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barbenheimer-core · 3 years ago

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AUDERE EST FACERE !

하나. chanel : part one — 1.3k words

Ahyeong stared at the green wormhole outside the restaurant window that looked like it had ripped through the walls of reality itself, tuning out the low hum of the piano and the incessant chatterings of her parents discussing stock prices with the company investors over glasses of fine wine and impeccable dining.

She blinked.

It was gone.

Maybe she shouldn't have pulled an all-nighter binging True Beauty on webtoon as a reward for finishing the end-of-term exams. Lack of sleep was leading her to have vivid hallucinations.

She set her sights on her waiting dish of panna cotta instead, picking up the gold dessert spoon and scooping up an acceptable amount of the cold dish before putting it in her mouth.

"Noona," her brother, Gilyeong nudged her side, briefly scrolling his phone's screen before turning it at her direction under the table, away from the eyes of the adults.

Ahyeong, slightly confused, looked down at his phone screen, only to snap her neck as fast she could the other way.

Aish, that kid, the girl cursed under her breath, always up to ruining her mind.

Gilyeong lowly chuckled at his sister's agitated state and continued reading his horror manhwa on a mobile-reading app.

She couldn't exactly remember when, but it had become a tradition of sorts among the siblings to share the most gruesome stills of creepy images they could find to incite a satisfactory — and sometimes, rather laughable — reaction from the other.

They had a whole rating system where the degree of their flinches would determine the amount of money they had to pay to each other. Though she had to add, Ahyeong was winning in that department.

While Gilyeong found such material more often than not as he was an avid reader of any and every horror comic he could get his hands on, Ahyeong was more partial to the films and movies, only occasionally dipping her toes into physical pages.

Although she found clips and images at a slower pace than he did due to mountains of schoolwork, her contributions were usually the most disturbing (and mentally scarring) of all the others, which three times out of ten resulted in Gilyeong damaging his voice box by the magnitude of his screams.

(The neighbor had to check in once because he had thought it was Ahyeong screaming bloody murder.)

It wasn't like Gilyeong held back either. Despite being twelve, the guy had a lot of nerve in him reading all sorts of body horror. She supposed it was their mum's fault for leaving him unsupervised in the comics section at the library and Ahyeong's own for not stopping the seven-year-old from tainting his eyes. He had looked genuinely fascinated with the grotesque drawings and she had thought that it would have been nice to have someone to discuss her interests with. Her friends were hesitant to delve into "nightmare fodder" as they had called it.

She sighed, blinking away the drowsiness in her eyes as she tried to focus on eating her dessert. She couldn't wait to go back to reading True Beauty.

The restaurant lobby was as extravagant as it could've been, with rich, dark colors and gold-silver accents on every corner.

Her parents were outside, seeing the investors off while Ahyeong and Gilyeong waited for them to pick her up.

It had been over twenty minutes and they still hadn't returned. She could've rested a bit. Ahyeong tapped her foot impatiently, wincing at the sting in her foot. Standing in her stilettos for so long was doing her no good other than causing pain to her toes.

"Yah, dongsaeng, I'm gonna take a power nap, wake me up when mum and dad arrive."

She got no sign of confirmation other than a slight glance her way, and with that, she finally sunk into the couch and removed her heels.

The couch felt like a cloud, and Ahyeong couldn't help the heavy feeling behind her eyelids as exhaustion finally took over her consciousness and her eyes slowly fluttered shut, unbeknownst to the green hole in reality that formed in front of her as soon as she did.

Turn.

Someone was reading a book. That was what she first thought as her sleepiness faded, waking up from her nap but still keeping her eyes closed.

Maybe her brother had sneaked a copy of a comic under their parents' noses and was reading it while they were away.

Why didn't he wake her up yet? They still hadn't returned?

She was feeling more refreshed than ever and that was only possible with a full eight hours of sleep. Had a power nap finally lived up to its name?

It also smelled different. Compared to the faint scent of lavender and roses that glided through the air in the restaurant lobby, the only thing Ahyeong could register now was the steaming smell of convenience store ramen as if it was right in front of her and a rather strange note of musk from someone sitting across from her.

She furrowed her brows.

Gilyeong never put on cologne or perfume, who was it?

Snapping her eyes open, Ahyeong stilled, looking at the Gucci-clad person reading a manhwa in front of her.

She blinked.

Huh? Lee Dongmin?

Looking down at herself, she noticed her obvious change in attire, wearing Chanel trainers instead of stilettos and wide-legged pants and a cream turtleneck in place of her grey chiffon dress.

Where was she?

Awareness flooded her system, and her eyes zoomed over her surroundings to see a place she never thought she would.

Prince Comics.

The haven of horror enthusiasts.

Ahyeong contemplated. So was she in a drama? True Beauty, no less.

. . . wow, she really had been sleep-deprived, hadn't she? So much so that her obsession with True Beauty ended up with her having this extremely realistic fantasy.

Smiling faintly, she got up, alerting Cha Eu— no, Lee Suho, who went back to reading when she went to browse the collections available in the store.

So, a character from the main cast and an almost endless collection of her favorite pastime hobby?

She never thought she'd thank sleep deprivation for giving her such a wonderful lucid dream.

Suho glanced over his book to look at the girl peering at the various volumes of Uzumaki on the Junji Ito shelves.

Judging by her appearance, which screamed wealthy, she was most definitely not from around here.

He didn't recall seeing her around school or the neighborhood either.

Strange, he thought as she pulled out a copy of Shiver and sifted through it, face completely straight and not flinching in the slightest, rather, an amused smile played on her lips.

"Oh? Ahyeong! Is that you?"

His mental analysis of the new girl broke when the bookstore owner entered the lounge with a face of vague recognition, and Suho hastily returned his eyes back to reading his comic as the girl — Ahyeong, as the owner had called her, turned around with equal startlement.

TURN.

What the-?

"Wangja-ssi, it's been a while," Ahyeong smiled at the shop owner, slipping the book back into the shelf.

"Wah, you've gotten even more pretty from the last time I saw you!" Wangja exclaimed, face alight with elation at the sight of one of his favorite customers back at his shop.

She'd never seen him aside from behind a screen, what'd he mean?

Ahyeong looked abashed at the sudden compliment why was she doing that? and smiled awkwardly.

"Well, I'm here now. Our family moved to Gangnam a few days ago." She had been living in Gangnam since she'd been born, what was she saying? Why couldn't she control her actions?

"Daebak, what about your schooling? It's the middle of the year, have you found a place?"

"Oh, yeah, about that," Ahyeong grinned. She looked at Suho, who was gulping down red ginseng and not paying attention to their conversation at all, trying to signal him of the weird situation of paralysis that she was in. Was this what usually happened in a lucid dream? Her gaze locked onto Wangja's.

"I'm transferring to Saebom."

HUH!?

Suho choked on his drink.

masterlist

#true beauty #cha eunwoo #hwang inyeop #moon gayoung #lee suho #han seojun #im jugyeong #kang sujin #extraordinary you #lee suho x reader #lee suho x oc #korean drama #kdrama fanfic #kdrama imagine #kdrama scenarios #webtoon

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agustdef · 4 years ago

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Tiptoeing: Around You | m.

✰ Pairing: Christian Yu/Reader

› Genres: Smut, Fluff, Mildest of Angst

✰ Rating: 18+

› Warnings: Language

✰ Status: Oneshot

› In Collaboration: With @shadowsremedy who altered my plans a little, but I don’t mind it. Here is his fic, they’re both in the same universe: Tiptoeing: Around Love.

✰ Beta Read: @suhdays and @ppersonna

› Banner: @shadowsremedy

✰ Summary: YN has pined after Christian for a while, but after one more kick in the butt by her best friend and an evening in the same room she finally acts on those feelings.

› A/N: This fic was written for the sweet and mildly chaotic @dee-ehn for her birthday. You deserve the world, but since I cannot give you that we’re going to have to settle for some fictional content starring the ever handsome and rude Christian Yu. I hope you enjoy it love and I hope your day was great!

“Pft, you’re no better than me,” YN whispered into her phone.

There was a loud chuckle on the other side and then it stopped abruptly.

“Yeah, but at least I have a girlfriend. You’re out here acting like a lovesick puppy for a guy who is clearly into you. I don’t know how much sadder this can get at this point. It’s been months, YN,” Yoongi said.

Naturally, she rolled his eyes at his words. The fact that all of that was true mattered not. Or at least most of it was true, she wasn’t quite sure if Christian was into her. Everyone said he was and there were some signs, like flirting and being touchy but he was like that with a few of his close friends. That alone couldn’t be the indicator for his feelings. If they were feelings at all. For all she knew she and everyone else were seeing the signs of lust and not romantic feelings that led to a monogamous relationship.

At least that’s what the voice in her head told her when she got up the courage to think he actually liked her and planned to act on it. The pesky ass voice couldn’t let her have nice things.

Despite her clear acknowledgement of the factualness of what he said she couldn’t let him have the last word. It just wasn’t a true testament to their friendship if she didn’t try to gain the upper hand.

“Well, at least I’m not using fuckboy antics to get out of telling the person I’m dating I love them. You can’t use that psycho bitch, who tried to kill me might I add, as an excuse for why you don’t say it forever, Yoon. Especially since you know Jamie isn’t like that. But you gotta take the plunge and talk to her before too much time has passed and she won’t want to listen anymore.”

There was a brief silence before a dramatic sigh left his lips. YN could imagine the look on his face as he did it too. A mix of sadness, resignation, and annoyance at the fact that she was right. They wouldn’t be such close friends if they both didn’t hate being proven wrong while also understanding the other enough to know when it was the right moment to push it.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“What was that?”

“Okay! You’re right. But you need to stop tiptoeing around the subject and just tell him already. He likes you, let him know you feel the same way,” he said.

That got YN to sigh with about as much feeling as Yoongi had. Her body felt tired as she thought of having to speak those words, but she realized she really needed to get it over with. Even if she threw up in the process, it had to happen.

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“Hm? What was that?” he mocked her.

“Okay, damn. I’ll do it. So annoying.”

Again, he laughed and it made her happy to hear him not so down like he’d been for days. Of course, the laughter could only help so much, but it was better than nothing.

Biting her lower lip her head turned so she looked at the studio door where the man who she was losing it over was. He waited for her to bring in snacks and she’d stopped part way to call Yoongi about something unrelated to the conversation they had. One that she was so lost in that she didn’t realize twenty minutes more than needed had gone by.

“Shit, I have to go. I should have been back already. I’ll call you later. Love you. Bye.” she said.

Yoongi laughed. “Love you too.”

With that she hung up the call and took a deep breath before walking towards the studio door. Her hand grasped the knob for a few seconds as she took a deep breath and thought over Yoongi’s words. Maybe the all-nighter they planned was the right place or maybe it was the worst possible place for her to do that since she’d still have work to do if he reacted negatively.

When she finally opened the door and stepped in she’d decided to just see what happened. There would be no forcing herself to say anything about it or actively stopping herself. For once she’d go with the flow, with a bit of hope that she’d randomly get the urge to blurt it out like she sometimes did.

Upon her entry Christian’s head whipped up to look at her. He stared her down as she kicked off her shoes and made her way to her seat. The expression on his face didn’t give way to his thoughts, but she assumed he was confused as to why it took her so long to get back.

“You get lost?” he asked, taking the bag from her.

“Nope. Just had a phone call.”

Christian paused for a second, his brow raised in question.

“Yoongi?”

YN didn’t stop what she was doing for many people, especially when it came to work related things needing to be done. But Yoongi was her oldest friend and she’d hop on a plane without a moment's notice if he needed her. That meant that usually people could guess who she’d been talking to easily.

“Yeah. He wanted to whine some,” she said.

Her attention moved to the computer in front of her, which still held the work she’d left off on. Christian had messed with something a little, but for the most part had seemed to be focused on what went on upon his own screen. Something about what he was doing reminded her of a thing she’d forgotten with the clip was editing and despite the hunger that plagued her she went straight into work. Of course, she felt Christian’s eyes on her the whole time and heard him chewing away at the snacks in the bag but her mind hyper focused so none of that matter.

About fifteen minutes passed before her hands stopped moving and Christian used that to pull her chair for the desk. Her immediate reaction was to tell him off, but he shoved half of a sandwich towards her mouth and she found herself biting it without a thought. That brought a smug expression to his face, but she merely rolled her eyes and snatched the sandwich.

There was some small protest from him, but it stopped as she took another bite of the sandwich. YN was so hungry that she hadn’t really chewed anything or tasted it for that matter. She’d had little to eat throughout the day because they’d needed some last-minute shots and that left her running here and there. Anything consumed was burned off within an hour or two. Which is why Christian had offered they go get dinner first, but she knew a heavy meal would make her focus on editing harder. Food made her sleepy most of the time.

“Slow down,” Christian said, his Australian accent thickening with the worry in his tone.

But his warning was too late because she’d shoved the last piece into her mouth and swallowed it. Her hand reached for the other in his hand, but he gently pushed it away and handed her an opened water instead. She glared at him but drank down the water; though with the way he stared at her she stopped herself from downing half of it in a few seconds. Sips were slow and small until she felt her throat less dry.

“Now can I have the other half?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet and a pout on her lips.

For a moment Christian just stared his eyes focused on something on her face. At first, she wondered if she’d gotten anything on it while eating, but then she watched him bite his lower lip and his eyes flicker up to her’s and then down again. She thought that he had to be looking at her lips and her heart did a thing, though her mind wasn’t sure if it was him wanting to kiss her or something being on them. In a moment of uncertainty, she wiped at the lip and came up with nothing, but that seemed to be enough to snap Christian out of whatever trance he’d been in.

Without a word he passed her the other half of the sandwich and then got busy unwrapping his own. Silence followed with a few words spoken here and there when one of them stared at either screen long enough to have a question rise up. It was a good little break from YN’s thoughts about what happened minutes before and also got her mind ready for what she was going to do for the next several hours. Dread filled her, but knew it wasn’t impossible by any means.

“Ready?” Christian asked after finishing off his tea.

YN nodded and just like that they got to work.

Christian was to focus on piecing together a visual that would encompass the entire comeback the Dabin planned, while YN was focused on getting through the main music video. There were some others she had to do, but they were all shorter and didn’t need some of the magic that the main one did. Part of her cursed the team for being so damn ambitious, but it kept her on her toes so she couldn’t complain. Well, wouldn’t complain until she felt the urge to pull out her hair because something wasn’t working.

But for once she went through her edits without any real roadblocks. She navigated the things that they’d talked about adding and her own ideas for things to flow seamlessly. There were a few snags here and there, but they were nothing that she couldn’t fix in a few minutes or that Christian couldn’t help her with.

They’d long learned to work together fluidly so all of it came easily.

A few hours in YN pulled her headphones off and pushed her chair away from the desk. Carefully, she stood up and stretched her body since it got a little stiff from sitting in one position for so long. Once she’d properly given them the movement they needed a yawn ripped free from her lips and she felt a wave of tiredness hit her. Of course, she wasn’t done by any means.

“I’m going to get something hot and something with caffeine from the kitchen, you want anything?” she asked.

Christian didn’t respond so she poked him hard and repeated herself, he shook his head no without ever glancing her way. She knew he’d complain later, but she didn’t have it in her to pester him, so she slipped on a pair of slides near the door and ventured out.

The kitchen in the building DPR was set up in wasn’t too far from Christian’s studio, in fact she walked back fifteen feet to get to it. Something she was thankful about because despite being in motion she felt her body grow more tired as each second passed. It’s why she was quick to grab an energy drink from the fridge and down that thing. It was followed by the consumption of red ginseng because it always helped her in some way. Or at least she placebo effected herself into that thought. After she moved to make herself some hot chocolate. Thankfully, they had a Keurig, so she didn’t have to worry about heating water herself. By the time it was done she’d gotten a few large marshmallows from her hidden stash and happily deposited on top of the hot, chocolatey liquid.

With her energy drinks consumed and her hot beverage ready she made her way back to the room. She took care not to spill any of the drink and sat it down on the small table that Christian kept over on her side. It was where she sat all her drinks or food out of fear that she would knock it over if it were on the desk with all the equipment.

The moment her butt hit the chair there was a frustrated grunt and Christian all but threw his headphones down. His right hand moved to card through his hair and his eyes closed as he let out a harsh breath.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she moved closer.

There was no response, but she waited for him to get his bearings. Sometimes editing made you so annoyed that words failed to come together right away. There had been many instances where someone asked her questions and all they got in return was grunts or her starting a word only to scream halfway through.

A minute or two went by before he opened his eyes and spoke up.

“I just can’t get it to transition like I want. I’ve been trying different methods for the last hour and assumed I wanted to try out all the options, but they just fuckin’ suck. I don’t want it to suck. It needs to not suck.”

“I doubt it sucks, let me see,” she said as she moved even closer.

However, Christian was having none of it and knocked his chair into hers so she’d go back onto her side. He was stubborn as hell when in a mindset of defeat, so she had to be persistent. She knocked chairs with him a few more times before getting up. Before he could steady himself she pushed it back and it rolled almost to the door. Standing she leaned over and looked at what he had. Nothing sucked per se, but she could see what his issue was.

She got several clicks in before he protested again.

“I’ll just choose one and come back to it tomorrow or something. It’s fine, you have your own stuff to work on.”

“Shh.”

“Did you just shh me?” he asked incredulously.

Rolling her eyes she turned around to glare at him but froze up when she realized he was standing and doing it awfully close to her. His head was tilted down as he stared at her and with the way she’d held her head up high their faces where maybe an inch apart.

In an instant the atmosphere changed and YN did not know what to do. Part of her screamed to back away quickly and the other part of her wanted her to close the gap. The voices in her head were at war and then she noticed his eyes on her lips again and threw out all fear.

As she leaned closer Christian did too and soon enough their lips were pressed against each other. The initial kiss was chastise, something to test the waters, but once they got comfortable with it the intensity grew. Their heads tilted and their bodies pressed closer together. Soon enough YN’s fingers were threaded in his hair and his hands caressed her hips and ass.

With her lips on his all thoughts kind of left her, besides how soft they were and how she wished she’d kissed him sooner. And how she didn’t want to stop doing it.

Christian squeezed her ass a little too hard though and in retaliation she slowed the kiss and bit his lower lip. When he stilled she worried about if he didn’t like that, but then he released a sound akin to a growl. His lips were on hers again in seconds and she got so wrapped up in the kiss that she didn’t realize that he’d started lowering onto his chair and bringing her with him. She didn’t start to pay attention until he had her straddle one of his thighs.

He wasted no time with subtlety bouncing that thigh causing a bit of friction between her legs. It was bearable for a while but then he pressed a little hard and her lips parted as a gasp escaped them. Christian took that as a chance to slip his tongue into her mouth, swirling around hers. Though compliant with all his actions YN did try to gain control of the kiss, but all it took was another firm grazing of her crotch to have her moaning out. One bounce in particular had her pulling away from his lips.

But just because she stopped didn’t mean that Christian did, his lips went to kiss along her collarbone which was readily exposed in the off the shoulder top she wore. The feeling of them on her skin sent a shiver up her spine and inadvertently had her grinding down on his thigh, which only got her even more excited.

Her pleasure must have been apparent because once again Christian’s hands were on her hips. Unlike before though he used that leverage to move her along his thigh. With his lips still kissing across her shoulder and neck he moved her back and forth, ensuring he was pressing down enough that she could feel the friction despite her shorts.

The pace was slow at first, but it was enough to ensure that YN was growing wetter by the second. Her body felt on fire and it didn’t help when Christian began to suckle hickies onto her. She felt very stimulated and that’s what caused her to cry out in pleasure when he began to speed up the pace.

“Fuck,” she said.

“Oh, we’ll definitely get to that, but why don’t you take over and ride my thigh, baby? Get yourself worked up for me,” he whispered in her ear, slowly pulling away but not before biting gently on the lobe.

YN did not need to be told twice. Her hands moved to his shoulders and she sat firmly on his thigh before dragging herself back and forth. At first, she was frustrated because she couldn’t find the right amount of pressure to feel anything worthwhile, but before she could give up Christian started guiding her.

“Just like that. Yeah, you’re doing so good for me. Keep going and you can pick up the pace. Make yourself feel good,” he said.

There was no verbal response from YN besides the moans she released when the friction truly started up. Goosebumps covered her skin the more she got into, her body tingled and she wanted more. Craved more.

But the look in Christian’s eyes as he watched her get herself off was too good a sight. His eyes had darkened a bit and she could see the lust in them. It didn’t help that he was biting his lower lip as his eyes remained firmly on the thigh she was on. He was enjoying the show and she wanted to give him more, so she kept going and her pace quickened again.

Though her pace change was also out of desperation. She’d gotten worked up quickly and despite how good his thigh felt her orgasm felt out of reach. Getting closer to it was all she wanted, so she moved with a vigor that could get her there.

That didn’t fly with Christian though, his hands held her still.

“No, no. You are not cumming on my thigh. You’re doing that with me inside of you,” he said.

YN groaned. “Then get inside of me.”

That elicited a laugh from him and made YN finally look directly into his eyes. He appeared very amused by how she’d responded.

“I should have known you’d be just as bossy like this.”

Naturally, that ended with her lightly slapping his shoulder which brought on more laughter from him. She was ready to get off his lap after that but yet again he held her in place.

The thing was that unlike before the expression on his face was softer and less like that of a man who said she would only cum on his dick.

“I know this is ruining the moment, but before I bend you over this desk and fuck you until you can’t walk I want to be very clear with you. I want to be with you. This is not me just fucking you because I find you attractive as hell. Got it?” he said.

Though she wanted to roll her eyes at his delivery she couldn’t help but smile as happiness filled her. Hearing him say it made her night and she would stay like she was or cuddled up to him for the rest of the evening, but there was a persistent problem still between her legs.

She leaned forward and leaned towards his ear to whisper, “And I want to be with you, but we can discuss that later. For now you have a problem to fix and a lot to prove if you think you’re going to put me on bedrest tomorrow.”

It didn’t take long for him to get her off his lap. He barked orders about getting off her shorts and panties while he ran out of the room for a moment. By the time he returned she was undressed on her lower half and bent over on the desk. Her legs were spread slightly and it gave him the view of her glistening pussy, just like she wanted.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

YN tried to keep the laughter from escaping her at his reaction knowing he’d probably tease her if she did. There was no time for all that, she needed him inside her as soon as possible.

Once she heard the sound of pants unzipping and dropping she felt herself perk up. Her ass rose up a little more and that seemed to pull another groan from Christian who sounded like he was fumbling with something behind her. She was going to ask if he needed help but then she felt the head of his dick press against her slit and she moaned.

Slowly he moved it between the lips of her pussy causing her to push back wanting more. The feeling was so good, but she still needed him to go further. Thankfully, he didn’t keep her waiting for long. Before she could fully process it he’d pushed inside of her completely. There was some discomfort from the sudden intrusion–one that was the first of its kind in a year–but he didn’t move and she adjusted fast. The stretch still felt a bit odd, but not something she hated. In fact, she loved the feeling of being full of him.

“You can move,” she said.

He didn’t need to be told twice because in the next second he was moving at a moderate pace. His hips moved back and forth, while one hand on her back kept him balanced.

YN’s eyes fluttered closed as she focused on the feeling of him. She’d been worked up enough that she was more than prepared for him, but also enough that she was sensitive. It wasn’t the same level as if she’d orgasmed, but it was enough to have her feeling extra with every stroke.

After several thrusts at that speed Christian suddenly sped up out of nowhere. It was enough that her hips moved away from the desk and hit against it every time he slammed back into her. It was a little painful, but the feeling of his dick pushing into her and hitting just the right spot made up for it. Her moans had been soft before, but with each thrust she grew louder.

At some point she was almost screaming out because of the brutal pace, but that didn’t mean that he slowed down. In all honesty it felt like he went harder and she loved every second of it. Wanted him to never stop.

And because she was so focused on how he felt she didn’t notice the tightening in her stomach and the way she was close to the edge until she was over it. Her eyes opened wide as her orgasm crashed through her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said.

Despite the clear indication that she’d come Christian didn’t stop. His pace slowed down some, but he kept pistoning into her. As she finished the last moment of her high the sensitivity set in, but she found herself building up again. Her pussy wanted a break, but she wanted him to keep going.

While she was ready to stay bent over for him until he came, Christian had other plans. Using his right arm he wrapped it around her torso and pulled her up so her back was against his chest. That hand moved down to rub her clit, something that had hips bucking because it felt like too much. She squirmed a lot, but then his left hand came around to wrap around her throat and she stilled.

“You’re going to give me another one, right?” he asked, though she knew it wasn’t up for discussion.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Without another word spoken by either of them he kept her how she was and continued to thrust into her, but his intense pace from before returned. His hand continued to rub and pinch her clit, which caused her to vibrate in pleasure. Plus, his hand remained around her throat squeezing every so often and she loved it more than she cared to admit. So much that her next orgasm came a little quicker than the last.

There was a weird feeling in her stomach though, but she had no time to assess it before she came. Her pussy spasmed and then she felt an intense pressure before she felt her thigh grow wet.

She’d squirted all over his dick and herself.

“Fuck, definitely going to have to do that again some other time,” he murmured.

YN didn’t even have it in her to respond to him, she just relaxed against her body as he continued fucking her. It took a minute or two before his precision slipped and she heard him moan out. He didn’t stop until he finished cumming and then he just stood there, his chest rising and falling heavily against her.

Three minutes passed with them like that before YN said something.

“We can’t stand here all night. Also, I’m so tired from this and working, we gotta rap this up.”

Christian laughed, but pulled out. From there YN leaned against the desk trying to orient herself. In that time Christian had discarded the condom and pulled his pants back up. He helped her do the same, though he didn’t bother fixing her pants completely. H

Carefully he turned her around to face him and smiled at her clearly exhausted, but happy face.

“How about we take showers, get changed, and call it a night? If you want you can stay at mine and we can start first thing in the morning,” he said.

Not one second was wasted debating it, YN just nodded in agreement.

“If I can shower and sleep I’ll be happy.”

That made Christian smile wider and then he leaned down to press a quick kiss to her lips. He moved away to lead the way out, but YN took one step before reaching out to grip his arm. Worry colored his expression and then when he noticed the way her legs seemed to shake a little a smirk made its way onto his face.

“What was that about me having to prove something?” he asked.

“Fuck you.”

#danicaday #kwritersworldnet #christian yu x reader #christian x reader #christian yu smut #christian yu fluff #dpr ian x reader #christian yu #dpr ian #yu barom #khh fanfic #krnb fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 4 years ago

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I See You Clearly Now

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 0, babeyy. Complicated human relationships, maybe.

Word Count: 5.5k, once again, what the absolute fuck, who am I

Summary: An impromptu all nighter and a very domestic day with Sam who is- he’s a crush, right? Right?

A/N: This was basically me working through my emotions for a person in my life. I don’t-

Also, this was half because of an anonymous request I got the other day that wrote “please some sam winchester x reader but maybe an au with no creepy scary things” Here you go, hon. I’d argue complicated feelings are scarier than monsters, but whatever lights your candle :)

It’s four in the morning and she doesn’t particularly know when the decision was made to ignore the black night sky or the time, or how both Madison and her mutually agreed to it, but sleep is not close in the horizon. College life is exhausting, but this week was uneventful and slow, unmoving to the point of boredom. The beers in her fridge were staring angrily back at her, and her contacts seemed to anticipate her texts. Madison was the first choice, she hadn’t seen her in a while.

And where I go / Singing song of your affection / With rhymes to your perfection / Of you

I see you clearly now / I hold you dearly now / The sun is in my eyes (x)

Meeting arranged, hugs in hello and rosy cheeks, because her apartment is always warm, beers cracked open and drunk, and now Madison is on one of her white, comfortable lounge chairs, angrily ranting about Steve Rogers and Marvel. It’s that hour of the early morning when everything feels a bit gooey and intangible, stretched and fabricated, and there’s nowhere she’d rather be, content in defending a character she loves, warm, belly full of light alcohol and midnight-made crepes. Her cat moves loosely in the room, pointedly ignoring both humans, and Y/n’s cozy and happy to see the wild motions of her friend’s hands as she yells- the mild worry in the back of her head that she’ll find a note with a noise complaint taped on her door the next morning.

For all she cares, nothing could make this any better.

The night continues, laughter over Youtube videos and reality competition failures, repeated funny clips and belly-holding, more hurting of the cheeks from the laughter, more snacks, and she’s forgotten what that feels like in her never ending, break-neck-paced everyday life.

Time passes full of smiles and even more green cans of beer. Pyjamas are worn, sleeping bags are stretched on the floor over the fluffy grey rug, her cat seemingly having found a new enemy in the whipping of the sheets in the air. They laugh at her playing with them, until she settles on her little spot over her soft blanket. The girls stretch in their makeshift beds and they talk, texts are shot to other friends, also awake, selfies full of grins and-

“Sam says hello,” is all Madison has to say for Y/n to suddenly feel his absence in the room.

Sam. Of course.

“Gimme your phone.” Tipsy voice message with off-key singing sent. More happy smiles. A reply, a voice message of his own- “I’m glad you two are having fun. Where are you guys?”.

Y/n’s place, the reply is sent.

“Should I tell him to come by?” And Y/n has to hold her heart in steel hands to force it not to jump out of her chest and straight into her throat. Somehow, Sam always shows up when Madison calls, she thinks, a bitter taste in her mouth. Jealousy. Bottom lip bitten.

“Of course, if he wants to.” She hates to admit she’s excited to see him. Hates it, because she hasn’t talked to him in five months- not properly anyways- and the idea that Madison somehow is always in contact with him makes the familiar knife twist. The two had dated, sure, they’re friends now, a chemistry shared between them that’s inexplicable. It makes her wonder how two people can be so familiar with each other, how they can always be so fucking happy, bouncing off of each other, the sparks fly, people wonder why they broke up (Madison fell in love with someone else. Y/n doesn’t know how Sam reacted.)

Madison and her are friends, sure, but it seems everyone from that side of her friendships is close, but not enough to touch, so Madison never talked about it to her. Sam didn’t either. In fact Sam never even mentioned they’re dating. Sam never ever talks about his relationships. Not to her. He once told her, in that one phone call that lasted four hours until 6 in the morning, the one she can’t seem to forget, that he thinks his love life is nobody’s business. He’s vulnerable with it. Doesn’t share it ever with pretty much anyone (he’d share it with Madison, she thinks bitterly.) Sam, additionally, rarely answers her texts.

They’re in this weird limbo situation. She’d confessed her affection about a year ago, New Year’s eve and festive spirits, influenced by champagne and encouraging friends, and she’d received an “I wondered about us too, but I’m honestly in a weird place, unsure. I really enjoy your company, though, I think you’re really cool and I am very happy with how we are now. Friends.” No dice. She took it in stride. She’s fine with it. No really, she is. Over it.

Then Madison hooked up with him. That one hurt.

They’d talked about it- with Madison that is- because they’re friends, Madison had also been jealous -before Y/n’s confession, when Sam seemed sorta into her and things were going well- and had urged her to go for it. Y/n had shared the sentiment (“If you two end up doing anything, I’m fine with it, it’s really none of my business. You’ve been his friend for longer than I have.”) and she had really meant it. But then Sam didn’t want her, and he ran off in the sunset with Madison for a grand total of three months, and rotten feelings were there in every other step Y/n took.

Now though, she’s fine. Sam has a different pace than her, she knows it now, has come to terms with it. He’s such a gentle, loving creature, so caring and passionate and smart and kind, with those wonderful eyes and his soft hair and the scent that makes her weak in the knees. She’ll have him in her life if that means a single four hour phone call every six months and loose texts here and there- sent by her of course, because he rarely ever texts first for some infuriating reason, and she panics he’s gonna forget her. Other than that, she’s come to terms with the fact that they’ll always be distant friends, that she’ll admire him from afar and he’ll maybe think about her once a month.

He always seems so happy to see her, though. He’s so fucking difficult to decipher.

“He’s on his way.” Brought back to the present by Madison’s statement, Y/n sulks back in her seat, a small, excited smile crossing her features. She’s happy to see him. She missed him.

He’s making his way through the other side of town, though. He’ll be here in two hours just to see them, and her heart flutters.

Till then, Madison lays in her sleeping bag turns out the lights, Y/n’s cat stretches sleepily, and Y/n doesn’t fall asleep, anxious she won’t hear him ring her bell, won’t hear her phone or Madison’s at his call. She’s only slightly desperate.

Time has slipped to six in the morning. Y/n’s eyes are wide open, her head woozy from the fatigue and the alcohol, but, when the rug vibrates with the ring of Madison’s phone, she jumps. She jumps, and so does her heart, skips a beat, because he’s here and she hasn’t seen him since the summer and she just wants to hug him hello.

“Pst! Madison.” With a slap of her hand over her phone, Madison, in a lump on the floor, pulls the phone and balances it on the cut of her cheekbone, speaker over her ear, while her hand slumps back under the sleeping bag. Nelly- Y/n’s cat- blinks lazily, spooked by the sound of the phone call, but ultimately, not giving it much attention.

“Hm? Yeah. Mkay,” sleepy, mumbled words muttered into the phone. At least someone caught some shut-eye between them. “Bring some beers.” A small chuckle, a shake of her shoulders. “Oh yah.” Another laugh. “Hmph, buzzkill.”

Y/n is turning on a small light, just until the sun rises properly up the sky, because everything is currently a little dark still.

“Atta boy. We’re waiting for you.” Another short laugh. Madison hangs up turns on her back, and her phone falls off her face as she stretches, smiles, arms slumping over her chest. She doesn’t offer much information about the phone call. Not ten minutes later, the doorbell rings.

Y/n stumbles, sheets tangling on her legs, nearly tripping, to buzz him in.

He walks up the stairs, and she sees his head rise over the edge of the top step, a crooked smile on his pretty lips and she smiles back brightly. Arms raised over his head, he shows a plastic bag, clinking glass inside, and he whoops slightly. Y/n grins, throwing a victorious fist in the air.

“The feast continues!” And Sam laughs, toothy and bright as the sun. Y/n attacks him with a hug.

Warm arms stretch around her, hold her close, warm and tight, and he still smells heavenly, like he showered before he left his house. He smells like freshly cleaned clothes and vanilla scented body wash, like the seat of his car, deodorant and a deep, musky smell she can’t quite place.

My God, she’s missed him.

Madison is still on the floor of Y/n’s bedroom, mumbling her hello and burrowing a little in her sheets. Sam kneels down and hugs her, and she hugs back. “Nice to see you, dick”

“Runt,” he replies with a nod, as if he tips off his hat to her. Carefully, Sam also kneels next to Nelly, scritches under her little chin and whispers his soft greeting, to which the cat responds with a low purr and the bending of her head to give him a little more room. Sam smiles, and Y/n can feel her eyes being shaped into comically large hearts.

“M’God,” Madison groans. “I wanna stay awake but ugh.” Y/n smiles gently.

“Go back to bed. I have an appointment with my therapist in four hours though.” Madison nods numbly.

“Wake me up in three and a half, I’ll leave.” Y/n and Sam share a look and the former shrugs.

“Okay.”

Madison shifts, puts her headphones on and shuts her heavy eyelids, pretty much instantly falling asleep. Y/n is running on battery saver mode, enhanced by the incredible amount of adrenaline Sam’s presence seems to bring.

She nods for him to follow her and grabs her laptop, dumping herself on her living room couch, Sam closing the bedroom door behind himself and following her lead. He deposits most of the beers in the fridge and keeps two, which he opens. Y/n watches his ease in her kitchen, even though he’s never been here before and her heart wiggles in content.

He sits next to her on the couch, keeping a barely there distance between them, as she pushes the screen open. Despite all the feelings that have manifested in her chest over the relatively short time she’s known him, Sam and her really hit it off since day one. She met him during a surprise party thrown for Madison. Sam brought the cake, Y/n the candles and the lighter, and other friends brought alcohol, plastic plates that were never opened and cutlery.

The whole group had waited under Madison’s building, singing a very cheerful happy birthday, loudly enough for their voices to grow hoarse, and for Madison’s eyes to roll back into her skull with a sheepish smile. They had walked to a park, sat down and feasted on the cake straight from the pastry box, yet Sam was talking with Y/n on the swings a little ways to the right, away from the cheerful company, talking about fond childhood memories, about his brother, about their favourite movies. Y/n felt it, felt her heart drooping low, the familiar feeling of wanting to impress someone, to be liked by them. Even then, under whatever stars could be seen in their city, she knew he was gonna be trouble.

Beer bottle passed, and she clinks hers on his cheekily, receiving a tip of his head and a half-smile in response. Decided sips. Bottles held against bent knees as they both fold them like pretzels. Small talk about college, about recent misadventures and drunken phone calls, and soon she gets the urge to fill their time with something.

“Movie?” she asks, and Sam just seems on board.

“What do you have?”

And he ducks close to her and checks out the titles. “Do you wanna watch Hamilton? I’ve heard it’s really good.”

“YES, Sam,” enthusiastic and loud. Sam grins. They settle back on the couch.

Fifteen minutes into the play, Y/n doesn’t even hesitate, doesn’t ask and doesn’t preface by saying anything. With all the naturalism that their relationship has, all the affection she knows Sam has to give, she scooches closer to him and leans her head on his shoulder, hugs his arm to her chest, and he leans into her comfortably. “This okay?” The answer she looks for comes in the form of him leaning his head down on top of hers gently.

They watch two thirds of the play before they both get increasingly tired, since it’s a three hour performance. Their brains are kinda mushed, especially because of the lack of sleep, but they happily gush about how well made it is and Sam spews facts left and right about the price of the tickets, the actors and how the British royal family has gone to see it in-person.

“God, I wish I had the money to go up to NYC and watch it myself. I’ve never been to Broadway.” She sighs under his arm, which is now placed around her shoulders. Sam nods in agreement.

“Yeah, that must be so amazing to see in person.”

Bedroom door creaking open, Sam and Y/n separate from each other slowly as they watch Madison trudge to the living room like a phantom, a hand on her lower back.

“My God, Y/n, your floor is not hospitable at all.”

“Awh, I’m sorry.” Sam laughs next to her. “I don’t know why you didn’t move to the bed, though.” Madison glares, facepalms with a wince -the movement seems to rattle the spot that’s sore somehow- and shakes her head. “I didn’t- it- it didn’t cross my mind.”

Deep chuckles in amusement all around. Madison picks her stuff up. Y/n makes all of them some coffee, which they all quietly sip in the diminishing silence of the city waking up just outside their window.

The time for Y/n’s appointment approaches rapidly, and Madison waves goodbye, kisses both people on their cheeks and drives herself home. Y/n isn’t sure if Sam will stick around, so she checks the time awkwardly. She’d feel terrible to let him make his way back to other side of town just for these wimpy three hours wasted on tiredly catching up and watching a movie.

“Listen,” she says, and Sam’s attention is drawn from his coffee cup. “I’m gonna go to my bedroom, have my appointment, because we do it over Zoom anyway. You hang around, chill, and I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Alright,” Sam agrees gently. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

A painful, soul-straining hour later, wiping dry tear stains off her cheeks, Y/n makes her way to the living room, half forgetting Sam is even there. And boy if he’s there.

He’s stretched on her couch, legs barely fitting as he leans on the arm rest, ankles crossed, and a book he’s picked up from her bookshelf in his hands, while Nelly sleeps peacefully in his lap, finding comfort in his warmth. He hasn’t made an intense amount of progress, probably 50 or 60 pages in, but he seems invested, and for the seconds it takes him to notice her, Y/n admires him a little. Under the morning light through her thin, sheer curtains, rays are angled perfectly to make his cheekbones all the sharper, he, comfortable enough to relax in her worn-in couch. He looks so at home, and after such an emotionally draining hour, it’s so good to see someone who’s gentle, someone so familiar, waiting for her in her personal space, with her cat, as if he belongs there. It makes her heart do all sorts of stunts.

It seems he notices her from the corner of his eye though, and he puts the book down.

“Hey,” he tells her softly. “Are you good?”

“Uh,” she thinks for a second, pinches the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. I’m okay.” An offered smile, small and soft.

“Alright,” as if saying I’m choosing to believe you. “Have you read this yet?” He holds up a bright orange book, a small thing titled the Alchemist by Paolo Coelho. An offered change of subject. She smiles.

“Yeah, I have.” He folds his legs with a soft apology to Nelly who jumps off disgruntled, and Y/n takes it as a sign to sit on the couch next to him. His feet rest against her thighs, knees bent still.

“It’s so…” He sighs, struggles to find the words. “I mean, it’s not something I’d usually go for. It kind of feels childish and simple, but it’s so beautiful.” He seems slightly confused, surprised to find something he thought may be silly to be actually really good.

“I know right? It feels really simplistic, but some of the stuff it says is so eye-opening.”

“Listen to this,” he says and sits a little straighter, fixing the pillow on his back a little. “We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.”

It’s like he chose the quote specifically for her, for this particular moment. A look is thrown his way, and he smiles crookedly. “I, uhm…” he rubs the back of his neck. “I just heard you crying, is all.” A nervous shrug. Y/n feels exhausted, drained, but in that little smile, that warmth, she feels like tearing up all over again at how fucking sweet he is. She pushes at his legs and reaches out to him for a hug, which he welcomes. She sighs.

“Thank you, Sam.”

****

Eventually, they get up. They move to the kitchen and make grilled cheese sandwiches and tea, and Sam leans against her counter as he watches her take out plates from her cupboards, Nelly prancing around with distant meows for attention. Y/n picks large mugs, puts honey in hers and serves their half breakfast on the kitchen island. They eat under light conversation about dogs in social media and pets, and Sam sorta looks like he’s always been there, like this is the life they’ve always lived.

Hot mugs cupped in thick sleeve-covered hands. Bodies curling up on different ends of a couch. Comfortable conversation continues. Topic shifted to something more serious, and Sam tells her things, talks about how he’s grown mentally, how he understands himself a little better and how he wants to try therapy. She’s happy to see him like this, being -if only slightly- more open about himself, about how he is, not closing himself up, not fooling himself into believing he can shoulder the world alone. Y/n gives him her therapist’s phone number, tells him she’s proud of him and shares her own stories. She ruffles his hair and smiles affectionately, and Sam thanks her. Their mugs empty. Her heart grows fuller.

While moving back to the bedroom, Sam kneels next to Nelly. He offers her his hand, lets her sniff it, scritches the top of her soft little forehead, and Nelly pulls away, sniffing, wagging her tail in short annoyance. “Is that not okay? Alright, I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers to her gently, watches her lick his fingers for a second before settling back in her cat bed and watching him wearily. Sam gets the message and he pulls away, and Y/n’s never, ever seen anyone interact with her cat this way. Respectful and kind (and if that ain’t Sam, alright) and her heart lurches a bit. Of course Sam, practically the perfect guy, would test her cat’s boundaries as if she’s a human, and then never push them again. She sighs.

They end up on her bed. Sat next to each other. Laptop in front of her, heavy conversation discarded, set down for now, and she searches for her favourite stand-up comedians to show him, because she knows his sense of humour and he’s gonna love them, she’s sure. Yet, as she’s scrolling, Sam does the unspeakable, and slides behind her, one leg either side of her, arms going around her.

“ ‘M sorry, I needed a hug,” he tells her, and she curls her own arms over his, leaning back against him.

“Anytime,” she promises and means every syllable. “You can stay like that if you want,” she tells him as well, and feels his chin on her shoulder as he nods, a huffed out breath softly knocking on the bare skin of her neck. She sighs into him. Gets comfortable, pulls the laptop on her lap -can you see well?- and lets herself be entertained, relishing Sam’s laughter against her back. She smiles, because this finally feels good. She doesn’t yearn, doesn’t look for anything more. She’s ultimately incredibly happy with where they are, with all of this warm affection. There’s no butterflies, just comfort, just love and care and tired laughter that fills her mouth with honey. The sun is in her eyes.

Not ten minutes later he shifts, stretches his legs and pulls her more comfortably against him. With gentle fingers, he pushes two strands of hair behind her ear, to the side, touch so soft she barely feels it, repositions his chin on her shoulder and breathes out calmly and Y/n shivers. He holds her securely and she, well, she dares dream, dares feel what this would be like in a different context, and while there’s a little yearning this time, to remember what it’s like to want someone and to be wanted, to know what it’s like to be Sam’s, what it’s like to be held with utter security, knowledge that you’ll never be let go of, it’s not overpowering. She feels its presence, but it feels more like an old friend than a menace. She’s content. Finally. The opposing feelings seem to tame each other.

Something close to an hour passes. They make food, some creamy pasta just to hold them over until dinner. He stirs the pot while she shows him a funny video on her phone. They eat in comfortable silence, and Y/n feels the urge to tangle her legs with his under the table, but she doesn’t, terrified she’ll push him away, ruin this bubble of comfort and naturalism by taking things a step too far. What is too far, she wonders. She’ll let him take the lead, if that means he’ll continue being this physically close to her.

Sam washes the dishes. Y/n pecks his cheek in thanks. His smile is radiant.

They stretch next to each other on her bed, scroll through their texts, send silly pictures to mutual friends. The mistake she makes is when she grabs his phone and takes a really, and she means really, ugly picture. A zillion chins, pinched eyebrows, curved lips and tongue out, hands his phone back and contemplates the consequences.

“Gimme that back, you shouldn’t have that,” decided and regretful. Sam and his noodle, twelve feet long limbs hold the phone as far from her as possible and Y/n growls and laughs, stretches, tries to grab it off him. “Sam!”

“You really think I’m gonna pass this up?” he scoffs with a grin, and she yells his name, accusatory and playful.

“Give it BACK, my face is in there! Privacy infringement!” She yells. “You should know, you’re a lawyer!”

“But you willingly saved the picture in a phone that’s not yours!” Arms stretched high, laughter booming and loud, and she scrambles.

“Your word against mine!”

“You can be seen holding the phone yourself!” She growls again, tries to pull his arm down, tickles his side and he jerks and laughs. Y/n tries to throw a leg over his to hold him down, but Sam’s too quick, too strong. They fumble, thrash, tangled limbs, throat aching full of laughter, struggling and yelling useless threats.

Sam throws the phone on the rug and huffs, visibly almost done with her, like she’s an annoying but entertaining bug. He grips her hands, her left and right in his respectively, throws his leg over her waist, twists and straddles her, hands now over her head.

Heavy breaths. They pant, stare at each other, Sam shakes his head like a dog to get his hair out of his face.

“You can’t win,” he tells her with a confident smile. She narrows her eyes.

“Have you learned nothing from this friendship?” She blows a hair away from her face and looks at him smiling. “I don’t give up that easy,” coy smile, a promise, wink sent his way, and suddenly she’s thrusting up her pelvis, trying desperately to scooch up the bed with the rest of her body, but the grip on her wrists tightens, Sam barely budging. She struggles, drags her body up, fueled by pure determination and spite, wiggles fiercely and just barely manages to get on her belly, which seems like a mistake in hindsight.

Because now her hands are crossed, he’s basically got her on a choke hold with her own forearms, and she’s eagerly trying to get her knees under her, while Sam laughs loudly at grumbled comments like “What the fuck kinda core strength do you have, fucking behemoth.” The sheets get wrinkled and pulled off the edges of her mattress, her pillows get pushed to the side, to the floor, the struggle continues and her stomach and throat hurt from all the laughter, but she really can’t seem to get the upper hand, which would be obvious if someone so much as threw a look at both of them. Sam’s six feet and two full of young, sinewy muscle, a boy- a man, really- with biceps that may not be particularly thick, but the iron grip on her wrists says something else. His hands are the size of her face. Strength is not the way she should be going about this.

She twists again, barely able to get back on her back, and she pants. The asshole looks barely winded and her eyes narrow, him raising an eyebrow challengingly. What to do, what to do?

Y/n relaxes, but Sam doesn’t. She takes a breath, grins briefly up at his momentarily confused face, then yanks her hands up the bed, making him jerk down so he can keep her under his grip and-

And she kisses him.

Nothing long or particularly sexy, just a rough push of her mouth on his, and an ‘umph’ escapes him in surprise.

Sam startles, his grip loosens, and her hands are pulled free of his hold, kicking away from him and managing a small distance apart from his warm body, knees pulled up to her chest and panting fast and loud.

Okay, it seemed smart in that moment. It really did. But for a grand total of five eternally long seconds later, her heart shrinks, diminishes to ash and dust and regret. Sam’s kaleidoscopic eyes are wide, pupils blown, and he, too, is panting.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, is all she can think, so much for not pushing his boundaries, not rushing his pace. How will you ever look in his eyes again?

“Too much?” And he blinks at her, clearly still processing. “I’m sorry, Sam, I- I didn’t mean-”

But then a hand cups her jaw, warm and big and gentle, pulls her face close to his, and his lips are there, pressed on hers. Y/n’s motionless for just a second- she’s dreamt of this for so long, over a year and a half, and it’s happening in the cheesiest way possible- and Sam is on his knees, weight rested on his other hand, reaching for her, he’s kissing her, and move, dammit, do something! A hand grips his wrist, and she pushes herself closer to him, a huff pushed out of Sam’s nose, and her stomach flips in so many stunning, wonderful ways.

Her legs fall to the side, she meets him half-way and kisses him and Sam follows just as fiercely, falls back on his haunches. His hands push under her shoulders, lift her up onto his lap, grab the back of her knees and pull them around his hips and Y/n goes willingly. She holds the sides of his face carefully and parts her lips, and Sam licks into them with caution, curls his strong arms around her waist and sighs into her mouth.

Y/n pulls away. So much for boundaries.

She blinks down at him. Sam’s eyes stay closed for a second longer, peering up at her then. He waits for her to say something. Fingers push his hair back gently, she nudges her nose with his and smiles.

“I win.” Earning a long, dramatic eye roll.

“I had you in a choke hold with your own arms, Y/n.” and her name rolls off his tongue so sweetly. She clicks her tongue.

“Yet here we are,” she whispers, looks down at him and he shakes his head with a sigh. His eyes fall on her lips once more and he gently chews the inside of his cheek. One large paw cups the side of her head and he kisses her slowly once more before pulling away, thumbing at her cheek.

They smile.

****

The sun has descended beneath the horizon, so early it’s kind of comical, but it doesn’t feel like it’s 6 pm anyway, because neither of them has slept at all. Time has lost meaning and form the past two days, everything feels surreal and fake because of the lack of sleep, and now here they are, under warm fairy lights, laying in her bed. There’s been kisses here and there, gently roaming hands, not moving further than that, and again, Y/n doesn’t need anything more. She’s content where she is, surprised she even made it this far. The affection they’ve shared is scarcely fierce and feral, simply quiet, tender, innate. Nothing particularly passionate or aggressive, just warmth and comfort, shielded vulnerability hidden behind brief liplocks. Y/n’s more than okay with it.

She’s laying on his chest, arm around his waist and ear over his heart and they doze together under dim lighting, limbs heavy, hearts feathery light. Sam’s arm falls around her back, pulls her close. She nuzzles his chest.

It’s just so easy to be with him. Around him.

Y/n wonders where they stand after this. If he’ll text her more. If it’ll go back to the occasional long phone call, the random outings because Madison texts him while she’s with Y/n. Will they ever be like this again? How much does she care?

Because, although somewhat pivotal for her view on affection, and tenderness and friendship, ambit stretched now, definitions altered in her mind, she feels that no real barrier has broken, shifted even. They’re still friends. They’re not partners, he’s not her boyfriend and it’s honestly fine. No, really, it is. She’s genuinely okay.

Would she like to see what it’s like to date him? Of course she would. Of course she wants to know what it feels like to know he wants her and only her, wants to know she can hold his hand, can kiss him no matter where they are or with whom, without crossing invisible boundaries tentatively like she did today. Planning dates and late night movie nights and early morning beers with shared drunken kisses.

She just wishes she knew what it’s like to have free access to this sort of affection with someone, and maybe that’s the thing. Sam feels like a good someone to have that with, but at the same time, maybe it’s what he told her on New Year’s and the way he likes to be, maybe it’s the understanding that they’re really not particularly meant to be together, cosmically in love, soulmates, whatever-the-hell, but there’s no dipping of the stomach, no heart rate accelerating, no feeling of being high or drunk. Maybe Y/n just wants someone, anyone to be with, to know she can fall for, and while Sam is warm and funny and familiar and oh so wonderful, while he looks like a great candidate to be in a relationship with, while her heart flips at the possibility of having any semblance of romance in her life, of him in her house, her couch, with her books and his warm hugs, maybe he’d been right. Maybe he knew something too painful to tell her back then, when she confessed her attraction, back when things were raw and bruised and painful to the touch. Sam and her, well… they seem good in theory. They are fun, and safe, they care for one another. They share alcohol bottles easily, common interests, kindness and heeps of love to give. They make sense in a way. But- it’s just not clicking, is it?

This is just… this. Affection for the sake of affection, not romance. And that’s okay to have, more than okay, even. It’s great. It’s comforting. It’s safe, and it’s simple. They can kiss. They can hug. They can cuddle together, and brush each other’s hair away from their faces. Y/n can admire his eyes while he cleans the dishes they ate lunch in. And it can all amount to nothing, without it feeling like band-aids being ripped off bleeding wounds without a warning.

In the words of her mother, why are human relationships so god damn complicated? Why does this one have to be too?

Y/n is content to be in his arms, to philosophically discuss, and open up and talk freely. She’s content with them giggling and wrestling and kissing in between, and they can share their music and their book quotes and their love for one another. It’s just surface level affection. If not surface level, then friendship level. Why is that not enough? Maybe not all relationships have to be tipped in the romantic pink light, and maybe, just maybe that’s okay.

She gazes up at him, rests her chin on his chest, and Sam blinks his lazy, drowsy eyelids open to look down at her sweetly, offers a small and a caress of his hand on her back. And for once, Y/n is completely satisfied with just this, and nothing more.

*****

A/N 2: I reread this and it felt like I reached a conclusion to something gigantic and cosmic, but this seems so simple.�� I should know all this by now. *huff*

please tell me what you thought of this!

Forevers:

@deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @deanssweetheart23 @nostalgic-uncertainty @mogaruke @superseejay721517 @lady-hawkguy @thosefeelsarereal @superwholockmarauder @justiceiswater @petra-arkanian-1497 @heyitscam99 @danijimenezv @aj-reuth @unicornblood4ever @mystriee @sadist-fangirl23 @asguardiansoftheavengers @superrandomnatural @altosaxplayer098 @winter-moons @hunterswearingplaid @novaddictx @choosemyname @live-like-a-girl @thisismysecrethappyplace @bowtomytenderaddiction @elara98azalea @lemondropirwin @emmagolden4118 @glitchcypher @calaofnoldor @paradoxical-sleep @narynechan @canwenotdothis @suicidepanda07 @blueaura

Sam Stuff:

@kymberlytorres @theboykingsamwinchester @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes @captainmarvelcorps @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @nellachain @percywinchester27

#sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x fem!reader #sam x fem!reader #sam x female!reader #sam winchester x female!reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #sam fluff #spn fluff #spn sam #sam winchester #winchester fluff #sam winchester comfort #domesticity and things #basically my whole psyche in a tumblr post?#geez #i've ascended from tartarus to drop this and will be returning shortly #hope you enjoy it!

68 notes · View notes

taekooktimeline · 4 years ago

Text

June 2 & 3, 2020 (filmed) - Soop Episode 8 -

That night it was Tae’s and Joon’s turn to cook. Shortly after they began, Jk made his way to the upper house in case they needed help. It was a common scene to see Jk in the kitchen during their stay, whether he was called upon or joined voluntarily - this occasion being the latter.

The first thing he asks is about how well they were handling themselves in the kitchen.

He continues by making a snarky / teasing comment as he lightly chuckles, jokingly. He’s alluding to the fact that both Tae and Joon are inexperienced cooks. He first looks at Joon and his pasta.

He then moves to observe Tae and changes to a supportive tone, letting him know he’ll happily eat it no matter what the results are. He’s being realistic but telling him to not be afraid to make mistakes.

Jk reassures him by saying one can’t mess up meat - it’ll always taste good.

Tae let’s his insecurities afloat by saying he would never cook again if he messed up such a delicious steak that was so difficult to botch. Jk was well aware of Tae’s lack of confidence when it comes to cooking & that was his way of encouraging him.

Since there is nothing to help them with, Jk silently watches his phone and stays close, waiting to see if he was needed. This precise scenario is actually unfamiliar - at least to Soop viewers.

Jk let’s out a couple more compliments about Tae’s meat before leaving to take a nap. He must not be too interested in the aglio e olio spaghetti since it’s a blander dish by nature.

Later on Jk literally held onto his bed as Hobi woke him up, but once on his feet he checked his phone and then began to run towards the kitchen as he tried to keep on reading his messages. He was apparently eager to eat steak because it appeals to his taste buds, which makes sense. “I really want to eat steak,” he sings.

He stops running to finish reading his messages before entering the kitchen.

Heavy speculation: Turns out Tae needed assistance and couldn’t leave the meat alone. Joon had left him around 5-10 minutes ago, depending on how long Hobi had to insist to Jk to wake up. Could or could not be related to Jk running while checking his phone as there is no way to know. Decide as you wish.

Hobi goes for paper towels while Jk asks what he could do to help - something he has done with other members as well. Tae says he only needed paper towels and plates.

Tae then expresses concerns about his cooking, seemingly having some trouble.

Jk stays as his cooking assistant from that moment onwards - a role he excels at. He first finds paper towels inside the kitchen and stays right by his side -

Then Tae asks him for some help with the seasoning. They cook in harmony -

Jk is the most wanted -

Full cooking scene:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1LidgpCh7yKntT0_1VcUq-GhNKS4Wj-eN/view?usp=drivesdk

Later that night, Hobi and Jk spot Tae just as he started lighting fireworks so they make their way to him.

Jk quickly joins Tae, who hands him a firecracker, while Hobi asks about other members.

Taekook are too entertained to worry about the others whereabouts.

They pass the lighter between the two, heavily involved in the bonding activity. “When else will we ever get this opportunity?” they later said.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1n2_p1Qd4wUt3qtwWjoatGchl9GWk_fD3/view?usp=drivesdk

Jimin joins them too and all four enjoy the spectacle.

Taekook are the only ones setting the fireworks off. They must be the most excited and daring, taking into account Hobi was pretty scared of getting near.

Tae lights three at once - quite courageously - and runs off. Hobi about Tae: “He’s so eager”.

Hobi and Jk dance in front of the sparks which Tae vocaly marvels about. They are surely having fun together.

Tae prompts Jk to do the same as him and light three at once - scary to do as it’s time sensitive, but with beautiful results. He tried to listen but ran off at 2. This is faintly reminiscent of “we always got scolded together, even back then”.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1mUkfEzN38QYCXD1TrqV-ATBDD3_e4OSK/view?usp=drivesdk

June 3 (filmed) - Tae wakens Jk to watch the sunrise, which they later mention. He is seen leaving the floating house a little after the first rays of light start illuminating the sky. *There is debate about whether Tae spent the night in Jk’s room or not, but we think the footage is inconclusive. It doesn’t contradict the official story but it’s also compatible with Tae staying over so decide as you wish. Some think Tae must have stayed over because he wasn’t shown entering the room, but remember this was a 1 or 2 hour long sped-up timelapse with many missing frames (many cuts). It was only luck that a single frame of Tae exiting made it into the final footage. The frame can't be seen in the weverse app due to differences in resolution, compression and frame rate compared to weverse’s desktop version (which is where the illegal uploads came from) as a professional explained to us. We checked the official desktop version and Tae’s frame is still there meaning BH didn’t try to hide it. In layman’s terms - there is no conspiracy from BH to backtrack and omit Tae leaving the boathouse. In order to modify Tae out BH would have to reupload the one file, meaning those viewing via Weverse on a desktop computer would also not see Tae. Only one file is processed and encoded to work across as many devices as possible. This means different versions of the same video in different formats with different compressions - but all derived from the one upload (according to the below cited individual who works in tech). Disclaimer: this individual works in tech and had discussions with her partner, who is also in tech. Please fact check.

Additionally, not turning on the light is respectful since Jk wasn’t obligated to get up. As previously said, anything is possible in this case (as far as if Tae stayed over / when he arrived at the boathouse).

https://twitter.com/tkgkurm/status/1316082109253996544?s=21 or https://twitter.com/borahaestreet/status/1316137683958329347?s=21 or https://www.instagram.com/p/CGS8Ub3IovM/?igshid=6ibd8ghe4ens

The next we see is Tae walking with his selfie camera to Jk to watch the sunrise together. It seems like he was coming back from the main house.

Adorable, sleepy Hobi joins them. Tae says “you did it!” which implies it had been taken into consideration. The gathering might have been talked about the previous night or it could have been spontaneous where Tae woke him up without a warning and hoped he’d make it out of bed. Both Tae and Jungkook happily greet him.

https://twitter.com/flirtaeguk/status/1315991107562401792?s=21

Jk is also sleepy and keeps yawning alongside Hobi, unlike Tae who is very much awake. They both made an effort to accompany him. Jk yawning -

Hobi yawning -

He asks Jk if he pulled an all-nighter.

Jk denies and explains Tae woke him up. *Personal opinion: Sara is inclined to think Tae was the one to pull an all-nighter while he hung out in Jimin’s room judging by his state of alertness (I’m used to doing it and they are too) and how there’s footage of vmin in Jimin’s bed from earlier that night. It’s not easy for Tae to wake up early. Anyhow, it’s not impossible he later hung out in Jk’s room. Regardless of what happened Tae chose & dared to get these two out of bed at such ungodly hours just because he thought the scenery was nice - lacking apprehension - which means he feels very comfortable with them.

Tae disappears and Jk immediately wonders where he went.

*Just for fun - the editors added an adorable caption for Tae canoeing:

Jk giggles when Tae reappears and asks him if he’s having fun - happy to see Tae enjoy himself.

He then compliments his rowing skills.

This causes Hobi to also comment. Jk agrees with an “exactly”.

Jk adds onto it pointing out more details about Tae’s good technique.

More of Jk yawning -

Jk films Tae with his selfie camera. At the start, he says “V” in a deep, playful voice - presenting him to the public (note the subtitle in the below pic - the English subtitle didn’t show “V” when Jk says it but it’s written in the Korean subtitle next to Tae).

When Tae softly asks them what they think of the scenery - looking directly at Jk - the younger sweetly replies with the following -

the original Korean text notes “GCF” (making reference to Jk’s filming skills):

https://twitter.com/borahaestreet/status/1316019584776826883?s=21

and https://twitter.com/flirtaeguk/status/1315996054337150978?s=21

and https://twitter.com/taekook1206/status/1316223828985487361?s=21

; Full sunrise clip:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/18uvnNmmboRHRaITTpa98ZKfpCO48abiZ/view?usp=drivesdk

Later on - it seems the members went back to bed after watching the sunrise. Tae wakes up at 12pm and is surprised he slept so little.

He then walks from the main house to the floating house, where Jk is staying.

He doesn’t bother changing out of his PJs as he makes his way to the floating house.

It’s uncertain whether he checks his breath or simply rubs his face as he walks there.

We find out he is, indeed, coming to visit Jungkook.

Speculation - There is debate if Tae locked the door when he entered. Decide as you like.

Personal stances: Sara is basically sure that Tae didn’t lock comparing it to the distinctively different & loud sound it made when Jk locked the door while playing with Jimin (Ep 7 behind the scenes, Jk locking the door: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1729xJUd1fvff5MozK0J7meAj4tZEOZ0w/view?usp=drivesdk ; Hobi closing the door without locking which generates the same “clicking” sound as in Tae’s occasion: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ITikRqRtKYJjVEjCxrF3t42UBu1IcuB6/view?usp=drivesdk) combined with the unlikely context, while Kayla thinks it’s possible (since we don’t see what they are up to for those two hours - maybe Tae unlocks it at some point (not saying they were up to anything but maybe just wanted privacy) + three non BTS listeners seemed certain they heard the door lock when shown the zoomed in clip without context - who Tae is, what room he’s in, etc … but who knows). As we stated above, it’s debatable so please decide as you wish.

Tae closing Jk’s door -

https://twitter.com/taetae_pteryong/status/1313898743939305472?s=21

It turns out Tae preferred to keep on resting with Jk rather than alone in his own bed, even if he had to go on a little walk. He throws his cap off and leans over Jk, his face close.

Note Jk’s raised arm as he slowly turns to have an idea of their positions.

Here Jk’s tattooed arm is blurred next to Tae’s head - Jk still facing upwards.

Tae says “move over” while Jk sleepily groans in protest.

Jk groggily rolls to his side, an act that conveniently gives Tae the space he was searching for & that prompts him to climb over to be the “big spoon” in the cuddle. His foot skims over Jk’s as he latches a leg and arm around him.

some close ups of Tae positioning himself (mostly for their feet since it’s quite intimate) -

https://twitter.com/recorder331/status/1313910423075266566?s=21

In a sweet moment that indicates closeness, Tae tries to pull the blanket up on him so he can be closer and warmer as he cuddles.

Jungkook appears to pull Tae’s arm closer - although it’s unclear. We have differing opinions. Decide as you wish.

https://twitter.com/loveforvguk/status/1314153041659125760?s=21

Tae then playfully boops his leg against JK. He may have wanted him to wake up after all but stay in bed, calmly laying together for a while - although they both ended up feeling too cozy.

Full clip:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/15UX3WLZ9jrNjHY5kNo876VQcLUc4-Ux6/view?usp=drivesdk

Hobi heads their way apparently two whole hours later with the intention of waking Jk up. The below images confirm the approximate timeframe.

Hobi says he’ll go wake Jungkook up, seemingly unaware that Tae had joined him in bed.

Once he gets there he first calls for Jk, pauses and also calls for Tae in a higher, slightly surprised tone. Goes to show it was unexpected for him.

Hobi is insistent, they have to eat and leave the cottage soon.

Jk stretches and gets up relatively quickly - although looks sleepy. Taking into account the cut, it must have been a couple of minutes since Hobi entered.

Hobi looks on and doesn’t leave until they get up. He had to make sure. This may be strongly subjective but he seems to have a somewhat wary demeanor, looking at them as if he was studying the situation.

Tae suddenly sprints out of bed.

Note Hobi’s face -

He pauses at the door for a bit before reminding them to hurry up. He might think they are capable of going back to sleep and miss lunch. Maybe that’s the only reason he looks faintly concerned, but that’s up for interpretation.

Publicly debated topic - There was a clear cut between Hobi entering the room and when he talks to Taekook, finally getting them out of bed. ARMY pointed out that the door was left more closed after Hobi entered, but when we see him again - after the cut - it’s wide open meaning someone crossed it in the meantime, which makes people wonder. Jk’s feet also change position which means there was substantial movement. This has led some to believe that Taekook were cuddling quite intimately and the cut was made to hide it.

Skeptical stance: Please keep in mind all content is edited, with cuts, and we don’t necessarily believe this is a big deal. It’s just being noted since it was a widely discussed topic.

Observations(both anticlimactic & open): Contrary to popular belief, Hobi did knock on Jk’s door in ep 7 when he was alone. The cut could’ve just been made to shorten the moment since TK didn’t want to get up. Maybe Hobi went back towards the door after getting a response from them, opened it, hesitated & decided to make sure they got up. Judging by their feet, Tae was already on his back before the cut - same as Jk who was even starting to turn towards the wall. Seeing that their positions weren’t compromising prior to the cut and that Tk were shown cuddling just moments before without a problem, I don’t think BH tried to hide anything with this specific cut. You can decide as you wish. Nevertheless, I think them cuddling before Hobi entered was very possible which is explained below.

Door looks more closed -

As you see, prior to Hobi’s entrance it is indeed possible that Jk was hugging Tae if you observe his legs and how he starts to turn the other way around. His left knee is lifted and folded which would be the one folding over Tae (in the speculative case) while the other leg was straightened. Why the need to move right when Hobi enters? Also, in this action one of his legs is left without a blanket to cover him which could indicate he was closer to Tae just seconds before.

However - still prior to the cut - Jk had already turned towards the wall with both his knees facing that way, therefore, there was nothing to hide anymore - if there ever was.

Tae was also on his back if you look at his right foot’s toe facing the door (the foot with exclamation points is Jk’s facing the wall).

In the next scene, the door is wide open and Jk’s position has changed further - rolling more on his side, straightening his legs and fully covering them with the blanket (except his foot).

https://twitter.com/_k91230v_/status/1314470859361247232?s=21

or may view footage of this in Korean here -

https://twitter.com/hellotae_vv/status/1314213325505400832?s=21

; Full clip:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1AVMFqki3PWhCcXlN-rKrEGloODWk9l95/view?usp=drivesdk

Taekook sit next to each other as they eat - possibly the last two to join. They grow impatient when they finish eating and get up. First it’s Jk and then Tae follows suit, surrounding the table to go where he is.

It seems like they cross a few words - although not heard - and for some reason Jk hands his phone over to Tae. We’ve noticed the editors can alter the volume of their mics as Jimin is heard muffled at some point during this scene.

Members urge the duo to sit down so they can say thank you.

Taekook then can be seen walking together towards the main house, but choose to engage in different activities.

Full lunch + tk walking:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qLT2eoYEy_HI8CIbv7Iti-C29io1wZ92/view?usp=drivesdk

While Jk quietly carved wood -

Tae searched for playmates for a water balloon fight - clearly still playful unlike what they tried to portray in ep 6. Tae is certainly calmer compared to his younger self, but he still likes to joke around. The pandemic affected his mood and this was a time for healing, but his core personality didn’t drastically change and it was a recent situation. In late 2019 (around early November) Tae said these words: “They say I’m restless, but that’s who I am. I think that’s why they gave me that nickname. I don’t think my personality will change no matter how much time passes or how old I get. I’d like to be considered a playful person to everyone”. As we said, we reiterate they must have used Tae’s recent mood as the perfect excuse to naturally justify the separation strategy they had been using to pretend they drifted apart these last years.

Back in Seoul, BTS visit the studio to record the theme song for Soop. Even though there is an empty chair, when Tae comes back from recording his part, he proceeds to sit on Jk’s lap, who doesn’t protest. This is what Tae saw as he was entering the room -

He walked past Jk playfully smothering Hobi to leave the paper -

And turned around to look directly at them.

He hesitated for a second - standing still in front of them without looking around - and went for it, claiming his seat on top of Jk.

Jk was smiling, maybe about Tae or maybe about the silly singing he was participating in along other members. Regardless, he was in a good mood & unbothered.

Tae let himself fall flat against Jk, completely relaxed.

Jk started to feel a bit asphyxiated after a while so he gently incorporated himself, making Tae sit straight but with no intention of pushing him off.

Tae stays there for a considerable amount of time, both comfortable and smiling whenever something funny happened.

Note that the members seemed to play a sort of musical chairs. When a member returned from singing, he would take the seat of the person who got up to go record. Therefore, the argument that Tae avoided the seat for Joon isn’t very credible. No one else sits on a lap and no one else had an issue finding a seat when he wanted. (Tae sitting on Jk’s lap: https://drive.google.com/file/d/14UhAYnWI4YWrMNoK3wa69m_tod-X7c9m/view?usp=drivesdk)

When all go in but Yoongi, Joon suggests the members sing in a breathy tone, to which Tae says it’s his speciality.

However, Vmin then show solidarity in hyping Jk’s voice. Right after they agree to an airy tone for the chorus, both Jk and Jimin start softly singing to themselves, but Tae doesn’t hesitate when he suddenly turns to Jk and grabs him by the arm to pull him to the center. As Tae is doing this action, Jimin asks the rhetorical question “isn’t he the best at it?”

Tae has a precious grin adorning his features -

Tae affirms Jk is the best at capturing the breathy tone BTS is striving for as he leads him to the center of the group. The younger shows modesty by questioning their decision as he says “why? why?”.

Notice Tae’s arm still pulling him -

Tae then gestures to the mic, insisting.

He briefly gives Jk’s arm an encouraging pat / light grab as he says again Jk should sing in the center.

Jimin agrees and says Jk is the chorus.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1RqnHIjmLPjzxsBKaXbJEkbbiYZT7XQmK/view?usp=drivesdk

Towards the end of the recording session, Tae goes in to record a solo soulful piece (Jk follows after). When Tae begins, Yoongi and Jimin immediately turn to Jk and start laughing loudly, with Yoongi clapping as he laughs (other members also laugh). Jk grins.

Speculative stance: Yoonmin may have turned to Jk because it was expected he’d go in after Tae and “duel” as Yoongi later says. Perhaps they turn to him to gauge his reaction at following in recording his soulful take after Tae.

Jk introduces Tae with a “Here goes V” - raising expectations.

Yoonmin look at Jk as they laugh -

Members really want Jk to record the ad-libs he was doing while sited. They call it a “war” and an “ad-lib battle” (keep in mind neither Tae nor Jk uttered those words).

Once Jk is done and gave them all good laughs, Joon asks him to go back in to do a final ad-lib. Mirroring his prior actions, Tae excitedly hunches forward to get him off his chair and into the studio, very much looking forward to more of Jk’s hilariously soulful singing.

TK ad-lib battle:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1x1JYtCG-bwBD6WZWwUQ2WaLpi7gw2-CG/view?usp=drivesdk

#taekook #taekooktimeline #2020 #june 2020 #200602 #domestic #encouragement #supportive #cuddles #closeness #playfulness

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veludowayy · 5 years ago

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itaru chigasaki general headcanons

↣ re-dyes his hair every two weeks or so. if anyone asks it’s “all natural” but in truth it was his sister who convinced him to start doing it.

↣ the one time banri hacked his nintendo account and enable the parental lock on his switch, itaru didn’t find out until he was two hours into a boss battle without saving. needless to say, banri almost died that day.

↣ prefers fun-sized chocolates to full sized ones. they’re less messy when gaming and if the children ever come into his room to steal some, he loses less.

↣ is decently good at makeup due to his sister's influence - he mostly uses this skill to cover up his eyebags and make himself look less dead after an all-nighter or two.

↣ doesn’t enjoy wearing socks, but he owns three pairs of indoor slippers since protecting one’s feet in a dorm that has over twenty people is Essential™. they are all varying degrees of fuzzy.

↣ genuinely enjoys balancing multiple games at once but isn’t afraid to drop things/take things slowly. whales very hard when it comes to events he likes and then only does logins for a while to recharge.

↣ once really considered cutting his hair short so he wouldn’t have to deal with it - he only changed his mind because all the comments and looks he would receive would be too much of a hassle.

↣ can’t play any instruments but has a good sense of rhythm. sings video game songs in the shower.

↣ has a few shelves filled with figures, manga, dvds, etc. he keeps his video game cases in a separate location, so a lot of his immediate storage is filled with this kinda stuff.

↣ takes really good care of his eyes because if he ever has to wear glasses he will Die and also can’t wear contacts because he'd forget to take them out all the time.

↣ favorite color is yellow; has a plain yellow phone case for work and owns five extra ones of varying designs that he changes out depending on his mood.

↣ his moods are very clear but never emotes very loudly. is known at work for having a cute laugh but also for not laughing very often despite how much he smiles.

↣ can only bake if it comes from a package and the instructions are super duper clear. is actually a half-decent cook but prefers to eat Gamer Food™ most of the time, so this skill is rarely observed.

↣ is prone to injuries, mostly due to excessive multitasking and not actually paying as much attention as he should. the type who swears when injured, gets in trouble for this often. has never broken a bone and never wants to either.

↣ when he was younger, he wanted to get several piercings but later realized that he dislikes pain too much for that and also that they’d be too much work for him to take care of.

↣ can turn his work persona on and off with a one and a half second turnover period. it’s kind of jarring when he suddenly changes modes but also very interesting to watch, depending on the circumstances.

↣ legitimately enjoys styling his hair, especially on days off - he owns several products for it and more than a few hair bands, clips and ties.

↣ does actually have a skin care routine, but whether he follows it or not is for him to know and for no one else to ever find out.

↣ he has very neat handwriting. makes his twos extra curvy and adds an extra line through his sevens.

↣ doesn’t rage quit often - getting mad usually makes him play better. the kind of person who chokes his combo halfway through a ten minute beatmap, gets angry, and then is trying again after only half a minute of rage.

↣ wore braces as a kid. is kinda grateful for that but also not.

↣ buys in-game currency a lot because he tends to buy random things if he finds spare cash on himself. has several drawers filled with random knick knacks that he impulse bought and has only looked at twice.

↣ commissions art fairly often. has a board in his room dedicated to his favorite pieces.

↣ is very good at arcade games. can and will win you a plushie from a crane game but only if you ask nicely enough. dislikes the basketball and skeeball games the most but still plays them anyway.

↣ has like no muscles. can lift a decent sized stack of games but that is all. if he had to run for his life he would probably die. he acknowledges this as fact.

↣ the sleepier he gets, the less he filters his thoughts. gets in trouble for this often but rarely cares since he is. sleepy.

↣ will recommend games to everyone. it’s not as if he goes out of his way to do so, most of the time at least, but somehow he just ends up thinking of people and it just feels right to share.

↣ once tried to make a game. it did not end well. he became infinitely more grateful to all the people who are in that line of work after this experience.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#itaru chigasaki #writing #headcanons #mod.post #i wanted to write & what better place to post than here i guess?#i think i'll do hisoka next? we shall see #itaru #harugumi

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zult-of-zephyr · 5 years ago

Text

Layers

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Hey y'all! So, while I'm working on Curious, I'm also going to be working on a series of Not Snape For Work fics taking place in the same au as Curious, but will be tagged as #Kurious.

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Curious is a Severus Snape x self-ship/x reader/x oc fanfiction. While it can be read as an x reader/x oc fanfiction, and I encourage y'all to do so, it is written first and foremost as a self indulgent fic for me. That being said, it tends to take inspiration from many aspects of my life, such as, but not limited to, my C-PTSD, my personal traumas, my personal Snape headcanons, my interests, etc. This is just a general warning for all chapters of Curious or Kurious, in case this would make any potential readers uncomfortable.

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Layers

Word Count: 2,123

Rating: E for explicit sexual content! Do not read/interact with if you are under 18, and I check every account that interacts with any of my posts.

Short Synopsis: Simone gets dressed with the help of our beloved Severus. This is a very subby sev with a much more dominant reader. Very heated and tender moments happen.

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Winter had always been your favourite season, but since moving to England, fall had replaced that spot in your heart. How it got to be so perfectly chilly. How you got to see the earth start it's slumber. How you actually got to layer your clothes for the chill.

Layering was always a habit of yours, just to regulate temperatures and help you feel safe. It gave you a sense of putting on armour. Literally placing protective charms on your clothes as you put them on, just to have a first line of defense. Your long skirts and slips bundling you up in a warm, comfortable pod, keeping you snug and cozy. Making you feel that safety you long for. But not many got to see the process. Severus, however, was one of those lucky few. One of the few you allowed to strip you of your armour, both literally and figuratively. But he'd yet to actually see you dress yourself.

After pulling an all-nighter of grading papers and potions with your help, you both decided to just stay the night in your cottage rather than have him worry about sleepy apparation nor making the trek up to the castle and then down to his quarters.

You always wake up early, seeing the sun not quite up just yet. Knowing that the night terrors and bad memories that often plauged your mind had led to you waking up long before anyone else once again. But it never failed to work you up, shaking as you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. After calming down, you got up, deciding to start your day sooner rather than never. Going through the motions of bathroom basics, brushing your hair, teeth, among other things, you finally started the process of getting dressed. But you hadn't realized someone was watching you. That someone had been watching you since your shaky exit from the bed, longing to reach out and hold you, but feared upsetting you more than you already were.

You pulled out your outfit for the day, stacking your clothes in the order in which you needed. Stripping down, assuming you were still the only one awake, you started to get dressed. As you slipped on a fresh set of lace panties, you could feel eyes on you. Knowing they belonged to a certain potions master, you bit your lip as you thought, Might as well give him a show.

You grabbed the first layer of your outfit; a simple pair of black stockings. You slowly pulled on your black tights, up, up, up your body, feeling every curve get enveloped in a sheer blackness. You wiggled your plush ass and thighs into the tight fabric, hearing a sharp gasp from behind you as you pulled the stockings all the way up and into place. However, you didn't look over. You liked teasing him.

Pulling out the second layer, a garter belt, you slipped it on. You smoothed it out over your curves, pulling the garter clips and letting them smack back into place, hitting against the sheer inkiness of your backside. You hear a groan sound from behind you, and you finally look over your shoulder coyly. And it was a sight to behold.

His hair was still disheveled from sleep, his face flushed pink from the scene unfolding in front of him. He was taking deep breaths, slow and steady, but it was merely an act to control himself. But his eyes gave away everything. Oh god, his eyes. They were so intense, staring at every part of you, drinking in your form, the hazy glow of the birth of dawn just barely silhouetting your body. They were dark and beautiful and hungry. And you planned to give him the meal of a lifetime.

"You know, Severus," You purred, finally turning towards him fully, hands covering your nipples,

" People are usually much more excited to see me take off my clothes." You continued, seeing a swathe of red overtake his face and the tips of his ears. His head snapped up, meeting your gaze, and guilt was now added to the mix of emotions swirling around in his eyes. Now that won't do.

You let your breasts free, walking towards him with the rest of your layers in your arms, folding them just so so that they propped up your breasts. He seemed shocked, looking at you, to your breasts, then to anywhere but you. As you got closer to him, he made a motion as if to speak, but stopped when you bent close to his ear. You could feel him shiver from your breath on him.

"Would you like to help me?" You asked, pulling away to make eye contact with him. He seemed shocked, mouth open and gave you a weak nod.

"You'll need to speak up if you want to help."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but after gulping, he managed a shaky, "Y-yes."

"Yes, what?" You teased. God how you loved to tease him.

"Y-yes, I would like to help you dress." He said, looking away from you. You pulled his chin up with a free hand, grazing his neck not-so-accidently. His breath hitched as you gave him a smile and a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and pulled away to meet his eyes again.

"Thank you, Severus." You said lovingly. Straightening up, you placed your clothes onto his lap, caressing up his outer thigh as you did so, and smirking when he shuddered at your touch. Yes, teasing him was your absolute favourite thing to do.

Sliding onto the bed, you swiveled your legs to either side of him, propping yourself on your elbows as you laid back. He seemed really flustered now, looking at the clothes, red as can be.

"Socks would be next, Sev. They should be on top." You instructed, loving how you get him worked up like this.

"Ah, yes, let me just-" He started, hands hovering over your leg, as if unsure you if you actually wanted him to touch you or not. As if you ever wanted him not to touch you.

"You can touch me, Sev," you say, placing your right foot into his hovering hand," I won't bite. Yet."

His eyebrows shot up, but he simply shook his head, taking the sock and placing it onto your foot and slowly rolling it up your calf. He caressed your curves and looked at you, that love and hunger returning to his eyes, all guilt having vanished from them. Now that's much better.

After rolling your sock to your calf, he gives you the same treatment to your left leg, placing it down gently. As he does so, you raise yourself up to your knees, leaning over and holding onto his neck. Stradling him, you leaned into the crook of his neck and spoke against his skin.

"Well go on, Severus." You started to kiss him, lightly, only to nibble on his collar bone. He whimpered. Music to your ears.

"Finish what you started."

"R-right!" He barked, starting to roll up your socks completely, groping your soft thighs with happy abandon, moaning now and again when you kissed the rights spots along his neck here and there. He palmed your ass as he grabbed the garter clips kissing your shoulder lightly, lovingly, as he clipped your socks into place. You pulled back, resting yourself on his lap.

He rested his hands on your hips, just staring out you.

"Why did you wake up so early?" He asked nonchalantly, but softly, making sure you met his gaze.

Shit. I'm busted.

"Nightmares... it's normal for me. I'm sorry, I-" You start to ramble, starting pull away, to close up. You hated having to explain, to have to get so wrapped back up in those thoughts and images. To relive something that wasn't even real.

"Do you really think you need to explain nightmares to me, Simone?" Severus cut you off, pulling you back to him, in more ways than one. His sarcastic tone and smirk would've hurt anyone else, but you saw that worry in his eyes, clear as crystal. Worry for you.

"No, I suppose I don't, Severus." You met his gaze with an equally arched brow and sarcasm, but you hoped he could see the graditude in your eyes, see what his touch and his words mean to you. Looking into his eyes, you cupped his cheek and closed the space between you, kissing him as tenderly as you could. He kissed back with a hunger, deeping the tender kiss into something more passionate. You both broke the kiss for air, panting. You could feel he was as hot as you, but you weren't done with your teasing yet. It never gets old.

"My bra, Severus, next is my bra." You panted out, resting back onto his lap. He blinks at your words, still drunk off of the kiss. God, I love him.

"Hmm? Oh yes, yes..." He said, catching his breath as he picked up the black, lacey bra on top of the now crumpled pile of clothes. You moved the pile out of the way, eyeing the erection that tented his boxers. As he slipped the bra onto your shoulders he kissed at your breasts, burying himself inbetween them as he latched your bra into place, moaning as you freed his cock, grazing it lightly with your nails, precum already starting to flow.

Smearing it over his head with your thumb, you felt him inhale sharply against your tits. You gave him a few slow, tortuous pumps before pulling your hand away.

"S-simone, please-" Severus pleaded, thrusting up into the space where your hand was.

"My shirt, Sev. That comes next." You simply said, knowing he'd listen to your every word. He always did.

He quickly pulled out your button up, sliding it over your shoulders. He started buttoning your blouse, fumbling here and there, cursing them. Serves him right, you thought, for all the buttons I have to deal with.

After he gets half way through, you take his cock in your hand again, pumping and twisting your wrist oh so deliciously slowing, pulling another moan from him.

"Now, Sev, you keep on buttoning me up. You wouldn't want me to stop, would you?" You said matter-of-factly, loving the games you played.

"N-no! I-don't stop, please..."

He moans as you pick up pace a little bit more. He starts buttoning up your blouse as fast as he can, little moans and groans emanating from his throat as you slow and quicken your hand's pace with his fumbles. It was delightful to see such skilled hands stumble. All because of you.

As the he fastened the last button, you let go of him, but just as Severus started to beg, you leaned down and licked his shaft from the base to the tip, eliciting a long moan from him. Perfect.

You took his head into your mouth as one of his hands found your hair, entangling itself in your long curls. Humming, you took him into your mouth, hands pressing down on his thighs to keep him from thrusting too hard. He grunted, feeling your vibrating tounge press against his shaft as you hollowed your cheeks, creating sunction as you started to bob your head slowly. He grunts again, thrusting a little as you start to go faster, pulling your hair just right, causing you to moan harder against him. You start to move your head quickly, flicking your tounge along the underside of his shaft in time to his small thrusts.

You can feel his cock pulse in your mouth as he calls out your name with a strangled cry. You pull off of him, letting him cum onto your blouse. You catch his glazed stare, his panting hard and quick.

"Oh, Simone, your shirt, I-" You cut him off by unbuttoning your blouse, tossing it off somewhere in the room.

"How was that?" You asked Severus, hugging onto his neck.

"That? That was-that was wonderful." He responded with a chuckle, draping one arm around you.

"You are wonderful." He finished, placing a lazy kiss on your head.

Now it was your turn to be flustered, whispering a soft thank you against his collar bone. You really did love him. He was so impossibly kind to you.

Suddenly, a mischievous thought crossed your mind as you realized it was Sunday. His off day. Oh, he is not leaving this bed today. You sat up, a glint in your eyes as his quizzical brow shot back up.

"Really? Well, if you thought that was wonderful, how'd you like to help me undress?"

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Wooo, I wrote this in the span of like, four hours, and I think it's actually pretty decent! Be sure to let me know what y'all think, I'd love to from y'all about it!!♡

#curious #kurious #severus snape #snape #severus snape x oc #severus snape x reader #snape x reader #snape x oc #snape love #pro snape #snapedom #snape community #not safe for snape #nsft #lemon #fanfiction #fan fic #harry potter #layers

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dvp95 · 5 years ago

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quiet on widow’s peak (1)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, youtuber phil lester, dan howell is not a youtuber, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter & total) summary: Phil's got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story. Bingo squares: met on tumblr

new wip? NEW WIP.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

The wind is loud in this one. That's frustrating, and it makes Phil's job a lot harder, but he can't control the weather. Be cool if he could. He does his best to level out his voice and the background noise of Mother Nature before he settles in with his good headphones and really cranks the volume.

It's even more annoying to listen to the alternating crackle and whistle right in his ears. Phil has dealt with worse during this whole process, though, so he finds the strength to power through it. He listens to the full thing three times, scribbling a few timestamps down on a Post-It pad as he does. He takes a break after that, does some stretches around his tiny bedroom and tiptoes out to get a snack without waking the whole damn house, and then he's right back in his apparently ergonomic office chair to subject his ears to more of this nonsense.

Wind, wind, and more wind. And sometimes just Phil's own voice. Nothing of note.

Phil is about to give this video up as a loss altogether when he hits one of the final timestamps and... can't figure out what that noise is.

For the first time since he opened this file, Phil grins. He exports the clip and plays around with it in Audacity. Some videos are always more fun than others, and Phil had felt like he was slogging through this one until now.

"Do you hear that, Theodore?" Phil murmurs. The tiny cactus on his desk, thankfully, does not respond.

It sounds like a person. It sounds like a person, whispering, and it definitely isn't the wind, and it isn't Phil's own voice, because he's in the middle of a question in this clip.

Phil might just be going crazy from sleep deprivation or wishful thinking, though. He pulls out his phone and texts the only group chat that doesn't cause him anxiety, which is comprised of the housemates that he actually gets along with. Anyone up? he asks, adding a single eye emoji for good measure.

Even though it's gone two in the morning, he gets immediate responses from all of them. A string of vaguely dirty emojis from Chris, a simple yeah from Sophie, and a cheerfully morbid did you know that insomnia leads to an early death? from PJ.

Wanna listen to a noise for me?

Within three minutes, Phil's bedroom is full of people in various states of sleepiness. All of them are in ridiculous pyjamas - including Phil - and PJ's hair in particular has taken on a mind of its own. Phil's room isn't really big enough for all of them, so there's some awkward shuffling before PJ claims the office chair. Phil sits at the foot of his bed with Sophie and Chris on either side of him, pressed close against each other's shoulders. It's a good thing he likes these people.

"I mean, it isn't the wind," is PJ's confident opinion. "Did you have anyone with you?"

"No, it's just me and my camera against the world," says Phil.

"No need to be a twat," Chris informs him. He taps at PJ's upper arm, impatient. "Let me have a go, then, if there's something there."

Chris is famously bad at hearing things in white noise, but PJ acquiesces the seat easily enough. Phil laughs, watching them do a weird step dance around each other in the small space between Phil's bed and desk.

"I can't hear any specific words," PJ says as he flops down across Phil's pillows, making himself comfortable. Phil just nods, because neither can he.

"How d'you know it's a person, then?" Sophie asks. Her voice is probably the only one soft enough for the hour. Their other housemates hate them for their frequent all-nighters, but Sophie is kind and quiet enough that she slips under the radar.

"You'll see for yourself."

When Sophie goes to respond, Chris interrupts in a hilariously loud voice, as if he's forgotten that having headphones on doesn't mean they can't hear him. "It's some kind of ghoulie or ghostie! I can barely fucking hear it, Philly, why didn't you mic it?"

"Why didn't I mic the ghost?" Phil asks, bewildered. Naturally, Chris doesn't hear him.

Sophie taps Chris on the shoulder and stands, leaning over his shoulder as she takes her turn listening to the sound clip over and over. Chris spins in the chair a few times and gives Phil an unhinged sort of grin.

"You got something this time," says Chris. He sounds like he's having just as much fun as Phil is, now that there's actually a thing to listen to besides his own voice and the loud, loud wind.

"I think so," says Phil. "Why didn't I mic the ghost?"

"I'm saying it would make your job a lot easier if you mic the ghost, yes."

"If I could mic a ghost, I'd be a millionaire."

"Then you better get on it, eh?" Chris laughs, spinning a bit faster. Phil has never seen the man sleep. It's a little bit worrying.

"Sure," Phil says, giving up on trying to teach any logic to someone who's clearly long lost their hold on it. "Next time I spend all night in a graveyard, I'll mic any spirits that might be hanging out."

"Shut up," Sophie tells them, mild.

Chris mimes zipping his lips, wrapping an easy arm around her waist, and PJ laughs.

For the first few months they all lived together, Phil had struggled to keep up with whatever dynamics were going on between the three of them, but he's long since given it up as something he's not going to understand.

After a moment of quiet, Sophie nods. "I hear it," she tells them. Even with the headphones on, she's quiet. "It's not words, I wouldn't put any subtitles over it."

"Yeah," PJ agrees. "Just let your audience duke it out in the comments like they always do."

"Thanks, guys," Phil says, feeling a sort of warmth sink into his shoulders. He notices that Chris is pulling up another application and half-heartedly protests. "Chris, you don't need to edit this one for me. I still haven't paid you for the last video." Or the one before that. Or the three or four previous. Phil has it written down somewhere.

"Don't be stupid," Chris hums, already clicking around erratically. It makes the editor in Phil want to scream, but he has to admit that Chris manages to find more weird visual stuff to isolate than he could on his own.

"I feel bad," says Phil, chewing his lip.

"I've told you," says Chris, "you can pay me back in chores and sexual favours."

PJ's slippered foot knocks against Phil's hip, and he grins brightly when Phil turns to him. "You know, I do have a bit of a laundry backlog."

"Funny thing, that," says Sophie.

Biting back a laugh, Phil shakes his head. "Alright, alright. Everybody leave their laundry in front of my door tomorrow."

"That's a no on the beej, then?" Chris asks, raising a single eyebrow and pointing dramatically at Phil. It has been near two years of this, and Phil is still too afraid to ask if it's a joke.

It's not as if Phil's answer would change if it wasn't a joke, because he's not interested in Chris, and he's especially not interested in becoming entangled in whatever nonsense his housemates have gotten themselves into. But, still, he might be kinder about letting Chris down if he were being genuine.

"That is a no," Phil confirms. "But I will wash your pants."

"Kinky," says Chris. He turns back to the screen and makes an incomprehensible hand gesture. "This is pretty shit. You know that, right?"

Yeah. Phil does know that. It's getting harder and harder to have the same optimism in every video that he'd had when he first started recording his wanderings around the supposedly-haunted places of Rossendale. He'd brought the camera with him when he left, but might have left that optimism behind. Phil only kind of believes in supernatural things - the way he only kind of believes in giraffes or true love - but it's been more fun than anything else to pick up a camera and try to find some evidence.

He's been doing this since he was nineteen, though, and he's getting a little bored by the formula of it all. Go into a haunted place, try to communicate with the spirits, pick up some garbled words or creepy noises, highlight visual oddities like orbs, and let the internet tear it all to shreds. Honestly, he'd have more fun making proper horror at this point in his life.

Phil shrugs and pulls his knees up to his chest. He wants to hide away from the sympathy in Sophie's eyes, from Chris' blunt words. "Yeah. I'm getting kind of... I don't know. Restless."

"Maybe you should ask people to submit things again," PJ suggests. "That went well last time."

It had, actually. Phil had needed to sort through a lot more ridiculous stories and obvious hoaxes than usual, but he'd found some nuggets of gold in all that hay. Or however that saying goes.

"People did like having their stories read out," Phil says slowly. "I'd just need to be extra sure that nobody's, like..."

"Ripping off r/NoSleep," says PJ.

"Yeah, exactly."

"We can help," Sophie says, and Phil could cry at how easily PJ and Chris agree with her.

He really doesn't deserve to have such great people around him. They've got work and lives of their own, but they're always happy to spend time crowded around Phil's computer listening to weird noises together. Phil sometimes wonders what they get out of it. Do they just like helping him, the way he has fun holding the boom for PJ's films or testing Sophie's concoctions? Or are they just as fascinated as Phil by the weirdness of it all? Do they want to see the cool instances of paranormal activity, too? At this point it feels nearly impossible to ask.

"That's going to be a lot of washing pants for me," Phil sighs. He doesn't know how to thank them, not when they always just wave it off.

"Sure is," says PJ. "But you should... ask the audience!"

"Your Chris Tarrant is pretty good," says Phil, only a little surprised by it. PJ's voice is as much of a tool to him as the rest of his body, and it's one he's always been skilled with. The impressions still tend to catch Phil off guard sometimes.

PJ tips an invisible hat. "Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week."

At his friends' not so gentle encouragement, Phil makes a few posts on his socials to ask his followers for new creepy things to explore. It might be the middle of the night in Brighton, but he has a feeling that Chris isn't leaving his desk until he's found every instance of an orb or strange shadow in the fifty minutes of currently uncut footage.

It seems like Sophie is on the same page, because she excuses herself to make tea for everyone. PJ leans over Chris' shoulder and watches the clips without sound, his lips moving as if he's murmuring to himself.

Sometimes this feels more like a group effort than Phil is comfortable with. He's never been very good at asking for help. As grateful as he is, he still itches with the need to take back control of the situation. He uses the slow trickle of fan submissions to distract him from that feeling, because all three of them do make his videos better when he stops being so possessive over his footage. Phil flops onto his back and scrolls through the incoming emails, tweets, and Tumblr messages to see if there's anything promising.

For the most part, the answer is a resounding no. Some things are blatant lies - there are countless ripoffs of films or novels that Phil happens to be familiar with, a few things swiped from creepypasta or subreddits, and his usual amount of conspiracy theorist fans insisting that some high profile person or other is a lizard - but most of it, to Phil's dismay, just doesn't grab his attention the way he wants it to.

Sophie comes back with tea and snacks. She leans her head against Phil's shoulder and watches him cycle through his apps, fact-checking idly and sighing every time something easily proves to be a hoax. Her hair smells like coconut and she makes a soft humming noise every time she lifts the mug to her lips. Her presence alone, small and warm and supportive, is enough to keep Phil from throwing his phone across the room and having a right sulk about how his career is in a tailspin because nobody makes ghosts like they used to. At some point in the night, Sophie's breathing evens out to the point that Phil thinks she's asleep, but then she reaches out to tap a tiny finger to his screen.

"What's this, then?" she murmurs.

Phil has been zoned out entirely for at least fifteen, and he blinks back into reality. There's a new message in his Tumblr inbox, one that seems like it must be over the character limit for asks. He must have submissions turned on or something, that's the only possible explanation for an actual essay being sent to him. It's barely broken into paragraphs with very little punctuation and no capitalization, and Phil has been staring at screens for far too long to try and parse this on his own.

"Can you please make sure this isn't, like, the entire Bee Movie," Phil asks, handing Sophie his phone with only a slight twinge of anxiety. He trusts her not to go snooping, but. Still. "I need to pee."

"Mhm," Sophie hums, already apparently lost in whatever stream-of-consciousness has been dropped into Phil's inbox.

The floorboards in this old Brighton house creak, and Phil has always envied some of his housemates for being able to sidestep the noises. It doesn't seem to matter how long he lives here, how much he tries to avoid making any noise, it's like the floorboards are determined to creak under Phil's weight. He winces as he passes two bedrooms whose occupants surely don't appreciate creaking outside their doors at such an ungodly hour.

At least he doesn't run into any walls this time. The nightlight in the bathroom at the end of the hall is the only thing lighting Phil's way, and he tends to stub his toes on absolutely nothing in this kind of semi-darkness.

When he makes his - very, very creaky - way back to his own room, he's bewildered by the scene that greets him. PJ and Chris have joined Sophie on his bed, and all three of them are poring over Phil's phone as though they're looking at a map to the Holy Grail.

"Hello," Phil says slowly, closing the door behind him. It creaks, too. "You aren't going through my pictures, are you?"

"No," Sophie and PJ chorus without looking up.

"You got nudes on here or something?" Chris asks with a mild sort of interest, clearly also too engaged in Phil's phone to put his all into the flirting.

"I don't," says Phil. It doesn't sound convincing, even though it's true, and he waits for Chris to tease him about it some more. When he doesn't, Phil has to admit that he's curious. "So I guess it isn't a meme or something?"

That makes them look up, in almost comedic synchronicity. Sophie blinks a few times, as if she's coming back to herself. She holds out Phil's phone and shakes her head.

"It's not a meme," she says. "And near as we can tell, it's genuine."

Phil joins them and takes his phone back, adjusting his glasses. His bed really wasn't made for four people, but his housemates have never had any personal space amongst themselves, and Phil isn't one to say no to human contact when he isn't getting it anywhere else.

The message is just as hard to read as it was at first glance, but Phil puts his brain to work. If his friends are reacting like this, it usually means he's in for something good.

hi ok so the thing is that this is completely ridiculous and i dont think its what youre looking for at all but theres a building near my uni thats got a ton of stories around it and it only started happening like this year like it isnt an old obviously haunted type of place but theres a lot of weird shit that goes down there so i found all the references to it online that i could and ive summarized them here (w/ sources ofc im not a dick) and its all just this side of strange so it seems like the sort of thing you might be interested in ok here we go SO

And it goes on like that. Phil feels his eyebrows raising as he clicks the provided links in the following walls of text, which are exactly what they're advertised as. Not a single rickroll in there. Just a handful of posts on Reddit and Facebook and independent blogs about various experiences people have had with a particular abandoned building in -

"I know this place," Phil says, surprised. He looks up at PJ's grin, Sophie's wide eyes, Chris' palms rubbing together in exaggerated interest. "I've been to parties here. Well, okay," he corrects himself before his friends can do it for him, "I've gone with Martyn to parties here and left early."

"Yeah, it isn't far out of Manchester," PJ hums. He bounces in place a bit, like he's suddenly energized enough to go jump on the soonest train up north.

"It didn't seem that weird," says Phil. "It's been a few years, I guess, but it wasn't even that scary."

"Sounds like it's only just started, though," Chris pipes up.

Phil isn't sure how much he likes that. The idea of a place he's been a few times, half an hour from his childhood home, being so suddenly full of haunted activity feels... weird. Still, it's catching his interest in a way that nothing else has in months, so.

"I'll look into it some more tomorrow," he decides, glancing at the time. His brother is probably still awake, to be honest, but Phil doesn't want to be that guy asking 'hey, do you remember the Wilkins place?' before dawn has even broken. Again. He has definitely done that sort of thing in the past. "I'll have plenty of time while I do, what, seventeen loads of laundry?"

"Something like that," PJ laughs. "Want us to clear out?"

As nice as the company and help has been, Phil still feels a rush of relief at the concept of being left alone again. He nods, still scrolling idly through the Wilkins place submission.

It hits him, very literally, too close to home to ignore. He wonders if his fan knows that, if this is somehow an elaborate prank that will end up just wasting Phil's time, but he's too curious to leave it alone. He'll just have to ask around, see if anyone else has heard these murmurings.

Til then, maybe he ought to try and get some sleep. Phil's computer, still open on the editing software, tempts him.

Well. What's another couple hours at this point?

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words #qowp..... mayhaps i made a mistake w this title......#quiet on widow's peak #YES it's another marianas title what are you the marianas title police?#bingo

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thisonesawoozy · 6 years ago

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I’ve been kinda into the “types of people” thing and I’ve decided to make one. I know people have already made this one, but I swear it’s not the same. I think this is a good inspiration for writing or creating characters. Hope you like it!

Types of Humans- decades edition:

1910’s: Old peeling wallpaper, arranging flowers, waiting on a porch, handing over a handkerchief, finding something broken, one time truces, steaming cup of tea, big hats, sad smiles

1920’s: Champagne, big smiles, loud laughter, playing piano, pearls on bedside tables, dragging a friend to go dancing, cigarette smoke, white feathers, red lips, broken promises, forbidden glances, timeless beauty

1930’s: Broke and tired, frizzy hair, typewriters, sleeping on couches, yellow photographs, a garden of weeds, job applications, jazz music in the mornings, amused grins, filled up journals, stressed out work days, sleepy cuddles

1940’s: Book filled corners, bags under eyes, pots of coffee on the counter, newspapers on the table, torn open envelopes, hopeful looks, callused palms, old radios, working hard, supportive words

1950’s: Old school diners, echoes of laughter, dancing till midnight, late night calls, love at first sight, jukeboxes, red punch, ice cream cones, high school sweethearts, sweet perfume

1960’s: Loud and proud, spoken minds, jeans & mini skirts, old cars, walks on the beach, ringing doorbells, extra cans of hairspray, cotton candy, hitchhiking, lots of friends

1970’s: Long hair, blasting the car radio, daydreams, holding hands in a park, placing flowers in hair, peace of mind, blown out candles, sparkling sequins, afternoon sun

1980’s: John Hugh’s marathons, big hoop earrings, alternative concerts, teased hair, checkered vans, black wayfarers, making mixtapes, neon signs, heartbreaking smiles, slamming the door, Tetris addict

1990’s: Flannel, rock music, goofy expressions, hair clips, band T-shirts, leather jackets, oval sunglasses, cheesy jokes, plastic chokers, 2am runs to the grocery store, jumping on trampolines

2000’s: Jogging on a sidewalk, riding shotgun, rock songs, pillow fights, flip phones, headbands, hand washing the car, dancing in the sprinklers, collecting silly bands, old easy bake ovens

2010’s: Tired laughter, pulling all nighters, dancing in the rain, camping in the backyard, study sessions in coffee shops, late night scrolling, midday embraces, awful puns, truths and dares, random thoughts in the middle of the night

#types of people #decades #character inspiration #tag yourself #tag your oc #writing #sorta aesthetic

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soapxmactavish · 5 years ago

Text

missing from his arms (soap mactavish x ayela gonzalez oneshot)

also on ao3

Three nights had passed since Sergeant Gonzalez had been announced MIA.

Captain MacTavish sat on the desk chair, head aching and drowsiness sweeping over him. The lights caused a pounding in his head and he gave another rub at his eyes, trying to get rid of the sleepiness threatening to make him fall unconscious. He hadn’t closed his eyes for 36 hours, and even then he had little sleep. Thanks to commander privileges and the kitchen’s endless supply of caffeine, the impossible was possible for a small while.

“She’s gotta be somewhere around there,” he whispered, sipping at his fourth coffee within the past two hours. Their mission had gone badly wrong, when Ayela had been chased down by a group of militia, drawing them away from the small party of MacTavish and Sanderson. The latter had taken the blow of an IED left in the jungle, leaving him in a heavily-damaged state. Of course, something else had triggered the mine, and the force of the shrapnel and fire threw them backwards.

Ayela had taken it upon herself to draw the incoming savages away from them to allow them to escape.

It had been the last time the captain laid eyes on her since, her last words being, “Both of you get to safety!’, before she disappeared behind the thick foliage of trees. She had left a wounded man and a capable but distraught commander. A lover who had screamed for her name as he lost sight of her and desperate for her return back to him.

Captain MacTavish flicked his attention back to the files on his desk, satellite imagery of the Vietnam jungle spanning hundreds of square miles. They showed the area of operations of where they last saw the Sergeant before she disappeared. She could have been anywhere on there – near waterways, underground caves, or even captured behind enemy lines, or worse…

He shook the thought, hand slowly pulling back into a fist. The captain had barely been restrained from his commanding officer, General Shepherd, after the search was discontinued 24 hours later to look for Sergeant Gonzalez. He had called his personal pilot, Nikolai, but the whole operation had been banned by the US Army General. MacTavish knew what game he was playing and thought of reporting him, though he knew that was as suicide task. If the captain complained, everything he’d worked for – his rank, his position in the SAS, the Task Force he’d built from the ground up – would be snatched away from him as soon as the General ordered it.

The soldier wouldn’t hide it – he was angry, terrified, and panicking about what could happen to her. Not only was guilt gnawing him up on the inside as he’d failed as a field commander, he’d lost the one thing he swore to never lose. Had he known the outcomes, he would’ve ditched Sanderson and placed her in charge without a second thought.

You’d never, ya lovesick bastard, he thought to himself. It was true – he’d know how much stress his sergeant would’ve been under. MacTavish would rather he go through the trouble of looking and worrying and late nights than her. It came at the cost of her being missing, though, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Jolting back to an awake state of mind, the soldier heard footfalls coming from the other side of his cabin’s door. He faced the door, rubbing his face as the handle turned, and the door opened, without a care of being loud at oh-two-hundred hours, a godforsaken hour.

Sanderson stood there, his arm resting in a sling, his left foot in a boot. A bruise was forming up on his forehead where medical tape was stuck, covering his wounds which would scar in a while. There was a mask of tiredness over his face and body. The image of a beaten-up member of his team made MacTavish feel sick to his stomach, and only increased the guilt he felt within himself.

All your fault. You did this.

MacTavish watched with saddened and pained eyes as the sergeant eventually made his way to the made bed, easing down to sit on it without hurting himself any further. Sanderson sighed with his eyes closed, probably trying to endure the pain he was in. They reopened, and shifted from the Scotsman’s tired face to the papers strewn on the oak wood desk. A soft shake of his head came, and understanding dawned on his face. A look of confusion was also there, and sympathy, as far as the captain could read on his face.

MacTavish didn’t want it. He didn’t need it, cared for it, nor deserved it. Who should feel bad for the one responsible?

Sanderson broke the steady silence in the room, which was weighing MacTavish down like a blanket. “You’re still looking.” It was more of a statement than a question. His captain stayed silent and only gave a small nod. His eyes were looking off somewhere at the blank wall in between them, unfocused. There was nothing to say, nothing which would fix the wrongs he’s made in the past few days.

“I am,” he replied, his voice low and soft, hardly there. This was the first time he’d spoken to someone within a dozen or so hours. The captain had been cooped up in his room, looking for answers to questions he couldn’t answer. This unexpected visit at this ridiculous hour was welcoming, yes, but not sure if he could bottle up his emotions like the officer he was supposed to be. This wasn’t how you acted when you’re meant to be a leader, an example.

Silent as a mouse, MacTavish adjusted himself on his chair, grabbing a mustard yellow folder from the unorganized mess laid out on his table. Carefully, he held it in his hands, handling it as if it was art. He flicked it open, his heart aching, whole body in pain in plain sight yet hidden from Sanderson who sat only a metre or so away, who’d remained quiet the whole time.

Ayela’s character profile. Her face ID, rank, military history, date of birth, and the rest of the important information which were necessary, were laid out in front of him. Not that he was interested in the first few pages, anyway.

MacTavish’s finger felt the small paper clip gripping onto the side of a random papers in the back/bottom of the pile. He slid out what it held, and it revealed a photo of the main squad of Sanderson, Riley, Price, MacTavish, and Ayela. Nikolai was also in the photo, on the other side of MacTavish. The Scotsman had his rifle in one hand, his other free arm around his sergeant. Though unprofessional in the eyes of the code of conduct, neither of them really cared at that moment.

The captain remembered that day clearer than any other in these past few years. They were about to head out for a mission and were all fatigued from hardly any sleep after being on an all-nighter mission. Ayela had the wonderful idea of taking a group photo to somehow lift morale. It’d worked – they were all smiling after it and were much more talkative to one other.

MacTavish had managed to get the photo printed out and kept it. He’d planned to give it to the sole female soldier in the photo but hadn’t known exactly when seemed the appropriate time was to. The two hadn’t taken many pictures together, and he wasn’t sure of what ones she’d kept in hand.

The soldier’s thumb grazed over Ayela’s cheek, reddened by the bright smile she bore. Her hair was considerably messed up, her braid in somewhat need of tightening up. The tired look from her brown eyes was still there but coated up with joy and happiness and humour from whatever dumb thing Sanderson had whispered in her ear when they’d taken the photo. She looked so beautiful in his eyes, the one treasure he’d never known he’d needed. His lifeline, purpose to keep going easier in this life and not be a total die-hard soldier who would just serve his country and not make every day “just another day at the office”.

When she’d first been transferred nineteen months ago, there was admiration at an instant. She was the first female to be associated with the British SAS and was more capable than a considerable amount of the soldiers already here. Her confidence and ability to stand up for herself when someone thought of her position to be undeserving was staggeringly amazing to the captain. How easy it was for her to belong here, in this team, side by side with her mates, never failed to knock MacTavish off of his feet.

What made him fall in the last depths for her was just how understanding she was, and how she motivated everyone around to keep going, to never give up. During his darkest times which lasted over a year after he’d lost his own Captain, there was an uncertainty to how long he’d last without mentally losing it, succumbing to the demons which were eating him alive. He’d become so sick of being himself – a leader who had to set an example and inspire and make change for the world. The weight was getting to him – of responsibility for himself and those around him.

No one was even aware at times, though Ghost had seen glimpses of a breaking man, something which he was very familiar with. They had never spoke about it though since the captain always brushed him off and denied anything was wrong with him. The Lieutenant wasn’t about to argue with his superior officer, and the two never brought the subject back up again.

Ayela was the only one whose help he’d accepted – more or less because she’d somewhat forced him to. He would never forget that first conversation where they’d sat down in his room and spoke for hours about only him and his troubles. There was nothing put in about her history – about how her mother neglected her three children and Ayela became the unofficial guardian of her two younger brothers who needed someone to take care of them.

The only thing that did come out of her mouth was how she believed in him and this was not the end, that he had more life to live and shouldn’t have to spend it worrying about who he’d become and how losing his Captain was not his fault. There was no judging, no shaming, no pointing out flaws or mistakes – only motivational, uplifting speaking. Words that were equally truthful and evidence that he was better than this.

That night was one of the longest, sleepless nights MacTavish ever had, but it was out of good circumstances. He’d laid in the dark, and thought long and hard about what she’d said. More importantly – about what they’d become. It was evidently something more than a commander/subordinate relationship. His feelings for her had only become so much more dynamic, and he knew he had to do something about it.

The captain had made the first move the very next night after seeing Ayela for the first time since their talk. She was more than ready for him, and so was he. MacTavish had accepted and realised that she was what he needed all this time – someone to talk to, someone who listened and wouldn’t stop until she knew he was okay, someone who saw him as other than a soldier. He was more than ready to intake her mindset of never giving up and keeping it at like an addict was hooked on a drug.

He had fallen in love with her, and that had been the seal to lock it in.

MacTavish hadn’t known he’d teared up until he saw a drop of moisture hit the paper. Slightly embarrassed, he quickly wiped his eyes before setting the file back down on the table. He gave a sigh and slouched onto the back of the chair.

“We’ll find her,” Sanderson assured, who had witnessed the whole thing before him. MacTavish rubbed the tears and tired out of his face. He turned to Sanderson, his reddened eyes gazing down onto the blanket, pondering in thought still.

The sergeant spoke up again, slowly leaning forward to come closer to the Captain. “I spoke to Riley,” he began in a hushed tone, “and he’s more than willing to take us back there-“

MacTavish’s eyes darted instantly to Sanderson’s, full attention on him. His breath caught in his throat and listened to every word Sanderson had to say.

“-and more than willing to give whatever support you need, okay?”

The captain’s eyes looked into his squad member’s with such desperation, hands clasped tightly together as if praying to God. His breaths were slow and steady, and he felt the dried tears stained on his cheeks, a constant reminder of what was at risk. He was more than ready to go ahead, and ready to take the full blow of what his superiors will do to him once they return.

“What time are wheels up?”

“They’re up in ten minutes, mate,” Riley’s voice suddenly came from the doorway, and the two soldiers in the room turned to face him. The lieutenant was already dressed in his gear with his iconic skull balaclava. His rifle was in his hands and webbing secured around his shoulders and waist. How did he know what the Captain was doing? Must’ve been the sergeant sitting in front of him.

Riley jerked his head to the left, in the general directions of the hangars. “Better head out as soon as we can.”

“Come on,” Sanderson urged the Captain, giving his knee a slap as he slowly got up. “Let’s go get your girl.”

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x ayela gonzalez #fanfic #modern warfare #oc ayela gonzalez

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