.

A small smile crept on your lips, and you’re glad he was still too focused on the toy in his hands to see. “Yeah Jungkook, it makes you feel real good.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, but quickly replaces his surprise with a lazy smirk. “Yeah right, this free shit would never work.” He tosses the toy back into the box.

You snicker at his response. How has he never heard of a cock ring? Was he that inexperienced? Jungkook’s a grown man, but you’ve always seen him as the little brat next door. “I mean, I heard that got a lot of positive feedback for being one of the best sex toys out there. Men go crazy about it,” You chimed in, continuing to tease him.

“That piece of rubber? Bullshit.” He walks back into the kitchen, throwing some more groceries into the fridge. After a couple of minutes of silence and fixing up the kitchen, Jungkook speaks up again.

“I mean, what does it even do? How is it that good?”

“I don’t know, but must be pretty amazing.” You were getting kind of tired of your little white lie, and his constant repetitiveness of the topic was staring to annoy you. Before he was about to speak up again you interrupted him.

“Jungkook! I told you to buy some more damn cereal!” You whack him on the back of the head and he groans.

“I got most of the stuff on the list!” He pouts.

“You had one job kid, and now we got milk and no cereal.” You huff, walking over to grab your purse. “I always have to do things on my own around here. I’ll be back in a bit.” You grab your keys and walk out the door.

You finally made your way back home after being stuck in traffic for a good thirty minutes just for some cereal. Damn that Jeon kid for forgetting one measly thing.

You were starving since you hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and you were too lazy to cook anything so why not just have some cereal? You walk to the kitchen to pull out a bowl, opening the box of Frosted Flakes and filling it up to the brim. You walk over to the fridge to grab the milk, opening the door. You were met with nothing but water bottles on the top shelf and some groceries at the bottom. Confused, you looked all over the sides and in the drawers. There was a whole carton before you left and now it disappeared!

Then it clicked in your head. Your eyebrows crinkled and you let out a heavy sigh, closing the fridge. “JUNGKOOK!”

That damn kid always brings the carton of milk into his room, sometimes drinking it straight out of the container. You hated sharing food with him for this very reason, and you should really get him to stop drinking that shit because he’s getting way too big for his own good.

You waited for a good minute just to give him mercy, but by now he should have answered you, walking out of his room with a yeah, yeah as he brings the carton back out.

But there was complete silence.

You groan, walking down the hall to where your bedrooms were. He better have a good ass explanation for why he hasn’t answered you by now. You twist the knob and roughly push the door open. “Where’s the fucking milk Jungkook?!”

You pause at the door, making eye contact with a seemingly alarmed Jungkook. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed faced away from you, shirtless again, head turned with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly ajar. He looks like a deer in the headlights, his hand clutching onto the sheets crumpled beside him.

“You’re just sitting there doing nothing but didn’t bother answering me?” You thought it was a little weird, but quickly brushed it off.

“Um—well, I—“ Before he can give you an explanation, your eyes catch the item you were looking for at the night stand beside where he was sitting.

“There it is, I fucking knew it!” You strode over to the carton.

“NO! DON’T COME HERE!” He hollers, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“Whoa no need to yell, what’s on your dick?”

“N-NOTHING! Just…go to the store and get more! This is my milk!”

You could have sworn you felt a vein pop out of your temple at his remark. “I just came from the damn store! That’s a brand new carton! And my milk your ass I paid for that!”

You were seriously getting tired of him. When will you finally be able to get away from him? 5 years? 10 years? Are you really going to have to spend the rest of your life with this brat?

You don’t even know why you’re listening to him at the moment. You can do whatever you want, he can’t stop you. You continue to make a beeline to your milk, running past him to grab it and run out. Your feet catches onto his blanket, causing you to trip over and onto the floor in front of him with a loud thump.

You groan on the floor, pushing the sheet off of you and sitting up as you rub your head. You turn your head to look at a mortified Jungkook, completely colorless as he stares back at you in complete fear and embarrassment. Confused, you were about to ask what his problem was but your eyes flicked south.

A mere inches from your face was his dick in his hand, semi hard and just…all out there. What definitely made your jaw drop was that right at the base was a familiar looking object, black with bunny ears sticking out at the top.

You covered your mouth, embarrassed to have caught him in the act but also trying so hard not to laugh in front of his face because you cannot believe he’s actually doing this.

“Y/N, I-I can explain-“

You get up on your feet and grab the milk from the night stand, walking straight to the door avoiding eye contact with him. “No need to Kook, pretty self-explanatory. You have fun with that!”

You just wanted to get out of there as quick as possible before it could get even more awkward, but he calls out to you, making you stop.

“No wait! Don’t go! I-Um…”

“If you think I’m going to sit here and watch you jack off you have another thing coming-“

“NO! It’s not that! Why the fuck would I ask you that? I’m not some sicko.”

“Says the one with a bunny cock ring on his dick-”

“OKAY! You got me there,” He sighs. “But I was just curious! What was so good about this piece of plastic? And then I put it on a-and…”

“And what?” It probably didn’t feel good as he expected it to. Hell, it’s supposed to be the complete opposite.

“Well, it’s kind of…kind of stuck.”

A few seconds of silence pass as you comprehend what he just said, then you burst out laughing. He jumped in his seat, surprised by your reaction but then gives you a glare and a pout. “Why are you laughing?!”

You grab onto your sides, tears coming out of your eyes. You just can’t control yourself. This dumb kid has a sex toy stuck on him and he can’t get it off.

“Y/N!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just so…so hilarious. Wow.” You wipe the tears from your cheeks as the last bits of chuckles come spewing out.

“It’s not funny! It won’t come off…a-and it really hurts.”

You can hear the pain in his voice and for a second you actually felt bad for him. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him that much.

But then again, he deserves it.

“Well, seems like you got a real problem on your hands. I’ll leave ya to it.” You say as you start walking out the door.

“Y/N WAIT! You have to help me!”

You turn back to face him, your brows knitting in confusion. “And why do I have to do that?”

“Please Y/N, you know I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t mean it.”

You stare at him for a moment, taking in his facial features. You were a couple of feet away from him but from there you could see the tears threatening to fall from his big doe eyes. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, probably to stop it from quivering in front of you. His broad shoulders visibly shook, and you sigh. He must really be in pain.

“Please, Noona.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by his response. He hasn’t called you Noona for years. The last time he called you that was years ago, during a small phase where he was actually really sweet and nice to you. You actually loved that Jungkook back then, but then he went a full 180 on you and went back to being a brat.

You bite your lip, contemplating on what to do. He winces in pain and lets out a long drawn out whimper, which immediately shot to your core. What the fuck?

You don’t know what overcame you but you had the sudden urge to touch him.

What the hell were you thinking?

You just want to help him, that’s all.

You let out a heavy sigh, then placed the milk on the TV stand, proceeding to walk over to him. “Fine, let’s just get this over with. I don’t want your parents to blame me for not watching you and you coming home dickless.”

His eyes light up in admiration for you, excited to finally be free of this dumb torture-like pleasure free device. You stop in front of him, sitting on your knees as you push his legs apart to get a better look.

Surprisingly, Jungkook didn’t have a micro penis like you thought he had all these years. It was actually really, really generous, probably one of the biggest you’ve seen. No wonder this kid had a big ego.

“Alright, let’s see what we got.” As awkward as this was supposed to feel, it didn’t feel as weird as you thought it would. Why did it feel normal to be on your knees in front of Jungkook’s dick? You honestly didn’t want to think about why other than the fact that you’ve known him all your life and being naked in front of each other probably isn’t a big as a deal as you would imagine. You guys used to bathe naked all the time; that counts for something right?

“Wow Kook, you got it lodged pretty good. How the fuck did you get that all the way up there?” You stared at the small device, tightly clenching the base of his shaft.

“I-I thought it was supposed to hurt in the beginning, and then it would feel good later. That’s how sex is for girls, right?”

You snorted. “Does it look like you have a vagina, Jungkook? I mean maybe you will after your dick falls off-“

“Stop!” He whines, pouting at you. “Don’t say that! I would die without my dick.”

“That actually sounds like a good plan, maybe we should leave it then-“ He grabs your hands in his, squeezing them tightly as you were about to sit up again.

“Y/-Noona, please, please help me. I’ll be good to you from now on. I won’t be a brat anymore if you help me. Just…please.”

He softly caresses the back of your hand, looking at you again like a lost puppy.

Was Jungkook really being obedient right now? He seems like he would do anything for you, listened to anything you said. He seemed so…submissive.

You unintentionally licked your lips, but immediately came back to your senses. It was really getting hot in here and your hands were starting to sweat.

You ripped your hands away from him. “Okay, okay. Jeez.” You played it off like you weren’t phased by what he said and his sudden new name for you. You just needed to get this shit off of him and then you could finally eat. Starving yourself is definitely not good for your head.

You take in a deep breath, then reach for him. You didn’t want to bother addressing the elephant in the room, the surprisingly pretty big elephant in the room, because you didn’t want to make this even more awkward as it is. Asking if you could touch his dick would probably make this situation even worse, so you’re just gonna do what you need to do.

You grasp onto the base of his shaft where the toy is, tugging it forward in attempts to take it off.

“OW!” Jungkook yelps, grabbing your wrist. “You’re hurting me!”

“I barely even touched you brat, suck it up.” You whip your hand away from him, bringing it back to the toy.

He really got himself into a real mess here. There’s barely any space between the toy and his dick. Did he really think this wasn’t going to happen?

You attempt to pull at it again while your hand rested on his abdomen. You didn’t expect Jungkook’s abs to be so defined and rock solid under your fingertips, but you quickly brushed the thought away while you focused on the situation at hand.

When you pulled, the toy stayed put and your hand ended up grasping through the rest of his length to the tip, leaving you empty handed. You cupped the toy again, firmly pressing against his stomach while you pulled again, only to bring your hand against him again without the toy. You hear him whimper under your touch but again you don’t let it get to you, thinking he’s just being a little wuss about the pain again. After another attempt of tugging it off and your hand unintentionally grasping his length, you accidentally squeeze the end of his tip, feeling the warmth on your fingertips.

All of a sudden Jungkook lurches forward, putting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing tightly. His face is a few inches away from yours, his heavy pants tickling your face.

“Noona,” He chokes out.

You look up at him to see his adam’s apple bob, licking his partly chapped lips as he lets out open mouthed pants while his other hand clutches the bed sheet. You could see him breaking a sweat down his temple, looking so fucking hot for some strange reason but then something breaks your thoughts.

You feel a pulse under your touch, and you realize you’re still grasping his tip. You look down to see his dick erect, the tip partly red as you slowly feel the palm of your hand get wet. You slowly open your hand to see pre-cum leaking from his tip, some smeared along your hand.

You instantly get red, looking back up at Jungkook with the best glare you could muster up at the moment when in reality you’re freaking out and heating up inside. “What the fuck Jungkook!?”

You were about to stand up to leave when he grabs you again. “I-I’m sorry! I can’t help it!”

“You’re gross!” You try to rip your hand away, but he keeps a firm grip.

“Y/N I’m sorry! Your hand just feels really, really soft…please, just help me get it off!” He pleads. “I’ll do anything Y/N. I promise!”

You look back at your hand covered in Jungkook’s residue, groaning at the sticky substance. You hate to admit that you loved the fact he got like that because of your hands, because of you touching him. You grab the blanket off the floor and wipe your hand, not wanting to think about it. You gulp once you face him again, his cock looking bigger than before and a bit more constricted against the toy.

You press your fingertips against the toy, attempting to twist it off of him. He whimpers, eyes shut tight as you can’t help but notice his stomach clench against your touch again.

“Noona, please...” He says again in what was like a husky whisper, sounding like he’s begging for you. The high pitched whine that came after striked right at your core, causing you to bite your lip. Your stomach was doing somersaults as you tried so heavily to focus on getting this damn toy off of him, but he was making this so, so hard. No pun intended.

You tried whatever you could, pushing it upwards and to the side and downwards, but none of it seemed to be working.

“I think we need to get some oil or something and maybe it’ll slip off,” You thought. “I’ll go get some in the kitchen.”

“You won’t find any,” He said hesitantly.

“What do you mean? I thought you just bought some?”

“I…was that on the list too?” He looks at your warily, biting his bottom lips as he slowly cowers away.

Your eyes turned to slits as your brows crinkled in distress again, letting out a long, slow sigh. “Well, I can’t think of anything else.”

“Why don’t you spit on it?” Your eyes bugged out while you looked at him like crazy woman. What did he just say?

“What?” You say, looking at him incredulously.

“Well, water isn’t going to work. We don’t have anything else and that’s all I could think of.”

“Do it yourself!” You yell, red as a tomato at what he just actually asked for you to do.

“I can’t! My hands are too big! Your hands are perfect and it’s easier if someone else does it. I’ll just hurt myself. Please, just do it it’ll work!” He pouts at you again, biting his bottom lip as he shifts uncomfortably on the bed. “You’re so gentle Noona. Help me,” He begs.

You know his words weren’t supposed to sound dirty in any way, but god why do you keep thinking like that?

Your empty stomach was messing with your head. Not only was your head throbbing, but you can’t ignore the ache between your legs either. You thought of just telling him to fuck off and leave him there to figure it out himself, but he speaks up again.

“It really hurts…I’m begging you Y/N,” He whimpers, whispering your name with a groan at the end. You notice his uneven breaths as his stomach vibrates, his veins protruding along his arms as he still clenches the sheets, the other hand holding onto his hard cock. He grasps himself, letting out a high pitched whine as he grits his teeth, seeing his eyes water yet again from his action.

You gulp at the sight of him before you, so helpless and vulnerable that causes your core throb even more.

You press your thighs together to ease the tension. You don’t know why such a helpless Jungkook was turning you on uncontrollably, and you’d love to see how much more he could beg and sob under your touch if he’d allow you to.

You shake your head, pulling yourself out of your crazy thoughts. This is getting really bad and you knew you had to get away from him quick. You needed this to be over as soon as possible.

“Fuck, okay! But we’re never fucking talking about this again. This never happened,” You say as you kneel in front of him again. You bring a hand to your face, spitting into it and smearing it along your palm. You cup the base of his shaft and glide your palm around the skin near the toy, trying to lubricate it as much as you can.

“It’s not enough Y/N, just spit directly on it,” He groans. You were going to yell at him for telling you what to do, but spared him once you saw his flushed and pained expression. You silently obeyed, sitting up so your face hovered over his dick. You collected enough saliva in your mouth and spit on the skin below the toy, letting the liquid slip down and over his cock. You bring your fingertips to massage the area, spreading your fluid as much as you can over him. Once you think it’s enough, you try pulling the toy again but it still didn’t budge.

“I-I think you still need to add more,” He pants.

“You think I got gallons worth Jungkook? That I’m a human sprinkler?” You spew.

“Well how about you just use your mouth?” He said nonchalantly.

You gaped at him, about to tell him off but then he cuts you off. “It would be easier! You wouldn’t have to keep spitting and have it dry up. You can get it all over and then it would pop right off!”

Your patience was really wearing thin with this kid. But then he grabs you by shoulders, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours.

“You’re my only hope Noona. You can only help me with this. I’ll do whatever you want after I promise.”

“I swear I’ll be a good boy.”

Good boy?

Hearing that made the last strings of your sanity cut loose.

Fuck it.

You push him away by his chest abruptly, making him almost fall back on the bed. He caught himself before he could fall, hands flat against the bed. Before he could ask you what your problem was, you flatten your tongue along the base of his shaft.

“Y/N!” He moans aloud, bucking his hips up and into your face. You glide your tongue along his vein, swirling your tongue against his tip. You press an open mouthed kiss, then wrap the tip around the lips as you suck lightly.

“Oh fuck! Noona,” He rasps, trying so hard not to lose control and grab your hair to push you further into him. His moans egg you on and you tease his slit, earning another strangled moan of your name from him. Then you bring your mouth down onto his cock, taking him inch by inch.

You try your best to use your tongue, trying to wet every inch of his throbbing cock until you finally reach the base where the toy was. You hear him panting like he just ran a marathon above you, groaning as he watches your pretty lips around his thick member.

“Your mouth is so warm, it feels so good,” He groans, licking his lips before he gulps as he watches you intently. You stop your movements and look up to him, making direct eye contact. He looks at you in confusion, seeing the subtle glint in your eyes. Before he could say anything you swallow hard, causing him to thrash his head back and fist your hair.

“Fucking shit!” He moans, bucking his hips upward into you, causing the tip to hit the back of his throat. It hurt of course, but seeing the way he reacts to your ministrations was definitely worth it.

You pull your mouth off of him just until the tip, then bring him all into your mouth once again, sucking harshly.

“Holy fuck Y/N,” he moans, grasping the back of your head as you bob up and down his length.

“Keep fucking doing that.” You scratch his thighs, telling him that you’re the one in control instead of him before grazing your teeth slightly against his length. He whines in response, slightly nudging your hair back to stop you.

“Y-Y/N please…I’m sorry, just please keep going.” You release him with a pop, wiping the saliva from your chin as you look at him with a glare.

“Why are you telling me what to do? I thought you said you’d be a good boy?” You say as you slightly dig your nails into his massive thighs once again. “Or should I stop?”

“No! No please! Don’t stop I’ll be good I promise!” He whimpers at you, bringing his hand to your cheek to slowly caress your face.

“I’ll be good Noona.” You pretend to contemplate on your answer when you definitely weren’t going to leave him like this now, but you seem to think he’s had enough when you see his arm shake and his lips quiver.

“You better be.” You bring your mouth back to him, sinking your mouth down his hardened length as you take all of him again. You didn’t really think of Jungkook as the vocal type, but hearing him shamelessly moan and whimper your name aloud to the point the next door neighbors could hear heightened your ego tenfold.

You release him, bringing your hand up and down his shaft. You lift his dick so it’s against his stomach, about to run your tongue against him once again when you noticed something odd. A very thin line was visible on the cock ring, located on the bottom side of his dick. You bring your face closer to the line, looking at it curiously. Very small and slightly faint read the letters OPEN right above the line, in bold lettering.

Aha! You thought. Finally. Before you could bring your hand to the little slit, Jungkook calls out to you.

“Why did you stop? I’m being good Noona. Please, keep going.” He cries, and you swear it’s a tear that slips from his eyes and down his cheek than his sweat.

You lick your lips, looking back down at the toy then back at his cock.

He deserves this for being a brat all these years.

You look back up at him, giving him a sweet smile which felt seemingly odd to him. You never smiled like that at him. “Okay, since you’re being so good for me Kook,” You say sweetly.

“Why are you- fuck!” Jungkook groans when you take him all in one go, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You slightly gag, your mouth so full from his thick length but you push through it. You wanted to see this boy suffer.

You continue to go all out, hollowing your cheeks and deep throating him in the best ways possible, drowning in all his whines and cries of your name and how you were so fucking good.

“N-Noona, fuck, I think I’m gonna-“ You smile at his words.

Any second now.

At one particularly harsh suck he grabs your head, sinking you further down his cock as your mouth hits the toy. He moans at first but quickly cries in agony, fisting your hair harshly as you try to focus relaxing your throat.

“What…What the fuck…?” He whimpers, eyes squinting closed as he groans.

You release him with a pop, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “What’s wrong Kook?”

“I-There’s something wrong,” He says, grabbing his dick and wincing.

“Does it still hurt Jungkook? You want Noona to make you feel good?” You pull his hand away from him, grasping his length once again and pumping up and down slowly. He cries again, grabbing your wrist to stop your movements. “It fucking hurts Noona. What’s happening?” He sounded so lost, so helpless.

You never thought yourself to be a sadist but fuck, you loved it.

“Shh, Kookie,” You slowly rise to your feet, standing between his legs as you grab onto his shoulder. You bring a finger to his chin, lifting his head so he can look up to you. “Let Noona help you. I’ll make you feel real good.” With that, you pushed him harshly on the chest, causing him to fall back into the sheets. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts leaving you in your black lacy underwear, then turn back to him.

You lick your lips, staring at him sprawled on his bed looking so fucked out, completely naked. You climb up over him, bringing one leg over to straddle his waist.

“Y/N, what are you-“ You muffled him with a kiss, soft and sweet at first but slowly getting rougher to the touch as seconds go by. He moans when you bite his bottom lip, allowing you to delve your tongue into his hot cavern. His hands quickly find purchase on the soft flesh of your hips, holding you tightly. You suck on the tip of his tongue, earning you a groan.

You bring your mouth to his ear, nibbling his lobe before you whisper, “Just relax, Kook. And let Noona do all the work.”

You rise above him, your hands running along his arms as you meet his hands on your hips. You bring your hands to the hem of your shirt, quickly lifting it off of you and exposing your matching black lace bra.

“God damn,” he choked, eyes as wide as saucers as his mouth gaped at your beautiful figure. You chuckle at his response, then bring your hand down to your underwear. You rubbed yourself through the fabric, lightly moaning as you feel your juices seep through. You were definitely ready for him already. You use two fingers to hook your underwear, pushing it to the side while using your other hand to grab his dick.

He groans, watching your movements as you align yourself with his dick.

“Y/N, are you sure you- ahh!” His nails dig into your hips as you slowly sink onto him, your mouth slightly ajar as he fills you up perfectly.

His length and girth is the perfect size for you, filling you up to the brim as you settle perfectly onto his cock. You moan once your ass meets his thighs, sitting still as you adjust to the new found fullness.

Then, you move. You bring yourself off of him until just the tip is left, then sit back down with a slap. You moan at the sensation, but Jungkook is crying from your action.

“Holy f-fuck! Fuckkk,” He whimpers, chest heaving as you bring yourself up only to come down with another harsh slap. You continue these movements until you set a steady pace, bouncing on his length.

“Y/N! Oh my god, fuck, fuck Noona,” He writhes below you, looking like he’s about to lose his mind as he twists his head back and forth with his eyes tightly shut.

“You feel so fucking good, god, keep going please,” He whines, continuously licking his lips as his mouth constantly lets out a string of profanities and whimpers.

“Am I making you f-feel good, Kook? Ah, fuck,” You groan, speeding up your pace as the room fills with constant slap, slap, slaps.

“Yes yes yes, fuck yes, you’re so fucking good, I’m losing my mind,” He chokes, bringing one hand to squeeze your ass while the other tightly grasps onto your upper thigh. You continue going hard against him, him hitting you so deep and in just the right spots. Every time you drop down you feel something hitting against your flesh, then you look down.

You forgot the cock ring was still stuck on him, then realize it was the bunny ears. Memories of your friend saying how good the vibrator was rushed into your head, then you bring one of your hands to the toy. You press the switch on the toy, the low buzz sounds filling the room along with Jungkook’s whines. Once you sink down onto him again the product lands right on your clit, vibrating at an inhumane speed which causes your eyes to roll back.

“Oh my fucking god!” You scream, pausing your movements as you let the vibrator run against your bundle of nerves. You’ve never felt anything like it before.

You attempt to squeeze your thighs together, slowly rotating your hips instead as you let the vibrations of the toy work its magic against you. You moan aloud again, throwing your head back as the feeling of Jungkook’s cock so deep inside you along with the toys ministrations make your mind go hazy. All of a sudden you feel Jungkook’s hips lurch forward, pounding into you from below as he holds you by the hips to keep you still.

“Jungkook!” You scream, scratching his chest with his hands as he takes over.

“Y-You’re getting tighter on me, fuck, you feel so fucking good,” He moans, filling you to the brim each time as the toy continues to rub against your clit.

You can’t contain your voice now, moaning nonstop as Jungkook keeps ramming into you, the toy helping you reach your high quicker than you ever thought possible. After a few more strokes you come undone, moaning loudly as you tightly clench Jungkook’s dick. He lets out a deep groan, continuously thrusting into you as you ride out your high.

“Y/N, Y/N, fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna-“ Jungkook grabs onto your ass tightly, letting out a strangled moan. You watch as his head falls back into the bed, his stomach clenching tightly as he releases a choked sob. You felt his cock throb from within you, but no release. The side of your mouth twitches upward, but when you see his eyes fill with tears once again, him crying aloud, you finally actually start feeling bad.

You lift your hips, letting his hard cock slip out of you as you roll over beside him. You take a few seconds to catch your breath. You’re about to sit up to take the cock ring off of him but all of a sudden he rolls over to hover above you, spreading your legs open and pushing your panties to the side.

“Hey, what-“ He grabs his cock and roughly shoves himself into you again, causing you to throw your head back with a moan. He has his hands on either side of your head, then brings his mouth to your ears.

“You’re so fucking tight Noona, you feel so warm.” He grabs your hips as he starts pummeling into you, making your eyes roll back.

“You’re fucking hot as hell, you moaning my name and coming all over my cock,” He grunts, “You don’t know how many times I’ve came imagining what just happened. But why can’t I fucking come now?”

“J-Jungkook, stop,” You moan, trying to get him to stop so you can take the ring off of him. But he doesn’t let up, too focused on trying to reach his release as he fucks you harder, grunting and growling as he picks up his pace. The toy continues to buzz, occasionally rolling over your nub if Jungkook angles it the right way, causing you to yell out. He spreads your legs further, tossing one of your legs over his shoulder to reach into you deeper.

“That picture of you bouncing on my dick, fucking me, using me to make you feel good, I never imagined how fucking sexy you’d actually look. And the way you moan my name, fuck I’ll come just from thinking about that next time I touch myself,” He groans, reaching behind you to rip off your bra. His mouth latches onto your nipple, sucking your breast as you grab his head to bring him closer. He laps your nub, licking up the valley of your breasts and brings his lips to yours.

You moan into his mouth, allowing him to ravage you some more. He brings both of your legs around his waist and you cross them, shoving himself into you faster. At this angle the toy is hitting directly on your clit each time he pounds into you, making you scream out his name as you clutch the bedsheets beside you.

“Jungkook!” You moan his name like a mantra, your release getting closer and closer. He continues kissing you, and after a few more deep strokes you come all over him again, squeezing him so hard he yells your name aloud, his cock throbbing uncontrollably as you clench tightly around him. His hands are holding your hips so tightly you know there’s going to be bruises in the morning, but you don’t care. You move your hips against him as you embrace the waves of pleasure, panting as you finally go limp. You’re about to slowly doze off from being so tired, wiping the sweat along your temple when you hear another choked sob. Jungkook pulls out of you, his dick still hard and swelled. The tip looks painfully red, the rest of his shaft looking constricted as he whimpers again.

“I-I fucking can’t,” He cries, his cheeks red and wet with tears of frustration as he looks at you with pleading eyes.

“Oh Kook,” You bite your lip. Maybe you really went too far.

You crawl over to him on his knees, carefully touching his length. He winces at your touch, whimpering as you lift it up. You press the button to turn off the vibrations, then use your fingernail to dig into the slit of the toy, pulling it forward as it pops open. He groans in relief as you slowly drag the toy off of him, tossing it to the side.

“And that’s what you get for being a brat all these years.” You say as you plop onto his bed, grabbing the sheets to cover yourself.

“What?” He looks at you confused, then his eyes widen.

“Wait…you fucking knew?”

You chuckle, “Of course, who doesn’t fucking know what a cock ring does? It stops you from coming, Kook.” You shuffle onto your side, getting ready to fall asleep.

“So you fucked with me this whole time?” He said in a low tone, venom laced in his voice.

“Fucked and fucked,” You said. “You’ve always fucked with me all these years. I was just making it even. Also we’re not telling anyone about this, okay?” You pointed back and forth from yourself to him, then plopped back onto the pillow.

Silence filled the room and you accepted it with open arms. You were just completely exhausted at this point, not having really expected such a good fuck from Jungkook. But hey, he made you feel good and you got your revenge, so it all works out. You were slowly slipping off into dreamland but all of a sudden the sheets are ripped off of you. Your legs were pulled downward, dragging your head off the pillow.

“What the fuck-“ Jungkook grabs your waist and flips you over onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the mattress while your ass is raised in the air. You attempt to turn around to ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, but you cry as a hard slap echos in the room.

He smooths his rough palm against your right cheek where he spanked you, then brings his hand once again over the spot making you choke.

“You think this is a fucking joke? Making me lose my fucking mind, not letting me come three times?”

“Let go brat-“

Slap.

“The girl of my fucking dreams comes in here and sucks me off, fucks me twice, yet I couldn’t even fucking enjoy it cause I was in so much pain? You know how fucking horrible that is?” He grabs your underwear, tearing it in half as he lets it fall on the bedspread.

“Jungkook-ahh!” You moan once he brings his hand to your core, running his fingers along your slit.

“You call me a brat all the time, yell at me, yet I do everything for you,” He says as he lets a finger slip in, pumping into you as your wet juices fall down your thighs. “But you didn’t even let me come once.”

“Jungkook I can’t, not anymore,” You whimper, fisting the sheets as he plunges a second finger into you.

“Oh you can’t? But you came so many times Noona. Fuck, I even called you Noona cause I knew you secretly loved that,” He grunts. “I hate saying that. But I did it for you, to make you feel good Y/N.”

“Please,” You beg, trying to move away from his touch. But he doesn’t let up, continuing to touch you.

“I think you can go again. You never do anything for me, so you can do this. I haven’t even come yet,” He drags his fingers out of you, then leans forward so his dick sat against your cheeks and his chest leaned against your back. He brings his fingers to your lips, prodding them at your entrance. “Suck.”

You complied, opening your mouth as you lapped up your juices on him. You hear him groan behind you, slowly rubbing his length against your ass.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He leans back, pumping himself a few times before he aligns his tip at your entrance. You were going to attempt to stop him again but he pounds right into you, causing your face to fall flat onto the sheets.

He immediately starts off rough and fast, holding you by the hips as he drags you to him, fucking you onto him. You mewl, so sensitive from the last two rounds that you didn’t have the strength to do anything.

“Fuck, you’re still so fucking tight,” He groans, “God, I imagined fucking you so many times before, but I never thought it’d feel this good.”

“Jungkook…” You moan, slowly feeling the coiling in your stomach return.

“All these years Y/N, having to deal with seeing you in those short shorts, those low tops, fuck, you were such a fucking tease,” His thighs slap harder against your ass.

“Did I ever tell you I walked in on you changing once? I fucking ran to my room and jacked off that entire night to that image.” You moaned in response, thinking about the thought of Jungkook touching himself, pumping his shaft hard and fast as he thought of you, moaning your name as he came. And he was only a couple of feet away from you in the other room.

“But I never did anything about it, because you always treated me as the little brat next door,” He growled, flipping you over so you were on your back, then pushing himself right back in.

“Tell me Y/N, do you still think of me as a kid?” He grabbed one of your breasts, kneading it as he sucked on the other. “Would some brat make you feel this fucking good?”

You moaned in response, grabbing his hair as you tried to pull him closer to you. He sucked harder, pinching your nub between his fingers as he continued thrusting you at a harsh pace. He let you go, rising up to adjust you again, hooking his arms around your thighs as he fucked you into his mattress.

“Fuck, Jungkook! Oh my fucking god,” You moan aloud, slightly arching your back as he drilled into you, making your body slowly inch upward and closer to the bedframe. The hinges squeaked uncontrollably, the bed frame hitting against the wall each time he thrusted into you.

The angle was causing you to see stars, his length hitting you in your deepest and most pleasurable spot.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna-“

He immediately stops his movements, causing you to groan at the loss of your blissful release.

“Why the fuck did you stop!?” You yell, tears of frustration clouding your vision.

He smirks at you in return, leaning forward until his face is a mere inches from yours.

“I don’t think you deserve it. Why should I let you come again?” You try to move in response, but he still has his arms around your legs, keeping you in place.

“Please,” You beg, wanting nothing more than to just drown in euphoric feeling of letting go against him.

“How are you gonna make me?”

“I’ll do anything! I won’t call you brat anymore! Just please, let me come,” You whimper, bringing your hands to cup his face.

“Hmm…” He contemplates for a little while, then you whine another please before he chuckles.

“You’ll do anything?”

“Anything.”

“Will you be my girlfriend after this?”

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops, not expecting that request at all. You thought he’d want you to suck his dick again, which you wouldn’t mind. But girlfriend?

He grabs your hand into his, then slowly caresses his face into your touch. He turns his face to kiss the inside of your palm, then each of your fingertips.

“I’ve loved you since I was 7. You’re the only girl for me, and we’re practically going to be together for the rest of our lives cause of our parents. My parents don’t want me to be with anyone else either, so we already have their blessing.” He smiles at your speechless face, then brings himself forward to give you a kiss on the nose.

Butterflies fill your stomach, and you feel like you can’t breathe for a moment. This brat has been with you for so long you never realized you actually loved him too, and you wouldn’t know what you would do without him.

“So do I take that as a yes?” He says, peppering sweet kissing along your jawline.

You bite your lips, but slowly your mouth curves into a smile. “You’re such a greaseball.”

He chuckles, bringing his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, melting into his kiss.

“Okay not to ruin the moment but I’m kind of fucking dying here and I feel like my dick is going to fall off,” He groans, feeling him still hard within you.

You giggle, giving him one last kiss on the lips before moving away from him. “Where do you want to come?”

“Fuck,” He grunts, licking his lips as he contemplates.

“I want to come inside you.” You nod at his response, “That’s fine, I’m on the pill. And how do you want me?”

“On top.” You nod again, smiling at him as you lift yourself up, changing positions with him. He falls back on the sheets and groans while he watches you straddle him, lining his cock with your soaking entrance. Once again you sink onto him, allowing him to fill you up to the brim. Both of you sigh in content, him kneading your breasts and you holding onto his chest.

You quickly start bouncing on him, wanting him to have his relief as quickly as possible. He groans as your ass slaps against his thighs harshly every time you come down, eyes closed shut as his mouth hangs open. You clench against him, trying to milk him out for his release, and he moans your name louder. You feeling the throbbing occur and you know he’s close. You were so focused on trying to get him off that you didn’t realize Jungkook reached for the toy again, turning the power on as the slight buzzing filled the room. Your eyes pop open and you cry aloud once he presses the vibrator part of the cock ring against your clit, making you writhe above him.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, Jungkook, fuck,” You mewl, moving faster against him as he keeps the toy against your bundle of nerves.

“Come on Y/N, come for me babe. Come all over my cock,” He grunts, and after a few more seconds of the toy against you you let go, lurching forward as you throw your head against Jungkook’s chest, crying his name aloud. He grabs onto your hips and plants his feet flat on the bed, fucking you through your high, and after another half dozen strokes he chokes your name out, coming inside of you in long, hot spurts. Jungkook’s warmth felt nice inside you, and you continued moving as best you could until he finished, groaning as he slowly went limp inside of you.

Both of you were panting and you could feel his rapid heartbeat slow against your cheek. He brings a hand to brush through your hair, bringing a blanket to cover the both of you before wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I love you Y/N,” He said, kissing your temple.

“And I love sex toys now even though it hurt like a bitch, but at least it brought us together.” You slap his chest, causing him to let out a chuckle. “We should give it a 5 star review. The toy sucked ass for me but it also brought me this beautiful ass,” He said as he squeezed one of your cheeks. “Pretty great if you ask me.”

“You’re still dumb and a brat,” You said as you rested your chin on his firm chest, staring up at him. You leaned forward to kiss his bottom lip, right where his mole was that you always secretly adored.

“But honestly, I love you too.”

#jungkook #bts #fanfic #comedy #smut #notsohonest #wonhopes

1K notes · View notes

unmanageable-day · 4 years ago

Text

Come to me

masterlist

previous chapter: 21

PART 21.5 - next

Summary. After what happened in a relationship in the past, you found it difficult to trust someone with the gentleman image. ‘Gentleman’ seems like merely a concept and it was probably impossible for someone to be a genuine one. Now that you’re stuck with the number one gentleman at campus for a group project, how would you cope with the one and only Joshua Hong?

Genre. College!au, non-idol!au / friends to lover

Pairing. Joshua x y/n x S.Coups

WC / warnings. 2k / soft makeout sesh (can you call it that when no tongues involved??? or maybe its more like pecks session)

TAGLIST. @samemagicpoint @unravellyn @nonuuu @seventeeneration @skylions-den @wooziverse @infinitemoods — [ send ask or dm if you’re interested to be added in the list! ]

You found yourself being confused, sitting on a couch in a corner of a barbershop, flipping page after page of an outdated magazine mindlessly. Sometimes you stole a glance towards a man whose hair was getting cut and dyed. The man who dragged you there and made you accompany him. The reflection of him in the mirror threw a big smile at you.

"How do I look?" he asked as soon as he and you walked out of the barbershop.

"Just looking like S.Coups. What do you expect me to say?" You chuckled.

Grinning, he casually put his arm around your barely clothed shoulder. The direct contact to your skin simply got you flustered. This was the day you regret ever purchasing a skimpy top with spaghetti strap.

Early in the morning, a friend of yours, Somi, came crashing at your place, forcing you to go out with her. She even dug your closet to find an outfit that was not your everyday wear. And that was how the long forgotten floral sleeveless top was found. You cursed why it was found in peak summer season like this. It just made Somi so eager encouraging you to wear it. She even prepared a pair of jeans, mules, and a handbag that would match the top, according to her. And you can't say no when she looked at you with her pleading eyes.

"We will look awesome, Unnie. You see, the color of our top mixes so well together. We have to take pictures. I promise this cafe has the best ambience. You should update your insta, your feed is so dull because you shitpost too much on Twitter," she excitedly rambled.

You never wanted to go home so bad after Somi dragged you here and there until noon. The hot weather quite bothered you, especially that you felt more exposed than usual. Usually you would have your outer whenever you wore sleeveless shirt. Today was an exception because Somi hurried you and you couldn't grab an outer from the closet.

When Somi accidentally spilled some coffee and you may or may not have purposely wiped your hand that got chocolate sauce on your shirt, you thought it was a good chance to buy new clothes. The baby sister rushed you to the closest store, but you were wrong to think you could choose yourself. Because she immediately took 2-3 pieces of another sleeveless top even with spaghetti strap, pushed you to the changing room, and when you were done, she went straight to the cashier and paid the bill.

Wandering around the store before catching up on Somi, you intended to buy some outerwear. But your hands stopped as you were bewildered when someone called you. And it turned out to be Seungcheol shopping by himself. That was how Somi ditched you with a lame excuse because she got overly excited to see you with a fine looking guy.

"Afternoon snack? Boba milk tea?" Seungcheol offered with his gummy smile. He surely appreciated you waiting for him for more than 60 minutes at the barbershop.

These days you found yourself hanging out with him a lot. You surely remembered how flirtatious he was the first time you met him. He was definitely one person you wanted to avoid, or at least to not hang around with that much. Because, one, he was friends with Joshua Hong, and two, you can't stand him flirting and being cringey all the time. The weird thing was now you can't say no to him. This man strangely found his way to you and somewhat won a small part of your heart.

"Or maybe not?" you said as you looked up in the sky. The sunny day had turned into cloudy as the sky got darker. It looked like it was going to rain soon. The little handbag you carried cannot even fit a little umbrella you always brought anywhere anytime. Now you were panicking, already thinking to call a taxi to go home before it rained.

"I think it's wiser to go to my place since it's closer from here. I'll take you home when the rain stops."

"Your place?" you quietly asked, looking concerned. You remembered the three of them lived together. Joshua told you in the first weeks of your internship, about Jeonghan being sulky everyday because of how loud he was when the blender was working to made smoothies aka to provide your breakfast.

You were this close to running away with a taxi as little rain drops started falling and you could feel the cool breeze against your bare skin. Unfortunately not a single vacant taxi was sighted.

"Um.. nobody’s home. Jisoo and Jeonghan are going out," he explained, as if he could read your mind. The longer you took your time contemplating, the grey shade in the sky was getting more visible. Little rain drops started getting bigger and you were running out of choices. "Come on, we don't want you to get wet, do we?" Seungcheol gently took your hand and lead the way.

Again, you can't say no and you cursed yourself for being very indecisive. All you hoped now was this wasn't a bad idea, although you already had a not so good feeling about this.

"Phew, just in time," he remarked as the two of you reached the apartment lobby when the rain suddenly fell heavily. "Let's get upstairs, dry ourselves, and I'll lend you my jacket."

You shook, reassuring him that you were okay. "I'm fine," you said, wiping off the wet trace on your arms. But as soon as you entered the living room, you couldn't deny the chilly temperature that suddenly crept up your body.

"Towel?" he offered, handing over a pink colored fabric.

You muttered thanks as you continued wiping your arms and shoulders.

"Here, wear my cardigan." He tossed a black knit-wear before heading to the pantry to make some hot drink. "Don't just stand there. Go sit on the couch, turn on the TV or something," he chuckled.

You nervously made your way to the couch and sat up straight. Soon, Seungcheol joined you with two cups of hot peppermint tea. Seeing his cardigan crumpled in your hands, he took it and helped to put it around your shoulder. "Feel better?" he asked warmly as he adjusted his seat beside you. Nodding your head, you smiled back at him.

"The rain doesn't look like it will stop soon. Let's just wait a little bit longer, okay?"

It wasn't like you have other better choices anyway. Going home by bus or taxi and get drenched in the middle? No way.

"Is there anything you want to watch?"

"Not really. Just don't trick me to watch horror movies like Joshua did."

"He did that?" He chuckled. "That was messed up, I bet."

A nervous smile was curved on your lips. You were surprised yourself that you still remembered that one time watching movie with Joshua. That was something nobody ever knew. It just slipped off your mouth when Seungcheol asked.

His choice finally was a classic, award-winning movie. Seungcheol can't keep his mouth shut throughout the movie, commenting every scene or comparing with other movies. He subtly scooted closer, and the pointing gesture which he often does eventually decreased. His loud talking also started to become quieter.

"Why?" you spoke, noticing the sudden silent.

"Nothing." His lips pursed into little grin, his eyes finding yours. "Lean on me?"

At first you were hesitant. But there was something about him that always managed to mesmerize you. His opened arms, the warm smile on his face, and his soft gaze hypnotized you. The next thing you knew was you already resting your head against the crook of his neck, his arm looping around your shoulder, his hand fixing the oversized cardigan on you. You can smell his scent. Although the perfume did not have a strong aroma, it was quite fit to your liking.

The movie was reaching the end and post credit scene. Yet none of you did anything but enjoyed the silence with each other's company. You could feel Seungcheol's hand rubbing your upper arm gently. He clearly didn't have intention to release you from his embrace. In fact, he had never wanted to be as selfish as now.

"I wish the rain stops soon," you mumbled. You tried not to squirm too much. But not fidgeting at all didn't help to deal with the current situation. You started to wonder why you just threw yourself at him.

"I wish we can stay like this," he mumbled, almost whispering.

You pretended not to hear that. Suddenly you felt his lips slightly grazed against your forehead. You flinched but you couldn't go anywhere. His arm was still around your shoulder, securing you in place.

You knew this wasn't right.

"Um, we shouldn't.." you mumbled as you squirmed trying to sit up, hoping he would loose his firm grip but to no avail.

By the time you spoke breaking the silence, Seungcheol had readjusted his position, twisting his upper body so you were trapped between his arms. The back of your head stuck against the sofa, which you wished there was no headrest there so you could have escaped from this situation. Without warning but very slowly, he rested his forehead against yours, one of his hand creeping towards your hand that had your fingers curled into a fist. His thumb gave little rubs on the back of your palm, suggesting to be more at ease and also to open up so he could hold your hand properly. You could feel his minty breath as he leaned in closer and your noses brushed each other. In a matter of a second, his lips was pressed against yours then he slightly pulled away.

"I know I shouldn't.." he slowly whispered before going for another peck. Or two, which made you unconsciously gave in and shut your eyes as he sneaked his hand to hold the side of your exposed neck. And there goes another kiss. "But your lips.." Kiss. "So soft." Kiss. "And sweet." Kiss. "I think I could taste something like strawberry." Kiss.

You had no idea what had gotten into you accepting his kisses like this. You probably forgot how to breathe. If it wasn’t for the way he always took quick pauses between his kisses, you could have suffocated yourself. Not to mention, the way he gently rubbed the back of your hand, which somehow it worked to comfort you (and you probably will hate yourself for this).

What were you even thinking? Did he lead you on? Did you lead him on?

Slowly releasing your hand, his arm then made its way to wrap around your waist before finally planting the another kiss, a bit longer than the previous ones.

As he pulled away, you slowly opened your eyes and met his. The first thing you recognized was his long lashes and the thick brows. That was the first time you were struck by how pretty he was. Still holding you close, his hand traveled to tuck some hair strands behind your ear.

"Seungcheol, I..."

"Keep it." He cut your words with another peck.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Utterly shocked by the presence of someone else, you turned your head abruptly only to find certain someone to be as surprised as you were. "Jisoo.." you mumbled his name, your eyes quivering looking at him with the rest of the guys who dropped their jaws. You hurriedly released yourself from Seungcheol's arms and stood up. Yet you didn't know what to do. Should you explain what just happened? But then what is there to explain? And why should you?

Joshua didn't speak a word after that. He just locked his fiery eyes at Seungcheol, probably waiting for him to say something. Jeonghan and the other guys were nervous at the tense situation that they wouldn't dare to open their mouths.

You took a glimpse at Seungcheol. He was just standing beside you, one hand on his waist and the other one brushing his fringe. He looked like he did nothing. As if nothing just happened.

Jeonghan initiated to break the silence. "Y/n, it's still raining outside. Mingyu will take you home. Is that alright?" he asked you softly, approaching you then very subtly and gently pulling you away from Seungcheol.

You hesitantly nodded, not sure if you could just leave without saying anything. But what would you say at this point? Once again, you stole a glimpse both at Seungcheol and Joshua and weakly said, "Okay." before Jeonghan, Soonyoung and Mingyu escorted you out.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen texts #seventeen au #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen fics #seventeen sm au #seventeen drabbles #seventeen joshua #seventeen scoups #joshua imagines #scoups imagines #joshua x reader #scoups x reader #svt imagines #post by yourblinkies #kpop fanfiction

58 notes · View notes

pinencurls · 4 years ago

Text

Kiss In The Kitchen

hiii okay so I have a couple one shots hidden away in drafts that I’m not 100% in love with but i enjoyed writing at the time so I thought I might as well share them :) Here’s the first...

You couldn’t be prouder of Fine Line and all you want to do is support and congratulate him, even if it means ignoring the insecurities one song strikes in you.

4k Words

At first, you listened to it (almost) alone, Harry's large headphones covering your ears as his new album played for you - you'd heard bits and pieces of it over the last year but never every song in it's finalised form. The second time you listened to the album you quickly adored was at its release party; a contrast setting to the quiet of the Saturday sun sneaking into your bedroom with Harry's earnest gaze set on you as you spoil yourself in his words - you could almost forget the album was written entirely about the woman Harry devoted all his love to before you'd met, it felt so private between the two of you. You'd visited the studio several times, lending your own advice when Harry met droughts of no inspiration and begged for your musical experience; You'd been in several small bands in your formative years, playing bass or drums, but had paused that particular pastime to focus on the reality of your career - writing took time in this industry, supporting yourself whilst avoiding the well of tabloid work was tricky, so far you'd managed to find little nuggets of gold in genuine, thought-provoking magazines and had begun to make a name for yourself, something you'd doubted possible in the harder of times.

You'd chosen to keep your lyrical advice to yourself when Harry called to you for help, however. You knew who this album was about, it was clear it wasn't you and that was fine. You didn't expect Harry to dedicate a whole album about you after 11 months together, all of which dating after he began writing it.

In private, sat on your bed and grinning up at him as his music played to you and you only - you were proud. You'd accepted the difficulties that might come with listening to your partner's rawest emotions for a past lover and had come to the conclusion that you'd appreciate his work simply because of how much he'd put into it and how well it'd all come together.

That was easy in private. It's slightly harder to remind yourself to separate the songs playing loudly all around you in the busy L.A club from all the not so hidden meanings behind them. Everyone Harry had met within the last few years of his solo career and long before that had come to celebrate with him. Busting bodies filled the large room, many already taking advantage of the bar. Almost everyone found themselves, slightly slurring, by Harry's side at one point of the night to tell him how beautiful Fine Line was, and the topics of each song didn't seem to go unnoticed either.

As you made your own rounds, you overheard the loud discussions about the mix of provocative, solemn and affectionate themes. Some of the group were apparently too drunk to see Harry's current girlfriend standing by as they cheered on his yearning and passion for his previous one.

It only got worse with press. You were still unbelievably proud of course, but Harry had to do a lot of press. Each interviewer cut straight to the elephant in the album. Camille was discussed, if not named by Harry, at length. You adored hearing Harry speak about his own personal growth and becoming comfortable in himself - but for every question about identity and fashion, came three about the clear sexual undertones and soulmate ideologies.

You were rational in your discomfort. You listened to Adore You and your other stand out favourites when you wrote, you understood and trusted that Harry had moved on, you'd been together for almost a year and he's told you weeks before then when you were just new friends that he knew he was ready again after months of working on himself.

You just couldn't deal with one song.

Breaking up and having sex you could deal with, you could enjoy the final work. They were normal things that people went through and wrote about. But the first sign of love? The sweet, endearing start of a relationship that he was so clearly ardent about - as if his feeling were a lot fresher than you'd imagine for a relationship that started and ended months ago.

Sunflower Vol.6 was beautiful, but as hard as you tried, you couldn't just see it objectively. You felt it so concentrated, and it hurt like fucking hell.

- - -

"Do we have any mango?" Harry calls from the kitchen, the click of the fridge opening quietly behind him. "Never mind found it!"

You smile at his domestic charm as you work on you most recent piece; it's been taking up a lot of time, creeping into your weekend which hadn't gone unnoticed by Harry as he had returned from the morning run you usually went on as a couple. A few moments later, after the loud whirring of the blender stopped, a pinky-orange smoothie is placed beside you and kiss pressed to the side of your head.

"When're you gon'a be done?" He murmurs against your ear, curls flopping down onto your own.

He's just finished his last week of press, ending with Howard Stern who seemed eager to remind Harry, constantly, of all the women he could have. You weren't particularly public yet so you couldn't really blame him for assuming Harry would be starting a new relationship soon. It just added to the frustration you'd been careful not to disclose over the long period of promo for the album.

"I wanna finish this today so we're both free after we fly back, I'jus need a little time alone, yeah?" A low grumble and a "yeah" was the only response he gave and he removes himself to the other side of the big living room to lay down on the sofa and slurp his breakfast.

Your deadline is Monday but tomorrow morning you're flying back to London and driving up to Holmes Chapel to spend time with Harry's family before he was away on tour for months so you were eager to be free from work.

Hours tick by, you're stuck in the spiral of the final edit. There were a few words that you couldn't quite tweak how you wanted them, as always. You got up to make lunch.

As you pass through the living room you expect to see Harry's body sprawled across the sofa napping, but only a bundle of throw blankets lay where he had been. His journal sits abandoned on the side table, propped open by a loose pen. You can see the scribbling of new song ideas and the beginnings of a poem, smiling to yourself you walk through to the kitchen - still no Harry.

Humming to yourself you open the fridge door, moving your hips slightly as you retrieve all the ingredients of a sandwich for you and Harry. Domestic moments like these were hard to come by in the midst of album releases and pre-tour prep, but you're looking forwards to the month ahead of you. No doubt you'll need some alone time after a week at his mother's house so you're being careful not to take any assignments for the rest of the month to make room for as many simple moments like this as possible once you're back in your London home.

Over the rustle of the bread packet and the crunch the lettuce made as you slice it, you can hear Harry's voice approaching from down the hall.

"Well thanks, mate-yeah..yeah we've gotta get drinks sometime it's been too long." He has the smile on his face that tells you it was another old friend calling to congratulate him on his album, probably a fellow musician from the early days.

Harry makes his way to your side, watching as you layer food into your sandwiches and steals a shred of lettuce. You can hear the other voice now - a clear English drawl you recognise as Ed. You've met a couple times and he's one of the most genuine men you've met, you much prefer him over some of the industry people Harry has to mingle with.

"Oh, dude and the mushrooms!" You giggle as you hear Ed laugh down the line at Harry. "I can't say I didn't guess something was up."

"Thanks, man - like what?" Harry chuckles back, sneaking more sandwich scraps as you slice a knife through them and dish them up.

"Um, the whole end of sunflower - are you really gonna do that live?" At the mention of the song, you feel your shoulders tense slightly. You're really trying to be a good girlfriend and support Harry - but that song just hits different, you trust Harry's love but you can't help but wonder if he has any feelings left over for Camille...

"If I have to!" Harry continues to joke, not noticing your discomfort or at least not mentioning it."Look, Ed, I gotta go but it was great talking to you"...

Harry's voice drones into the background as you take your plate and make your way back to your laptop, huffing as you're reminded of your own frustrations with yourself; he told you months ago that he's moved on, why can't you just believe him?

You can hear a quiet goodbye from Harry as he sets his phone down on the sofa and sits across from you at the table. Your laptop is still acting as a barrier between the two of you. You type at the keys, trying to look busy as you write and rewrite the same line over and over, sighing - you save and close the file and set your laptop aside.

"Not going how you want?" Harry asks.

"No, it is just...there's a bit I can't get to work. I just want to get this over with already." Harry thinks about what you've said for a moment before getting up and leaving the room - he comes back a moment later, setting a glass of water bedside your lunch and kissing your temple.

"Take a break love, you've been working all week you deserve it." He hums against your hair. "And thank you for lunch."

He's so sweet and chipper, smiling at you as he takes his plate out to the kitchen and returns to perch across the table from you, hand wavering over his journal as you finish your lunch.

He worries about you a lot. Normally over you working too much and not taking time for yourself or the amount of pressure, you put on yourself being overwhelming. It was in his nature to worry you remind yourself, you're trying hard to push past the hurt you can't quite let go of and the last thing you'd ever want was for him to feel bad about what he'd written so you'd managed to keep it under wraps. There was no need for him to be suspicious.

- - -

Your alarm goes off at 5am. Your flight is in 3 hours.

"Turn it off." You grumble, burying your head deeper into your pillow. The mattress dips underneath you when Harry turns, the duvet shifts as he slips his hand under and wraps his arms around you. "S'too early."

"I know." You love how Harry's voice sounds in the morning - rough with a soft edge. It's one of the first things you fell in love with; the extra degree or two the morning adds to his embrace, he's always quick to loop his arms around your middle if they've come undone in the night. His untamed and often tangled curls bristle against the back of your neck and there'll be a few moments of warm even breaths against your ear before he bounces up. He's very much a morning person.

"I'm getting in the shower y/n, I'll be out in a sec - get up yeah?" You mumble a slightly coherent response as he leaves the room, a towel draped over his bare shoulder.

Following a few moments of deliberation, you sit up. Unplugging your phone from where it lay on your bedside table, you check your notifications. Sure you'll be up in time, you open twitter.

Unsurprisingly, nothing much is happening. You scroll through a few messages from the day before until you come across a video of Harry being interviewed, he's wearing the thick red cardigan he recently bought so it must've been from this week.

You click play to see him smiling tiredly at the interviewer - you remember this day, you'd stayed up later than planned watching old toy story reruns then he'd been running around frantically getting ready the next morning. You lazily watch him answer a few frequently repeated questions until he's asked about the stages of romantic relationships that inspired certain songs. You expect the usual questions about songs like Adore You and Watermelon Sugar but instead, the interviewer takes a turn and seemingly voices all the concerns floating around your head;

"And one of my personal favourites: Sunflower vol.6, really captures the first realisation of love in a relationship, what lead you to write that song in particular, did you write from experience?"

"Thank you, yeah..I think that first really overpowering part of a relationship when two people are just starting to have these intimate, lovestruck moments together stuck with me and I-" You turn your phone off sharply. Your mind is spiralling with insecurities enough on its own without Harry himself describing how he first felt about his ex-girlfriend.

You sit against the headboard, mulling over the topic that has clouded your mind the past few days. You don't hear the shower turn off down the hall as you let out an angry grumble - it feels so shit and mean of you to be this way and you just want the clarity you had before this all happened.

"What's wrong love?" You look up to see Harry standing at the end of the bed. His hair is dripping onto his shoulders and he's wrapped a light pink towel around his waist loosely, concern contoured his face as he peers down at your huddled form.

"Jus' tired." You crawl forwards to climb out of bed, kissing Harry's cheek lightly as he stood unconvinced before heading to your wardrobe. "Honestly, I'm good."

"Okay..what's the time?"

"Uhhum-" You mutter as you riffle through a pile of sweaters. "5.30ish I think..check my phone"

You slip on a comfy pair of jeans and socks before you walk into the hall on your way to make you both coffee, there's a long pause from the bedroom before Harry calls down to you - 5.42am.

- - -

By the time the plane takes off, you're almost asleep again.

- - -

It's 7pm LA time when you step out the taxi delivering you home to your London house. It's almost 2 am here so despite your lack of tiredness you shuffle through the door behind Harry.

All your heavy luggage is left in the entryway as you climb the stairs up to your bedroom, eager to be done with jet lag and normal again by the morning.

You've made the mistake of sleeping the first 3 hours of the flight and now find yourself wide awake under the soft covers of you and Harry's bed. He always falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow, and with how quiet he's been all day you assume he's already tired. Between your early napping and him being engrossed in the book he was currently reading - there hadn't been much conversation between you on the flight over. As you snuggle further into the covers you realise things have been a little different these past few days, maybe being so caught up in your own head with work and worries of your own you haven't noticed but there's definitely been a...distance. You're just not sure which of it is creating it.

The next morning you wake to the radio playing from a few rooms away. Sitting up you look around the room; your suitcases are still downstairs by the look of it and Harry's side of the bed has been slept in and now deserted.

"Harry?" You call out. There's some kind of foggy sadness seeping around you as you hear no reply. Maybe you're just tired but you feel you might start sobbing any minute - it's a desperate feeling that you're not quite sure how to quench.

"Harry.." You call again as you climb out the bed, slipping a large jumper on over your head, pulling the braids you'd plaited for the flight that had come undone and frizzy with sleep, over your shoulders. "Love?"

There's still no response and you're now on the final step of the long staircase. You walk quickly through the house towards a quiet humming you can just about make out. You must have gathered speed in your anxious mission to find Harry because as you enter the kitchen you slam hard into the doorway as you reach out to balance yourself.

The movement in his peripheral makes Harry turn his head, slipping the bulky headphones off his ears and slipping his phone into his pocket. He'd previously been slumped against the kitchen counter, lost in thought as he skimmed through his phone, forgetting the kettle as it boiled beside him.

"Love- oh, careful." He chuckles slightly before he takes in your expression. You must have started crying by now because he rushes quickly towards you. "Woah- woah what's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?"

The arm that had taken the full brunt of the doorway was now being carefully examined by Harry as his eyes scan you, searching for any harm. His hand comes to wipe at the few glossy tears on your cheek before he gently asks his question again.

"No I-I was calling for you..." You reply, equally confused as him by the whole situation.

"I didn't hear you love I'm sorry, what happened?" He's placed your arm back by your side now although his hands lingers around yours.

"...Nothing."

"Y/n, please just tell me. What's wrong?" He persists.

"No, I mean - nothing happened I just..." You mumble, how were you supposed to explain that when you woke up you felt terrifyingly alone and just needed to find him...to remind yourself that everything you'd let conspire in your head wasn't really happening.

"Y/n, I know something's up..the last week has been really busy I know but if something's wrong please just tell me, okay?" You think about it for a second before blurting out-

"Would you tell me if you still loved her?"

This doesn't seem to be at he was expecting, or you for that matter. The situation was uncomfortable - hearing your boyfriend sing about how intensely he loved Camille and how badly losing her broke him, but it was just music. You don't realise until you ask him the awkward question, just how much it had been bothering, or scaring you.

"What?"

"I just mean...Okay shit I don't mean that at all I'm just tired and I woke up and you weren't there and I just needed to find you I-"

"Is this what's been upsetting you?" His words aren't spoken forcefully, more...sadly. "T-this is what the phone call and the yesterday morning and...oh God the whole fucking flight! That's what you were thinking?"

"What phone call, what do you mean?" You don't know if he's angry at you or not, his hands are in his hair and he's got the mad look in his eyes that tells you he's either about to shout or cry.

"With Ed. As soon as he mentioned the album you left the room and, and! Yesterday, you were angry about something and then I checked the time and your phone opened on some video about the album and come on...you can't say everything was okay on the flight...we barely talked...we've barely talked at all this week." You're decided that the crying is a lot worse than the shouting. There's something cathartic that comes from shouting back at someone who's just as angry as you - but crying back at someone who's just as confused and upset? It makes you feel all twisted and uncomfortable.

"No..no Harry that's not it-"

"Y/n don't lie I-"

"It's not. I love your album and I'm so, so proud of you, and of everything you did to make it and I understand the importance of your relationship with Camille," Harry's huffing now, his fingers are tangled further in his hair and he's leaned up against the door frame close opposite you. "-This album is all about that time in your life and that's fine...Harry I love it, honestly, the album isn't anything to do with anything-"

"You just asked me if I still loved her!" He exclaims, staring wide-eyed back at you. "I don't give a shit about the album right now, you can hate it, okay? That's okay? But you asked me if I still love her...Y/n look at me."

Your eyes, tightly fixed on the kitchen tiles, tilt up to see his face. His eyes are red and splotchy and his hands reach out to hold you as he speaks again.

"I don't love her, I haven't in a long, long time. I had the ideas for all the songs about her before I even met you, you okay..you're the person I love and...I thought you knew that?" He sighs, hesitant before he starts again. "I thought you trusted me."

There's another pause between you as you mull your next thoughts over.

"I do."

He shakes his head, teary and angry.

"No you don't, if you did you wouldn't have asked-"

"It's just that fucking song!" You snap, you take a sharp breath in and swallow the lump in your throat - "I know that you don't love her, I know it but, when I listen to you sing - and talk, telling people about this wonderful honeymoon romance that even after years you remember so vividly and, and that means so much to you,I..."

"Track 9?" Harry questions, seemingly understanding everything you've just rambled. "Sun- oh baby no it's not..."

"I'm sorry I...It's a great song I just, whenever I hear it I'm reminded of how much you must have felt for her and, and remembered all this time to write about...what?" Harry's smiling now, he seems to be relived for some reason. His eyes are brighter, clearing slightly and he chuckles slightly.

"It's all my fault, I'm so sorry lovie I should have told you.." He scrambles. "I, I was embarrassed when I wrote it because we'd only just started dating and then you heard it a couple weeks later and it was too soon to tell you and then I just...didn't. I thought maybe you'd figured it out."

"What do you mean?"

"It's about...us."

"You told me you didn't write any about me though..."

"No, I said I hadn't written any you were going to see anytime soon...and that was, awhile ago." He smiles slightly, squeezing your hand in his. "There's another one about you actually too,"

"Harry you, you wrote it about us.." Harry hums a confirmation, bowing his head to press a kiss to your cheek. "I thought...what else did you write!"

Harry laughs now, catching your lips with his as you both feel each other relax - the tension and discomfort seeping away as you realise the reality of everything you'd worried yourself over in the last week.

You pull away, one hand on his chest and the other fiddling with the curls at the back of his head.

"Seriously what else did you write-"

"I'm not telling." He beams, leaning down against the firm push you send to his chest.

"I swear if you wrote a song about our sex life I-"

"Shhhh!" He presses a mocking finger to your lips to quiet you. "We better be going, don't wanna be late."

With that, he leaves the kitchen, you can hear his heavy steps rushing up the stairs and soon the house is quiet and the air around you is settled again.

There's a subtle hum of the shower upstairs that intrudes but nonetheless, the clarity's back.

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fine line #fine line fic #harry styles #harry styles sunflower vol.6 #harry styles writing #idk what to tag i haven't been on here in YEARS #oop #well i guess that's it

109 notes · View notes

saltlampsasuke · 4 years ago

Text

Unfortunately, You Are Experiencing Symptoms of Falling in Love: Part 5

Having your long-term boyfriend cheat on you is pretty bad, but you're lucky enough to have a rich, pro-hero best friend who lets you move in with him until you get a new apartment. Except lockdown happens. And you can't look for a new apartment anymore, and you can't go anywhere anymore, and neither can your best friend, and you think you might be falling a little bit in love with him. Or maybe you've been in love with him all along.

The story of how it takes a nationwide lockdown for you and Bakugou Katsuki to finally get together, part 5!

warnings: Coronavirus mentions

wordcount: 1,936

taglist: @stargazerunlimited @luna-bloodrose @lov4kbg

So I am so so sorry for how long I took to update this, I don't really have a good excuse or explanation so I'll just once again say how sorry I am. But in good news, the plot setup is FINALLY over and now we can get to that good fluffy stuff! So thank you for bearing with me and please enjoy!

One morning, you woke up and saw that it had been two weeks since you moved in with Katsuki. You were a little surprised to realize how much time had passed without you noticing, and how easily you had integrated yourself into Katsuki’s life. Or rather, how much he had forced you to adapt to his ways of living. Not that you were complaining. You had been eating fantastically ever since you moved in, though Katsuki would refuse any thanks, and would often outright deny that he had made the food for you. And the apartment complex took care of your laundry for you, and you never really had to clean much either. It was almost like you were on vacation.

A typical morning for you would follow along these lines:

1) You wake up to the sound of Katsuki’s blender and your breakfast is waiting on the counter

2) You enjoy said breakfast and Katsuki says that he “doesn’t know why it’s there, now shut up and eat or you’ll be late for work”

3) You finish eating and get ready for work, which involves darting in and out of Katsuki’s bathroom, which causes you to bump into him with embarrassing frequency. Nothing terrible has happened yet, and you always knock and wait, but there’s always some part of you curious worried to catch him in a state of undress.

4) Katsuki gets fed up with your constant presence in his room and kicks you out so he can get ready (sometimes he will threaten to kick you out of his entire apartment, though you know he never means it)

5) You finish getting ready in your room and wait by the door for Katsuki to drive you to work

6) Katsuki stops by your favorite coffee shop, which now always has your order ready and waiting (who could have made that happen, I wonder)

7) You and Katsuki would have an argument over who would pay for your coffee (spoiler alert: it was never you who paid)

8) Katsuki would drop you off at work and demand you tell him when you need to be picked up, and no matter how much you tried to evade him he always was there once you walked out the door.

It was kind of embarrassing to admit, but the longer you spent living with Katsuki the happier you felt, and the more regret you felt as well for having let yourself become so sad and complacent with Takumi without even noticing. But you also had to pat yourself on the back for growing and moving past him. You rarely even thought about your ex now, and though part of you wondered what his reaction had been when he returned to a much emptier apartment, you didn’t have any time to think about him. You were too busy, between dealing with Bakugou at home and the destruction he wreaked on his gear in the field (as well as a special surprise you were cooking up for him as thanks), and you didn’t want to waste any mental space on such a waste of a man either.

Living with Katsuki was also so much nicer than living with Takumi had been. You two now had regular movie nights, would eat lunch together on the weekends, and sometimes, if he was tired enough from patrols, you could convince Katsuki to go swimming with you at night. The wide windows would let in the soft light from the moon and you could just relax. You felt so relaxed, all the time now. You felt safe. Of course, as soon as you had finally gotten truly settled and were ready to start looking for apartments again, not wanting to bother Katsuki for any longer than you already had, your life was once again upended in a way you could never have expected.

The first few things you heard about the virus came from the very man you roomed with. As a high-level pro hero, it was his job to be aware of threats to the citizens he protected, and while there wasn’t a way for him to blast a virus to bits, he still tried to stay informed. And of course, as a pro hero, he also had access to information from upper levels of government, and so he would always know about big developments before you. Still, initially, he didn’t seem worried. The only way you could tell that something was wrong was how he began to grow skittish at the idea of you moving out. Of course, that could have been for other reasons as well, but you were certain it was because of the virus.

To tell the truth, as days passed, you were also starting to worry about moving out. Getting a new roommate, or even a new apartment, could potentially be risky. You wouldn’t know the area, and you would be stuck with either a smaller, less nice apartment, or roommates, because you weren’t about to spend half of your paychecks on rent. And the situation was devolving quickly. To be honest, you would also miss having a in-house personal chef, even if he did yell at you.

Making matters even worse, the housing market seemed to have dried up completely. All the apartment listings you saw had something wrong with them; if you didn’t see the problem at first Katsuki would, and he wouldn’t hesitate to point it out. Dangerous neighborhoods, records of noise complaints, general ambiance, the minute you saw a halfway decent listing he would search it up and report back to you on why it wouldn’t work. Not to mention that all of the places that managed to pass his scrutiny were way out of your budget range.

He was just looking out for you, or as he put it “making sure he didn’t have to go to the trouble of moving your dumb ass back into his apartment again after your new places backfires”. And he was right every time about the problems. You were thankful he was taking the trouble, because otherwise you might have ended up in a real dump. But the days without a new place slowly grew in number. As did the number of cases. You knew both things were an issue. But you simply didn’t realize how much of an issue they would become until it was too late for you to do anything.

The morning you realized that your life was about to get even more different than it already had was the morning you didn’t wake up to the jarring screech of your best friend/temporary roommate’s deluxe blender, but rather to the smell of French toast. This wouldn’t by itself be light years past normal, but a quick look at your phone informed you that it was 9:37 on a Thursday morning. You slowly pulled yourself out of bed, confused. Katsuki would never let you sleep in like this unless it was some special occasion, and even then he would probably have woken you up eventually, calling you lazy to boot. As your brain began to wake from its fog, you headed towards your bedroom door. Katsuki was in the kitchen, you knew he had to be since you smelled him cooking, but nothing else about him seemed normal. He wasn’t in his sleeping clothes, but rather the kind of outfit he reserved for press conferences and major meetings, but the jacket was tossed on the floor and the clothes were rumpled like he had been doing hard work. His hair had lost it’s trademark spikes, flopping forward into his eyes, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. Worst of all was when you finally saw his face. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept the entire night. Come to think of it, considering how he looked, he probably hadn’t.

“Are you alright?” you said as he met your eyes. As he moved, you could see the exhaustion in his body, and you pulled him over to the couch, forcing him to sit down. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Let me make the damn breakfast, princess,” he grumbled from his seat, yet not moving.

“Breakfast can wait,” you replied as you turned off the burner. There was no way you could eat anything right now, not before you learned what was going on. “So talk.” Katsuki sighed heavily.

“Shit, where do I even start?” He ran his hands through his hair, causing it to lose even more of its shape. “I got a call last night around 8. Said it was an emergency meeting. I put on the fucking serious suit and everything, that’s how bad it sounded. Thought they were maybe gonna tell me that One for All had escaped or something. But this was… something else.” You held your breath as he explained. It was rare for him to be this serious, not exhibiting any emotion except determination. This was his battle face. You just had to wait for him to tell you what he would be fighting.

“I know you’ve heard about the virus that’s been going around, but it’s gotten real bad, princess. Turns out some higher-ups were downplaying it, thought it was maybe some weird quirk that they could shut down or something, but it’s not. We’ve got a real disease on our hands, and nobody can stop it. It’s gonna go global.” You blinked rapidly, trying to grasp the magnitude of what he was saying.

“Ok, but there has to be some quirk or something that can stop it, right? We can fix this?” you asked nervously. Katsuki shook his head.

“Hold on, princess. I’m getting there. We all talked about it. Everyone was there. All the big heroes, all the heads of whatever departments, anyone you can think of whose job it is to take care of the public. And there’s nobody. Healing quirks are rare as is, and with the way the virus has been spreading, no one quirk would be enough.”

“So what do we do then?” Katsuki placed a hand on your knee in an attempt to comfort you.

“Bet you’re wondering why I look like shit.” You nodded slightly. “We were out all night coming up with a strategy. We’re gonna get all our science guys on this, use whatever quirks we have to study this virus, and then do whatever we can to get a vaccine going. But for the time being, we have to shut down. The whole country has to stay home.” You stared at him in shock. Part of you had been wondering what would happen if the virus wasn’t a quirk, or if it couldn’t be stopped, but you hadn’t actually thought it possible. And now the entire nation had to be put on pause.

“Only essential shit can stay open. Grocery stores, hospitals, you get the idea. But everyone else has to stay in their house. There’s gonna be a more detailed plan later. But you won’t be leaving this building unless absolutely necessary.” Katsuki paused, clearly preparing to drop an even bigger bomb than the one he had just dropped. “And neither will I. I’m number 2. We’re hoping for a drop in crime if everyone takes this as seriously as they should, but they want the big heroes to avoid getting sick in case they need us to take out big villains if they try anything. They don’t want us out of commission if they need us. So it’s gonna be you and me in here. And it looks like it’s gonna be a while.”

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

Please forgive me for how short this is honestly I just wanted to be done with this chapter I know it's bad but now that I'm past it hopefully things will get better. And I think I’ll be remaking this blog because I apparently accidentally made this my side blog so I can’t reply to people so please keep an eye out for an update/post about that! I’ll also tag the new blog in all my posts so sorry for any trouble!!! Thank you for your support!

58 notes · View notes

theydontknowaboutusimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Behind the Family - Harry Styles Mini Series (Part 1)

You and Harry first met in Behind the Album, where you tried to keep your attraction out of your business relationship, but that didn’t work. In Behind the Tour, you tried keeping your relationship private, but that didn’t work especially when you had to tell the world you were married. Then in Behind the Marriage, you two had to face the consequences of your decisions, as well as becoming new parents. Now, in Behind the Family, we see what it’s like raising a family in the spotlight over the years.

2020

“So, do you have everything?” You asked holding a four month old Ameila and Finneas on your hips.

“No,” he sighed looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Harry,” you sighed. “We’ve been through this. The babies are too young to travel right now and be shuffled all over the place while you’re busy in NYC. And I’m not leaving them with your mother for weeks at a time, that’s not fair.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed taking Amelia from you and holding her close him. She smiled cuddling into his chest when he kissed her head. “It’s going to be hard being away from my family.”

You sighed walking closer to him, “I know, but I’ll facetime you as much as possible, we’ll watch your performances online and you’ll be home before you know it. We just went through this a few months ago.”

He nodded wrapping his free arm around you, “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you smiled leaning up to kiss him.

You followed him out to his car where he put the rest of his luggage, still holding Amelia. Finn nuzzled in your neck as he gripped onto your shirt. You smiled down at him before looking over at Harry. He was tickling Amelia’s little tummy as she giggled. You walked closer to him as he put Amelia into the car seat before he took Finn in his arms.

“Now, you look after your Mum and sister, okay, little man?” He smiled bopping his nose.

Finn let out a babble and a drooling smile at his Daddy. Harry smiled kissing his head before walking to put him in the other car seat. You got into the passenger’s side while Harry got in the driver’s and headed out to the airport.

When he arrived, Harry parked the car at the departure area and the two of you got out. You could see his eyes were a bit watery and you were trying to hold back tears of your own. He wrapped his arms around your waist, while you wrapped your arms around his neck. He picked you up slightly as he held you tightly against him.

“God, I’m going to miss you,” he whispered into your neck.

“Not as much as I’m going to miss you,” you whispered sadly. “I’m going to have to change all the shitty diapers myself.”

He laughed, “I promise once I’m back I’ll do them all.”

“You better,” you giggled. “But am I really going to miss you.”

“I know,” he smiled. “When I get back, we’ll have a date night.”

You smiled pressing your lips against his. He smiled into the kiss before pulling away.

“Call me as soon as you can,” you whispered.

“Still won’t be soon enough,” he said.

“You get so fucking cheesy whenever you leave,” you giggled.

“I’m always fucking cheesy,” he laughed.

“Good point,” you laughed.

He sighed, “I better get my shit and go,” he said.

“Not yet,” you said holding him tighter.

He kissed the top of your head and held you for a few more seconds before pulling away. He got his luggage out of the car and watched you get into the driver’s seat. He gave one last wave to the babies in the backseat and blew a kiss to you before walking into the airport.

It’s been a few days since Harry’s been away and you were beyond missing him. During the day, you were okay, mostly because you were distracted by taking care of the babies, the needs around the house, and getting some freelance work done. However, once your body was at rest and you were ready for bed his absence was really apparent.

You were laying in bed with a face mask on, while you were watching a movie and painting your nails. The babies were fast asleep and would be for most of the night. Your phone starting ringing and you quickly saw Harry’s name across the screen.

“Shit!” You said grabbing it with your good, not yet painted hand, and answered it.

“There’s my sexy husband,” you smirked looking into the screen.

“And there’s my beautiful, yet slightly scary wife,” he laughed.

You looked at him confused, but then you realized you still had your face mask on. “For fuck’s sake, give me a minute,” you said hopping off the bed and going into the bathroom.

You could hear Harry laughing, “Shut up!” you groaned. “Tell me how your day is going so far.”

“It’s going well,” he said. “Rehearsals are good, I’ve had some good interviews today. I’m going to have to call it early night tonight though. Today show is tomorrow.”

“Oh, boy,” you laughed. “Maybe you should set your alarm with a baby crying and then you’ll get up.”

He laughed, “That’s an idea, but I’d just make me miss them even more.”

“Well, you’ll be home in a few days.” you said.

“Actually,” he sighed. “We’ve got another secret show added over the weekend and I’ve got another interview scheduled on Monday.”

“Seriously?” You sighed looking into the phone.

“Yes,” he nodded. “My team tried to get everything pushed up earlier, but everything was booked up.”

“You have to do what you have to do,” you said. “But I won’t lie and say it doesn’t suck. I miss you. I’d never thought I would say this bed is too big.”

“I know, baby,” he sighed. “I don’t like being away from you and the babies and I almost said no, but with the Music Video dropping on Friday, I need the promo.”

“I understand,” you nodded.

“How are my babies?” He asked. “Do they realize I’m gone?”

“In a way,” you said. “They love laying on your side of the bed. I was doing laundry this morning and they pulled one of your shirts out of the basket and snuggled with it.”

“They did not,” he laughed.

“They did! I took a picture for evidence,” you laughed. “Quite frankly, I’m a bit upset with myself that I didn’t think of that.”

He laughed, “You can sleep in my shirts while I’m gone.”

“Now, why would I do that when I can sleep naked,” you smirked.

“No, no,” he said shaking his head at you. “Don’t be doing that shit unless you’re willing to finish it.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you smirked.

“Like bloody hell you aren’t,” he said. “Half your boob is fucking hanging out of your robe.”

“No, it’s not,” you said looking down. “Oh, well, I didn’t exactly plan that. It just happened.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe that,” he said.

You stuck your tongue out at him, “Anyway, feel free to call us before you go on in the morning, if you have time. I’m sure the babies would love to see Daddy before he goes on stage.”

“Fuck, I can’t wait until they get to see me on stage for real,” he smiled. “I can’t wait to look out in the crowd and see their little faces.”

“Well, seeing as how you don’t ever get on stage until after nine, they probably won’t see much,” you laughed.

“There’s always soundcheck,” he laughed.

“True,” you nodded.

He sighed, “I bet let you go, so you can get to bed.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiled.

You smirked, “Wait, before you go...” you smirked quickly opening your robe for a quick sneak peek. “Something to remember me by.”

“Bloody hell, you’re trying to kill me woman,” he groaned.

“Nope, not at all,” you giggled. “Talk to you later!”

“Goodnight, baby,” he said.

“Night!” You smiled.

The next day you luckily woke up before the babies, so you were able to jump into the shower quickly to start your day. Once you were dressed, you checked in on them and then went downstairs to make yourself some breakfast. You decided on a smoothie and go everything you needed out and through it into the blender. You poured into a glass and sipped on it a bit before turning on the TV.

You knew it was still at least an hour or two before Harry would be on, but you wanted it to be on and ready. When you had finished your smoothie, you went up to get the babies. Both of them were babbling away at each other as they laid in their cribs. You smiled wondering what they were talking about.

“Morning babies,” you smiled. “Let’s get you two changed and ready to start the day. Daddy should be calling us soon.”

At the mention of daddy, both of them started moving around happily in their cribs and babbling. You giggled picking up Finn and changing him before doing the same for Amelia. You then took them downstairs and sat them in their chairs. You got some bottles from the fridge and put them in the bottle warmer while you mashed up some bananas and baby oatmeal to bring over to them.

They practically jump up and down in their seats when you bring the bowl over.

You giggled, “Are you two hungry?”

You held out a scoopful of of the banana and oatmeal mixture in front of Amelia’s mouth. She eagerly opened wide.

“Mm. Isn’t that yummy,” you smiled scooping up some more to give to Finn.

You were halfway finished with feeding them the bowl of oatmeal when your phone started to ring. You quickly took it out of your pocket, smiling at seeing Harry’s name, and slid to answer it.

“Good morning!” You smiled when it finally connected.

“Morning, love,” he smiled.

The babies gasped, hearing the sound of Harry’s voice an started babbling. You giggled turning to the phone towards them. They whined reaching out towards the phone.

“There are my adorable little babies,” he smiled. “Hi, babies! It’s Daddy! Look at you! Is that nanas on your faces?”

You laughed, “Yeah, they’re eating breakfast,” you smiled.

“Aw they’re getting so big,” he groaned.

“Are you calling my babies fat?” You gasped.

“Never,” he laughed. “Just they look older.”

The twins continue to whine and babbled towards the phone.

“Aww, I miss you, too babies,” he sighed. “Daddy will be home soon. I promise.”

“When do you go on?” You asked.

“About half hour?” He said.

You nodded “Well, your biggest fans can’t wait!”

“Is that right?” He smiled. “Are you ready to see Daddy on stage?”

The babies giggle and clap their hands together.

“I don’t care if they don’t even know what I’m talking about, but I’ll take that response as a yes,” he laughed.

You smiled, “You’re going to do great and we’ll be watching. I’ve already got it on,” you said showing him the tv.

“That’s my girl,” he smiled with a yawn.

“Uh-oh, that’s not good,” you laughed. “How long have you been up?”

“Too fucking long,” he groaned.

“Not in front of the babies!” you groaned.

“They don’t know what I’m saying!” He defended.

“Yeah, you say that and then in a few months they’ll be dropping the f-bomb as their first word,” you rolled your eyes.

“Hey, at least it’d be memorable. A story to tell,” he smirked.

“Whatever,” you laughed.

He sighed looking to the side, “Well, baby, I have to go,” he said. “I’ll try to call you again later, but if I don’t get a chance, I’ll text you.”

“Okay, sounds good,” you smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you, baby,” he smiled. “And I love my babies!”

They giggle again. You smiled kissing their heads, “Now, go and do your thing on stage!”

“Yes m’am,” he smirked.

After the phone call ended, you cleaned up the babies and brought them over to the couch in the living room. A few more commercials later, Harry was brought out on stage and the babies started bouncing in your lap. You giggled putting them onto the couch and grabbing your phone. They were babbling and drooling, but their eyes remained focused on the tv.

“Welcome back, Harry. We’re so happy you could join us here at the Today Show,” the host smiled.

“Thank you for having me again. I’m excited to be here,” he smiled.

“Now, before we get to the performance, do you mind if we have a little chat?” they asked.

“Of course not,” he smiled.

“You recently released your second album, Fine Line, back in December, correct?” they asked.

“I did, yes,” he nodded.

“And it’s done so well. It just hit platinum here in the US and it was first number one album of 2020. Did you expect that sort of reaction or success when you wrote this album?” they asked.

“Um, no, I mean, when I sit down to write a song or work on an album as a whole, I don’t go into it thinking “oh, I’ve got make to sure this is gonna sell or gonna be number one,” I go into it thinking I just wanna write something I’m proud of and I’m really proud of this record, so seeing the reaction to it is just an added bonus,” he answered.

“Another thing I want to ask about before you perform, if you don't mind, is that you and your wife had twins a few months ago, is that right?” they asked.

“We did,” he smiled.

“Well, congratulations,” they smiled. “How’s fatherhood treating you? Do you find it hard to balance with your career?”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Um, I love it. I love every single second of it. They’re adorable and I just they’re the best thing that’s every happened to me. But uh, yeah, it’s a taking getting used to with traveling. I mean ever since I was sixteen I’ve been traveling on tour and was away from family, you know, so I’m used to that. And my wife was on tour with me last time, but traveling just these last couple of times since they were born has been some of the hardest things I’ve experienced. Don’t get me wrong, I love being here, seeing the fans, and putting on a show, but I miss my family.”

“Oh, I bet that’s hard,” they nodded. “Will they join you on tour?”

“Well, I’m hoping. They’ll be just about six months when our first show takes place, but we still have some details to sort out,” he said.

“Thank you again, Harry for being here and we congratulate you both on the wonderful success of your album and your new family,” they smiled.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” he smiled.

You smiled as you watched the interview and the babies got excited as the first song started to play. You wanted to watch the performance, but you wanted to capture the twins watching their daddy. You smiled as they started moving their heads around with wide eyes and smiles. They clapped their little hands together as they babbled.

When the song was over, you turned the camera on yourself and smiled, “Good job, Daddy.”

It was the middle of the night when the car dropped Harry off at home. He had taken a flight out as soon as he was finished with his final interview. He hadn’t told you his arrival time because he wanted to surprise you. Of course, you would be asleep, but he couldn’t wait to get home tomorrow. He had missed his family too much.

He got his suitcases out of the car and went to the door, unlocking it and walking inside. He put his bags down in the living room shutting the door and then heading upstairs. He wanted to see the babies first, walking into nursery. He smiled seeing them fast asleep in their cribs. He fought the urge to pick hm up and hold them in his arms pressing kisses against their little faces and hands. He knew you would kill him if he woke up them up.

“Night babies,” he whispered. “I love you.”

He walked out of the room and into the bedroom. You were laying on your stomach on his side of the bed, cuddled up with his pillow. He smiled walking over towards the bed and sitting down. He hated to wake you, but he didn’t want to just get in the shower and the bed freaking you out.

“Baby,” he whispered. “Y/N, baby, wake up.”

You mumbled something, turning around and opening you eyes. You sat up quickly, rubbing your eyes thinking they were playing tricks on you because there was your husband.

“You’re home?” You smiled.

“I’m home!” He smiled.

“Ah!” You giggled wrapping your arms around him before pressing your lips against his.

He smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tightly against him.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he whispered pulling away from the kiss and putting his forehead on yours.

“I missed you, too,” you smiled. “I can’t believe you’re finally home.”

“Well, you better believe it,” he smiled. “I’m officially home until tour starts.”

“Yay!” You smiled.

He smiled, “As much as I love this and don’t want to let you go, I really need a shower and sleep. So, why don’t you go back to sleep and I’ll be right out.”

“Or I could join you,” you smirked.

“Oh, really now?” He asked.

“Do you really think I’d be able to go back to sleep now?” You asked.

He laughed, “Well, then let’s go.”

You laughed following him into the bathroom. He turned on the water as the two of you got undressed before stepping inside. He stood under the water letting it rinse away all the traveling funk while you got the bottle of body wash.

“What are you doing?” He asked raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing, just taking care of my man,” you smirked pouring some body wash onto the wash cloth before running it over his body.

You moved your hand over his body slowly as he watched you. When you were finished, you had him stand back underneath the water to rinse all the soap away.

“There all clean,” you smiled.

“You forgot my hair,” he smirked.

“Well, you’re going to have to kneel down for that,” you said.

He laughed doing as you said and smirking when he was staring at your chest, in which he placed his hands.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Hey, you felt me up, so it’s only fair I return the favor,” he smirked.

“I did not feel you up,” you said innocently. “I was simply helping you out after you were on a plane for like eight hours.”

“Call it whatever you want, baby,” he laughed.

“Anyway, you can rinse now,” you smiled.

He stood up, putting his head underneath the shower head. You two then got out of the shower, dried off, and got into bed. He opened his arms for you, which you gladly entered. He kissed the top of your head and smiled.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Thank you for taking care of everything while I was gone.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled. “I told you I’ve got this. Doesn’t mean I like when you’re gone, but I can make it work.”

“Oh, and I love you, too,” you added.

He smiled kissing you one more time quickly before the two of you cuddled up together and fell fast asleep.

Okay! Here is the first part of Behind the Family! With this series, it won’t be something that’s updated regularly I.e. every week. Since I only plan on doing max of 20 parts, there will be some fast forwarding here and there, leading up to where I left off on the epilogue - which was 20 years later!

#One Direction Imagines #Harry Styles Imagines #Behind the Family

167 notes · View notes

nextgenfairytale · 4 years ago

Text

Arnold & Helga’s quarantine letters by Craig Bartlett

"Dear Helga, Day 33 of the quarantine. Going a little crazy. Thank goodness for Abner, who isn’t bothered, just seems glad that I’m around all day! Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Imagine my surprise when Harvey delivered your letter this morning. In case you haven’t noticed, Einstein, there’s been a little invention called the smart phone, and I’m available by text. But I enjoyed writing this reply in an old-fashioned letter, because as you know I like to write, and it gives me the chance to go outside to mail it, and snoop around the neighborhood a little. So thanks for cheering me up, Hair Boy. From Helga. No, scratch that... Love Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 39, and I’m feeling it. It’s kind of an out-of-body experience. Grandma keeps telling me to Look Up, and Grandpa randomly comes upstairs to tell late-night ghost stories. Thanks for writing back, I never thought I’d miss hearing you call me Football Head, but these are strange days. I miss you. Love, Arnold. #stayhome" "Dear Football Head, I was minding my own business on some random sidewalk when Harvey stopped and pulled another letter from you out of his bag, like he’s Santa Claus now. And not like it’s any of your business, but I’m fine, stuck here with the Patakis for the duration. Olga’s acting career is on lockdown so she has to perform for us, going from Little Miss Sunshine to Mozart’s Requiem in 30 seconds flat. I’m mostly in my room, running out of stuff to read, so I was actually pretty glad to hear from you, Arnoldo. I could use some of your blind optimism. Write me some more, okay? Love, Helga.” "Dear Helga, Day 49 since we could just go to Slausen’s and get an ice cream. I’m spending even more time in my room — Grandpa started a game of Risk downstairs and it’s gone on for days. Things are getting surreal up here. The colors keep changing. I find myself asking questions like, where did Grandma find this carpet? I finally fall asleep and dream of flying, and then Nocturnal Ned wakes me at 7:00 and I count how many days it’s been. Thanks for the song dedications, by the way, they’re always spot on. But do they always have to be “from Helga who hates you”? And thanks for writing back, I really enjoy your letters. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Harvey came to the door waving another letter from you like I’d been waiting for it or something. The nerve of that guy. I told him I’d been out, staring at clouds and trying to see shapes in them like you do, and normally I could make fun of you and call you dorkwad or yutz or paste-for-brains, but you weren’t there. So I returned to Casa Pataki, where nothing changes: Bob’s on his phone straight through dinner, Miriam stares a hole in her blender like to smoothie or not to smoothie? And if Olga reminds me to wash my dirty little hands one me time I’ll wring her scrawny neck. Back to the magnificent solace of my room where I can write you back, as you requested. So don’t say I never did anything for you, Hair Boy. And please write back. Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 58 of this thing. How could the days go by so fast and then just stand there? I’m in my room trying to make the walls go away. When I fall asleep, all I do is dream. I know it’s boring to read about other people’s dreams, but I had a dream about you. You were trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying. You were smiling, though, so it was something good. I went out walking today, and Harvey asked me if I had any mail for him. I said, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? I think he’s on to us, Helga. But please write back. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, you’re right about Harvey. He came sauntering up, made a big show of going through his bag looking for your letter, humming some stinkin’ love song. I told him I don’t have all day, what does he think, I just pace around in front of the house waiting to hear about a certain Hair-Boy’s dumb dreams? And speaking of which, I’ve been having some doozies. Last night you came out of this spooky fog and I was trying to tell you something important, and you turned into Arnie. Then I realized that I was a monkey. Well, a monkey-girl. Anyway it’s nice to get these letters. I don’t mind reading about your dreams as long as they’re about me. Keep it up, Arnoldo. Dream about the day we can go out for ice cream. I’ve got a thing or two I’d like to say over a banana split. Which you are paying for, Bucko. Just kidding, we can split it. Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 70 of this craziness. I tried sleeping on my couch to see if I would maybe dream less, but nope. Here’s one: we were up in Mighty Pete, and you said follow me down, Arnoldo, and then you were gone, and then the whole tree was gone. I was a little gloomy at breakfast, probably because it was chickpea pancakes (Dad’s still grinding his own flour substitutes). Grandma and Grandpa tried to cheer me up, but you know what? All I wanted was another letter from you. I went down to wait for Harvey, and he comes dancing up, and even with his mask on he was singing, “You’ll never find... someone who cares about you! Like sheeee does” and I’m like “C’mon Harvey, just give me the letter please.” Anyway thanks for writing back. These letters are giving me life. And yes, I will love to meet you at Slausen’s for a banana split, and I don’t care who pays. That will be a great day. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Ha! Think you’re dreaming a lot? Even if I tell you just my dreams that you starred in I’ll be writing letters for years, or at least till this quarantine is over. Okay, last night I fell asleep reading Ulysses, which always puts me right out, and then I was wandering in that Dali painting with all the melted clocks. And I’m yelling, okay I know time seems to be stretching these days but this is ridiculous! And then you float up in adorable cherub mode. I call out, “Hey! Arnoldo! When will the quarantine end?” And you say, “I know you want to come up, Helga, but we have to wait until Mayor Dixie says it’s okay.” And then I run and run up a bunch of stairs and into my room and slam the door, and then I notice it’s YOUR room! Heh-heh, not like I know what the inside of your room looks like, Hair Boy. Anyway thanks for writing. Harvey brought your latest and I practically tackled him to get it. I think he’s enjoying being the lockdown mailman a little too much. More dreams, please! Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 82 and now we have a curfew on top of a quarantine, which is like stay home squared. I’m dreaming of the day we get our city back. Speaking of which, last night I dreamed you were a 100-foot tall giant running across our neighborhood, and I was trying to catch you, and realized I was a giant too, and was immediately terrified I was gonna step on someone. I hear a crunching sound and then a tiny car alarm and I yell, “Helga! Slow down, we’re gonna knock down the neighborhood!” And you turn around and grab the top off a building and say “Don’t worry Arnoldo, it’s cake!” And I can see it’s chocolate, with candles on it. And I’m, “But your birthday was the end of March!” And you’re all pleased, “Arnold! You remembered!” And then you explain how time is all stretchy these days so March, June, who cares? “I say it’s my birthday, Football Head.” And then you throw the cake at me and now it’s a food fight, and I wake up to the smell of Dad burning a cake made out of what turns out to be Amaranth flour, whatever that is. So happy birthday, Helga! I miss you. A lot. Write back, please. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, I was out at my little spot where I like to, y’know, think, and Harvey came sauntering up like he knew I’d be there. “No letter today, Helga, but you won’t believe whose door I saw open. Slausen’s!” And my eyes bug and I say, “Hey! You’re supposed to DELIVER my mail, not read it!” And he starts dancing really annoyingly, “It’s gonna open, Mayor Dixie’s gonna call it! Soon!” And off he goes, singing “Someone who cares about you! Like heeee does!” I, uh, assume he’s referring to you, Arnoldo? Heh-heh. So I mosey home and wake Big Bob up and make him drive me over there. And Harvey wasn’t kidding, the lights are on and the sign on the door says opening soon, just waiting for Dixie to announce the next phase of opening the city! “Soon,” Hair Boy! Soon!! Are we still on for splitting that banana split? I await your reply very calmly. Love, Helga."

"Dear Helga, I just saw Mayor Dixie make the announcement on TV. Phase one of opening the city starts on Saturday! Restaurants can open! That means Slausen’s! I yelped them, they’re gonna open Saturday at noon! I’ll make this letter short — I ran up to the roof and I could see Harvey coming down the block! He waved, though, something tells me he’ll wait. Now I’m tearing up my room looking for a stamp. Okay! See you Saturday? Noon? Slausen’s! Banana split! Love, Arnold."

"Dear Arnold, The Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble, They’re only made of clay. But come Hell or high tide, Headless Cabbie or Ghost Bride, I will meet you on Saturday. Love, Helga."

#hey arnold #shortaki #helga x arnold #arnold x helga #helga pataki #arnold shortman #arnold and helga

27 notes · View notes

jeserai · 5 years ago

Text

blooming day (1/2)

for @perfumermista , happy valentines day!

If someone were to ask, Adora would say that her favorite thing about Catra is her laugh, or perhaps the light in her eyes when she gets excited about something. Or, no—it’s the sleepy rasp her voice gets each morning, and the way little curls always manage to escape her top knots no matter how carefully she ties them. It’s all the little things, she’d say, the little things that make Catra who she is.

She’s not in love with Catra though, she’s sure of it. Catra is her friend, her best friend, her roommate. Sure, Catra’s probably the person that knows her the best, and yes, they have done romantic things before, but—

They’re just friends. Best friends, but still, just friends.

The flower petals that are now staining her bed sheets only confirm that.

Before she can even begin to think about what this means, Adora hears the familiar sound of Catra’s footsteps stopping in front of her door, and she just barely manages to shove the flower petals beneath her pillow before Catra opens the door with a sleepily murmured greeting.

“Could you knock?” Adora complains, but she obediently moves over for Catra, who wordlessly shuffles closer and lets herself collapse onto the bed, her eyes closing as she curls up into a tiny ball with a huge yawn. Adora doesn’t hide her endeared grin as Catra blindly fumbles for the heavy comforter to tuck herself in; she’s long since used to what Catra calls her ‘morning nap’, and if she has to stifle a cough when Catra snuggles into her blankets, well. No one needs to know.

After a moment, Catra turns her head just enough to squint up at Adora through one eye, scowling as she catches Adora watching her. “Stop staring at me and come lay down,” she grumbles, and Adora snorts out a laugh before obediently melting into Catra’s space, lying facing her. Catra tangles their legs and fingers together like it’s nothing and sighs out a gentle breath that sends Adora’s heart racing as she counts each freckle that is scattered across the bridge of her nose and cheeks like stars.

“Adora,” Catra murmurs, this time without opening her eyes, “stop staring at me.”

Like always, Adora is helpless to obey Catra’s every wish, so she hums out a quiet noise of acceptance and closes her eyes, though she does not intend in the slightest to sleep. And how could she, with Catra so close? Her every breath stirs Adora’s bangs and sets her heart to racing, and as the gentle rise and fall of her chest evens out as Catra slips back to sleep, Adora blinks her eyes open, mapping out every soft curve and line of her face. The constellations her freckles make across her skin, the tiny divot just next to her left temple from an old childhood wound, the beauty mark that rests distractingly close to the corner of her mouth. Her lips, soft and plush, the wisps of curls that halo her face in sleep. Adora studies Catra like she is a painting, like she is something to be loved and revered and worshipped, and, well. Perhaps she is.

The tickle in the back of her throat comes back then, as Adora imagines reaching out to tuck Catra’s hair behind her ear, and before she can cough again—cough and wake Catra, cough and be forced to admit the truth that is beating inside her heart and blossoming inside her lungs—Adora carefully steals out of bed, making her way into the kitchen. As far as she knows, they’ve both got the day off, so Adora decides to make a late breakfast for Catra to wake up to. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon and on a whim, smoothies, made from the fruit they picked up at the open-air market over the weekend.

Just as Adora finishes pouring the smoothies into glasses, her bedroom door squeaks open and Catra pads out, and the confusion on her face quickly fades into joy when she sees what Adora’s done. “I didn’t know you were going to make breakfast, I would’ve helped,” she mumbles, and she suppresses a yawn as she passes on the way to help set the table.

“Did I wake you?” is all Adora asks in response. Smoothies done, she puts the blender in the sink and then grabs the butter from the fridge and the syrup from the cabinet next to it. Catra makes a quiet noise to show that she’s heard but doesn’t respond, instead sliding into her seat and waiting for Adora to do the same before she begins to pick out her pancakes from the giant stack Adora’s made.

“I still can’t believe that you actually like burnt pancakes, dork.”

“They’re not burnt, they’re just—a little crispy! It’s best that way, seriously.”

Catra wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, and Adora watches as she carefully spreads first a layer of butter and then a layer of syrup across her first pancake. It’s such a small thing, but it’s always so endearing, how daintily she eats, and Adora raises her glass to her lips to hide her grin as Catra now starts slicing her pancake into tiny pieces. By now, she knows what Catra will say if she asks why she does it—it’s quicker to eat it like this, you absolute heathen—just like Catra knows what Adora’s argument will be whenever she gripes about her just slightly burnt pancakes. Their friendship is built on playfully rehashed arguments and cups of too-sweet hot chocolate, skinned knees and paint on skin, meals spent together and endless days at the beach, and Adora wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Okay, I’m gonna ignore the dopey grin on your face, you weirdo.” Catra’s voice jars Adora from her idle thoughts, and as she snaps to attention, Catra tucks her right leg under her left, sitting in that odd way that she always claims is comfortable despite Adora’s disbelief. “Do you have work today?”

“No one’s called, so I have a free day so far. Why?”

“I’m just stuck on this piece...if you had time, could you…?”

“Of course. What’s up?”

Catra takes a few more bites of her pancake before answering, “I took on this client because I thought it’d be interesting...you know, change of pace and all that. But I’m stuck, I’ve never been this stuck before. They want something on that old proverb, you know, see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. It’s interesting, and I want to do it, and it’ll pay well, but I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, what have you thought of?”

Catra scowls, wrapping a curl around her finger and winding it round and round as she thinks. “I mean, monkeys is an obvious thing, but I don’t want to do obvious. People too, it’s just so...safe.”

Adora nods, casting her gaze around their tiny beach house as she thinks. “Something abstract…something...oh, what if instead of hands covering, you use something else?” And then, as she spots the bouquet of sunflowers that Perfuma had given her in thanks of a job well done. And— “What about flowers?”

Catra frowns, but it’s considering, intrigued. “Flowers, huh? That’s...actually not that bad of an idea.”

“Aw, thanks, I do get them sometimes. Do you want me to pick some up from Perfuma’s later?”

“I’ll come with you, if that’s fine…?”

“Of course, we can leave whenever you’re ready.”

Catra nods and gives Adora a tiny, pleased grin before turning back to her breakfast with a pleased little hum. “Then we can leave as soon as we get dressed.”

Adora nods and, just because she knows it’ll gross Catra out, she piles the rest of her eggs and bacon in her pancake to make a sandwich. It actually does taste good, and the added disgust on her housemate’s face just makes it all the more worth it.

But all too soon enough, their breakfasts are finished, and they quickly load up the dishwasher before heading back to their rooms to get dressed. It’s to be another hot, sticky day, apparently, and before she can open up her messaging app, Catra texts her first.

Catra: you wanna go to the beach after?

Adora: u read my mind

That decided, Adora tugs on an old red one-piece and throws a loose tank top and swim shorts over it. Her crocs are out in the hall, and Catra is waiting there as well, dressed similarly in a huge T-shirt with the sleeves cut off (that Adora is pretty sure is one of hers, the more she looks at it) and slides. Her hair is done up in two buns just like usual, and loose curls frame her face, and—

“Took you long enough, princess,” Catra grumbles. Adora snorts—because Catra’s always the one that takes longer to get ready when it really counts—and brushes passed her, trusting her to lock up behind them as she takes the stairs down, Catra close behind.

Adora’s yellow bike is still locked up on the rack outside their building, and Adora quickly unlocks it before patting the seat fondly and hopping on. Catra easily hops on right behind her, pressing close despite the heat already seeping through their thin clothes, and if Adora breathes in deep, she can smell the faint lavender notes of Catra’s perfume, and even more faintly, sea salt on the warm ocean breeze.

“You ready?”

“Always, princess,” Catra says. Adora feels her voice just as much as she hears it, and she pushes off with a grunt. It’s always hard at first, biking for two, but Adora loves the burn and ache in her muscles, and besides, all of the shops are at the bottom of the hill, so she doesn’t have to work for long. But she does anyway, pedalling fast as they approach the crest of the hill just to hear Catra shriek with laughter as they fly down it. It’s the squeaky laugh that Adora loves best, the one that she sometimes finds herself wanting to kiss straight from Catra’s mouth.

When they reach Perfuma’s shop, Adora waits for Catra to hop off before leaning her bike against the storefront. Then she turns to her still smiling roommate, carefully fixing her flyaway hair before following her inside.

Inside is cool and Perfuma is talking to the roses, though she looks up and smiles wide when she sees Adora and Catra standing in the entryway. “Oh, hi! I don’t have any deliveries for you Adora, but it’s so lovely to see you both!”

“I know, we’re just here to pick some flowers up for one of Catra’s projects.”

“Is that so? What kind?”

“I’m not really sure, honestly. I know about flower language, and I want to incorporate that if I can. Something having to do with sight, hearing and speaking.”

Perfuma nods, considering, then snaps her fingers and nods in excitement. “Okay, so I can think of a few right off the bat! For sight, lavender roses for love at first sight, and red daisies for beauty unknown to the possessor. Hearing...irises for good news, and pansy for thoughts. And speaking, almond flowers for promise, and ambrosia for reciprocated love. Does that sound good?”

Catra shrugs and Adora’s eyes fall to the thin straps she can see peeking out from beneath her shirt. She quickly looks away, back to Perfuma, who is flitting around the room, gathering up flowers with a happy smile on her lips. Her gaze lands on Catra again as if tugged there, and as Adora stares at the delicate curls kissing the back of Catra’s neck, she feels another tickle in the back of her throat. She coughs thickly, and when Catra twists around to make a face at her, all Adora does is stick her tongue out.

“How about this?” Perfuma asks then. She’s got a whole bunch of flowers, enough to make a pretty, variegated bouquet, but she separates them into three piles at the front desk. “These are for sight, these for hearing, and these for speaking.”

The first pile has deep red and pale lavender flowers, the second vivid purple and yellow, and the third the faintest pink and bright orange. Catra’s squinting at them as if trying to picture them on her canvas, and Adora may not have her eye for art, but she’s absolutely sure the end result—with these gorgeous colors and Catra’s skill—will be absolutely striking.

Finally, Catra nods. “Yeah, these are good.”

“That’s wonderful! I’ll wrap them up and—”

“Oh, Perfuma, can we leave them here actually? We were planning on going to the beach, we can just pick them up on the way home.”

“Of course, Adora! They’ll be right here, on the house!”

“Perfuma, we couldn’t—”

“Nonsense, you’ve done so many favors for me, especially in this heat wave. Plus, they’ll be used for art—that’s the best thing. They’re on the house, okay?”

Catra elbows Adora before she can respond and quickly says, “Thanks, Perfuma, we’ll be back in a few hours,” before all but dragging Adora from the shop and back out into the heat. Luckily, the bike is still in the shade, so the seat doesn’t burn when Adora gets on again, and she patiently waits for Catra to wrap her arms around her waist to begin to pedal to the beach. The breeze now does nothing to stop her from sweating, and by the time they make their way to the ocean shore, even Catra—who claims to never sweat—has a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

They hadn’t brought towels, or sunblock, Adora realizes then, and if Catra notices or cares, she doesn’t say anything, just pulls her shirt over her head, kicks off her shoes and stares impatiently at Adora as she waits for her to do the same. Once she has, Catra reaches out to lace their fingers together as she leads them towards the water, which is somehow still cold and sends them both running back to the sand.

And she knows her arms will protest later, but that is a problem for future Adora, she decides, and so she easily scoops Catra into her arms and ignores the cold of the water, carrying them deeper and deeper, until she’s soaked up to her chest and Catra starts to get wet too. She’s got both arms wrapped tight around Adora’s neck, and though she doesn’t complain, her whole body is stiff. When Adora glances down at her, more than ready to tease her, she freezes, because. Catra is staring up at her, and her grip has loosened, and she does not seem bothered by the water anymore. All she is preoccupied with is just...looking at Adora. She is studying Adora like she is a painting, like she is something to be puzzled out and captured and admired. It makes the breath catch in Adora’s throat, and her heart skip a beat, and flower petals begin to bloom again in her lungs, so she does the only thing she can think to do, and dunks them both, hoping to god that the shock of cold water will cool her burning cheeks and calm her racing heart.

When she resurfaces, Adora is now holding a scowling, shivering Catra, and for a moment, she feels guilty. She’d forgotten how bad Catra is with the cold, and she’s more than half expecting her to yell, or throw a punch or try to get away, but all Catra does is lean the side of her head against Adora’s chest, sighing in something that Adora almost thinks is contentment.

Now would be a good time to tell Catra about the cough, about the flower petals, about the feelings she has been trying to deny for so long. Catra would laugh and roll her eyes, thinking it a joke, and then bluntly turn her down upon realizing that it wasn’t. And then it’d be awkward, and their friendship would be ruined, and then Catra would move out, and—no. It’ll be better to keep it hidden than risk losing Catra entirely, and these little moments are more than enough.

“Do you want to get out?”

It takes a long few minutes for Catra to respond, but she shakes her head, both eyes closed. “This is good.”

And she’s right. This is good.

In the end, they don’t get out of the water until Adora’s arms begin to ache and she reluctantly reminds Catra that she’ll have to bike them both home. Catra sighs, but agrees readily enough, and Adora waits as long as she can to put her back down on her own two feet. Once on the shore, Catra reaches for Adora’s hand again, tugging her to the wet sand on the very edge of the beach to try and find smooth stones and pretty shells to paint later. Once she finds some that she’s satisfied with, she gives them to Adora to hold, and they scour the beach until Adora’s arms are full and they are both fully dry and hot again in the hazy summer heat.

“Do we have ice cream at home?”

Adora thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. “I think we used the last of it for sundaes the other day. Do you wanna stop at Brightmoon?”

Catra wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want to, but…”

“What? You and Bow get along fine, don’t you?”

“He’s fine,” Catra agrees sullenly, “but I don’t like her. I don’t even want ice cream anymore.”

Adora snorts and shakes her head, biting the inside of her lip to keep from grinning. “How about we pick up the flowers, and I’ll drop you home. Then I can shower and go to Bright Moon. Sound good?”

“Only if you get me cookie dough.”

Anything you want, Adora wants to say, I’d get you anything you wanted. What comes out instead is, “Of course, dork. You ready to go, then?”

Catra considers for a moment, then nods. As they walk back to their clothes and then to Adora’s bike, they remain silent, but it is the comfortable kind, and Catra’s brows are furrowed as she trudges through the sand and Adora knows she’s thinking about her newest project; Catra’s always been a bit of a perfectionist, especially about work, but Adora loves that about her. Catra’s passionate, and it shines through in everything she sketches, paints, photographs. Even her attempts at sculpting are wrought through with love and resolve. Maybe that’s what she ended up falling for first, Adora muses, the way Catra shows her love, with her hands and her eyes and her mind.

That has to be it.

Catra’s arms slide around her waist again as she hops on the bike, and Adora pedals them lazy and slow just to feel the breeze warm against their faces and the sunlight, warmer still, on their backs. It’s a short trip, barely five minutes, and this time when they reach Perfuma, they find her outside, watering the flowers on display in front of the shop. She looks up when she sees them approach, placing her watering can down before calling out, “I was just about to call you!”

“What’s up?”

“Well, Mermista, or, you know, Salineas, not Mermista, really, but—anyway. Salineas needs some flowers for an event they’re having tonight. I’ve already packed them all up, they’re ready in the back room.”

“Oh.” Adora glances at Catra, already feeling guilty. Biking from Perfuma’s to Salineas, taking Catra and her flowers home, and biking to Bright Moon and back home...

As if reading her mind, Catra shakes her head and reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind Adora’s ear. Her smile is drenched in fondness and tinged with a bit of regret, and her hand is soft and warm against Adora’s cheek. “It’s okay, princess. I can walk, you know.”

“But that doesn’t mean you should have to,” Adora murmurs, leaning into Catra’s hand for just a moment, “I don’t want you to have to.”

“Just come home quickly and I might have it in me to forgive you. Okay?”

And it’s not, but—“Okay, I will.”

Before either of them can say any more, Perfuma clears her throat and Catra steps back as if burned, looking anywhere but at either of them as she grabs her bouquet of flowers and hurries out of the shop. From the brief glance she’d gotten as Catra passed, Adora saw that her cheeks were just about as red as her own felt, and upon looking over at Perfuma, Adora finds her grinning, far too innocent to be genuine.

“So...you two are pretty close. Something you’d like to tell me?”

“We’re just friends,” Adora mumbles, and she knows it sounds like flimsy denial, but. That’s all they’ll ever be.

“You never know,” Perfuma shrugs, but—she does.

“I guess. Where’d you say you put the flowers?”

“The back room, I’ll bring them out for you. It’s not too many, they just ran out towards the end.”

Adora nods, waiting for Perfuma to disappear into the back room before heading out to her bike. At this point, Catra is just about halfway up the hill, and Adora reluctantly turns away from her when Perfuma comes out, carefully balancing three boxes stacked on top of each other. She puts them in the basket at the back of Adora’s bike, then stands to the side, waving goodbye as Adora pedals off back down the hill.

Salineas, situated down by the boardwalk, is only about a ten minute ride, and Adora is careful to coast as long as she can, acutely aware of her delicate package. When she reaches the front of the hotel, Sea Hawk greets her with a cheerful wave and a bow. “Adora!” he calls out, “Are those the rest of our flowers?”

“It is! I’ve—I’m gonna come in too, if that’s okay, I just want to say hi to Mermista.”

“Of course!” Sea Hawk takes two of the boxes and waits as Adora leans her bike against the side of the hotel and takes out the last one, and together they step through the revolving doors, Sea Hawk telling her about his latest misadventure. This one involves a boat, a family of turtles, and a box of matches, and Adora has to bite the inside of her lip hard to keep from bursting out laughing.

“And here she is, our radiant Mermista!” Sea Hawk calls. A few of the guests that are in the lobby turn to look at them, and Mermista drops her head into her hands with a loud groan.

“Sea Hawk, you have got to stop coming here! You don’t even work here!” she hisses, and then, more calmly, “hi, Adora.”

“Hey, just dropping these off for Perfuma.”

“Oh, right, thanks. Is she coming tonight?”

“Not that I know of, sorry. Why didn’t you ask her while you had her on the phone?”

Mermista very pointedly makes a face and plays with the ends of her braid, and Adora really can’t help the way her brow raises as a knowing grin spreads across her lips. “Shut up, maybe I didn’t think about that.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. And I’m not staying either, thanks for asking.”

Mermista gives her a look and swats Sea Hawk’s hand from her desk with practiced ease. “Okay, have a good night then, or whatever.”

“I’ll be going to the event, dearest Mermista—”

“No, you are not. Here, go borrow one of the boats for the night. And don’t set it on fire again. And before you ask, I am not joining you, I have work.”

Before their arguing can start up again, Adora begins to carefully edge towards the door, trying to keep out of Mermista’s line of vision before she volunteers Sea Hawk to walk her home like she did last time. She loves Sea Hawk, they all do, but…

Mermista looks over just as Adora reaches the revolving doors, and as panic sets in on her face, Adora mouths an apology and makes a break for it.

adora: im about to leave salineas, mermista was looking for you :)

perfuma: why? did she need more flowers?

adora: ...she wants you to be her date to the event tonight

perfuma: if she wanted me to go, she would’ve asked me :(

adora: just go!! I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you

adora: and if not, you can always come over, catra’s cooking tonight

perfuma: maybe, i’ll let you know

perfuma: and thank you, adora

adora: thank me by asking her out

perfuma: :)

Her first errand done, Adora pockets her phone and gets ready to head to Bright Moon. The local ice cream shop is just off the boardwalk, and it takes just a few minutes to bike down the familiar path. Before she knows it, Adora pulls up in front of the shop, a grin already on her lips as she enters the all too familiar shop. Inside, Glimmer and Bow are arguing behind the counter, though they quickly shut up and paste on friendly, polite smiles at the jingle of the bell above the door.

Once they see that it's just Adora, Glimmer quickly scowls and points accusingly at Bow. "Adora, tell him that crop tops are not appropriate to wear to work—"

"It's summertime!" Bow interrupts, "It's perfect! Adora, tell her it's perfect!"

As both of her friends turn to stare at her, insistent, Adora steps back, holding both hands up in surrender. “I mean—we are on the beach…and I honestly can’t imagine Bow not in a crop top.”

“See! At least Adora knows what’s up.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What brings you here, Adora?”

“Just the usual—”

“A quart of coffee ice cream for you, and a quart of cookie dough for Catra? And uh...where is she, by the way? It’s pretty rare to see you two apart.”

Adora ignores the looks her friends are giving her despite the burning of her cheeks as she fishes out a couple of bucks to hand to Glimmer as Bow works on filling two contianers with ice cream. “We went to the beach earlier and she went home while I made a quick delivery for Mermista. Anyway, they’re having some dinner thing tonight at Salineas, you guys going?”

Bow and Glimmer look at each other, then quickly look away, both spluttering out excuses about the shop, and how they don’t have anything to wear, and—

“You and Catra should go, though,” Bow finally blurts out, “you guys could go together, if you know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean, and I choose to ignore it. We’re not together. I...I like what we have.”

“But…?”

And. These are her best friends. Bow was the one that introduced Catra and Adora, and Glimmer was the first person to welcome Adora to Etheria. However much they tease, they really do love her and care for her, and—

“I’ve liked Catra for...a while. I really do like what we have, and I don’t want to...push her or anything. But when I woke up this morning, I coughed up flower petals. And...you know. What that means.”

“Oh, Adora…what are you going to do?”

“Nothing. Hope it goes away, I guess?” Adora shrugs and pulls out her phone as it buzzes in her pocket, her heart skipping a beat when she sees Catra’s name and one unread message.

catra: wya??

adora: about to leave bright moon :) be home soon

catra: okay princess, door’s unlocked

“I really don’t think—”

“Catra’s waiting, I’m gonna head out.”

At that, Bow and Glimmer share another look, but they do nothing to stop her from taking her ice cream and leaving. The bike ride home is quick and going uphill burns Adora’s legs and steals the air from her lungs as she pedals as fast as she can, as if somehow she will be able to outrun all of the feeling tumbling around inside of her chest and the tears she can fill springing up at the corners of her eyes.

It doesn’t work, and by the time Adora gets to their house, she’s breathing hard and still tearing up. She takes a few deep breaths to try and calm herself, then heads inside and upstairs, already feeling just a little bit better as she hears Catra singing to herself.

When Catra turns around and spots Adora at the top of the stairs, the singing abruptly stops as a fierce blush stains her cheeks. “Would you stop looking at me like that?”

With great difficulty, Adora wipes the grin from her lips in a show of acquiescence. “Am I not allowed to listen to you sing? Especially since I did bring you ice cream…”

Catra huffs and snatches the bag from Adora as she passes, and Adora watches in fond amusement as her housemate flounces over to the couch and flops down on it. “Well? Get spoons!”

“Of course, princess,” Adora teases, then goes to grab them both spoons, and Catra a glass of water because she always complains about the aftertaste of ice cream, and then whines until Adora gets her water to wash it away.

When she gets back to the living room, Catra is still frowning, but this time it is more contemplative, and when Adora nudges her in a silent bid to ask what’s wrong, Catra just sighs.

“I need a model for the paintings,” she grumbles, “I’d forgotten.”

“I could model for you?” The words force their way out all on their own, and Adora wants to take them back immediately—she’s never modelled, not even for Catra—but already her friend has turned on her with wide eyes and a bright smile.

“Oh, would you?”

And. Yeah, she would. She’d do just about anything for Catra, Adora realizes for perhaps the thousandth time. She’d do just about anything to see Catra smile like that.

(chapter 1 | chapter 2)

#she ra #shera #catradora #my writing #hope u like it :000

90 notes · View notes

sentientencyclopedia · 4 years ago

Text

Snapshots

I don’t usually post fics on here, but carpe diem and all that. This piece is for the @b99fandomevents Summer 2020 Fic Exchange. This drabble is based on requests by @sandylovesfandoms for the Peraltiago honeymoon after Holt left and waterslides/waterparks.

Jake got one whiff of the drink and wrinkled his nose. But Amy was looking at him eagerly, so he gave her a weak smile and brought the glass to his lips. For love he told himself, before chugging the orange mush.

“Bleeeurgh.” He turned around and spit it back into his cup. “That is disgusting.” He kept the glass under the table, knowing that it grossed Amy out whenever he regurgitated food. And if she actually liked this toxic sludge of a smoothie, well, he wasn’t going to deprive her of her bliss.

“It’s not that bad.” Amy looked perfectly happy as she sipped the orange drink. Jake had to admit it matched her sundress and the ribbon in her straw hat perfectly. “I think the papaya and cantaloupe perfectly balance each other out, and the coconut cream gives it a smooth texture.”

“It is disgusting.” He pulled out his phone. “But it matches your dress. Smile!”

“It’s delicious, and more importantly, it’s good for you.” Amy grinned and he snapped the pic. Oh yeah, this was definitely going into the honeymoon scrapbook. He had a sneaking suspicion Amy had planned the aesthetic, but whatever. “It’s full of antioxidants and important minerals.”

“No wonder it tastes so bad.” He grimaced.

“You can’t live on sugar and alcohol, Jake.” He took another picture as she rolled her eyes, fork dangling from her fingertips. It wasn’t scrapbook material, but it was cute.

“It’s our honeymoon. It’s supposed to be magical. We can do whatever we want.” He stole a mango slice from her plate and got up to walk back to the smoothie bar. “Two virgin pina coladas, please.”

“There’s pineapple juice at the buffet.” The bartender stared at him.

“I know. Don’t forget the little umbrellas, please and thank you!” He gave the man a beaming smile and leaned against the counter.

The man was apparently used to unreasonable requests from vacationing tourists, because he tossed a few pineapple chunks and a cup of coconut milk into the blender, set it to spin and wordlessly poured the mixture out into cocktail glasses. With little umbrellas. “Thank you!” Jake took the drinks back to their table triumphantly, pausing to grab a few of the brightly colored straws at the buffet table.

“This is also fruity and coconutty and best of all, it doesn’t taste like the mutagen that made the Ninja Turtles.” He set the drinks on the table and placed two straws in his mouth, long sides sticking out.

“Does this make me look more like a vampire or a walrus?” He asked, pointing.

“Gee, it depends. Which one has purple teeth, again?” She gave Jake a teasing smile and took a picture of him making funny faces at the camera.

“Say what you want, Ames, but this is going to make drink consumption a lot more effective.” He stuck the bottom of one straw in each glass and drank from both at the same time. “Ta-da!”

“That’s good. According to my itinerary, we have five more minutes for breakfast if we want to make it to the next event on time.”

“You’re so organized, babe.” Jake grinned at her as she showed him the binder. “How did you manage to get all these sheets laminated?”

“I convinced the people in the printing center to let me use their office laminator.” Amy’s expression mirrored his, though her smile was tinged with pride. “I figured they needed to have one on site for all the signs and menus and stuff, of course.”

“Of course. Hey, what’s this blue marker for?” He reached for the sticker only to have Amy swat his hand away.

“That’s a surprise.”

“Like a Holly Genero costume kind of surprise or an open ice cream bar kind of surprise?”

“It’s better than an ice cream bar.”

“Hate to break it to you, Ames, but there are few things better than an open ice cream bar. Especially the kind with unlimited toppings.” It turned out that when Captain Holt had extended their stay, he’d also tacked on a few perks as a sort of extended apology.

One of those perks had been access to an open ice cream bar, with unlimited toppings. Jake and Amy had spent a solid hour building and eating the Biggest Behemoth Sundae in The History of The World.

At least, that’s what they’d captioned it when they sent a picture of the monstrosity to their friends back home. It had been a towering mass seven different flavors, coated in liberal amounts of sprinkles and candy with a cookie base. It had been delicious.

Remembering that inspired Jake with new ideas. “Do you think they’ll give me ice cream for breakfast if I asked?”

“Well, they probably would, but we had ice cream last night. Don’t you want to see what I’ve got planned for today?”

“Depends. What have you got planned?”

“So, I rescheduled the sensual feeding workshop because both of us agreed that we wanted to re-do that without Holt watching.”

“I still don’t think I can make eye contact with him ever again after what happened with the avocado.”

“Oh, yeah.” They shared a moment of silence for Jake’s dignity. “But this is our chance to make new, better memories.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He took a long sip of the pineapple juice.

“Then we’ve got a couples’ ballroom class.”

“Fancy.”

“I thought it would be a nice throwback to that case we worked.”

“The one where you were in the shiny mermaid dress?”

“Precisely. In case we ever need to go undercover like that again, I thought it would be good if we actually knew how to dance. Plus,” She gave him an arch look. “I really want to see you in that waistcoat again.”

“The what-now?”

“You know, that vest-thing you wore over your button-down when you were dressed as Dewey? I watched a lot of historical documentaries as a kid and I was really into the whole men-in-fitted-waistcoats look.” She smirked. “You weren’t the only one who got an eyeful at that dance competition.”

“I’ll file that away for future consideration.” Jake whispered, imagination running wild.

“Then we have a lunch, then beach time, then just one thing before dinner.”

“The surprise, you mean.”

“Mhm. Now hurry up and finish eating. Don’t want to be late for our second impressions.”

“Ay-ay, Captain.”

They had a great time at each of the different workshops and events, but Jake couldn’t stop thinking about the blue marker. He was itching to know what it meant, what the surprise would be.

Jake Peralta was many things. Patient was rarely one of them.

So he was practically twitching with excitement by the time the blue-marker event rolled around. They were in swimsuits, so it had to be something to do with water. He hoped it wasn’t water-aerobics.

Amy grinned as she pulled Jake through the archway. “Surprise!”

“Oh. My. God.” Jake’s eyes lit up as he took in the glorious sight in front of him. “Is that a waterslide?” The pool area was practically empty, inhabited only by two lifeguards and a few straggling swimmers. But there, framed in the orange glow of the setting sun, was a very long, very twisty waterslide.

“Surprise!” Amy said again, throwing her arms out. “I made sure to pick the time where we would be mostly uninterrupted. All the families are probably at the live band sing-along thing, and all the adults without children are probably at the beach luau. Which is totally capitalist cultural appropriation, and not even geographically accurate, so I thought it would be fine if we skipped it.”

“Good idea. Where did you even find this?” Jake didn’t think he’d ever stop smiling.

“It was in the resort brochure, Jake.” Amy was rolling her eyes, but not in the tired, I’m-disappointed-by-your-immaturity way. She was rolling her eyes in the I’m-trying-to-be-cool-but-also-fishing-for-compliments way.

Jake was good at compliments. “God, I love that you read the resort brochures. That you plan itineraries with all sorts of weird fun stuff like sensual food arranging classes and cool fun stuff like waterslides. I really want to kiss you right now.”

Amy put her arms around him and they kissed. It was a quick, happy one. Both of them were so excited that it was mostly teeth. “Ooh. Can we do that couple-y thing where one of us sits on the other person’s lap and we go down together?” Jake asked.

“Yes!”

“Is it weird that I just wished Charles’ was here to take a picture of us on our way down?”

“Weirdly enough, I had the same thought.”

“We’re definitely too used to him being around.”

“Yeah.” They both went quiet for a second, thinking about it.

“Waterslide time!” Amy decided to break the silence. They held hands and very safely walked over to the ladder.

#b99fandomevents #b99 summer 2020 fic exchange #peraltiago #jake peralta #amy santiago #b99 #fanfiction #fic #drabbles #fluff

7 notes · View notes

spikeymarshmallows · 5 years ago

Note

3, kleigo! for the kiss post! love your writing

I AM SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER.

And thank you to @unrememberedskies for existing.

kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person’s

For this thingo

"What are we thinking this morning? Waffles? Eggs? No, I don't feel like eggs." Klaus surveyed the contents of the fridge with a frown. There was so much green stuff.

This is what he got for going away again.

This happened every time. His work would take him away for a few weeks, he'd explore the world, eat amazing cuisines, set up new projects here, finish them there—and then he'd return and find Diego had, once again, filled their kitchen with innumerable amounts of fresh food.

What was wrong with toaster waffles?!

He stood back and rested a hand on his hip as, humming his displeasure as he took it all in.

"Fiiiine," he groused, grabbing a few things and placing them on the counter behind him. He knew how to make some of the smoothies that Diego liked. He'd just been hoping to make something a little more… well, something a little more.

He'd woken around 2, and even though he couldn't sleep, he lay there, enjoying the feeling of Diego's leg thrown over his, the warmth that emanated from him. He'd grabbed his eReader sometime after 3, and had read by its dim backlight for a few hours before finally going to shower and generally try to fill his time until Diego woke.

It probably wasn't good for the jet lag, but none of the tips for getting over jet lag had ever helped him anyway.

Diego was still asleep, which was perfectly normal, given the early hour. Klaus' body clock was still on Dublin time, and the only reason he'd managed the few hours sleep he did was because Diego had fucked him senseless. Diego was good like that—selfless, really. He always made sure to fuck Klaus until he was so exhausted he couldn't help but sleep after, and it was probably the most effective thing he could do for his jet lag now that he thought about it.

He grinned to himself.

Klaus didn't even have it in him to pretend to be grumpy about the food available to him; he was just so happy to be home. He loved his job. He really, truly did. But there was something special about being home again.

He hummed to himself. Sitting on the counter across from him, Ben rolled his eyes. Ben hated the song. Klaus grinned and hummed it with a little more enthusiasm.

"Not exactly what I had in mind when I figured I'd bring Di breakfast in bed, but, I suppose it'll have to do." He started carefully slicing up various fruits. He left all the vegetables in the fridge; Klaus may have been feeling benevolent, but even he had standards. And breakfast smoothies did not deserve to be tainted with vegetables.

He danced along with the song in his head, singing under his breath, as he slowly filled the blender.

Fruit, almond milk… What else was there? Diego liked those chia seeds too. Okay, chia seeds. What else?

Oh shit, the ice. He forgot the ice.

He started the blender, wincing at the grating sound it made as it tore through everything. He'd been hoping that he wouldn't wake Diego up, but that was probably shot to shit now.

Well, that's what he got for not having the makings of pancakes available. Pancakes were a lot quieter.

"Oh! Protein powder!" Klaus cried, remembering at the last second. He scrambled through the cupboards, contemplating the different flavours before figuring the pink one was probably berry, and would go well in the smoothie. He measured out the protein powder, and flicked off the blender so he could pour it in. After examining the vibrantly coloured drink for a moment, he decided to add some extra milk.

Across the living room, the bedroom door opened, and a sleepy Diego appeared.

"Hey baby!" Klaus said cheerfully, turning the blender back on.

He realised a second too late that he'd forgotten to put the lid back on. Diego and Ben realised, of course, but Klaus got the message after it had covered him spectacularly. Klaus fumbled to turn the stupid blender off, and in doing so, turned it up higher before managing to get it off.

Diego and he stood, blinking at each other from across the space. The room was utterly silent, but for the very faint sound of traffic outside.

Neither of them said a word for what felt like a lifetime.

Some milk dripped down from curls that fell across Klaus' face—he really needed to trim those. There was smoothie everywhere. It was cold and wet through the satin kimono he'd thrown on, and there was some on his bare chest too. At least it wasn't on his underwear, he supposed? Wait, no. No. It was on his briefs too.

Ugh. This was going to be a pain in the ass to clean up.

Diego blinked a few more times, nodded once to himself, and then disappeared back into the bedroom.

"Fair enough!" Klaus called to the closed door.

He stared hopelessly at the mess around him. Did he start by cleaning himself up, or cleaning the space up?

The door to the bedroom opened again. Diego's face was a little wild, and he crossed the living space in a few large strides.

Klaus watched him, thrown. Diego didn't seem upset, at least, but…

Diego reached out and wiped some of the smoothie off Klaus' cheek, not speaking. He brushed some of Klaus' curls away from his face. His expression was unreadable. Klaus laughed awkwardly but leaned into the touch; what else was there to do?

The hand that had been on his cheek slid down his neck, across his shoulder, down his arm until Diego gently took his hand.

And then—

"Wait, what are you doing?" Klaus asked, inhaling sharply.

Diego looked up at him from one knee, a shaky smile on his face. There was a faint pillow crease against his cheek from where he'd been sleeping minutes earlier. His hair stuck at a thousand angles, and his t-shirt and boxers were wrinkled. And… Shit.

"Diego, no, I'm covered in smoothie and—" Klaus stopped, hand pressed over his mouth. Was this really happening?

Diego raised a sardonic eyebrow before his expression melted back into something that could only be described as blind adoration. "This w-was," he stopped, cleared his throat, and exhaled before he started again. "This was absolutely not how I planned to do this. I cannot believe I'm proposing like this either. I didn't really have a plan yet, but it was going to be romantic as shit because I know you love that, and god fucking knows I love you more than anything on this planet."

"Oh my god, I can't believe you're doing this while I'm covered in smoothie," Klaus tittered. He was shaking all over, and his breath was coming in a little shorter, a little sharper.

"I was gonna write a speech too, because you know I'm not good with words. So, I'm sorry I don't have a big, fancy speech all planned out. But." Diego shook his head a little, looking back down. He opened a little black box with his spare hand, but Klaus couldn't look away from Diego's face to take it in. "But… You're my everything. Always have been, always will be. And I want to spend a forever telling you what a fucking disaster you are, and much I love every single thing about you."

Klaus hadn't even realised his eyes were stinging, or that they were filling until a few fat tears rolled down his face.

"I hate you so much right now," Klaus laughed wetly. His chest felt like it was bursting open. His fingers in Diego's were shaking, but it wasn't like Diego was much better.

The nervousness in Diego's face was fading, and he was still looking at Klaus like he hung the fucking moon. And there was still milk dripping from Klaus' curls, and another tear fell down his face.

"I know," Diego said and grinned widely. "But in spite of that—will you marry me?"

Klaus nodded emphatically, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He didn't trust himself to speak this time, so for once he didn't try to.

Diego let Klaus' hand drop, and he drew the ring from it's box, and slipped it onto Klaus' finger. The metal was cool, and heavy, and when Klaus glanced down at it, tiny inlaid diamonds caught the light and sparkled. It was simple, and despite the diamonds, quite understated, and, fuck, it was absolutely perfect. Diego had chosen perfectly.

And then Diego was standing as Klaus grasped at his t-shirt, trying to bring them both as close as possible. Klaus kissed him hard, and deep, wrapping his arms around Diego's neck and trying to say without words everything he was feeling. Diego's arms snaked around his back and pulled Klaus in so tight that his body curved to fit Diego's shape.

He was barely aware of it, but they were both mumbling how much they loved each other against the others mouth, unable or unwilling to draw away long enough to actually verbalise it.

It was desperate, and wet, and hot, and Klaus had never been so disgustingly in love. Diego pushed the kimono off his shoulders, and Klaus was able to yank Diego's shirt off too. Diego crowded him against the counter, lifting him easily so that he was seated against it. Klaus wrapped his legs around Diego's waist, pawing at whichever parts of him he could reach.

"Oh my god," Klaus got out between kisses. "You asked me to marry you."

Diego laughed. He sounded as giddy as Klaus felt. "You said 'yes'."

Klaus laughed, tilting his head back so that Diego could kiss down his neck.

"Oh my god. I said 'yes'." He grabbed as much of Diego's hair as he could, and dragged him back in for another kiss. "Oh my god, we're going to get married."

"Oh my god," Diego teased, "do you ever shut up?"

"I thought you said you loved every single thing about me."

"I do. Doesn't mean I don't wish you'd shut up and let me kiss you."

"Oh, well, when you put it—"

Diego shut him up with another kiss, and Klaus had never been happier to have been silenced.

"Okay, but seriously, while I was covered in smoothie?" Klaus laughed some time later, rolling his head to the side so that he could look at Diego. The marble countertop was still cold against his back, but it was soothing on his heated skin.

Diego's breathing was only now beginning to steady too. Sunshine poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows and lit Diego from behind, making it look as if he was glowing.

Diego snorted a laugh and shrugged. He groaned with effort as he rolled onto his side and shifted so they were closer, as if they hadn't just been as close as two humans could possibly be. "I just. You were there, and you're such a fucking disaster, and such a fucking idiot, and I… I just knew. I love you so much. I had to. I had to do it right then."

Klaus narrowed his eyes at him and then lazily lifted his hand up so he could admire the ring properly. He hadn't had a chance to yet, and he was once again overwhelmed with the reminder of how well Diego knew him. The tiny diamonds caught the light and glittered beautifully.

Diego moved his head to rest against Klaus' shoulder, looking up at the ring before back at Klaus' face. Klaus lowered his hand and Diego twined their fingers together. He brought Klaus' hand to his mouth and kissed the ring. Klaus smiled as Diego then moved to kiss his nose before resting his head against Klaus' chest.

"I'm not going to tell everyone the circumstances under which this occurred," Klaus said. "You were very romantic. There were candles and flowers. And it was at a nice restaurant. Or in a park with hundreds of fairy lights. And I was wearing something cuter than my goddamn underwear and almond milk."

"Did I still fuck you on the kitchen counter afterwards?" Diego teased, smirking.

"Oh yes, that part of the story can stay." He glanced to his other side at the blender, and the mess that still needed cleaning up. He huffed and turned back to Diego, curling an arm around him.

They could clean up later.

#kliego #spikey writes

33 notes · View notes

bthenoise · 5 years ago

Text

Quaran-Dine & Chill: Here are 12 Homemade Food Recipes From Some Of Your Favorite Bands

Look, we get it: You’re bored. You’re stuck at home with nothing to do and to top it all off you’re absolutely starving with no idea what to make except for a peanut butter & jelly sandwich.

Thankfully, we knew this would happen so we reached out to some amazing artists to see if they had any recipes to help us all get through this never-ending period of social distancing.

Submitting for a feature we like to call “Quaran-Dine & Chill,” bands like Mayday Parade, The Used, August Burns Red, Atreyu, Periphery, New Found Glory and more have all pitched in some of their most favorite recipes to make from home.

To check out how to create Groovy Toast, cook some of Herbie’s Homemade Chicken Taquitos or even put together some Veggie Pasta with Vegan Ass White Sauce, be sure to look below. Afterward, remember, before making anything to eat, WASH YOUR DAMN HANDS!

Oh, and there’s also a special 35-song Quaran-Dine & Chill playlist at the end of all this. Listen to it as loud as you possibly can -- we hear it helps the food taste better.

Enjoy!

JAKE BUNDRICK - MAYDAY PARADE

JAKE’S OVERNIGHT OATS

Ingredients 1/2 cup oatmeal (any type will work but I personally like Old Fashioned or Rolled Oats) 1 cup water 1 scoop protein powder (It's not necessary by any means but I prefer French Vanilla from TrueNutrition) 3/4 cup of either frozen berries or fresh berries (strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, black berries... you can either add this now to soak overnight or wait until you're ready to eat and then add berries. It's up to you) 1 banana sliced 1 tablespoon of natural peanut butter

Instructions Mix oatmeal, water, protein and frozen berries together in a bowl or jar (frozen berries are optional). You could forego this and choose to add fresh berries later.

Cover and let sit in the fridge overnight or for a few hours -- your choice.

After soaking, add fresh berries if you haven't already. Then add bananas and peanut butter.

Enjoy.

MATT HALPERN - PERIPHERY

REALLY HEALTHY “CEREAL”

I love cereal but I don't want all the bad stuff associated with most cereals. So I came up with a healthy alternative. It's pretty simple.

Grab a bowl

Add Trader Joe's Go Raw Trek Mix

Slice up some strawberries and add them too

Throw on a couple blueberries

Add 1% milk

And there ya have it! Really hearty, really healthy, easy to make “cereal” that actually fills you up!

MATT GREINER - AUGUST BURNS RED

DEER CAMP BREAKFAST CASSEROLE

Ingredients 18 eggs 2 cups of milk 1 cup cheddar cheese 1 lb bacon 1 lb loose sausage 1 ts salt 1 tb pepper 1 pack hash browns

Instructions Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees

Brown sausage and bacon separately-drain

Pan fry hash browns until golden brown

Grease a 13” x 9” baking pan and line the bottom with hash browns

Add a layer of bacon

Add a layer of sausage

Whip the eggs in a large bowl, then add the mix, salt and pepper, mix well

Add the cheese to the eggs and mix again

Pour the egg mixture over the meat and hash browns

Cover with aluminum foil and bake for 25-30 minutes

Remove foil and bake until the top of the casserole begins to brown. Then remove from the oven.

BRENT WALSH - I THE MIGHTY

B-LEE'S BREAKFAST FEAST

Ingredients Hash browns 2 eggs Onions Garlic Mushrooms Peppers Cheddar cheese Black pepper Salt Ketchup Valentina (black label, extra hot) hot sauce Olive oil

Instructions First, get the hash browns going in a frying pan with lots of oil. They take the longest.

In a second pan, get all the veggies going adding garlic when everything else is almost done so that you don't burn the garlic.

When the hash browns are done, plate them and immediately add the cheese to taste.

The veggies should be about done by this time so add those on top.

Fry the eggs (I like mine over medium) in the original pan you cooked the hash browns in and add salt and pepper while they cook.

I like to top it all off with some black label Valentina hot sauce and a little ketchup.

Add a coffee and mimosa on the side and boom, you got yourself a good ol' quarantine breakfast feast.

MARK HOLCOMB - PERIPHERY

SRIRACHA TUNA SALAD

Take two cans of tuna, break it up in a mixing bowl, toss with two tablespoons of celery, half an onion and some chopped fresh parsley.

Add 1/3 cup of mayonnaise (or veganaise if you’re a tree-hugging hippy like me), 1 tablespoon mustard, and several tablespoons of Sriracha depending on how spicy you want it.

Top off with some ground pepper and lemon juice, to taste.

Also feel free to add half a diced apple if you like some sweetness and crunchy texture in there.

Delicious, healthy and super simple.

JEPHA - THE USED

GROOVY TOAST

Soak a cup of any kind of nut (almond, cashew etc..) overnight in water.

Next day, strain most of the water except for a little bit to help blend it.

Put soaked nuts in blender with a dash of lemon, a pinch of salt, pepper, two tablespoons of olive oil.

Blend until smooth.

Optional fun: slice something spicy like a jalapeño.

Add “Groovy cheese” to either toast or crackers.

Drizzle olive oil and lemon on top of “Groovy Toast” with a spicy, spicy jalapeño and let your mouth party like your stuck at home for the next month or so 🤙

CYRUS BOLOOKI - NEW FOUND GLORY

SHEPHERD’S PIE

Ingredients: Ground Beef (or turkey, or chicken, or any kind of meat for that matter) Onion, diced (optional) Frozen veggies (1 bag of pretty much anything you have, normally a carrot/corn/peas mix, but seriously, anything will do) Worcestershire Sauce (optional, but check the back of your cupboard because you probably have a bottle that’s been sitting there for years and is still good!) Potatoes (again, any kind of potatoes will do) Cheese (cheddar is the standard, but use what you have!)

Instructions: Cook your meat in a skillet, seasoning with salt and pepper and adding diced onion if you have while cooking.

Cook/microwave your bag of frozen veggies and add directly into the meat and stir.

Now’s the time to find that Worcestershire sauce if you have it -- if not, don’t worry, this is awesome without it too!

Add a cup of cheese in there and also 1/2 cup of liquid (could be water, could be chicken/beef broth if you have). Stir to combine all ingredients and turn to low heat to keep warm.

Meanwhile, make mashed potatoes however you can (whether by hand or with a box) and when done layer these two things in an ovenproof dish — meat/veggie mix on bottom, mashed potatoes on top.

Toss cheese all over the top of that and throw it in the oven on medium heat for 20 minutes to melt the cheese.

Now, sit back, relax and enjoy your dish whether with family or all alone. It’s a full meal all in one, tastes even better the next day and you can even freeze it!

BRANDON SALLER - ATREYU

WINNER WINNER ISOLATION DINNER (Crispy Baked Chicken Thighs)

Ingredients Bone-in chicken thighs w/ skin Salt (coarse salt works best but any will work fine) Pepper Garlic powder Mixed herbs or Italian seasoning Desired veggie - Whatever you have (ie broccoli, green beans, asparagus, zucchini) Italian dressing (your favorite)

Instructions Preheat oven to 400º

Pat dry chicken on both sides with a paper towel

Season both sides of chicken liberally. Especially the top. The key to this chicken is the well seasoned crispy skin.

Place on sheet pan and roast in oven for about 40 minutes. You are looking for the chicken to be cooked through and skin to be browned and crispy.

When chicken has about 20 minutes left, put marinated veggies on a sheet pan and roast until chicken is done.

When finished, let chicken rest for about 5 minutes as it just came out of a 40-minute fiery hell and will 100% burn your mouth.

ENJOY!

IRA GEORGE - MOVEMENTS

TACO SALAD

This is a very easy and fluid dish that you can make on your own with ease. Whether you are a vegetarian or vegan, you can make this fit your lifestyle.

Ingredients 1 bag of chopped romaine 1 can of black beans 1 frozen bag of white or brown rice 1 cup of frozen corn (thawed) Soyrizo (or any type of ground meat) 1/2 bell pepper 2 Roma tomatoes 1/3 yellow onion 1 avocado Cilantro 1 lime Taco sauce of your choice Cilantro dressing (or something comparable) Diced jalapeños Shredded Mexican cheese Handful of tortilla chips

Instructions Dice the bell pepper, yellow onion and Roma tomatoes

Chop a handful of cilantro

Thaw corn in microwave

In a small pot heat up the can of beans

Cook the soyrizo or other meat in a pan at the same time (if you are using meat you will need to season to your liking)

Heat rice in microwave (if using uncooked rice have it ready before everything)

Grab a big bowl and put rice down. Add the cilantro and lime and toss together

Now add everything else however you want. Remember this is a completely fluid meal, add or takeout any ingredient you feel. Get creative with it! DON’T FORGET TO ADD THE AVOCADO AND SAUCES!!

NICK VENTIMIGLIA - GRAYSCALE

HERBIE’S HOMEMADE CHICKEN TAQUITOS

Servings: 12 Calories: 241 Prep time: 20 min Cook time: 20 min Total time: 40 min

Ingredients 3oz cream cheese 1/4 cup salsa of your choice 1 tablespoon lime juice 1 1/2 teaspoon of taco seasoning 2 fresh cloves of garlic, minced 3 tablespoons cilantro or parsley 2 scallions diced 2 cups shredded cooked chicken or whatever protein you desire 1 cup Mexican blend cheese or whatever you want 12 6in flour tortillas Cooking spray Kosher salt

Instructions Preheat your oven to 425 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, mix together the cream cheese, salsa, lime juice, taco seasoning, garlic, cilantro, and scallions until well combined and creamy. Add in the cooked chicken and cheese; stir to thoroughly combine.

Working with a few tortillas at a time, heat them in the microwave between two paper towels until they are soft enough to roll (about 10 seconds).

Spoon 3 tablespoons of the chicken mixture onto the lower third of a tortilla. Roll the tortilla tightly.

Place the rolled tortilla seam side down on the baking sheet. Repeat with remaining tortillas until the mixture is gone, making sure the taquitos are not touching each other.

Spray the tops lightly with cooking spray and sprinkle with a little kosher salt (don’t skip the salt!)

Bake for 15-20 minutes or until crisp and golden.

Serve with salsa, sour cream, or guacamole.

BALSAC THE JAWS 'O DEATH - GWAR

I offered up my recipes for Feline Fricassee and Poodle Wellington but my publicist informed me that things hadn't yet gotten to the point where most people are ready to eat their pets. Instead, here is a recipe that you should be able to throw together without having to take that dreaded trip to the supermarket.

Now more than ever, everyone should be able to hunt and kill their own food. So the first thing you will need to do is grab your favorite battleaxe, knife or shotgun and go in your backyard. Look for the happy yellow flowers that are probably taking over your poorly manicured lawn. Pick as many of these as you can find, making sure to pull them out from the roots keeping the long dark green leaves intact. You may be asking, “What do I need this shotgun for?” The weapon is in case your neighbor sees you and tries to shake hands!

DOOMSDAY DANDELIONS

Ingredients Dandelion greens 1/2 cup olive oil 3 tablespoons vinegar (red wine vinegar or balsamic work best but whatever kind you can find in your cupboard. It is the apocalypse after all) 1 tablespoon mustard (Dijon if you've got it but who am I kidding, you only have that horrible yellow crap!) 2 cloves garlic minced Salt and pepper 2 teaspoons dry herb (use whatever you can find. What are you saving that stuff for?)

Instructions Pick the flowers off the dandelion greens (these are edible too, I suggest beer battering them and frying them, but that's another recipe and I'm not getting paid for this).

Trim the hairy roots from the greens and discard.

Wash all the dirt from the greens, cut them in half at the base keeping the leaves attached and soak in clean cold water.

Wisk all other ingredients together until they are a cohesive solution.

Drain and pat dry the greens and dress them with the vinaigrette.

Enjoy by yourself!!

SCHUYLAR CROOM - HE IS LEGEND

VEGGIE PASTA WITH VEGAN ASS WHITE SAUCE

Ingredients 1 medium onion chopped 3 cloves of garlic Red bell pepper julienned Broccoli florets Mushrooms sliced thin Zucchini halved and sliced Yellow squash quartered and sliced 1 or 4 splashes of white wine

Finisher Sauce 1/4 cup of unsweetened oat milk 1 or 2 tbs coconut oil 1/4 cup vegan mayo A few handfuls of vegan cheese (I used a vegan pepper jack by Daiya and a bit of Follow Your Heart Parmesan) 1/3 cup of Nutritional yeast Fresh basil

Herbs and Spices Kosher Salt Fresh ground pepper Herbes de Provence Some other optional shit

Pasta Fettuccine noodles ( I like that Ancient Grain in the blue box.)

Instructions Boil salted water for your noodles and in a separate pot boil a few cups of water to blanche your broccoli. You’ll be mad if your water is not boiling before you start sautéing your veg... that shit goes quick, watched pots never boil.

In a large saucepan over med/high heat: Sauté onion for about 5 minutes until it is soft and almost translucent. Add chopped garlic until that smell wakes up your girlfriend. Boom you’re cooking. Salt and pepper that junk.

Add the peppers, mushrooms, zucchini and squash, hit it with some more salt and pepper. I like to throw in some Herbes de Provence and a TINY SPRINKLE of cayenne (a little goes a long way) plus some truffle salt because I’m fancy.

By now the lil pot should be boiling. Throw those broccoli guys in there and when they turn dark ass green drain them and throw them in the pot with the other veggies.

Shit’s all steamy now. It smells crazy good. Your girlfriend and your dog are in the kitchen salivating.

Hit those veggies with some white wine. I say a few dashes, but you’ll know. You’re gonna want to let that cook off for 3-5 minutes.

Maybe you’ve already put your noodles in. If so, they’re ready to drain. If not, get to it 9 minutes after the water starts boiling again (read the box)

Now your noodles are in the strainer. Make your partner divide that into bowls.

After the wine has cooked off, add the veganaise, coconut oil, vegan cheeses and the nutritional yeast and stir all of that up until melty and gooey and combined with the veggies. I like the throw in about half a cup of chopped sliced basil and leave a little for a garnish after you’ve topped your pasta with this creamy ass veggie goodness.

OH! Pro tip: Garlic bread. (Do this 40 minutes ago before starting anything else.)

Take 2 heads of garlic and peel most of the skin off but leave bulb intact.

Chop the very top of the head off the garlic to expose the clove (like 1/16 of the top).

Place it in tinfoil and close it up around the sides. Douse with a generous amount of olive oil and salt and pepper all over that opening on the bulb and close the foil up tight around the top. Create a little oven inside your oven.

Bake at 375 for 40 minutes. You’ll smell it.

Let it cool well.

Toast a loaf of French bread.

Those little garlic cloves will pop out like little teardrops of pure heaven. Smear that junk on your toasted bread and thank me later. The oil is now roasted garlic oil. You could drizzle that on the bread too or over the damn pasta that’s in the bowl.

(Be careful. You will want to skip the steps of letting the bulbs cool. They are unforgivingly hot and will burn your flesh.)

#He Is Legend #Grayscale #Atreyu #New Found Glory #Periphery #August Burns Red #Mayday Parade #Gwar #I The Mighty #The Used #Movements #interview

12 notes · View notes

rueitae · 6 years ago

Text

No Reservations

Written for @rosieclark for @plancevalentineexchange 2019! She requested angst. I hope I have delivered. Roughly 8,700 words.

Read on Ao3.

For those who just want fluff... don’t read past ‘The lights go out.’

~~~~~

Lance sighs, content as he sinks into the plush upholstery of a lounge chair, too lazy - and full from the breakfast buffet - to bother to take off his shoes even though they’re back in the condo. He’s on vacation after all.

The Retreats at Noeuna-4 offer everything one could hope for in terms of luxury and recreation. Massive buildings contain their own climate control system, and over the past few days Lance has hiked, skied, and surfed in five different ecosystems. Between physical fun, he’s dined in high end restaurants and lazed about in several of the elaborately designed swimming pools scattered across the grounds, all advertised to host a million guests in comfort.

The rooms reflect the opulence of the common areas, complete with all the snacks and drink a couple may need. A gigantic monitor hangs on the wall, overtly labeled to make video calls or control various room functions, as well as play video games or watch television.

The technology is childishly simple for two former Voltron Paladins, but Lance is thankful to not have to think at all. That’s what vacations are for.

He reaches over to an end table, surface of polished grey stone, and picks a creamy, laminated card on top of a stack of them. He grins as he reads the contents. “Hey, Pidge. Check out this one from Veronica!” Lance clutches his chest, overwhelmed with warm fuzzies from his sister’s thoughtfulness. “She drew a tiny me as Cupid, shooting a tiny you through the heart. Awww…”

Pidge plops down across from him on the king-sized bed, small compared to the rest of their honeymoon suite. She raises an eyebrow, looking less than impressed. “Only if your ‘Cupid’s laser’,” she says, air quotes to accompany, “hit a building, bounced around an alleyway, ricocheted off a lamppost and stuck to me.”

“And it worked.” He smirks, firing finger guns at her. “This is only the beginning, Pidge. We may be married now, but I will woo you every day. I have years to make up for.”

Pidge simmers, her upper body slumping in annoyance. She selects a card from the top of a separate pile on the bed stand. “I can’t believe I signed up for this.” Despite the words, she smiles. “How did we end up like this? It feels like a dream.”

The how doesn’t matter at this point, nor that they’ve been together romantically in some capacity for years now. Not for the first time, Lance just looks at Pidge, filled with affection for his wife.

Her sundress billows across the bed’s disheveled sheets, legs crossed comfortably - something Lance only knows thanks to a hundred mornings just like this. Her hair is still damp from the bath they shared earlier in the morning and he can still feel the thick clumps of her shampooed locks in his hands. It’s as if she glows and Lance falls in love all over again.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her adorable nose wrinkled as she analyzes him. “You’ve got that lovestruck look on your face.”

Lance leans an elbow on the armrest, cheek on his fist. “Hard not to when I get to look at your face every morning.”

Pidge flushes pink, despite their intimacy the night before (even that hadn’t been the first), and she stammers for a comeback. His heart flutters - he’s thrilled to get any sort of reaction from her.

“You’re insufferable,” she says, opening the card.

Strung along by whim and a desire to be next to his wife, Lance rises from his lonely chair and slides onto the bed behind Pidge. He rests his arms on the sides her waist and plants a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. Pidge curls into him, cutting off that side of her neck. “Lance, that tickles.”

“I know,” he teases, and places a kiss on the now exposed side.

Pidge giggles (and snorts) and twists on her knees to face him, locking her soft lips with his and preventing him from kissing her neck again. She presses her hand down on his shoulder, rising over top of him. Lance buckles back onto the piles of pillows at the head of the bed, body warming and anticipation rising.

She sticks the card in his face as she pulls away, blocking his lips from reaching her. Kissing the card is better than kissing a mouse at least. “This one’s from Hunk. We should read it together.”

Lance groans. “You’re a tease,” he complains as he takes the card. He steals a kiss from her forehead. “I love you so much. I’m the luckiest guy to be married to you.”

Pidge grins and leans back into him as he opens the card for both of them to see. “Luck is one of your best traits. Like, you’re lucky my mom didn’t find out we eloped. We’d both be grounded.”

Lance scans the writing on Hunk’s card and lets out a sharp laugh. “Looks like we didn’t fool everyone.”

“‘You lying liars,’” Pidge recites, not bothering to contain her own laughter. “‘I know you eloped, like, a year ago and you only had the wedding to con gifts out of us. Joke’s on you. I got you an off-brand blender so your milkshakes will never be as smooth as you like them! ...I love you guys. Congratulations. Come over often and I’ll make you proper milkshakes.’”

“I don’t know how we’ll survive without him,” Lance laughs. “Maybe we should move into the attic of his Earth-based restaurant. Then we’ll never have to do any cooking ever.”

Pidge plucks Hunk’s card from his fingers and sets it off to the side. “Tempting, but you start school in a few months and I’m still testing the limits of the Defenders vehicles.” She hums, tapping a finger on her chin. "I wonder what would happen if Shiro interacted with them," she says with increasing awe before breaking out into a wide grin. "Maybe the vehicles will combine into a Voltron like the Lions! Lance! Remind me to check the dynotherm connectors when we get back - no, wait, I'm gonna call Matt right now and make him do it." She scrambles off the bed, intent on making her video call.

Lance wraps his arms around her waist, stopping her from going any further, nose pressed up against her lower back. The scent of the local perfume fills his senses and, despite leaning forward awkwardly, he wants to stay like this all day. "I love it when you talk science," he says breathlessly, "but It's our honeymoon. Your brother can wait, tell me all about it."

Small hands hold tightly onto his larger ones, resting on her abdomen. She rolls her thumb over his skin and Lance melts at the soft touches. Heat rises in his belly once more, wanting nothing more than to pull her back to the bed and lie beside her, recreating the morning’s peaceful afterglow.

"Speaking of… talking...” Pidge says instead, “did you remember to make the reservation for the Hilt tonight?"

His eyes snap open and out of his blissful daydream. The Hilt is the premier restaurant of the resort, one that has Hunk's rare seal of approval. Pidge has been wanting to eat there for a few days now.

He forgot to make the reservation again.

Lance breaks away, jumps off the bed, and makes a beeline for the video phone. "Maybe my luck will get us a free spot tonight,” he says as he reaches the video phone, turning to face her with a weak grin. “If not, I'll make a reservation for sometime this week, I promise," he assures her, clasping his hands together as if it will prove his words true.

Pidge fidgets with the hem of her dress. "Okay, sure. The soonest opening you can get, okay? It doesn't have to be the best table or anything."

"Only the best for the best," Lance insists. Though he compliments her, Pidge gives no reaction, her enthusiasm for the Defenders project so distant compared to her current fidgety mood. He runs the top of his teeth along his bottom lip, heart twisting with guilt; she really wants this. He’s a failure if he can’t read her intentions after not only dating, but also having been linked mentally through sentient robots.

But they are in the condo now, surrounded by lush alien jungle and a mile from their nearest neighbor - with nothing to distract them but each other - so Lance is determined to make it up to Pidge and finally get the reservations. It will be a romantic evening like no other - just him and his wife, candle-lit dinner and all, he swears it - he isn’t called loverboy Lance without reason.

He presses the comm button that will connect him with the hotel lobby, but instead of their pink-skinned alien hosts, static greets him.

"That's weird," he muses. "It was working fine last night when we ordered room service."

Pidge bends down and pops open the plate that hides the wiring behind the wall. She examines the bundle, fingering the wires as musician to a harp. "Everything looks normal.” Her brows furrow. “It must be on the lobby's end."

Lance groans. So much for any after-breakfast snuggling today. "Let's go then. We might as well take our swimsuits for the water park since we can just head there after stopping at the lobby."

Pidge smiles up at him, instantly lifting his mood. "I hope you brought the right swim trunks." She smirks. "I heard the Galaxy Whirl can rip them right off of you."

He matches her grin, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "You'd like that wouldn't you?"

She stands, closing the gap between them, teasingly twisting the fabric of his shirt between her fingers. "Maybe we should do a quick test run in the shower to make sure they stay on."

The lights go out.

Lance blinks to acclimate his eyes as quickly as he can, his other senses on high alert. First the comm unit and now the power? Instinct makes him reach for his bayard... which he hasn't had since the Lions departed. Perhaps the years as a Paladin have made him too paranoid. It’s probably just a malfunction.

"Who's there?" Pidge demands. Lance places a hand on her shoulder - she's just as tense as he is.

A high-pitched zing is the only warning Lance has before his shins slam together, tied snug by weighted cord. He flails his arms, seeking balance, yelping until the floor greets his face with a disorientating thud. “Owww…” He inhales through his nose and coughs wetly. Probably a nosebleed, but with his legs wound tightly together that’s the least of his concerns.

“Lance - AH!” Pidge yells.

Lance kneels. His heart catches in his throat as her head makes solid contact with the stone table lamp, her arms pinned snug against her sides. She falls onto the bed with a soft thump.

“Pidge!” He props his arms on foot of the bed, pulling himself up to be closer to her. She’s not moving. Maybe the fall wasn’t that bad, he tells himself, though his racing heart betrays his growing anxiety. He needs to make sure Pidge is okay, then find their attacker. “Talk to m-mhhhmmm!”

A clawed and scaly hand as big as his face cuts his words short. “Shhh,” the voice says softly, presumably belonging to their assailant. Quiznak, this isn’t supposed to be happening. They hadn’t been Paladins in years - they were so out of practice and so complacent… “We may be alone, but you’ll excite Kharl with your panicked squeals. Trust me, you don’t want that.” The voice - she, if Lance has to guess - chuckles at her own private joke. “Not yet anyway.”

A threatening hiss makes Lance jump, but the hand keeps him firmly in place. In the shadows, movement from the wall above the bed makes his skin scrawl. He's reminded of a lizard, and this would be a much larger one than he's used to on Earth.

His assailant removes her hand from his face and binds his wrists with magenta cuffs.

“We’re Paladins of Voltron,” Lance declares, filling his voice with as much confidence as he can muster, mind buzzing for a plan - a counterattack, anything. He’s picked up, and he grunts as he’s unceremoniously thrown onto the bed near Pidge. He rolls onto an elbow, making himself as big as he can. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

"I know who you are." Flashing yellow eyes seem to float above the edge of the bed, disembodied in the darkness. Lance’s stomach ties into a knot, terrified as the terms ‘bounty hunter’, ‘Zarkon loyalist’, and ‘pirate’ roll across his mind. He worms his way between Pidge and their attacker. Though they have no physical weapons, Lance isn’t defenseless. Pidge is small, but she’s far from frail. He can distract for as long as it takes for Pidge to come to and sneak a distress call out.

"Oh." Lance swallows, tasting the blood trickling down his throat. Execution is easier said than done, but if anyone is equal to the task, it’s him. He forces a weary smile. "I don’t suppose you’re just looking for autographs then?"

The eyes glow in amusement. "Of sorts. I am a great fan of your work, Paladin Lance. Your aim and situational awareness are something of legend in certain circles, although you seem to be out of practice.”

They’ve been tracked - hunted, Lance realizes, urgency growing in time with each heartbeat. "You’ve got us at a disadvantage," he says, and chuckles, lifting his cuffed hands. "Literally. But we don't know a thing about you."

Pidge groans softly from behind him and Lance wants nothing more than to turn around and see to her injuries, but he can’t, not when their lives may depend on it.

The eyes rise to near the ceiling, and a thump - probably large feet - reverberates across the floor. "Paladin Pidge,” the voice addresses and Lance growls at his failure, “technology and stealth expert. I am Rizak Ix and I have been looking forward to hunting you and your fellow Paladins."

Despite the direness of the situation, his mouth seems to have a mind of its own. “There’s only five of us,” he says though his heart pounds in his chest and through his ears. “I suppose our autographs are a precious commodity.”

It sounds so stupid when it leaves his mouth, but when the whites of Rizak’s teeth glint against the darkness to form a grin, Lance lets himself feel a bit better. He can work with an enemy with a sense of humor.

“I prefer a token of flesh and blood,” she says, “although I am woefully disappointed with your performance today, your capture was far too easy. I’ve waited years for the feared Voltron Paladins to become unneeded, I expected more of a challenge.”

“Then let us go,” Pidge insists. Her voice is groggy, but it lets Lance know she’s aware, and relief floods over him.

He leans over his shoulder, catching the shadows of her face. “Is your head okay?”

“...not great,” she admits. “I’ll deal with it once we’re out of this.”

The telltale whine of a laser gun powering up snaps Lance’s attention back to their bounty hunter. She’s easier to see as she stalks around the bed towards them, her head towering to near the top of the vaulted ceiling. A forked tongue wiggles from her delighted smile. A loaded pistol sits in her large hand, with dark pink streaks lining the outside of the weapon illuminating her dark grey scales.

“Allow me to assist,” Rizak says. Lance freezes in fear as she presses the barrel into the side of his neck. It taints the memory of the soft kisses Pidge planted there in what already seems like a lifetime ago. “I’ll have you both out of here shortly.”

“Don’t hurt him!” Pidge screams desperately. “Stop!”

The gun fires and Lance knows no more.

~~~~~

Lance wakes. He wishes the tranquilizer had been stronger when he takes in the stale, rotten air.

His vision is slow to come into focus, but it's clear the place is reminiscent of Galra prison cells: rectangular, grey, and metal-looking, although instead of any discernible door, there’s a skylight, barred in magenta. It looks too small to fit through, but the low hum of a ship’s engine distracts him from pondering further. They’re no longer at the resort.

Lance coughs, a poor attempt to relieve himself of the rotting stench in the air. Whatever had been kept in this prison before them hadn’t made it out alive. He refuses to think on what that might mean for them and the cold metal digging into his chin distracts him enough.

His chest tightens, not wanting to acknowledge that its a collar. Questions flood into his thoughts anyway. Shock? Aesthetic? What does this bounty hunter want with them? Probable bounty hunter anyway. What all does the universe have left to throw at them?

No wonder his neck hurts. His bum is sore on top of it, which means he’s been sitting up for a long while. At least his hands and feet are free again and his nose isn’t bleeding anymore.

A smaller body shifts against his side.

“Pidge?” he asks. She’s hurt, he remembers. He needs to make sure she is all right.

“I’m here,” she responds groggily, making no attempt to move from his side. Lance wants it no other way. Her touch means she’s here, and they’re together, not only creating warmth for their bodies, but also in his heart. He desperately needs that thread of security now.

But guilt twists in his stomach. “Sorry, Pidge. Go back to sleep. We’re going to need your brain to get out of this one.”

It isn’t fair. They did their time and saved the universe. Why does a happy ending still elude them?

“My head is killing me,” Pidge complains. “I don’t think I can.”

Lance shifts to face her, careful to make sure she doesn’t fall to the floor. A ring of clunky metal around her neck stares back at him, a dot of green light alone in a sea of dark grey, and he’s positive it’s a mirror of what he wears himself.

Pidge diverts his focus from their dreadful situation before it can overwhelm him. Though the movement isn’t much, she gasps and heaves, vomit spilling out before them. He holds her upright and gently rubs her back in silence. Finished, she shivers, and stares at the wall across from them as if in a daze.

“Okay, well, you really should,” he says. “I don’t remember that much from health class, but I’m pretty sure you have a concussion. You look just like Keith after he came back from that ice planet.”

“I feel like crap,” Pidge moans. “This wasn’t supposed to happen yet.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen ever,” Lance corrects, annoyed. He’s more alert now that he’s aware that he needs to take charge of the situation while Pidge recovers. “Look, we’re famous. Someone is bound to recognize us if this lady tries to sell us off. It might give us a fighting chance for escape too.” His words taste false as soon as he says them. The way the bounty hunter praised them, eager for a fight - Lance isn’t sure there’s a third party at all.

A quick, sharp buzz makes Lance jump. His heart freezes at the sight of several long, needle-like teeth grinding at the bars across the skylight. Translucent green slobber drips down to the floor as the creature gnaws, as if desperate to get in.

“Up, Kharl!” The teeth vanish from view at the bounty hunter’s words, the creature - Kharl - whining and panting as it skitters away across the top of the prison.

Lance decides he does not want to meet Kharl if he can help it.

The bars retract and a large bowl descends slowly, attached to a thick cord via a metal hook. Clear liquid, water probably, spills over the top as it jerks downward. Seeing an opportunity, Lance sets Pidge against the wall and rushes the cord, grabbing hold as it unhooks from the bowl and lifts back into the air.

He’s hit with an electric shock far worse than simple static cling, lighting his nerves on fire. He cries out as his back makes contact with the hard floor and slides backwards until Pidge catches his shoulders.

Hidden from view, Rizak laughs. The hook disappears through the opening. “Careful, Paladins, the wires are live. I wouldn’t recommend touching it twice. You’ll need your sprightliness, as well as the water, for later.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Pidge threatens. She tightens her grip on his shirt, a comfort as he comes out of his daze. “We have allies everywhere.”

“You'll find no friend in this part of the universe,” she advises. A bulging sack plummets from the skylight and it lands with a thud beside the bowl. “The water is fresh and the sack is full of rations. Eat your fill; you won’t die while on this ship.”

Lance seethes, face twisting in displeasure. He can’t stand to be patronized by their captor.

But the gesture of food and water both throw him for a loop and set his stomach into further unease. What - or who - did she need them alive for?

“Then get Pidge something for her nausea! She can’t eat if she’s sick,” he demands. His feelings don’t matter if Pidge is ill.

“Rizak the Patient,” Pidge says before the bounty hunter can respond. “I remember your name from the black market channels. Kind of an odd nickname for a bounty hunter.”

A deep chuckle reverberates through the air. “I have been watching your actions as Paladins since the early days of the Voltron Coalition,” she explains. “And the more I learned about each one of you, the greater my desire to test my skills against the defenders of the universe. I am willing to take my time to get results.”

A crash and thud from just the other side of the wall startle Lance while Pidge jumps away from the point of origin.

“Kharl, however, is not so patient.”

Claws scrape at the wall and the beast breathes deep, sniffing incessantly.

Lance catches on fast, inhaling sharply in fear. Rizak is a hunter and Kharl is her hunting dog.

He and Pidge are the prey.

The magenta bars snap back into place between the skylight. “Now that the universe no longer needs the Paladins or Voltron for its safekeeping, I will take this opportunity to hunt the both of you. I am positive you will all make excellent trophies.”

Lance swallows hard. The implication behind ‘trophies’ makes his stomach churn. He imagines those long, sharp teeth sinking into his chest, green slobber the last thing he sees in life - a life cut far too short for what they fought to preserve.

It isn’t fair.

But the thought of that fate for Pidge ignites his anger. There are plenty of flight instructors at the Garrison to guide the next generation of pilots, but there’s only one Pidge who knows the workings of the Defenders’ vehicles better than the back of her hand, no one else who possesses both the experience piloting a sentient machine with the intimate knowledge of how they work.

The universe can’t lose Pidge. Lance refuses to lose yet another loved one, not when he can do something about it. He stands, intent on giving this bounty hunter a piece of his mind.

“Some great hunter you are,” Pidge jeers, beating him to the punch. Quiznak, this is why he loves her. The sharp tongue and defiance in the face of danger are weapons in themselves. “You captured us completely unarmed and unprepared.”

He takes her hand in solidarity and offers an encouraging smile, emboldened by her snark to offer some of his own, “Must be a side job. The day one must be boring.”

Pidge returns the smile, but it isn’t full or bright, merely thankful. Her resilience is only skin deep. She’s just as terrified as he is.

“Of sorts” Rizak says, taking Lance by surprise as he snaps his head upwards, “which is why the hunt will continue elsewhere. You will have all the resources of an uninhabited planet at your disposal. Simply survive and I will test my tracking skills.”

“ What? ” Lance squeaks, incredulous he’s hearing this.

“How is that even fair?” Pidge protests. “You can’t - you have tracking devices on us!” She points to the collar around her neck.

Of course that’s what they are! What’s to stop them from carrying electricity if the wires are charged?

A single click echoes in the air. Lance yelps as a red glow surrounds him and spreads down to his toes before disappearing.

“Red Paladin Lance,” an electronic voice says. “Heart rate: elevated. Minor bruising. Broken nasal cavity; ninety percent healed. Dehydration. Suggested course of action: rest, fluids.”

The red glow in his periphery turns green.

“That particular feature is turned off. The devices you wear exist to measure your vitals only,” the bounty hunter explains.

Lance stills in fear - she’d healed his broken nose? What else had she done to them? - rage building as he balls his hands into fists. “And we’re supposed to take your word on this? After you’ve kidnapped us?”

“On my honor as a Xunalmani, you will have ample opportunity to kill me once the hunt begins. I have placed your weapons of choice across the planet so that you will not be defenseless. And… I do not intend to let you die unless it is by my hand.”

A million questions race through Lance’s mind, and Pidge’s concerned expression mirrors his thoughts. If this is actually happening - it still seems surreal despite the accommodations - then they need to be prepared. What is the wildlife like? What is safe to eat? To drink?

His hands grow clammy, becoming more terrified by the second. Less about the threat of death, he’s used to that, but how she’s prepared the hunting ground like it’s a game.

“The resourcefulness of the Paladins is legendary,” she says in awe. “You had precious little to work with in your early days and still managed to not only survive, but thrive and take down the Galra empire. I am looking forward to seeing that resourcefulness in action.”

“We’re flattered,” Pidge drones. Her hand shakes in his.

His heart breaks. He would like nothing more than to have Pidge by his side to thwart this sick sideshow… but he also wants to keep her out of danger however he can.

“You don’t need both of us!” Lance growls desperately, staring intensely as if it could somehow break apart their cell. “Shouldn’t one former Paladin be enough for you? Let Pidge go!”

“Lance!” Pidge cries. “No! Don’t you dare!”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm to go first, Paladin Lance,” Rizak says. “I will oblige, since I want all three of you.”

Pidge freezes, but Lance pays it no mind as he mentally does the math. Who else does she have? Hunk and Shiro travel with the Atlas, and there’s no way a bounty hunter could get through that kind of security. But Keith… Keith is sometimes isolated during his humanitarian missions. Caught unaware, even the best fighter among them can fall.

“What have you done with Keith?" Lance demands.

“Lance…” Pidge says so quietly, he almost doesn’t hear.

“You’re screwed if you let him loose,” he continues instead. “Give him a stick and he’ll find a way to kill you with it.”

“Lance, it's not Keith she’s talking about,” Pidge says, her voice trembling.

It’s the voice she uses so sparingly, only in the most dire of situations, when she’s exhausted of all her rage and options. So he finally turns from the skylight to his wife. She grips his hand so tightly and clenches a fistful of floral fabric near her abdomen in the other.

Her eyes lock onto his like a finely tuned guidance system. She opens her mouth, “I’m -- “

“A child of two Paladins could be the challenge of a lifetime,” Rizak interrupts. “With proper training, I will have an apprentice for years and a one of a kind trophy.”

Pidge snaps her head towards the skylight. “Over my dead body!”

“That will be easily arranged once the child is born.”

Lance barely registers his own breathing, his mouth already growing dry as it hangs open, struggling to digest the new information.

Pidge is pregnant.

Pidge is pregnant with their child and they’re imprisoned on a quiznaking ship by a quiznaking bounty hunter.

Pidge takes pity on his slow comprehension, face softening despite her hurried breaths. “I wanted to tell you at dinner, to make it extra special,” she explains. Tears threaten to break out from her eyes. “I would’ve told you earlier if I’d known all this was going to happen.”

“It’s no fun hunting prey that isn’t in peak condition,” Rizak says. “Paladin Pidge will remain on the ship until the child is born.”

“Hold on, that’s almost nine months,” Pidge squeaks, eyes narrowing again in rage. “I am not staying that long, let alone giving birth here.”

Lance steps forward, “And there’s no way I’m letting you take our baby either.” The words are foreign to his lips, and any other day he might say it over and over, just to get used to how wonderful they sound. All he can do right now is use them for bluster.

He knows as things stand, he doesn’t have much choice in the matter.

Rizak bursts out a hearty laugh. “I look forward to the challenge from both of you.” A muted beep sounds in the distance. “We’ve arrived. You have five doboshes while I take the ship into the atmosphere and release Paladin Lance for the hunt. Say what you need.”

The clunk of boots are heavy on the roof of the prison, including the jump down to ground level.

They are literally in an animal crate.

Pidge pounds on the wall. “Get back here and let us go! I’ll show you a fight!” Her threat falls short of intimidating as she swallows hard and fails to hold back her sobs. “You got lucky! You’d never have caught us if we knew you were coming!’ She kicks the wall and bows her head against it, weakly slapping it with her palm.

Lance is drawn in as she cries, wrapping his arms around her, begging whatever is left of the Paladin bond to let him take all of her sorrow. He rests his head on hers. Never mind the fact he is about to be dropped onto an unknown planet, they’re about to be separated, and he won’t be able to protect her. He already tastes the failure and it scares him.

“This is actually happening,” Pidge chokes. She twists around and wraps her arms around his neck, but instead of familiar teasing kisses she buries her face in his chest.

Before he can blink Lance is on his knees and hugging Pidge as if his life depends on it, dragging her to the floor with him. “I love you,” he says, not bothering to whisper. “I love you and our kid. I’ll find a way off the planet and I’ll get you both out of here.”

“I’ll find a way to get a distress call out,” Pidge says as she tightens her grip on him. “She’s bound to let her guard down eventually.”

“I don’t want to leave you, either of you,” he says. His heart beats so fast it feels as if it can burst from his body. He tries to focus on Pidge, commit all of her to memory - the smell of her tropical perfume, the feel of her thick hair, the look of her face (if he can only find a way to make her smile right now) - because he honestly does not know when he will next see her. And that terrifies him more than whatever fate awaits him on this planet.

Pidge sniffs. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you with me and the baby, where you belong.”

“M-maybe there’s a secret door somewhere,” he jokes. She’d teased him the last time he suggested that at least. “We aren’t separated yet, Pidge. She has to take you out first. We can jump her.”

They have to; with no weapons it will be their one shot to get out of this nightmare before it gets much worse.

Pidge leans back and wipes the snot away from her face. “Yeah, okay. We’d better get ready.”

Lance nods in agreement and stands. He's so numb. Between their capture, imminent future, and the knowledge he will be a father… his emotions are in turmoil. He exhales, rolling his shoulders forward. One thing at a time. Get out of this first. Lift spirits.

He forces himself to grin, feigning confidence as he says, “Kiss for good luck?”

It works. His heart soars with joy when she stands and smiles at him, though her eyes still shine with tears. “You would. I should withhold it for when we’re safely back at the resort.”

“When we’re safe,” he says as he takes both of her hands, “I’ll be the one giving you a kiss. Promise.”

Her smile fades almost as quickly as it had appeared. Her eyes peer into his soul. “There’s a decent chance this won’t work, Lance. We might not even have the advantage of surprise if she’s expecting us to try something. So… if - if we are separated, you stay alive. That’s all. Just stay alive. Promise me that.”

The reminder of exactly how dire their situation is overcomes him and he drops to one knee. “I already made a promise to be by your side through everything.” He rubs the smooth silver band around her finger, the one he had inlaid with diamonds around the circumference before their engagement, the ring he had the honor of slipping onto her finger twice now. “I don’t intend to let death part us that easily. Trust me.”

Pidge nods and bites her quivering lip. “I do. I brought my dad and Matt back, so you can bet I’m coming to collect your quiznaking butt off that planet.” She takes a deep breath and glares, though he knows she’s not angry with him. “I am not raising this baby without you, understand?”

Despite everything going on, her words soothe him. He’s seen firsthand what Pidge will do for her family. “I do,” he says as he rises, cupping her cheek and wiping away her residual tears with his thumb. ”I believe it.”

She leans in, bracing her hand around the back of his neck. “Then I guess I can give you this.”

He meets her lips with his. The firm and easy press lets him easily take them away from here, back to the resort and then to their home on Garrison grounds. He imagines the two of them painting the guest bedroom in soft blues and greens in preparation for their first child, and a chorus of congratulations from friends and allies alike.

Heavy footsteps break him from his blissful daydream and Pidge from him. It’s time. They have to take a post on opposite walls.

He doesn’t want to let go - he can see it in Pidge’s eyes she doesn’t either - especially if it may be their last.

Like fingernails on a chalkboard, Kharl gnaws on the other side of the wall nearest to where they stand, stopping only to inhale their scent. They both jump, and Pidge uses the distraction to slip out of his hands. Lance opens his mouth to protest, but a hydraulic hiss forces his attention to his right.

Lance pins his back to the wall and waits as the hidden door slides down. He sets a foot against the wall, ignoring Kharl’s continuous sniffing, readying to launch himself at their captor.

Rizak walks up a ramp empty-handed. It’s the first clear view he’s had of her at all. She’s more lizard-like than he imagined, with a long tail and pointed teeth inside an elongated snout.

Pidge gasps, and her eyes widen with renewed fear. A heartbeat later, she’s clenching her teeth in the same rabid determination she displayed in the search for her family, hands balled up into fists. She charges and Lance follows her lead with a battle cry.

He collides with the force field before he runs into the bounty hunter, bouncing back onto the hard floor.

His heart catches in this throat when he sees Pidge on the other side, the bounty hunter’s thick arms around her neck, leaving Pidge’s legs flailing and hands scrabbling to get free.

A soft, red glow emanates off the grey scales. Lance places his own trembling hand near his collar, and a green light shines off his skin.

His blood boils. Rizak had planned for their counterattack and used it against them.

Then guilt sets in. It was his idea.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Rizak teases, squeezing Pidge closer to herself. “Could it be you’ve seen my kind before?”

Lance snarls and leaps to his feet, ramming his fists against the force field. “Let her go!”

Needle-like teeth ram at the barrier, creating yellow sparks. Lance steps back on instinct as the jaws unhinge and gnaw on the force field, threatening to cut him clean in half. Kharl is long, black with thick red stripes on his snake-like body - one with thin legs and sharp claws that Lance is very sure can shred him to bits.

He’s more concerned for Pidge at the moment.

“He was hunting my brother!” she shouts. “And I’d do the same thing again!”

“We have something in common, Paladin Pidge. We would do anything for our families,” Rizak says, caressing Pidge’s terrified face in a way that makes Lance quake with rage. “You took my brother from me, so I will take pleasure in taking you from your mate.”

Pidge pales. “No, don’t! If your beef is with me - “

“And after I hunt Paladin Lance, I will take your child, hunt you down, and finish my brother’s job.” She hisses. “Down, Kharl. Not yet.”

The creature backs down and slinks off into the shadows, but its eager, red eyes remain locked on Lance.

“You have twenty varga to prepare, Paladin Lance. Keep me entertained and you will live for another hunt,” Rizak instructs.

Lance swallows, keeping his heart from leaping into his throat. He’s still trembling and he hates showing how scared he is in front of their captor. “Just don’t hurt Pidge,” he manages.

“I take my investments seriously.” Rizak grins evilly. “She will be well cared for, and”--she holds Pidge painfully closer--“will have plenty of work to do.”

They are words Lance can’t bring himself to trust, but as the gears turn and the door begins to close and cut him off from Pidge, he forces himself to hang onto them. “Pidge!” he cries desperately, pounding on the force field - standing on his toes to keep her within his sights. “Katie!”

“Lance!” Pidge screams as the door locks shut, sobs intruding in her voice as she follows with, “I love you!”

So he, with all the wisdom of a man in his 20s who’s gone through war, saved the universe, is captured, and just wants to make his wife feel better, responds, “I know!”

Quiznak, his last words to Pidge ever might be a Star Wars reference. “I lo -- "

Lance doesn’t get a chance to change his words. The prison tilts and Lance is pulled back, striking the far wall and stuck there as if he’s a cadet in the Garrison’s centrifuge machine again. His heart threatens to rip out of his body and his stomach tightens. It feels like an eternity as the force refuses to let him even move his arms or yell in alarm to relieve the fear he finally feels for himself. He’s perceptive enough to realize he’s just been airdropped. Is he even going to survive this fall?

Finally the crate slams against solid ground, throwing Lance against the - wall-floor-ceiling? - metal. A crack and sharp pain jolts through his wrist and he screams in pain. He’ll have to start off this stupid game with a probable broken hand.

As he holds his wrist gingerly, the door swings open, hitting the ground with a slam and pillowing cloud of dust. Hot, humid air rushes over his skin. Lance takes a deep, trembling breath. “No problem. Just like home. You’ve got this, Lance.”

He takes his time walking down the ramp. Dozens of large metal crates litter the area between giant trees - it chills him that he isn’t the first to face this fate, nor the last if he and Pidge can’t do anything about it. The trunks are wider than any he knows on Earth, upended roots among the thick undergrowth large enough to fit a small house under.

It's a jungle paradise, just like the resort, only on a massive scale. He now knows what an ant must feel like.

Just the thought of what he’s been taken from pulls him to his knees, chest rising and falling hard. It wasn’t that long ago he and Pidge were safe, celebrating their time together. He wants to cry, but the tears don’t come. The air is wet enough as it is. Beads of sweat dot his forehead and slip down his temple and into his eyes.

The calls of the native birds sound mournful, appropriate for his mood. He’s not even come to terms, not completely, with the fact that he is going to be a father. How can he when the mother of the child is held captive by a bounty hunter who seems to have personal history with her?

Lance falls to his hands and knees. He rips some undergrowth from the ground and screams in frustration. There’s nothing he can do.

At least not yet. Rizak said she was coming in twenty varga, and if he can believe her, there’s a gun out here somewhere for him to make it a fair fight.

Lance stands and heads back into his former prison, filled with renewed determination. The fall spilled the water, but the ration packets and the bag will be indispensable.

He has a promise to keep, so for now he plays the game - aiming to win.

~~~~~

His heart sinks when he hears the shuttle descend into the atmosphere. Rizak is early.

Lance tears apart his enclosure as his heart thumps in panic over the break of routine, tossing the limbs and leaves of his former roof into the nearby stream. He douses the fire, throwing all he can into the water, and scatters the mud that made his walls. The more he makes it seem like he was never here, the better. A shame, this had been one of the nicer areas.

It’s been a long time, so long even his time as a Paladin seems like a fever dream. Rizak never divulges outside information, and he can’t keep track of the days for fear he’ll leave evidence of his stay in any given spot. He has no other contact with living beings and if he makes it out of here alive he’ll never eat another berry again.

Lance is tired, not just physically, and his heart feels as if it’s made of lead. He kneels beside a stream and washes his face and hands - his wrist healed, a mercy given to him after the first time she caught up to him. He needs to focus. Stubble and aged wrinkles stare back at him, along with the unnatural metal necklace he still wears, light blinking its usual green. He reaches out to the surface, touching his reflection. He hardly looks like himself.

Perhaps she’s finally bored of him. She’s captured him more often than not lately. Killing Kharl must have been the last great feat he’s allowed to accomplish.

“Pidge has it under control,” he tells himself. He misses her fiercely; there is no one Lance would rather have on his side in that ship.

He collects his two possessions: the promised rifle that took him way too long to find and the sack once filled with rations. He forces his legs to move. Best to put as much distance between himself and Rizak as possible. If he’s lucky he won’t even see her. Or maybe...maybe today will be the day he can snipe her, steal her ship, and rescue Pidge and their baby.

Their baby… he wonders what Pidge looks like with her belly swollen. She has to be showing by now.

He pounds his fist against the nearest tree. Not for the first time he thinks about how lonely she is, becoming increasingly vulnerable at the hands of their captor. He should be there for her, doting on her every need, kissing her belly, feeling their child kick against her skin, and taking her to proper doctor appointments. He wants to tell the baby of epic adventures - both real and fantasy - as Pidge fights a fond smile and rolls her eyes at him.

Lance needs to be doing all of those things, not spending time in this quiznaking jungle planet fighting for his life.

But he promised Pidge he would survive so that he would have those moments with his family in the future.

So he trudges on.

He also never loses sight of the shuttle. It’s typically landed by now, but today it heads right for him.

Lance picks up speed, sure to look over his shoulder as often as he can spare. His heart pounds through his ears as it gains on him. He changes direction, zig zags, shields himself with the towering trees. None of it matters as the shuttle follows him everywhere.

He runs into another section of the winding stream and plows in, water up to his knees soaking into his tattered clothes and resisting him with every step. It takes too much energy, but there’s higher ground on the other side where he can hide for a possible shot.

He catches a glimpse of red on the water’s surface. This must be the end. Lance can’t think of any other reason why the bounty hunter has turned on the tracking function.

He swallows a sob as he reaches the opposite bank. At least it’ll be quick if he fails.

Air drier and hotter than the ambient atmosphere washes over him, and the sun disappears as the shuttle overtakes his path, landing before him.

Lance stops and brings the rifle to a firing position, intent on making a literal last stand. The scope is long since broken, so he has to rely on his own sight for this shot. He’ll only get one. But his arms ache, and feel like noodles. He will miss if they don’t stop shaking.

The shuttle’s bay doors open, spitting in the middle and spreading out. The bottom half rests on the forest floor, creating a ramp.

A figure moves in the shadows and Lance shoots. He can’t afford to wait, not when his ticket to freedom and freeing Pidge is right there with only a bounty hunter in his way.

The shot ricochets off the door and onto a tree. His fingers shake, but he readies the next shot, teeth clenched in concentration.

“Lance, stop!”

He lowers the rifle. Is he already dead?

“Pidge?” he rasps, unbelieving.

But it is Pidge who emerges from the shuttle, resting a hand against the side, smiling at him with tears poking at her eyes in clear relief. She wears a tattered Galra prison uniform around her familiar slender form, but she’s never looked more beautiful to his strained eyes.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” she repeats breathlessly. Her legs stumble forward. Lance drops his rifle and it bounces harmlessly among the fallen leaves. He easily finds strength from deep within himself to run to her.

She falls into his arms at the end of the ramp and they sink to their knees. Just having her body next to his again heals his aching and tired limbs. Pidge drapes her arms over his shoulders, and he wraps his tightly around her. She’s crying. “It's all over, Lance. She’s dead. We’re free.”

Relief washes over him like a flood. They aren’t endangered anymore. No more running for his life. He can finally put that behind him. “Pidge. Pidge,” he says. He can’t say her name too many times. “Katie, I missed you so much.”

“I was so worried about you. Every single day. I tried to ask her about you, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. I finally broke out of my room. I got a message to Keith. He was in the next galaxy over he…” Pidge rambles. “Lance, if I hadn’t gotten his frequency he would have never known we were here. They never stopped looking for us.”

How long had it been? Wasn’t Pidge pregnant? Why isn’t she showing? “Pidge... “ He breaks away, almost scared to ask. “The baby?”

But Pidge grins and it makes his chest light. “Your daughter is spending some time with her uncle Keith.” She cocks her head to the side. “I’ve told her all I can about you, but it’s better if she sees for herself. Not that she can actually remember since she’s only a few days old but - “

Lance breaks her string of ponderings with a kiss, unable to hold himself back any further. He’s missed her so much, and he just wants to know she isn’t an illusion.

Pidge relaxes, and returns it. How good it is to feel something something other than the thick air and sour berries on his lips. He takes care to moisten the cracks in hers, chapped from the dry spaceship systems.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he says as they part. Lance knows it isn’t his fault, but his heart goes out to her all the same. “I didn’t know what she was going to do to you.”

Pidge hesitates. “She has a trophy room. It’s best if you don’t see it. Keith is working to find their home planets… to give them proper burials.”

It goes unsaid, but Lance understands. Either of them could have become part of the macabre collection sooner or later.

“it won’t happen to anyone else,” he assures her. “You're so brave, Pidge. I love you.”

Pidge leans her tired head into his chest. “I want to go home. I want you to see your daughter and I want the three of us together.”

Chest filled with warmth at the prospect, Lance presses a kiss on top of her head, holding her close. “I’ll go wherever you want.”

Together they rise and enter the shuttle. Lance doesn’t even look back as the bay doors close. He’s pleased that his pilot instincts remain as he prepares them for takeoff.

Pidge laughs at him from the copilot seat. “I’ll take it from here, Tailor. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

It was true he hasn’t slept well for - he pauses to take in the date on the dashboard - the past eight months. Silent tears reach his mouth, but he’s too numb to really take it in. The time he’s missed.... It's almost too much to bear. Perhaps a short nap is in order.

Lance smiles, chest light in contentment. He won’t need to wait long to see the subject of his dreams. And all things considered, he decides not to be too angry at Keith for getting to hold his daughter before him.

It’s finally over. When he wakes, he’ll be busier than ever. Forget the honeymoon he and Pidge never finished, it’s time to get to work making sure things like this don’t happen to anyone else, defending the universe by training the next generation.

He also has dozens of kisses for a tiny head that are far overdue, and he doesn’t expect to tire from it.

#plance #pidgance #vld fanfic #rueitae #my writing #voltron legendary defender #plangst #i guess?#plance kid #does that count too?#i hope you like it!#reem gets all the credit for Hunk's card omg #it was too funny i had to use it #this was only supposed to be 2k i went a little overboard #i'm so glad you said you wanted closure rosie because i was totally going to end it with Lance getting dropped off #that's why there's so much of a time skip #established plance

81 notes · View notes

paradisobound · 6 years ago

Text

I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 10

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 1.7k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing

Rating: Mature (for right now)

Updates will be every Wednesday at 4pm and Sunday at 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3**

A/N: Before you all read. I have a very important poll that I need you to check out! You don't have to do anything with it if you don't want to, but I'd really appreciate the input!

Link to Poll

“What kind of video do you want to make?”

Phil is still busy turning on the brand new camera and making sure everything worked to really comprehend that Dan had even spoke. He’d been relatively quiet the entire time. Well, besides when they were in the store and Dan couldn’t stop talking about the different cameras and which one he figured Phil should get.

“What?”

“I asked what kind of video you were thinking about making.” Dan repeats, his head resting on his hands as his elbows sit on the ledge of Phil’s breakfast bar.

“Oh, I’m not sure yet.” Phil answered truthfully. He hasn’t thought about YouTube in years and the only time he ever went online to watch a video was when he needed to look up how to do something on Photoshop or how to beat a level in a game. Other than that, he focused mainly on his Netflix account.

“Well,” Dan said, drawing out the word. “What about doing something like what you mentioned earlier?”

“I don’t remember how to read tarot cards.”

“Not that!” Dan chuckled, rolling his eyes in a playful manner. “I was talking about that buying weird things video you mentioned earlier! You could do that? I mean, that sounds entertaining to me and you said before you didn’t know if you could remember how to be entertaining for your audience.”

Phil found himself shrugging as he removed the battery from the slot in the camera and place it on the charger in the wall. When he was finished doing that, he laid his camera off to the side and finally answered Dan. “I’m not sure if people even like those types of videos anymore.”

“Well, let’s see if they do.” Dan says, pulling his cell phone out of pocket and setting it down on the counter as he clicked on the YouTube app and opened it up.

Phil looked at the screen and watched as Dan typed with two fingers ‘buying weird things’ into the search bar. Sure enough, hundreds of videos came up with millions of views.

But Phil wasn’t sure if he wanted to do that anymore.

Was that really good content to come back with? He didn’t feel like it.

“There’s tons.” Dan said, which Phil could already see. “Looks like it’s very popular.”

“I’m not sure if I want to do that now, though.” Phil answered truthfully as he walked around the bar and took a seat on the stool next to Dan. “That’s not really comeback material.”

“Hmmm.” Dan hums as he taps on the trending tag and scrolls through the videos. “There is this like smoothie challenge that’s trending right now?”

Phil pursed his lips. He remembered that smoothie challenge from years before. But it’s trending, so maybe it’s something that came back? Phil wasn’t sure if he was being honest.

“I’m not sure.”

“It might be fun.” Dan says, tapping the video and letting it play with the sound off but the captions on. “So it looks like they’re just putting numbers to random food and then you draw like four numbers and that’s what you use in your smoothie?”

“I remember this trend from years ago.” Phil says with a chuckle.

“Looks like it’s trending again.” Dan said back. “We should do it.”

“We?”

Phil feels himself caught of guard. Did he hear Dan right? Was Dan really thinking about being in the video with him? This was new. He wasn’t aware that Dan wanted to join in the video.

“Yeah.” Dan says, looking at Phil with a smirk across his lips. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

Phil quickly shook his head. “No!” He says, feeling a smile begin on his own lips. “I think it’ll be fun to do a video together.”

***

“Dan!” Phil screamed as he looked at how much BBQ sauce Dan was dumping into the blender along with the strawberries and lettuce Phil already had to add to his smoothie. “That’s way too much!”

Dan rolled his eyes and cut off the flow of the bottle. “Pathetic.”

“What!” Phil countered with a loud laugh. “You put half of the bloody bottle into the blender!”

Dan waved it off and put the top on the blender and pressed the button. “You’ll live.”

“No I won’t!”

The sound of blender whirling cut through his thoughts as anxiety rose in his stomach at the thought of having to drink…that. It look disgusting and vile. And he wasn’t prepared to down even a sip of it.

When it was blended, Dan pulled it up off from the base and pulled the top off. The smell of the BBQ sauce over took anything that Phil had ever smelled before he felt himself begin to gag. He turned away and hid his nose. “I’m not drinking that.”

“You have to.” Dan said, finishing pouring the drink―if you could even call it that―into the glass. “Just a sip. I’ll do one too.”

“NO!” Phil argued. “You can’t make me!”

“Just a sip.” Dan said, holding out the brown glass to him. “Literally just wet your lips. Like you’re tasting wine.”

“Well this is not wine.”

Dan held it up to his nose and took one little sniff before he loudly coughed and sputtered, handing the glass quickly to Phil. “That is vile as fuck.”

“I’m not drinking this.”

Dan put it down on the counter and pushed it Phil’s way. “We’ve filmed it this far, just take a sip.”

Phil looked down at the glass and felt his stomach knot and twist at the anticipation of the drink. He picked up the glass and slowly brought it up to his mouth. He tipped it, letting the liquid hit his lips and he immediately pulled the glass away at the taste.

He brought the glass down to the corner and swatted his hands as he tried to distract his mind from the taste. He squealed and rushed to the sink as Dan laughed hysterically behind him. He grabbed the nearest glass and filled it with water before taking a massive swig of it and washing his mouth out.

Phil turned around to see Dan still laughing, nearly doubled over now and clutching his ribs. “You try that!” Phil said as he pointed to the glass. “It’s vile!”

“I’m not trying that, mate.” Dan said, wiping the tears of laughter from his cheeks.

“You made me do it!”

Dan side-eyed Phil and cocked his eyebrow as he slowly picked up the glass. While keeping eye-contact with Phil, he took a mouthful of the liquid and his face immediately showed regret. He dropped the glass down onto the counter, not smashing it, and rushed to the sink before Phil.

He turned the faucet on and spit out everything from his mouth. He cupped his hands under the faucet and began bringing water to his mouth as he quickly washed out the taste, same as Phil.

Phil found himself laughing harder than he has in years. This video was probably a mistake, but he hasn’t laughed this hard in a long time and it felt really good to do so.

Just twenty minutes later, with the kitchen cleaned up and everything back into their places, Phil was grabbing the camera from the tripod and pulling out the SD card. Dan was sat on the couch next to Phil, scrolling through his phone as Phil pushed the SD card into his laptop and began to download the files.

“New Twitter story about me.”

Phil turns his head and sees Dan staring at his phone with a defeated look.

“What is it about this time?”

Dan lets out a sigh and locks his phone. “They saw me at the park earlier―paparazzi did―and now it’s a headline that I’m here in London.”

Phil felt his heartbeat speed up. Did they see him and Spike with Dan as well?

“Did they see us?”

Dan shook his head. “No. The only picture I saw was me walking towards the Costa near the park.”

Oh yeah, Costa. They had stopped their quickly for lunch following their outing to buy Phil’s new camera. Phil didn’t particularly like Costa but he preferred it over some other places.

“Oh.” Phil says just as his computer finishes loading the files and he begins to open up an old version of Final Cut Pro that he forgot he even had until earlier. “Is the story bad?”

Dan shrugged. “I’ve seen worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dan looks at him and shakes his head. “Don’t be.” He says, his voice soft. “I’m used to it.”

The tone of Dan’s words are enough to make Phil feel a pit of sadness in his chest but he ignores it. He knows that Dan doesn’t need protecting. Dan handles a lot of his sadness and anxious feelings within his own mind and that’s okay.

Phil begins to cut the video and piece it together when he hears soft snoring next to him. He turns his head and sees Dan, his head tilted to the side and his mouth slightly ajar. Phil finds himself smiling.

Dan sleeping looked peaceful. The permanent bags under his eyes that Dan had noticed earlier were softened and the overall anxious look he always was sporting was also gone. His body wasn’t tense, it was relaxed.

Phil found that sleeping Dan was his favorite Dan so far…because he knew that sleeping Dan had nothing to worry about. He had no paparazzi chasing after him. He didn’t need a black hoodie and sunglasses.

He was able to just live in a state where none of that existed. Phil had known from multiple talks that Dan wanted that more than anything. He wanted a slightly normal life than the one he has.

And while he was sleeping, he got that.

Phil got up from the couch, leaving Dan behind to go to his bedroom with Spike on his heels. He placed a gentle blanket over Dan’s form and shut the light off before he went to his bedroom.

He was excited to see what tomorrow as going to bring for them, especially with this new video to go live soon.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #au #famous!dan #moviestar!dan #normal!phil #princesslexi763fics

52 notes · View notes

purkinje-effect · 5 years ago

Text

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 51

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 18. Go to previous. Go to next. Handies, hands, and handedness. TWs: surveillance, addiction discussion.

____________________________

Ghoul limbs wrapped around Melancholy. A smile bubbled up on his face as he pressed himself back against Sticks, who reciprocated in kind and pulled the hospital blanket up over both of them to spite the clammy, gauzy chill of twilight.

“Do we have to get up,” ‘Choly mumbled.

“I’m not averse to staying... just like this... as long as time allows.” Sticks sighed, not quite lucid. “I like this dream.”

“I’m glad it’s not one.”

Just as ‘Choly began to drift off again, the alarm bleated on his Pip-Boy on the nightstand. The two of them grunted. Sticks rolled over to reach for the device, but ‘Choly had already stood and circled the bed to retrieve it. The room returned to quiet as he held the disarmed Pip-Boy, undecided at first whether to put it back on. For a moment, the regret throttled him that he’d left it off the whole night. Had it been a military-issue Pip-Boy, the negligence in the company of non-military personnel would have been unforgivable. He swallowed despite a dry mouth, and put it back on. Surely, the ghoul hadn’t done anything to it in the night, or looked through its data. Sticks looked up at him with bated attentiveness from where he still lay, putting his left hand back on. Impatiently, ‘Choly tossed the covers off him and retied his robe. 'Choly didn’t even wait for him to get any clothes before ushering the two of them downstairs.

The rich, petrichoresque aroma of fresh coffee drifted up the stairwell. ‘Choly wondered whether Angel had been distancing itself on purpose, but said nothing seeing the Mister Handy already busied itself downstairs.

Sticks boiled some water in order to reconstitute some dried noodles he’d brought. As it steeped, he gave ‘Choly a glance in offering to share, but the chemist glanced dully over the edge of his Billerica Golf Course mug with the exhaustion of the impending day already weighing on him. The ghoul fetched a Melancholia from the fridge and set it on the table, then finished preparing his breakfast, stirring in some jerky shreds and a fistful of something ‘Choly only speculated might be trail mix or dried vegetables. Whatever Sticks had added made the entire kitchen smell savory. Pouring himself a teacup of coffee, he sat at the table with it and ate straight from his pan with a pair of metal chopsticks.

After a few sips of the minty meal replacement drink, which they’d re-bottled the night before, ‘Choly’s face screwed up a bit. He switched to the hot black coffee, only to sour and return to the Melancholia.

“Not so great second day?”

“More that there’s a dozen reasons mint mouthwash is probably the worst flavor to make it with.” He rubbed his tongue on the roof of his mouth a bit. “Haven’t had a chilled one since... before. ...Maybe chocolate would at least bridge the flavor with the coffee.”

“Would it be dangerous to figure out how to make that stuff chocolate flavored?” He swallowed and grinned at the chemist. “Or coffee flavored?”

‘Choly’s chuckle faded as he watched Sticks eat.

“...Forgive me if it’s coarse of me to ask, but you’re... eating with the left hand? Are you. Were you left handed? I barely have the dexterity for chopsticks with my good hand, and yet-- No, forget I said anything.”

The ghoul’s raised-brow gaze sank into his meal for a few bites, while he took the observation as a compliment on his dexterity.

“It’s something the General threw together. Mix of stuff from the RobCo building. I think the tech’s called something like... Nostradamus?”

‘Choly’s face drooped in recognition, and watched more intently.

“She reverse-engineered the Nostrus glove to fashion intuitive prosthesis.” He finished off the Melancholia, so he could focus on his coffee. “I understand now, why you said it doesn’t fake sensory input. It’s basically a glorified typewriter.”

“Nah, doesn’t even typewrite. It’s got precision, but that’s about it.”

It struck him, that Sticks leaving his glove on the nightstand likely held an even greater severity than his leaving his Pip-Boy beside it, and he soured over the fact he’d distrusted the ghoul for even a moment.

“...You got it from Olivia. I can’t tell whether that must have cost a fortune.”

“Cost more than it did to lose the hand in the first place, that’s for sure.”

Angel included itself finally, pretending to scrutinize the state of the cabinetry before taking its time washing the blender pitcher and measuring cups that had been left in the sink.

“Good morning, gentlemen. I would ask if you slept well, but we all know neither of you were asleep for some time. I see you’ve succeeded in a batch of Melancholia, Mister Carey. I trust that you didn’t add any... Med-X to the recipe as you promised, mm?”

He jolted upright, choking on his coffee. Angel offered him the dish rag to wipe his nose and chin, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort of the temperature of the beverage. Sticks had scooted back away from the table to hold the pan in his lap with his left hand to finish eating with his right, watching wide-eyed from a distance.

“I... I don’t think I should have to announce every single time I use a chem,” the chemist asserted, shaking. “Sticks was acting in my best interest, just as much as you do. He knew how much pain I was in yesterday, and he offered me the Med-X dose. One. Dose. Which went into me directly, not my food stock.”

Once it could retrieve the dish rag, it set the inverted pitcher on it spread out on the counter.

“Well, you could have declined the offer.”

“--Now you see here.” Sticks shoved his mostly-broth pan onto the table to glare meaningfully at the robot. “Would you turn down something that makes it easier to function?”

“You’re asking about a chem, not a replacement part or upgrade! Pretending there’s nothing wrong can only stand to make a problem worse!!” Exasperated, Angel started toward the back patio before a full argument could break out. Before it shut the door behind itself, it tearfully cried out, “You promised me you’d make use of Rad-X the next time, Sir!”

The pair finished their food and drink in lethargic, sullen silence.

‘Choly tossed his mug into the sink.

“Unlike you, I’ll have to take my shower in the barracks. If you could, go ahead and get dressed, so you can follow Angel and me over.”

“Are you mad at me?” Sticks asked while he finished rinsing out his pan to set it beside the pitcher.

“I’m mad at myself.”

“...For?”

“Making promises I knew I couldn’t keep.” He took to the first step, and motioned his head at Sticks. “It’s no matter. Get on with it. Get dressed so I can get dressed. So we can go check on Liv.”

Upstairs, Sticks was putting back on his bowling ensemble, and he asked him, “How did Angel know? What you had and hadn’t been putting in your body? ...Who you’d been putting in your body?”

Flushing in the face, ‘Choly didn’t look to him, gathering together his uniform, combat boots, clean undergarments, binding, and other effects he’d require to dress fresh out of the shower.

“In case you couldn’t tell from all the different colored parts it’s made of now, I upgraded Angel before we came to Lowell. Replaced parts that had gotten damaged from raider attacks. It’s got the sensory array of a Mister Gutsy now, as well as the minigun of one.” He snorted, shaking his head of his mentality. “I thought if I watched what I said aloud-- It was a mistake to give a DIA Handy a sensory update. Once a bug, always a bug.”

“It’s coming from a place of concern and care.” Sticks put his right hand on ‘Choly’s shoulder. “And you were, too. Upgrading it and repairing it like that. I don’t think it’s just hurt that it thinks you went back on some promises. I think it’s getting jealous I’m back in your life, ‘Choly.”

“If the three of us could live together in peace in 2077, the three of us can make peace in 2284.”

Angel carried ‘Choly’s things and accepted his Pip-Boy once he disrobed. It supervised Sticks all the while, who sat in the changing room of the showers poorly hiding a pout that he had to get stuck alone with the robot. ‘Choly got lost in the steam and his head space, recalling truthfully that laying with Sticks had in fact irradiated him. He’d meant it when he’d promised that he’d try the Melancholia without painkillers, but he could tell he hadn’t even come close to a genuine promise that he’d do what he could to prevent his own radiation poisoning. By the time he turned the water off, he stood dumb overhearing that Angel and Sticks were yelling--and that neither cared whether ‘Choly could overhear it.

“--How could you give him a painkiller like that!” Angel spat. “He’s a lifelong history of opioid addiction! He’s clean right now, Mister Hawthorne. You will not ruin that for him!”

“He’s a grown man, Mister Handy. You forcing him to abstain from all chems means you’re keeping him from learning how to make that choice himself. Don’t you trust him? D--”

“--I don’t trust you.”

Cut off, the ghoul snarled.

“Don’t you trust him to make his own choices! And you don’t seem to understand the scope of pain he experiences! In just the past three days, I have seen how bad off he is from what Vault-Tec did to him. Not just physically, but emotionally. He deserves some respite from that pain, even if it’s implausible to turn it off completely. Or did General Atomics not program you with any compassion!”

The Handy sputtered, incredulous.

“Of course he has free will! We have an arrangement!” It brought ‘Choly his towel and robe, continuing to speak to Sticks from the showers. Excluded from an argument about him, ‘Choly frowned and dried his hair. “I have all the chems in my storage. If Mister Carey needs a chem, he can ask me to dispense it! I’m not stopping him from doing a thing. I’ve simply required that it be a conscious choice on his part if he seeks chemical alterations.”

“--And you don’t think forcing a request for every dose shames someone in constant pain for asking for pain relief!?”

“Get... out, you two,” ‘Choly sneered, snatching his things from the robot and stamping a bare wet foot at them both. “Out! Get out...! Let me dress!!”

They complied.

The only sound for a while was the dripping shower head. He sat in clean briefs, and dropped the robe and towel to work himself into the surgical corset. Despite how much of it he’d overheard, he couldn’t make his mind up whether either of them had been wrong or right. The canvas clung to his body in a way that prevented facility of stringing into it, and he sniveled feeling like having two companions at odds with one another had divorced both of them from him. It really came down to him causing trouble, didn’t it?

“Can I... help you with that?” Sticks knocked at the open doorway, but didn’t enter. “Not that I don’t think you could do it yourself, but I imagine it’s much easier with two sets of hands.”

‘Choly picked up his long face and sat up from lacing up his ankle braces over his socks, the corset still hanging loose off his shoulders.

“--I.” He punctuated a breath, noticing the ghoul had returned inside independent of the robot. “I haven’t had somebody help me with it before.”

“Can I--”

“--Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

“All good.”

The ghoul slipped behind ‘Choly and ran his bare fingers over the laces of the corset, to scrutinize its construction. At first ‘Choly could only imagine the offer had been made out of self-indulgence, but he permitted it regardless. Then Sticks began a precise and attentive adjustment one pair of eyelets at a time, from the top and bottom inward, cementing some manner of altruism in ‘Choly’s mind. They exchanged only murmurs of affirmation or doubt as to proper fit, and before ‘Choly knew it Sticks had him strung into it like it came second nature to the ghoul. ‘Choly felt his front, and down his sides, brows raised at the perceived difference it had made to have someone else do it for him. He couldn’t tell if it really did fit better adjusted by someone else, or if it just felt that way on account of whom had helped him.

Before he could thank him, Sticks had already stepped back outside to wait.

He dressed in uniform, but put his hair in a messy french twist so that a good front third of it hung loose. If asked, he’d say it was so it would dry faster, but he’d really done it so the vague curls could frame his heart-shaped face.

Go to Next »»»

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout 4 fanfic #fo4 fanfic #sole survivor #ghoul #mister handy #lowell #the anatomy of melancholy #melancholy #sticks #angel

3 notes · View notes

yukheii · 7 years ago

Text

first loves

× genre and warnings :: husband!yoongi + wife!reader, married au, parents au, fluff, mentions of min holly [gif cr.]

× notes :: refer to this post to read more abt min yeona (my oc mini min); this was a combination of two requests that were originally for reactions/scenarios, but i thought it worked better like this

× précis :: five times min yoongi learns to fall in lover all over again

i. first messes

Yoongi should have known better, but in his defense, he didn’t think anything this catastrophic could have happened in the two minutes he had slipped away to the bathroom.

But as he stands in the doorway leading to the kitchen, he finds at least thirteen things wrong with the picture in front of him; at least ten of which could have been prevented if he could hold his bladder better.

“Baby girl,” he starts slowly, stepping over a puddle of—is that an egg? “What happened?”

The four-year-old sits on the tiled floor, covered head to toe in a mixture of strawberries, bananas, yogurt, flour, and orange juice, with something with an uncomfortable, sticky-looking texture stuck between her fingers. Yeona points to the counter top and Yoongi turns to find the root, or at least one of the roots of the many issues: an uncovered blender and open carton of eggs.

He blinks before turning back to the child on the ground. She looks down at the messy floor—and Yoongi knows that pout like the back of his hand.

He sighs, crouching down to her level and pushing her dirty hair out of her face, “It’s okay, baby, it was an honest mistake.”

But her disappointed resolve doesn’t fade away at her father’s words, “I messed up mama’s breakfast.”

“Hey, no you didn’t,” he says, encouraging her to stand to her feet, “Do you know how many times your Uncle Jimin and Taehyung have done this before?”

That gets her laugh, the image of her uncles fumbling around a kitchen amusing. “Uncle Chim is really clumsy, dad.”

“He sure is,” Yoongi agrees, “It’s my fault, too, baby. I should have been there to help you.”

“No! You didn’t do anything wrong, daddy!” She exclaims, dark eyes going wide at Yoongi’s self-accusation.

“How about this then: I won’t blame myself if you won’t,” Yoongi extends a pinky finger, “Deal?”

Missing teeth and gums beam at him as a small pinky is linked with his. Yoongi nods, “Come on, let’s get you and the kitchen cleaned up before mom gets home, yeah?”

ii. first kisses

Yoongi would never admit it, but Yeona definitely got her possessive side from him. She was a carbon copy of her father when tired; shamelessly clingy and in need of your undivided care. Yoongi usually relished in the unabashed attention from his daughter, except when she used her pre-napping phase to stake her claim over you.

He comes home from work to find you and a six-month-old Yeona laying on the couch, and her new favorite Disney movie on the month on the television. Yoongi leans downwards to give you a kiss, but is instead met with a small, chubby hand to his lips.

He blinks his eyes open, stunned to see that his kiss was intercepted by none other than his own daughter. And that you had the audacity to find it funny.

“Oh?” He raises a dark eyebrow before tugging his lips into a smirk. He leans past her barrier, kissing your cheek with a sorry-not-sorry look in his eyes.

And Yeona goes ballistic. Her nose scrunches in an all too familiar manner, bottom lip protruding noticeably and muffled growls leaving her mouth.

She shimmies her way up your chest, grabs your face between tiny fingers, and presses a wet kiss just below your bottom lip.

Yoongi laughs wholeheartedly, but he has to hand it to her when she mimics his glare: all’s fair in love and war.

iii. first unscheduled checkup

“Okay, hyung, don’t freak out, but me and Namjoon are at the hospital with Yeona right now—don’t freak out—because there was a little incident—don’t freak out—but she’s gonna be okay, so don’t freak—”

“Tell me not to freak out one more fucking time and I’ll castrate you with my own two hands, Hoseok.”

“So you’re mad. Understandable,” Hoseok says, wincing away from the phone when Yoongi growls in response.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you two idiots did to my daughter and then you better fucking hope she’s okay, or I’ll have your heads.”

Hoseok eyes Namjoon with his bottom lip between his teeth. They were so screwed. “Funny story, actually, so, we think Yeona might be allergic to nuts.”

“Might be?”

“Yeah, so—um, actually, I’m going to let Namjoon, explain,” Hoseok hurries, handing the phone to Namjoon.

He tries to reject, but sighs when the device is shoved into his hands. Reluctantly, he brings it to his ear, taking a deep breath, but Yoongi speaks before he can, “Save it. Just text me the name of the hospital and pray I don’t murder you when I get there.”

Twenty minutes and a few run red lights later, Yoongi is bursting through the doors to the pediatric floor. He doesn’t care about the old woman at reception yelling about no running in the halls, or the other parents eyeing him for marching past the waiting room like he owned the place. His baby was in there somewhere and he was going to get to her.

“Yeo—oh, my baby,” Yoongi coos, frantic as he comes to the side of the hospital bed, stroking the girl’s face. Angry red bumps litter her neck, her cheeks are puffier than usual, and her mouth looks irritated, but Yoongi is relieved. She’s okay, his baby girl is okay.

“I’m fine, daddy,” she smiles with swollen lips, “Uncle Hoseokie ran with me all the way here when I started itchin’.”

“I know baby, daddy was just worried about you,” Yoongi nods, cradling her head with tears threatening to fall, “How do feel? Does anything hurt? Is your throat okay, love?”

She nods, cubby cheeks lifted as she beams and tells him she’s okay, “They gave me a shot though, but I was a big girl and I didn’t cry at all! Uncle Namjoonie was there, he saw!”

Yoongi smiles back and kisses her head, “My brave little girl.”

He’d forgotten that Hoseok and Namjoon were there until he hears an awkward cough from the corner of the room. “We’re sorry, we didn’t know,” Hoseok apologies, “And when she started coughing and said she couldn’t breathe we didn’t know what was wrong, and I swear I ran here as fast as I could to—”

Yoongi sighs, “It’s fine, Hoseok, I didn’t know either. We’ve had peanuts around the house forever and she’s never reacted to it.”

“The doctor said she’s allergic to tree nuts,” Namjoon speaks, “We gave her pistachio ice cream, that’s why she had a reaction to it.”

Yoongi nods, making a mental note to get rid of anything pistachio flavored within a mile radius of his house. Tree nuts were stupid anyway.

“They gave me this pretty bracelet, daddy, look!” Yeona interjects, flashing the sliver bracelet to signal her allergies. Yoongi smiles, “It’s beautiful, baby. I’ll get you one in every color to match all your outfits, okay?”

“Uh, hyung?” Hoseok calls, pulling Yoongi’s attention away from her, “You should probably call ____.”

Too caught up in his rush to the hospital, Yoongi hadn’t been thinking of anyone or anything besides his potentially dying daughter. His face pales three shades when he realizes he hasn’t so much as texted you to tell you that your child was currently hospitalized with a newfound allergy to tree nuts; something a mother should probably (definitely) know about.

“Oh no,” Yoongi shakes his head, “That’s your death sentence, not mine.”

“Is mama gonna be mad?” Yeona asks, looking up at her father.

“Not at you baby,” Yoongi shakes his head, “But say a prayer for your uncles.”

iv. first time away from home

Comeback season sucks. Performing is fun, but the awards don’t make up for the constant traveling, endless recording, and repetitive interviews; and to top off the shitshow, they’re promoting in Japan for the first time in three years, which means Yoongi doesn’t get to see you or his precious daughter for almost a month.

He’s frustrated with everyone and doesn’t have it in him to be around too many people, so the second they’re finished recording for the day, he makes a beeline for his hotel room, locks the door, chucks his phone on the desk, kicks off his shoes, and plops the fuck down on the bed.

Comeback season really fucking sucks.

Everywhere he goes, he thinks of you two. From the food to the buildings, he finds something he’d think you and Yeona would like. And he thinks of how much more he’d enjoy being here if he had you two by his side.

When he’s finally started to doze off to rid himself of missing you two too much, his phone starts vibrating, multiple text messages coming to his attention. He groans, rolling over to grab the phone. It was probably the maknaes, they’d said something about wanting to go out to dinner to celebrate their latest win, but Yoongi just wanted to sleep.

He picks up his phone, thumb already hovering over the power button to turn it off, when the notifications catch his eye. It’s in fact, not the maknaes blowing up his phone, but you, instead.

His resolve washing away, he presses his thumb to the home button to unlock it and reveal the messages. When he opens them, an immediate smile tugs at his lips.

A video of you, Holly, and his baby girl, all wearing matching outfits and smiles.

“Okay, are you ready to film the video for daddy?” you say, readjusting the angle so that Yeona can be seen. She nods excitedly, petting Holly before speaking, “We hope you’re having fun, daddy! We miss you!”

Holly barks as if to say he agrees. Yoongi’s on the brink of tears.

“Good luck with promotions!” you chime in, “We love you!”

“Daddy’s in Japan, right?” Yeona asks, looking up at you. You nod and her face lights up and she takes the phone from you, holding the camera close to her face, “Oh, bring back mochi for me and Holly, daddy!”

“What’s the magic word?” you scold lightly from off-screen.

“Please bring back strawberry mochi,” she repeats, then whispers, “It’s not really for Holly, it’s secretly all for me, but don’t tell mommy. Bye!”

Yoongi chuckles as the video comes to an end, and saves it to his camera roll. He sends you back hearts before falling back on the bed with his head to a pillow, and slips into sleep with a genuine smile on his lips.

Comeback seasons sucks, but coming home to you guys is going to feel really great.

v. first steps

Yoongi is alone with her when she takes her first steps (and you’re a little pissed that you’ve missed such an occasion due to work, but are nonetheless happy and proud of your baby girl).

A soft thud grabs Yoongi’s attention, pulling him away from his morning newspaper and drawing his attention to the baby sat on the carpet a few feet in from of him. She giggles after stumbling to the ground again, all gum. Yoongi laughs with her.

She’s been determined to learn to how to walk these past few days, and while Yoongi was in full support of her efforts, he was beginning to wonder if her bottom would bruise.

The eleven month old stares at the base of her father’s leg, eyeing the brown plush Shooky next to it. She makes grabby hands and leans forward. Yoongi glances between the babe and the pillow, smiles with a raised eyebrow, and picks it up.

He waves it in his hand, and Yeona looks up at him, eyes full, dark, and determined—challenged accepted.

She shifts to all fours, pushing her body up with her stands and steadies herself on both feet. She wobbles, nearly toppling over, but manages to lift one leg in front of the other to take a small step. She wavers, left foot in front of right; she looks to her chubby feet, then the doll in her dad’s hand.

Yoongi shakes the plush again, egging her on, and with a focused nose scrunch, Yeona takes another step, and another, and another. And a few more before she becomes wobbly at his feet, and he swoops her in his arms before she hits the carpet again.

He sits her on his lap and gives her the pillow as a reward. Yoongi kisses her cheek and she seems to clap at her own accomplishment, “That’s my baby girl.”

#bangtannet #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts fake texts #bts dad au #bts smut #yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #m:yoongi #au:dad #c:p&p

2K notes · View notes

the-coconut-asado · 6 years ago

Text

Oh Stumptown my Stumptown!

Portland likes to keep it weird. Officially. You could even buy the tee shirt if tee shirts weren’t so predictable.

From a poster invitation to “Hear my TED Talk about DIY and Impending Doom” to the Big Legrowlski (sic) night club that hangs carpets on the walls - not to balance the sound for the band but because they really bring the room together - the City has an off-beat vibe that feels authentic even while it gets you scratching your head. And where else would you queue round the block for a voodoo-doll shaped doughnut with a pretzel stick through its ‘heart’?

You probably won’t be surprised when I tell you that Portland is the Hipster Capital of the World. You know it’s hipster because it sells more coffee and has more microbreweries per head than anywhere else in the US.

We came for the food because People That Know told us to. It’s not simply that everything is delicious but that chefs, cooks, carts and food enthusiasts are trying to do different. It’s like Masterchef has landed in Twin Peaks. Entrepreneurs are making ice cream out of chickpeas and it works. A pastry chef has re-interpreted her favourite childhood book on a plate and you rejoice in the complex flavours of her tiny reconstructed bunny. So who’s the bunny boiler now?

One thing that puzzled me is why the City changed its name from the original Stumptown (pretty weird) to Portland (the Holiday Inn of city names). Devon, a local lawyer who we chatted to most mornings in Baristas Cafe, explained that Portland was never officially called Stumptown. It became its nickname due to all the trees they had to cut down to build it, leaving the eponymous stumps in their wake. Stumptown is also the name of their iconic coffee brand, which I always assumed was NYC’s greatest invention. This is one of the many ways in which travel expands your mind.

Devon embodied something else about Portland: its friendliness. Even the passport officers are anxious that you have a good time. Full disclosure, it wasn’t just Devon that we sought out each morning - it was Pepper, his cute little dog. I would eat Barista’s fresh, flaky rhubarb hand pie just to drop crumbs that Pepper would breakfast on.

Devon put us onto a couple of great places to eat - one we made it to, one we didn’t. But more of that later.

Where to begin to describe this steel guitar food odyssey? Let me take you through our many highlights from the mountain of food we consumed. Set it to the soundtrack of Chris Isaak’s Wicked Thing.

Our first evening, tired and hungry, we stuck to our guns and found Andina, the City’s Peruvian eatery. When you are both tired and hungry it’s easy to get seduced by posters boasting ‘Meatball Monday’ and forget your mission, but our persistence paid off. That legendary Portlandia hospitality squeezed us into a nook where there really wasn’t a free table, and we dined greedily on humitas, ceviche, lamb shank and seafood, washed down with Oregon’s finest home-grown Pinot Gris. I didn’t quibble that they brought something different from my order. In my fractured Spanish ‘Arroz con Pato’ probably did sound like ‘Seafood Risotto’ - and the risotto was obviously going to be delicious before fork met lip, so I didn’t send it back.

Next day, which coincidentally was Taco Tuesday, we hit the street food.

Portland is big on street food (see: hipster capital of the world). Most food vendors have carts - permanent fixtures where the chef builds enough of a following over months or years to be able to open a small restaurant. Nong’s Khao Man Gai was just one of these. They do one dish - a Vietnamese poached chicken with a secret chilli sauce, accompanied by rice cooked in the chicken broth. You can also have a version with shrimp, pork or Tofu. We bought a bottle of the sauce to bring home. Life’s too short.

It’s not all carts - there are a fair few trucks too.

One which specialised in cheese toasties challenged “ Come and relive the taste of your childhood. But if your childhood sucked, we’ll share the memory of ours”. Have you eaten a cheese toastie recently? I mean really felt the embrace of a sandwich of molten cheese and fried bread? Maybe your childhood did suck after all.

That evening it was the turn of The Hairy Lobster restaurant, and that bunny dessert I mentioned earlier. Little Bunny Foo Foo to give it it’s full name. A delicate carrot cake, covered in cheesecake mousse, accompanied by a ginger crumb, caramel sauce and a marshmallow rabbit.

Despite it’s show-stopping appearance and fusion of flavours, it was their roast squash with curry sauce and pumpkin seed praline that was the stand-out dish for me. The Lobster picnic for our main was pretty damn good too.

Friday brings me to Devon’s first recommendation, Pok Pok, a teeny Thai eatery in the suburbs. Getting there had the added advantage of passing through a neighbourhood full of rambling old houses in the Amityville Horror style. I recalled the first time I had heard of Portland was from a TV thriller full of witches and jabberwocks called Grimm. They had definitely filmed it’s eerily beautiful moments around here.

If I had to single out a food highlight in a week of next-to-no food lows, I would choose Pok Pok. It gave me my first food coma in a long while. Something about it’s smoked aubergine, pork belly curry, marinated chicken with two dips, sublime mango with sticky rice and that rhubarb blush cocktail… I sense I am sharing my food coma with you now. Their signature dish is hot spicy chicken wings. The couple on the table next to us were too full to finish theirs so offered them to us. Maybe it was the wings that tipped me over the edge. I’ll never know.

And so to our last day, and the big daddy of Portland nights out: Jake’s Crawfish. Over 100 years old, walking into Jake’s is like walking into one of Sinatra’s memories. It has a justifiably stellar reputation, and seems to have maintained it for a century. I ate Steel-head trout for the first time, fished on their doorstep from Oregon’s Columbia River, coated with a horseradish crust, and preceded by half a dozen of the plumpest oysters I have ever eaten.

I haven’t yet mentioned Portland’s biggest hipster foodie habit: brunch. No matter what day of the week, the restaurants that brunch are always full. For most of our trip, we were waking up too early to really do brunch justice. Those rhubarb hand pies at Baristas had satisfied our hunger by around 8AM so a mid-morning banquet wasn’t really on. One day, however, we made it to Tasty & Alder in the Pearl DIstrict of the city and managed to sneak in a table for two before the queues built up. Worth it for their Green Frittata with salsa verde (who ever thought of doing that before?) and lightest, fluffiest American biscuits. We never made it to Devon’s second recommendation: Burmasphere, his friend’s Burmese cart on the other side of the river. And now we have an excuse to return.

When it came to rustling up some recipes that take me straight back to Portland weird, I whittled my list down to three: my version of Tasty & Alders’ green frittata with feta and salsa verde; a less labour-intensive version of Andina’s Arroz con Pato, made with chicken or guinea fowl; and in the spirit of weird, though by no means original, a cake inspired by Churros con Chocolate. The best possible end to a Taco Tuesday.

I messaged a friend of mine that had moved to Portland a few years back and asked why she had ever left. “ Too much rain and not enough art.” she said.

You missed the point Sweetie. Great Food IS great art. And if you can’t stand the rain, get into the kitchen.

Green Frittata with Feta and Salsa Verde

A great little brunchy-lunch dish packed with flavour for the carb-conscious. If you want to add some carbs, slices of toasted sourdough will go down a treat. Serves 4

Ingredients

8 large free-range eggs

1tblspn, double cream

100g asparagus spears, chopped into 2 cm chunks

100g shelled garden peas or petit pois

50g feta cheese

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the salsa verde:

Small pack of flat-leaf parsley (around 15-20g)

½ a small pack of mint leaves

3 tbsp. Capers

7 anchovy fillets

1 clove garlic

1 tbsp dijon mustard

8 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

How to make:

Bring a small saucepan of salted water to the boil, then add the peas. After a couple of minutes, add the chopped asparagus and continue simmering for another 2 minutes. Drain and refresh under cold water. Put to one side.

Next, make the salsa verde. Put all the ingredients except the olive oil into a blender, season generously with pepper and go easier on the salt (anchovies and capers are already pretty salty). Then, add the olive oil and blend again. Don’t over blend at each step - it's nice to keep the texture a little rough.

Put a skillet on the stove and melt a knob of butter. Beat the eggs, add the cream and season. Lightly saute the green vegetables in the butter for a minute or two.

then pour the eggs over and crumble the feta cheese over the top. Cook for a couple of minutes until the bottom is starting to brown.

pop under the grill to continue cooking, until the top is a light golden colour and the frittata has firmed up with a slight wobble (keep a close eye on this, probably takes 2-3 minutes).

Cut the frittata into 4 wedges and serve with a dollop of salsa verde on top.

Arroz con Gallina Picante

I never did get to eat Arroz con Pato in Andina, but while I adore the rich flavour of duck, devoting two or three days to confitting it before finishing the dish is only for the dedicated dinner party cook. This version with a spicy chicken and a feta-enriched herb sauce (based on a Melissa Clark recipe) goes down just as well - or the richer Guinea Fowl, which I have used here. And Peruvian aji amarillo is now more available by mail order - substitute ordinary chile powder if not. Serves 4.

Ingredients:

1 medium-sized chicken or guinea fowl, jointed into 2 breasts, 2 drumsticks and 2 thighs (discard the back or freeze to make stock at a later date)

For the marinade:

6 garlic cloves, crushed

3 tbsp light soy sauce

1 tbsp paste made with aji amarillo powder and olive oil

Juice of 1 lime

1 tsp sriracha sauce

1 tsp. Dijon mustard

2 tsp ground cumin

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the sauce:

½ a large bunch coriander leaves, broken up

2 jalapeno chilies, chopped

75g feta cheese, crumbled

1 garlic clove, crushed

Juice of 1-2 limes

2 tsp chopped fresh oregano

½ tsp dijon mustard

½ tbsp aji amarillo paste (see marinade earlier for method)

1 tsp honey

1 tsp ground cumin

½ cup extra virgin olive oil.

For the Peruvian Rice:

3 tbsp sunflower oil

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1 onion, finely chopped

3 heaped tsp aji amarillo paste (see marinade earlier for method)

½ large bunch fresh coriander, broken up and blended till smooth with a tblspn water

500g fresh chicken stock

300g bottle of beer or lager

2 x small green chillies, chopped finely

500g basmati rice

1 red pepper, chopped into small chunks

100g fresh garden peas or petit pois

How to make

First, make the marinade. Mix all the marinade ingredients in a large bowl, cover the fowl of your choice in it, cover with cling film and pop in the fridge for at least 4 hours or overnight.

For the sauce: put all the ingredients into a blender, and blend till smooth. Pour into a bowl, cover and refrigerate, taking out about 15 minutes ahead of eating to bring to room temperature.

For the rice. Heat 2 tbsp oil in a saucepan, add the onion and garlic and saute until starting to turn golden. Add the blended coriander and chili paste and cook for a couple of minutes until the paste has thickened slightly and smells delicious.

Pour the beer into the saucepan, cook for a few minutes then add the chicken stock. Bring to the boil, season, then take off the heat, cover and put to one side.

Heat the oven to 200C. Pat the chicken or guinea fowl pieces dry, then pop onto a shallow baking tray, season and drizzle with olive oil. Put the tray into the oven and roast for 35-40 minutes.

While the meat roasts, finish the rice. Heat 2 tbsp oil in a medium sized saucepan, add the peppers and cook for a couple of minutes. Then add the rice and stir into the oil and peppers until it starts to crackle a little at the bottom. Add the peas and chilies and stir again, then add the stock, beer and onion garlic mix. Stir, season if needed, then cover and simmer on a low heat for 25 mins.

Fluff up the rice and spoon onto plates. Top with the chicken or guinea fowl pieces, and crown with a dollop of sauce.

Churros Bundt Cake with Dipping Chocolate Sauce

I love churros, and I love a Bundt cake. If you want all the flavours but none of the faffing or frying, then give this a try. The cake will keep, covered in a tin. Just remember to reheat the chocolate sauce for dipping or pouring each time. Serves 8-10

Ingredients:

For the cake:

2 ¾ cups plain flour

2 tsp. Baking powder

2 tsp ground cinnamon

½ tsp. Salt

170g unsalted butter

130g caster sugar

50g soft brown sugar

4 large eggs

1 egg yolk

1 375g punnet of sour cream

2 tsp. Vanilla extract

For the cinnamon sugar ‘glaze’

2 tsp ground cinnamon

4 tsp caster sugar

For the chocolate sauce:

½ cup cocoa powder

Pinch chilli flakes

100g dark chocolate (70%)

1 cup double cream

½ cup dark brown sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract

½ tsp cinnamon

How to make

Preheat the oven to 160C. Grease and flour a large bundt cake pan (make sure to get into all the nooks and crannies).

Beat the butter and sugar in a mixing bowl (ideally using an electric stand mixer) until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one by one and continue to mix between each addition, finishing with the egg yolk. Add the sour cream and vanilla extract and beat again until just incorporated. Mix all the dry ingredients, add them to the butter and egg mix and fold in until smooth.

Pour the cake batter into the bundt tin and bake for around 50-55 minutes until a skewer inserted near the middle comes out clean (I usually check the cake after 45 mins). Invert the cake onto a rack to cool.

Mix the remaining sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl. Melt the butter and paint all over the surface of the cake. Dust the cinnamon sugar over the buttered cake, making sure you pat it in places to stick.

To make the chocolate sauce. Pop all the ingredients into a saucepan, then cook, stirring constantly, on a low heat until the chocolate has melted, everything is smooth and custardy. Let it bubble slightly then turn off the heat.

Serve slices of the churros cake with warm chocolate sauce poured over. There are some who prefer their chocolate sauce served cold. That’s fine too.

3 notes · View notes