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yuzukult · 4 years ago

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drive safe (m) || bbh x reader

title: drive safe pairing: baekhyun x reader genre: brothersbestfriend!au, chanyeol!olderbrother, romance warnings: slight rated 18+ scene, but it’s short and poorly written words: 12.4k prompt: simply put, you’ve been crushing on your brother’s best friend for the longest time but he hasn’t seen you in a while... and you’ve grown. notes: needed something different to write :) please enjoy... i did another brother’s best friend au bc i just love baekhyun in that kind of au lmao... I FINALLY UPLOADED!!!

He was heavily intoxicating. From the whiff of the cologne he wears to the way his lips look, so tempting and plump, all the way to the sweet melodic laugh that escapes from his throat, hand on his toned chest to contain himself.

This man was beautiful—correction— is beautiful, and has always been since you’ve laid your eyes on him.

You recall those days staying in the living room until the late hours of the night; coffee table filled with loose papers and opened textbooks to cram in for your exams, room lacking a desk for you to work on. Your brother would trail into your home once the street lights turn on, friends joining him occasionally, none capturing your attention until you met him one night.

Mocha eyes that sparkled under the dim lights at the front steps, caramel hair that looked so unbelievably soft, that you had to restrain yourself down from asking him to just let you run your fingers through those locks. Jawline chiseled, cheekbones high, and ears flushing coral when he gets embarrassed—he was just breathtakingly beautiful. And when he leans over to see what you’re currently engrossed in, supple cheeks raising as high as the sky from his smile, teeth pearly white and exposed, his gentle voice hypnotizes you to the point that you almost miss when he says his name.

“I’m Byun Baekhyun.” How the hell is he so pretty? “You must be Chanyeol’s little sister.”

Your Cloud 9 experience disappears at the sound of your brother’s name. It’s like he loves to burst the bubble of any type of happiness your way. He never fails to ruin things for you.

Then again, that was back when you were 16 and he was 22. He was in college, finishing up the remaining time he had left while you were just a mere high school student—not to mention that you were also his best friend’s little sister. This time, you’re 22 and he’s the 28 year old, finished college with a career outlined for him and you’re the one trying to finish up the last year.

So when Baekhyun stands at the threshold of your parent’s house behind Chanyeol, mouth agape at the mere sight of you, he’s in complete shock at how much you’ve grown and changed in the past years. To say the least, he hasn’t seen much of you around since you turned 18... and well, he was regretting missing the glow up.

“Why are you looking at my sister like that?” Chanyeol hisses, pushing his friend’s chest back with a finger. “You act like you’ve never seen her before.” Baekhyun can only shake his head from his thoughts, clearing his throat. “I haven’t seen her since she left for college.”

A hum from you fills the air, grasping the attention of the two males. “I’ve been back every holiday, not my fault you haven’t been around.”

Turning on your heel, you make your way past them, slipping into a pair of random sandals at the front door before greeting the rest of your family members that begin to trickle in for the annual family dinner. Every year is dreadful, but this year got interesting just from Baekhyun’s attendance.

He was every high school girl’s wet dream.

And at the same time, dream boyfriend.

He’s cute yet he’s got this aura around him that just makes him so... sexy. You recall having high school friends over during those younger years and when Baekhyun and Chanyeol would walk through the front doors, your friends would drool at the sight of the boys. You couldn’t really agree on the Chanyeol portion of that (obviously), but your saliva would run rivers length long at the appearance of Baekhyun.

What was even worse was that both your brother and dad were horrible at teaching you how to drive. This was after you’ve concluded that you had a crush on Baekhyun, and Chanyeol suggests to your parents to hire Baekhyun to teach you how to drive a car.

“Dad, you and I both know that we’re way too short-tempered to teach her. Why not hire Baek?”

“I don’t see why not.” He nods in agreement, glancing over at your mom for approval, but she’s already so giddy over the moon from the sound of his name. “Of course! My second son teaching my daughter? Why would I have any issues with that? I’ll pay him, don’t worry.”

You want to die. “Why can’t you teach me, mom? We don’t really want to bother Baek and pressure him to teach me, right?”

“Actually,” Chanyeol grins; you swear every time he does it’s mischievous with a sinful plan hidden underneath. “Baekhyun is rather quite the angel and offered himself when I brought this situation to him. He doesn’t even want to get paid for it, I just offered.” Are you kidding me? Of course. Chanyeol wants you dead.

You think you actually die when you’re sitting in Baekhyun’s car in the middle of an abandoned supermarket’s parking lot. The two of you. No sign of Chanyeol anywhere, and it’s the first time you wished that your brother were there.

“Yeol isn’t coming?”

“No,” Baekhyun frowns, pulling the seatbelt over his body and locking it in; you mimic his actions to save yourself from getting lectured by the boy of your dreams. “He said he was either going to die from your driving or high blood pressure.” You exhale a heavy breath. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Afraid of being alone with me or something, little Park?”

“Uh, no.” You lie. “Can I start?”

“Sure, show me what you know.” Pressing a foot on the brakes, you push the key into the ignition and the car roars at the start. “Are you sure you trust me driving in your car? Isn’t this girl your baby?” There’s an afterthought of Baekhyun getting this car; almost begging Chanyeol everyday to go by the second-hand car dealership to admire this beauty—well that is if you consider a 2002 Lexus SC430 with the once jet black paint chipping off a beauty, then you’d be able to relate.

He nods, licking his chapped lips from the breeze that enters in before letting out a soft sigh. “She is, so... be careful, little Park, and drive safe. I trust you to drive her. I don’t even allow Yeol to let alone touch her, so consider yourself special.” Special. Can he not say such things while you’re already anxious about being in his presence, let alone his car!

Baekhyun teaches you to drive. Another great quality he has to add to the list from that occurrence: patience. He’s the one who opened the doors exiting out of your childhood in two ways: learning how to drive and learning what it feels like to like someone. It’s the first time you’re alone with him and you’ll never forget it. It only solidified your feelings for him.

And so when you’re ready to pick up your friends for the night that you first get your license, borrowing your brother’s car, your heart swells and bursts out of your chest when he approaches your window before you pull out of the driveway. Resting his arm on the door, joy tugs on the edges of his lips. “Drive safe, will you, little Park? I know I taught you well, but I still want you home safe and sound.”

Baekhyun might be the actual cause of your death.

“So, I heard you’re in for engineering? You’re finishing up your last year, aren’t you?”

You hum against the glass that’s pressed onto your lips, drinking in the cold water to cool yourself from the sweltering heat. Summer was supposed to be over now, but since you’re in the off-season, the weather was currently in its moods, switching on and off like a middle aged woman dealing with menopause.

Popping your lips after releasing the cup, you nod. “Finally going to grab my degree and get to do what I actually want to be doing.” You want to be out of this conversation with this... woman; you’re not even sure who she was and what relation she had to your family. A cousin, maybe? An aunt? What do you even refer to her as?

“Wow, amazing!” She exclaims as she clasps her hands together abruptly that it startles you. “My son would be a perfect match for you, he’s handsome, young...” Her voice starts to drift off at the same time that your eyes do, skimming to find your brother’s right hand man, and with your luck, his gaze is locked on yours.

He’s been watching you the entire time.

Baekhyun’s got a red solo cup in a hand, body leaning against the white plastic fence that perimeters your deck, hair pushed back to reveal his effortlessly beautiful forehead, and just the view of the first couple buttons of his shirt let loose, you felt your knees buckle. He bites his bottom lip in light of gaining your attention— one he’s been trying to snatch the entire afternoon. He’s standing besides Chanyeol, as expected since he is his guest, but they hang almost joined at the hip and just the thought of it makes you want to roll your eyes. But when his stare locks into yours and he mouths, “come over,” you’re immediately complying with his demands.

“I’m sorry,” You interrupt the strange woman, turning to face her. “Aren’t we related? Are you trying to set me up with your son... who potentially is my cousin?”

“Oh no! I’m just a family friend; your aunt invited me over!” With that, it only results in you clicking your tongue in disappointment, bowing to the woman apologetically. This was a waste of time. “I’m sorry, I’m not interested in being set up. Now, if you would excuse me...”

She’s probably shocked, from what you can tell on the little smirk and chuckle coming from Baekhyun as you make your way toward him, arm reaching out for a side hug. “My little Park, all grown up, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m not sixteen anymore, so possibly.” You joke.

Talking to Baekhyun felt effortless. Almost as though he wasn’t that same guy you knew when you were growing up. The crush that had looked so out of reach, too cool and attractive for you indeed seemed like he was on the same level. Bantering came easy and there were more things in common between the two of you than you previously assumed. As if this entire time… you were surrounding him with an image of what you thought he was but it wasn’t solely who he had been.

“Ah, so you agree. You think you’re handsome.”

“Are you trying to quote a ‘Mean Girls’ line on me?” He asks, eyes squinting in your direction coltishly. Raising both your hands up in feigned defeat, you tug your lips into a straight line. “Oh, you caught me, copyright police. But I believe I merely paraphrased the movie.” He lifts his brows at you skeptically, arms crossed against his chest. “Paraphrased?”

“I’m sure that the line goes like ‘so you agree, you think you’re really pretty.’“

“Maybe not me, but I think you’re pretty.” Baekhyun grins cheekily. It’s not exactly a smooth line, you admit, but anything coming from Baekhyun inflates your heart, reminiscing the old high school feelings that stirred. “Mm, cute. But not exactly slick, Baek. Slimy, possibly.”

He seethes in disagreement. “Oh, little Park, I’ll have you know that I am not slimy; I am very much a gentleman.”

“Some gentlemen have a slimy side of them.” You clarify with a tilt of your head.

“I can assure you that I am not slimy but rather smooth and creamy.”

You grimace. “I’m not sure this conversation is going into the right direction.” Pausing for a moment, you cluster the fortitude to belatedly ask: “So, why haven’t you been around for the holidays like you used to? My mom missed having you around during the holidays.”

Baekhyun purses his lips, taking in a deep breath before speaking up. “Honestly, I’ve always had a girlfriend during the holidays. Otherwise I would’ve been over. Unfortunately, those four years that I haven’t been at your house meant four different girlfriend’s family homes that I’ve been to instead of yours.” Of course, Baekhyun couldn’t be without a girl on his arm. Just look at him!

“Mmm,” You buzz in a judging tone that sharpens his focus on you. “Disappointing. Anyways,” Jumping on the tips of your toes, you lean over to peek into his cup. “Whatcha got in there, Baek?”

“Wanna smell?” He brings the cup closer to your face, underneath your nose as your face twists at the strong scent of alcohol. “What the hell is that?”

He lets out a laugh at your expression. “Its just beer—“

“—that is definitely not just beer. What did you put in that?” Baekhyun brings the drink neighboring your nostrils again. “It’s IPA, sometimes they have weird smells to it. Sometimes it even smells like weed.”

You take a second glance at him, hesitant about trying this peculiar drink. You’ve had beer before— hell, you’d had tons of types of alcohol before, but you can safely say that IPA beer isn’t one of them. The liquid hits your tongue, barely any if you’re being completely honest, and you pull away. “Eugh,”

“Eugh?” Baekhyun imitates your reaction. “You don’t like?”

“Not exactly.” You frown, stepping back from the drink in his hand. “How do you even drink that? It’s such an acquired taste to enjoy it.”

“I guess I had a lot of different kinds of alcohol while I was in University, but IPA wasn’t one of them so I gave it a shot. Kinda like them now, not what we’re usually used to.”

“You make yourself sound like you’re old.” And with that, he taps your nose with the tip of his index finger. “And I am old. In comparison to you, little Park.”

That’s when it hits. Baekhyun can be sweet, kind, flirtatious, but one thing he can’t be is someone who could ever reciprocate feelings for you. Even if you’ve grown out of those braces, awkward puberty stages, and now an adult woman who is somewhat confident in your body— Byun Baekhyun will always see you as one thing only— Little Park, Park Chanyeol’s kid sister.

“Right,” You respond quickly, distancing yourself from him a bit and Baekhyun feels the atmosphere shift. “I think my dad needs me to help him handle the grill.”

“Chanyeol’s over there.” Baekhyun retorts back as abruptly. “Are you okay? Is it something I said?”

“No.” You reply, prepared to turn away and say your goodbyes to the older male, but his hand grasps onto your wrist, causing you to wrinkle your brows in confusion. “Baek?”

“Talk to me. What did I say? I like talking to you and it’d be nice to keep this conversation going.” You tilt your head in perplexity. “Okay. That’s great and all but I’ve had a raging crush on you since I was like sixteen. I’m kind of over this whole thing and I’m ready to keep you as my brother’s best friend that I had a crush on when I was entering the early stages of puberty—”

“Wait, you liked me?”

A look of incredulity spreads on your face. “You didn’t know?” He shakes his head slowly, gaze trailing to the concrete ground as if he’s trying to replay the history of your relationship, attempting to find the hints smeared throughout the years. “Well, I did, and if I’m being honest, you’re great and everything, but I don’t think I can muster enough courage to build a friendship with you if I still have these somewhat lingering feelings.”

Seconds before you’re escaping his hold, his grip tightens. “I didn’t know.” He reiterates your words, eyes finally meeting yours. “Why didn’t you tell me? And why are you telling me this now? And at your family reunion at that?”

“I... don’t know.” You shrug, body language signaling that you’d stay and his hand on your loosens. “I guess I’m tired of being called little Park and seen as Yeol’s baby sister when I’ve been pining over this unrequited love.”

“You can’t even say that when I didn’t even know you liked me.”

“Oh, come on, Baek,” Groaning, your shoulders dropping in exhaustion from this entire conversation. “You’re the epitome of every girl’s first crush. Not to mention that you get along with my family. Pretty much the easiest formation of a perfect guy for a girl who was just finally realizing how cute guys were.”

Baekhyun scrunches up his nose, placing his drink down on the table beside him. “You never made it obvious.”

“Oh please, I was very obvious. Even Chanyeol probably knew about it.”

“Don’t say that, I really didn’t know! I’m sure your brother doesn’t either.” Eventually, you’re able to step far back enough that he can’t hold you back anymore. “It’s fine, Baek, I totally get it. Enjoy your night here? I’m going to socialize a bit more—I mean help my dad with the grill. Whichever one first, uh, you get the gist.”

“Oh, wow, your son is... actually pretty good looking.” You’re back in this discussion with the same strange woman before, but this time with your blood-related aunt who was the one to convince the lady to talk to you in the first place. She’s skimming through pictures she has saved of him, yet again trying to persuade into talking to her lovely son. He’s cute, you admit. He’s a year younger but that wasn’t going to turn you away. His mom, however, is coming off a bit too strong and your aunt was trying her best to pull her back.

“See? I told you! I invited him to come join us tonight, maybe you’d catch him here!” The woman claps her hands together excitedly, over the moon that you’d agreed to her perspective. “Speaking of my lovely boy, there he is!”

And right when you face the direction she points, you see him—sun-kissed skin with his hair gelled back, tall as a skyscraper with the longest legs ever—this guy was built like a God. His eyes skim the room, but before they can meet with his mother’s, he spots someone approaching him and a smile tugs on the edges of his lips.

“Baekhyun, I didn’t know you knew this family?”

Of course he knows Baek.

They’re exchanging a handshake, and you’re flaring your nostrils because how small is this world? Regardless, you’re not going to let Baekhyun ruin your day. No way.

“Park Chanyeol’s my friend,” He responds, placing a hand in his pocket. “And you’re here for?”

“My mom is here, she asked me to come. Son duties, you know the drill.” The younger male shakes at his own statement before giving Baekhyun a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later. She wants me to meet some girl she thought was cute, so we’ll see how that goes. See you in a bit?”

Baekhyun nods in confirmation, letting him go and as he watches his figure make his way through the crowd, that’s when he notices something. You’re standing next to a middle-aged woman—and is... is Lucas walking toward you?

“Hey mom,” The towering man smiles, giving his mom a hug. “I’m here as you asked. I’m assuming this lovely lady...” The lady introduces you to her son, and he extends his hand. “I’m Lucas.”

Baekhyun is pissed. If you saw his expression right now, the smoke coming out his ears would’ve been conspicuous.

Lucas isn’t... the smartest guy you’ve ever met but at least he’s sweet and kind?

Momma’s boy, a big one at that and you find it charming that he’s so loving and caring towards his mother. A great son... however, as a boyfriend, you can already guess what the bigger fights were going to be about.

“So my mom tells me that you’re almost done school, how’s that going for you?” The two of you have migrated over to one of the picnic tables in the backyard, old and wooden yet still surprisingly structurally strong enough to hold the weight of multiple people... and thankfully without his mom. Least she knows when to leave you alone.

“Going good, I can’t wait to get it over with and start working. School is dreadful.”

“Oh, yeah, I know that much. That’s why I didn’t go to college.” No college, not a bad thing, you think to yourself. After all, it’s what you make out of it, right? “Instead, I chose the modeling path.” What. Well, it made sense. Lucas is the equivalent to a God in looks, and you were starting to wish you were exaggerating. Probably another red flag if you guys started dating—he’s too pretty for his own good and girls would probably be crawling at his feet and your level of jealousy can’t handle that.

“Modeling? That’s impressive! How’s it going for you?”

“Slow this season. But it’ll pick up eventually. I’m only twenty-one anyways. College was never for me so I figured anything else would be better. My mom always told me that I was handsome, so why not put what I already have to use, you know?” Other than the fact you wanted to correct him and tell him that twenty-one is actually peak age for modeling, you wanted to laugh a bit because he was convinced to chase after this specific goal solely from the compliments of his mother, his biggest fan who happens to be blinded by love. Either way, Lucas was lucky he was cute enough to be a model or this conversation would’ve been embarrassing.

“If you like it, go for it. I don’t see a problem with it.” A gust of wind blows in your direction and it makes you shiver.

He smiles. “I like that. Not a lot of people agree with the whole modeling thing. Even my ‘mentor’ kind of blows off the idea and pressures me to go to college to find a ‘real’ career.”

“Mentor, huh? Has he considered giving you trade school as an option?”

“And get my hands dirty? No way. These hands were made for modeling, not being someone’s plumber and playing with pipes.” An image forms in your head— Lucas... as a plumber? Oh... that’s... kind of hot. His voice interrupts your thoughts in the end, and you want to frown until you see someone approaching. “Speaking of my mentor... have you met Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun is standing at the end of the table; although he seems nice toward Lucas, you can feel the cold air coming from him. “We’ve met.” He says, words short and sharp. “Known her since she was a high school student.”

“Oh, nice, were you also her mentor, hyung?”

“What?” Baekhyun responds, the space on his forehead crinkles. “No I wasn’t her mentor, I’m a friend of her brother’s,” slightly annoyed by Lucas’ question. You can’t seem to place a finger on why he would be so... discomposed. “Have you applied to those colleges I sent to you, by the way?”

“Hyung, I told you that college wasn’t for me. I don’t get why you’re pushing me so hard.”

“Lucas, you’re not going to be young forever. What are you going to do when you’re 40? Be in those Viagra commercials? Advertisements where the elderly have ‘fallen and can’t get up’? Be realistic here.”

It’s Lucas’ turn to be upset, and rightfully so. “Hyung, you’re embarrassing me in front of my new friend. Who— by the way, is very supportive of my endeavors.” Baekhyun scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief and disapproval. “Supportive? Actually, give us a moment, Luc, I have to speak with her privately.” Grabbing onto your wrist, he tugs you from your seat, and you whimper at the aggressiveness.

“What the hell! Baek, let go, your grip is tight.”

Taking you inside the house, he walks through the hallways while dragging you when he sees the familiar door that leads to your bedroom, shoving it open before shutting it after the two of you are inside. He lets go of his grip. “Explain.”

You sneer at his demand. “Explain what? I didn’t do anything. You should be explaining because you dragged me here.”

“Just thirty minutes before, you profess your feelings for me and then you’re talking to some guy? What the hell is that?” You jaw tightens but you want to retain your emotions since his were spilling. There was never a good outcome if two people that were butting heads are acting upon only feelings.

So you walk over to your closet, sliding the doors open in search of a sweater but this only makes him infuriated. “Answer me— why are you looking through your closet while we’re having a conversation?” Snatching a hoodie off the hanger, you pull it over your head. “I’m cold. And you’re the one who is having a conversation. Well, not really a conversation, more like you’re lecturing me.”

“I am not lecturing you. I’m trying to read you and you’re not making it any easier for me.”

“What are you reading me for?” With the hood over your head with the end of your dress peeking out of the oversized fabric, he thinks you’re cute like this and he can’t help himself. Lunging toward you, his hands cup your cheeks and before you know it, his lips are pressed yours.

Baekhyun is kissing you.

Byun Baekhyun, your brother’s right hand man, your parents favorite non-blood related child, is kissing you. He has to force himself to pull away; he never thought that your lips would be so soft, and how right it felt in that moment.

Your fingers reach up to touch your lips and you’re left speechless for a moment before the words erupts from your mouth. “Did you just kiss me?” He’s just as dumbfounded as you are because all he does is nod in return. “Why’d you do that?”

“Look, I don’t know if I have the same exact feelings for you like you do for me but seeing you with Lucas in that way... pissed me off. I didn’t like it.” Baekhyun looks troubled because he’s letting his hands run through his chocolate locks that were styled previously. “But I think I like you. I never really thought anything of it until you said something... but maybe we can give this a try?”

You squint your eyes at him. “Baekhyun, this isn’t something you just ‘try.’ I don’t want to be lead on. You can’t just say that you ‘think’ you like me and walk in like you own me or something.”

“At least give me a chance to make this work. Obviously something happened back there because I was ticked off enough to embarrass my mentee in front of you.” He sighs, dropping his body onto your made childhood bed. “Poor kid.”

“Eh, he’ll be fine. He needs something anyway. I heard he lives in his mother’s basement, which is fine I guess, but despite not going to college, he has debt?” Baekhyun glares at you from underneath his long luscious lashes, but it’s light and he’s not upset anymore. “Don’t make fun of my mentee, I’m supposed to guide him!”

“Do better.” You retort before plopping your body beside him on your bed, laying down flat on the covers. “I’ll give you a chance. But we can’t tell Chanyeol. If it doesn’t work out, then it’s a secret and he doesn’t have to worry. If it leads to more... let’s just wait ‘til that time comes and we can figure something out.”

You can’t see him from where you are, but the sound of his voice is a dead giveaway that he’s smiling at your words. “I like the sound of that.”

“Aw, look at that, my best friend and my kid sister. Where were you guys?” Chanyeol looks a bit tipsy with his hooded eyes and crooked smile, but he’s only spilling elation when he slips in his socks and into the arms of Baekhyun when the two of you exit your room.

“Uh, I wanted to move my desk and Baek offered to help.” Yeah. That’s a good excuse.

“Mm, could’ve always asked me. But of course, Baekhyun here is an angel and loves to help out my family. Wouldn’t it be amazing if he was our brother?” The expression on your face cringes in disgust, the thought of Baekhyun being your brother and it’s like he reads your mind when he catches Chanyeol stumbling in his arms, pulling the taller male up. “You don’t want me as your brother, Yeol, that’s weird. Maybe I’ll date my way into your family,” He jokes, and you mouth ‘too soon!’ in his direction as he gives an unapologetic shrug shared with a smile.

“Who... her?” Chanyeol points to you with his chin, brows crinkles but releases with a laugh. “No way, man. She’s not even your type.”

“She can be my type.” The expression on Baekhyun’s face was pained, attempting to hold him up. “Little Park is pretty.”

“Mm, but she’s the serious type and you’ve had probably ten ‘serious’ girlfriends in the past four years!” He exclaims as you’re guiding the two of them toward Chanyeol’s bedroom, swinging open the door. “Little Park hasn’t even brought a boyfriend home.... heh, mom thinks she can’t get a boyfriend.”

You hiss. “That’s not true.” Chanyeol sticks his tongue out at you and you get a hit of vodka coming from his breath. “I think it’s true.” He sings, dropping his large frame onto the bed, eyes heavy. “Little Park needs a real boyfriend, Baek, not a fling!” Minutes later of Baekhyun trading Chanyeol’s jeans out with sweatpants, the two of you slowly close his door and heave out a weight breath.

“That was exhausting. He does this every year; it’s like my family is purposefully trying to get him to drunk to make me suffer.”

“Sorry,” Baekhyun mutters, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans. “I should’ve been there to help you.” You wave him off, shaking your head in disagreement. “He’s my brother, it’s my responsibility.” Just when you’re about to walk away, he tugs on the hem of your shirt before you turn with a raised brow.

“You’re not... upset about what he said, are you?”

“About what?”

“About me. Having flings, never really having a serious girlfriend. About you, never bringing anyone home.”

You shrug. “I never wanted to bring anyone home in the first place. Doesn’t really matter to me.” Baekhyun chews on his bottom lip anxiously, fiddling with the fabric between his fingers. “I hope I can be that for you eventually.”

“Be what?”

“The one you want to bring home.”

Naeun is your best friend, biggest supporter, and also the most brutally honest person you’ve ever met. It’s in her DNA to be this way and although sometimes her candidness can hurt, you know she means well. So when you tell her about your Baekhyun escapades, her jaw is dropped down to the floor in awe.

“You’re kidding.”

“I am nothing but forthright.”

She smiles, tilting her head back in skepticism. “... No, you’re definitely playing me. There is no way he said that he likes you. There’s no way.” You pout. “Is it that hard to believe that a guy like him finds me attractive? Jesus, Naeun, hurt my feelings why don’t ya.”

“Girl, I’m just saying. He’s too hot and too much of a fuck boy... so him wanting to risk his relationship with his best friend to go after her sister... unless...” Her thoughts trail off for a moment before she comes back. “... Nah, never mind. There’s just no way. There’s a catch to this, I’m going to find it.”

“There’s absolutely no catch.”

“I’m just saying baby girl, watch out.” She’s leaning back on a wooden chair in your room that you had borrowed from the dining room set, swaying on the two legs dangerously. “Girls get their hearts broken because of him. And it’s because he’s such a nice boy about it that it makes them feel bad. Isn’t that crazy? What power he holds.”

“You’re giving him way too much power just from this conversation we’re having. Naeun, if you believe that he has that much hanging over all of us, then you’re enabling him to do so!”

“So you agree... you think he’s a playboy with a lot of power.”

“Naeun!” You holler, rolling your eyes at your friend. “He’s nothing but a guy that I like. We keep talking about him as if he’s this being that’s better than all of us when in actuality, he’s just a really nice guy.”

Naeun scoffs. “Who is really fucking hot, by the way. Don’t forget that.” She stands up and makes her way toward your closet, slinging the doors wide open. “Which means you should probably update your wardrobe too. You think a guy like Baek wants to date someone in hoodies and sweatpants all the time?” You purse your lips at your friend. “Don’t make me feel insecure about this, he already told me he likes me.”

“Okay, but what about the competition? Aren’t there girls lining up for him?” There’s silence for a moment, indicating that you’re almost lured into her trap before she sings your name. “Come on, wouldn’t you want to try looking cute for him?”

“I try!”

“Did you meet him today?” She asks. “Yes?” You respond questioningly. Why?”

“And you were wearing that?” Naeun gestures your attire. As mentioned before, just like your entire closet, you’re dressed in black hoodie and sweatpants. At least they matched, right? She grabs your hand and pulls you up. “You said you guys were going to meet tonight again, so let’s get you ready for that!”

If meeting Baekhyun required getting ready 3 hours in advance, you don’t know if you can date him anymore.

As planned, Baekhyun is parked at the end of the block waiting for you, shooting a text in your direction to let you know that he’s here. Slipping your phone into your bag, you heave out a heavy sigh of how tight this skirt that Naeun forced you into. “I thought I looked fine earlier,” you grumble to yourself before adjusting your blouse and snatching a jacket from the coat rack.

Attempting to sneak out of your house without gaining Chanyeol’s attention was hard. He couldn’t help being nosey. It was in his nature.

“Whoa, looking smokin’ hot for who?” Chanyeol exclaims with his arms crossed in front of your bedroom door. You groan loudly. “Can you please just leave and get out of my way? I’m trying to go out.”

Chanyeol looks astonished. “And with who? I’ve never seen you dressed like this before.” You push a strand of hair that gets caught in your makeup. “Honestly, I don’t know either. Naeun made me look like this.”

“You’re probably going to scare the guy away before you even get him.” You frown. “Let me figure that out tonight. So if you would excuse me—“ Aggressively shoving your brother aside with your hidden Hulk strength, he slams into the wall and winces as you made a run for it.

You want to cry. You felt ridiculous, and Chanyeol’s comment only made it worse. Walking up to Baekhyun’s car, you see him leaned against the hood of his car, skimming through something on his phone. He looks amazing in dark slacks and jet-black sweater tucked in them. He lifts his head to see you, jaw dropping in shock. Your legs were out for the world to see, shirt low enough for a glimpse of your cleavage and he can only gulp and clear his throat before stuttering on his words. “Whoa—I—“

You respond with a moan. “Do I look ridiculous? Naeun came over earlier and forced me to dress prettier, and Chanyeol stopped me before leaving the house and said I looked crazy. Please tell me which one it is so I can go back and do something about it.”

Baekhyun laughs. He laughs as if the situation you’re in is funny. “I think you’re always pretty. You just look even prettier today.” You chew on your bottom lip anxiously, shoulders dropping in doubt. “Are you sure? We haven’t even started the date yet and I feel like I ruined it.” He only shakes his head with a soft smile, walking over to the passenger door to open it for you.

When he’s sitting in the car beside you, he swears his throat closes up when your skirt hikes up in your seat. Warding off the sinful thoughts of you, he starts the ignition of the car, letting the engine warm up for a bit before driving off. The last time you’d been in this car was when he was teaching you how to drive; weekend after weekend, while just you and Baekhyun in this worn down Lexus, he stole your heart bit by bit. You never thought you’d find yourself in this situation again; somehow you were the one stealing his.

“Where are we going?”

“Dinner. I heard there was this really great Italian place they opened downtown. Maybe we can get dessert after?” He glances over at you to see your reaction, only regretting because you so pretty with the sunset behind you.

“That sounds good.” You grin.

That night, the dinner itself wasn’t the most amazing thing you’ve ever had, but the talks you had with Baekhyun were. There wasn’t a dull moment with him, he had stories to share that made you laugh until you’re almost choking on the pasta and by the time dinner was over, you were just glad that there was still dessert to look forward to.

“This place looks new.” You say, eyes sparkling with the countless of options listed on the menu mounted above. “There’s so many to choose from.” Baekhyun notes that although your eyes seem youthful and the smile plastered on your face supported that, everything about you wasn’t the same anymore. How’d he miss out on this for so many years?

You wave your hand in front of his face. “Baek, you good? Have you decided what you like?” He lets out a nervous chuckle, nodding his head. “Uh, yeah. Grab me the strawberry on a cone, will you?”

He slides his card to pay before you could even stop him, frowning when you hand him his cone as the two of you exit the shop. “I could’ve paid, you know.”

“I don’t really trust anyone who gets mint chocolate chip… so…”

“Oh, so you don’t. What’s wrong with mint?”

“Do you like eating toothpaste or something?” You slap his arm, and he winces, remembering that although you were small in comparison to him, your strength was impeccable. “Oh—shit, I’m sorry, Baek.”

“I forgot how strong you were. Do you lift or something?” His face contorts in pain, but he’s not in that much pain. “No, although, now that you mention it, I should probably get into it since I know I’d be so good.” Baekhyun winces. “How am I ever going to stand next to you? I’ll be living in fear all the time.”

“Speaking of, I heard you finally moved out of your parents place.” Licking your ice cream, Baekhyun has to look away or else these thoughts would creep up again. “I have. Want to come over after this? We can squeeze in a movie, and I borrowed something from Chanyeol the other day, so I can drop it off when I take you home.”

Bent over, reaching for the controller underneath the coffee table, Baekhyun swallows. His gaze drifts off to the ceiling, praying that you wouldn’t notice the boner he’s supporting right now. When did you grow up? He has to shake off the dirty things he’s imagining you doing right now.

“Here.” You slap the controller in the palm of his hand before adjusting your top. “Are you comfortable? Do you wanna borrow some of my clothes?” Lips jutting into a pout, you want to tell Baekhyung, yes, hell the fuck yes I want to wear your clothes and get out of this brutally uncomfortable skirt, but the words don’t leave you mouth and he can only smile. It’s like he reads your mind because he stands from the couch and enters into his room. Seconds later, he has a pair of sweats and a hoodie for you. Your favorite dynamic duo.

You’re barely 1/4th through the movie, Baekhyun’s arm around you with your head cuddled against his chest while wearing his clothes that smelled so good, smelled like him. This amount of comfort was never evident with any of your previous relationships, but something about Baekhyun made everything feel okay. Turning your head to look over at him, he’s breathing soundlessly as if he’s asleep, but his attention is all diverted to the television. His jawline looked tempting, skin smooth and soft, you bring your lips to kiss the bone.

He chuckles at the action, eyes down to meet with yours. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I should be the one asking you that.” He presses a chaste kiss on your lips before giving you one last look of confirmation. Crashing his lips onto yours, you welcomed him inside with your tongues knotting and sliding past one another, you hum against him. It sent a warmth feeling down your center and you wanted know if he felt it too. Pushing the blanket off your frame, you climb over his lap, swinging a leg over before pressing yourself down on him, his hands slowly making his way to your waist, hesitating as if he’s asking for permission. Hands forcing on his in invitation, he complies, pulling you close to his body.

He lets go of your lips, a lewd smack from your kiss separating. He’s panting like he’s just run a marathon, heart racing to the point that he’s afraid you can hear it. There’s a rush in him, excitement pumping through his veins and he’s never felt this before. You felt too much like home to him, and this was just the first date, how was he supposed to survive any more if you had him wrapped around his finger like this?

“I don’t want to go any further if you don’t want to. It’s our first date—Is it too soon?” He says, his voice meek and faint, the total opposite of how he usually is around you. Afraid he’d mess it up, afraid that everything that happened today wouldn’t happen again if he didn’t do it right.

“Please take me. I want you, Baek, I really do. I’ve been waiting for this since I met you when I was sixteen.” You sounded desperate, cheeks flushed in embarrassment of how intoxicated you were from his kisses. “Don’t make it sound like that, I’m sorry I made you wait this long.” He whispers before leaning back into the kiss, palm rubbing your hip soothingly before you begin to grind on him. The sight of you in his clothes brought the blood rushing straight into his pants that were starting to be uncomfortably tight.

Baekhyun made you feel like a princess that night—sprawled on his bed, arms wrapped around his neck while he peppered kisses constantly on your damp forehead, skins slapping as the headboard of the bed bangs against the wall. Soughing sweet nothings into your ears, nibbling on your lobes to help you reach your high, a hand reaching down to toy with your clit before your toes are curling, fingers digging into his shoulders while your climax was approaching. He had you in a trance, fully blissed out, and before you know it, you’re cumming, letting out your final moans and cries. It drag must’ve felt nice, because his hips are stuttering, losing it’s rhythm until he stills, long spurts of his cum splattering you walls.

He falls over, pulling you close and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, gifting you a quick kiss on your sweaty skin. “Stay for the night?” You nod.

You end up staying more nights with him.

Your presence meant more to Baekhyun than you ever knew. Those rough days where he’s at the office, he loves coming back to his apartment, seeing you in his dark home with only the kitchen light illuminating on the granite island with your books spread out with your notes and music blasting from your computer. There were some nights where he’d be home late hours and you’re snuggled in blankets on the couch, the only brightness in the room is from the television, shining on your face in multiple colors with you completely engrossed with what’s playing. It was his favorite part of the day, the thing he looked forward to the most.

The night he knew that he couldn’t ever let you go was when he came home just in time because you were taking out a tray of something from the oven, apron wrapped around your frame with a surprised expression on your face. “Oh, you’re back?” You sound shocked, mostly because you told him you wouldn’t be here tonight but yet… there you were.

“Not that I don’t love having you around, but I thought you said you weren’t coming over today?” Baekhyun asks, dropping his jacket on one of the dining room chairs. “And what are you making?”

You scrunch up your nose. “Honestly, sorry baby, I wanted to use your oven. Then I felt bad for using your oven without telling you, so I baked you banana bread as well. Then I lost track of time and I’m supposed to deliver these cupcakes to Naeun for her lacrosse team bake sale tomorrow.” Baekhyun chortles in amusement, wrapping his arms around you from behind before pecking your lips. “All good, baby.”

He doesn’t even care that you came to his house without a warning. He’s glad you’re there—Baekhyun had the expectation that you weren’t going to be there that night, so the drive home was dreadful, but just catching you in the act of using his oven… nothing made him happier. He’s not letting you go.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You hiss, eyes darting at him. Pausing from stuffing your personal belongings into your duffle bag, regret washes over how much stuff you’ve accumulated here. His place had too much of your things and having this fight alone was bringing in a lot of realizations. How could you get comfortable so easily?

Baekhyun sighs, fingers running through those locks that you had always dreamed of having your own in, but at this state, you’re fuming with anger. “You’re only twenty-two and my best friend’s little sister. There’s so much to life you haven’t seen yet... I don’t think you’re mature enough for me.”

“I’m not mature enough for you?” Shaking your head, you continue to fill your bag. “Ridiculous. I’m twenty-two, Baekhyun, not sixteen. Need I remind you that you also wanted this? I’m also not the one talking to other women while you’re with me— with me! You said you liked me. But the entire time, you had someone in the back burner, ready to replace me when it’s time.”

He says your name with another exasperated breath, feeling speechless. He doesn’t get to feel frustrated, you think to yourself, not today, not in this situation. “I do like you. More than you think, actually. But do you ever think of what Chanyeol is going to say or how he’d react if he knew? I’m feeling guilty, extremely guilty. You’re not just his sister, but you’re his little sister, which means a lot more. He’s getting suspicious of me sneaking around with some girl he hasn’t heard about yet.”

You’re fuming. Little sister this, little sister that. Every conversation with Baekhyun always seemed to lead to that topic—how young you were, and how experienced he’d been in comparison. “Who fucking cares? He’s my brother, he doesn’t get a say in my relationships. And who is he to you that he can decide yours?”

“He’s my best friend, one that’s been around for me almost forever. I can’t just go behind his back and date his sister, let alone sleep with her.”

“Then let’s not make it complicated any more. I’m leaving.”

He freezes. Why’s he suddenly so shocked? He was watching you pack your bags seconds ago, yet it’s like reality only struck him in that moment. Baekhyun reaches to grasp onto your wrist and you push back. “Wait, you’re not actually leaving, are you?”

“What do you expect me to do? Stay? After the way you spoke to me? What about when you called me ignorant and inexperienced? Too young for you? Should I list more things why you can’t be with me and for some reason you want me to still stay?”

“I-I didn’t mean it like that,” He says, stuttering in his words. “I still have feelings for you, nonetheless.”

“That doesn’t mean shit, Baekhyun.” You pull from his hold, slinging the bag over your shoulder before storming out his apartment. “I have some pride and dignity. I can’t just stay with someone who looks and speaks of me so condescendingly.” He doesn’t stop following you though, door left open as he chases you down the flight of stairs.

“Drive safe,” He says softly, watching your figure make way to your car that parks outside of the apartment complex, heart clenching at the sight of you walk away. “Please text me when you get home.”

“As if,” You scoff, aggressively opening the door. “Don’t expect to hear from me anymore, Baekhyun.”

He’s like every other guy you’ve ever dated, have ever been with. This guy—the one who you’ve always put on a pedestal and admired— wasn’t just a guy anymore, but rather any other one you’ve ever dated. He’d stolen your heart in your early years but in actuality, Byun Baekhyun was like any other boy. Disappointing and sleazy.

Respect and admiration, the two main characteristics you looked for in a man, and the one that you thought had them, didn’t end up having them. Tears were welling up into your eyes as you’re driving; sleeves too long that they cover your hands on the wheel, and you want nothing more than just to speed past these cars on the highway.

But you knew better than to let your emotions run wild. Yet the tears just don’t stop falling.

Age. Age was just a number. There were so many people that were the same age as you without the equivalent amount of experience as you held. Whether if it were more or less, the main point was evident: age didn’t matter. It’s what Baekhyun felt was a constant need to remind you when things weren’t working out or when it got tough. It had been frustrating. Maybe it was a good thing to have left. After all, what would it have been like if you had to tell your brother?

There’s constant dinging coming from your bag, and once the traffic begins to build up, you take your attention away for a brief moment to check it.

10 Missed Calls. 30 New Messages.

All from Baekhyun.

There’s an urge within you to want to call him back but you know better. If you heard his sweet, soothing voice over the phone, you’d unconsciously turn your car around and drive directly back to his apartment. It’s how it always was.

But from now on, it was different. You can’t put Baekhyun on a pedestal anymore, you can’t put him as this picture perfect guy for you. He wasn’t— he was human, and that was okay for you, more than just okay, but he proved at that very moment that maybe you weren’t right for him.

Another blind date.

You’ve been on countless of blind dates since you officially announced to your family that the guy you’ve been seeing wasn’t... well, you weren’t seeing him anymore. Because of this, your mom thinks that you’re bitter and lonely, fearing that you’ll never find someone. “You’re only twenty-two and can’t even keep a man? We have to start early while we still have time!”

Luckily, Chanyeol tried backing you out of this one but there’s no argument against your mother. So he suggests doing the matching. You pray he’s not trying to get back at you for stealing the last yogurt cup in the fridge back in 2011.

Getting into your ‘lucky’ signature black mini dress was a bit harder than usual— you want to blame it on the relationship weight gain but you admit that your healthy habits have been lacking. After sucking in a deeper breath, the dress finally zips. Smoothing out the crevasses on the skirt of your attire, you give yourself a last check in the mirror before giving yourself a grin and a thumbs up. “OK, I got this.”

The door bell rings; assuming it’s your date, you quickly slide open your closet doors to find your heels until a familiar laugh perks up your ears. It’s none other than Baekhyun.

“You... look like you were standing by the door waiting for someone and I’m pretty sure I made this a surprise visit.” Peering out into the hallway, you can see his figure standing at the door frame, dressed in a hoodie, ripped jeans, and a trench coat... why does he make it so hard to hate him?

Chanyeol shakes his head, standing aside for his friend to enter. “Jongin is supposed to be here sometime soon.”

“Oh, you made plans with him?”

“Nah, setting him up with my sister. I’m free for the rest of the night. You tryna hang?” Baekhyun gives Chanyeol a dazed look of bewilderment. “You’re... setting up your sister with Kim Jongin?” He nods with his lips pursed, confident with his response that his friend seems to question uncertainly. “Yeah. My mom has been on her case lately about having a boyfriend since apparently the guy she was seeing dumped her. She thinks that little Park has some personality issues and it’s going to take some time before she meets someone. I figured I’d give her an easy date, at least Jongin isn’t a dick like the past few guys.”

Baekhyun feels queasy. Were you really moving on that quickly? It was barely a week since he’d last seen you and the visual of you walking away that night haunted his days. “How long ago since it’s been since she and the guy broke up? Couldn’t have been that long, right? Why are you guys already setting her up on dates so soon?”

Chanyeol shrugs his shoulders. “Not sure. Why’s it matter anyway? Jongin is a nice guy anyway and could use some stability in his life.”

“That guy rides a motorcycle and races almost every weekend. You think he’s good for your sister?” His tone spilled in flabbergast. “You don’t think he’s going to influence her?”

“She’s an adult, she can handle herself. I highly doubt he would be influencing her though, pretty sure she would more than likely be influencing him.” Baekhyun can agree to that— after all, he’d fallen victim to that. But he didn’t like the idea of you being with someone else and he definitely wasn’t a fan of seeing you look pretty for a guy like Jongin. “Well, what if I took her out on a date?” He suggests.

Chanyeol can only let out a laugh, leading Baekhyun into the living room. “Yeah right, don’t kid around, Baek. My mom is strict about her looking for suitors; we’re looking for serious inquiries only.”

The doorbell finally rings. “Oh! I think it’s for me— I’ll get it!” Baekhyun’s head pivots to see you rushing out of your room, slipping into your heels the last second with a black leather jacket folded over your arm. He feels the breath stolen from his lungs.

“Oh. Hey Baekhyun,” You say, a weak smile upon your lips. “I got the door.”

Standing at the door with a loose dress shirt tucked in his slacks, with a couple buttons undone; Jongin’s sun-kissed tan skin is exposed from underneath, hair slicked back in gel with a bright grin on his face. “Hey, pretty.” Voice deep and smooth, goosebumps appearing on your arms. “Hi.”

“Jongin.” He startles you from behind, bumping you aside before giving his friend a handshake. “Taking little Park out? Per Chanyeol’s request?” Jongin only nods, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. “Yes, but... I did it willingly. After all, look how beautiful she looks.” Baekhyun snaps his fingers to regain his attention. “Where are you taking her?”

“Surprise.” He says nonchalantly, noting Baekhyun’s sudden possessiveness. “Where’s Yeol? Told him I’d say my goodbyes before I take her out tonight.” Saved by the presence of Chanyeol, you finally let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Despite the height difference, Baekhyun was attempting to size up Jongin, although lacking a bit from the towering younger male. “Whoa, what’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” They both say in unison, but Chanyeol only chuckles at the sight of his two friends. “Well, thanks for doing this for me Jongin, I’m sure you made both mine and my sister’s night a little easier.”

“Well, drive safe when you go.” Baekhyun says through his gritted teeth. Words that were once so affectionate and caring now had a different meaning behind them.

Standing by the door with his arms crossed on his chest, Baekhyun scowls while Chanyeol leans against the frame. Jongin hands over to you the spare helmet on the backseat of his motorcycle (which by the way... hot) before hopping on. Settling comfortably behind him, he lifts up his arms and although Baekhyun can’t hear what Jongin’s saying, he already knows the words. Wrap your arms around me so you don’t fall off. Right on cue because your arms snake around his frame, gripping on as tight as Baekhyun’s jaw clenches.

The restaurant he takes you to is way out of your comfort zone.

There was a comment here and there from Chanyeol that Jongin was from old money, however there wasn’t much brought up after that. Where he brings you on your first date is evident of this; it’s lavishly decorated, dark lighting with a candle that illuminates just the table, freshly picked flowers from their own garden, linen tablecloths and napkins, and to top it off, a classical band plays in the corner.

“Wow... after telling me to hop onto the back of your motorcycle, I really didn’t expect you to take me here.” He lets out a low snicker, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “A beautiful woman like you deserves a luxurious date as this.”

Jongin is a gentleman. He pulls out your chair for you, opens the car door for you, and when there’s goosebumps on your arm and you shiver at the cool air blowing down at you, he’s observant enough without you saying and asks the waiter to turn off the air.

“Baekhyun Hyung seems like have a thing for you, doesn’t he?”Jongin asks, picking up his knife to saw his steak. “I saw how... protective he was of you.”

“Eh, just an instinct. He and my brother are close, so I’m sure it rubbed off.” You lie. It’s easier to lie.

Jongin isn’t convinced. “No, I’m pretty sure he was giving me daggers with his eyes. Like... boyfriend daggers. As if I was stealing his girl or something.”

“I’m not really anyone’s to claim,” You say, fork pushing your pasta around. This conversation wasn’t fun and you weren’t in the mood to be in it. After all, you were at this date because Baekhyun didn’t want to be yours in the first place. “Hence why we’re on this date, right? There’s no Baekhyun.”

But for the rest of the night, Jongin doesn’t let it go. He keeps bringing it up, as if Baekhyun is now his competitor and they’re both fighting for a mate.

You call it a night. Saying that you might’ve eaten something bad during lunch and it wasn’t sitting well in your stomach. So much for an easy date.

“You look... really stressed out dude. Maybe we should go out for drinks tonight or something.” Chanyeol suggests, stirring the sugar in his iced coffee with the plastic straw. “What’s up with you?”

He can’t get you out of his mind. He can’t go to bars, clubs, restaurants... pretty much anywhere; he can’t go anywhere because everything reminds him of you. Baekhyun only agrees to meet up with Chanyeol because he doesn’t want to seem any more suspicious, but it seems that showing up didn’t do much of a difference either.

“Can I ask you something? And you not be mad about it?” Baekhyun blurts, leaning forward in his seat with his arms against the table.

“Uh, sure.” Chanyeol responds, brows furrowed in confusion. “I guess I can’t really control my anger if you’re asking something ridiculous, but shoot.”

“No, I really need you to not be upset about it.”

“... Uh, okay, then I guess continue.”

Baekhyun takes in a deep breath and exhales, so deep that it takes him a while to recover in order to continue the conversation. “I... Would be upset if I told you that I might have feelings for your sister?”

Chanyeol raises a brow. “... Do you really? You’re not joking, right? Because that’s some sick joke—”

“No? At least, I don’t think I am.” Baekhyun says quickly, shaking his head. “Just... can you stop setting her up with these other guys?” His best friend takes a sip of his drink, cringing at the taste before opening the lid to pour more sugar into it. “Okay, I won’t anymore. So what are you going to do now?”

“You— you’re not mad about it?”

Taking a sip of the coffee, he nods in content before closing the lid. “Well, yeah, why would I be mad?” He pauses for a moment, eyes gazing up at Baekhyun’s tired ones. “Wait... you’re not telling me that she’s the reason you’ve been so stressed out, are you? Dude, I sent her out with Jongin! What’d you do?”

“I... I don’t know.” He responds, still appalled by Chanyeol’s calmness surrounding the situation. “But we dated for a bit and I ruined it by telling her that you might not be as supportive about this.”

“Dude...” He clicks his tongue in disbelief. “Why didn’t you just tell me before? Did you already fuck up before it even really started?”

“What else am I supposed to do? What if you said no? Was I to pick between the girl I’m in love with and my best friend?”

“Baek, stop being difficult. She’s old enough to decide things herself. What do you think this is, the Medieval times? Women are capable of making their own decisions— even if she’s my baby sister and something in my stomach really wants to punch you for even laying your eyes on her, but I can’t do that.” Then, there’s a pause. “Did you say you love her?”

“Uh...” He sighs, standing up in his seat and gestures Baekhyun up as well. “Come on, let’s go fix this mess.”

Baekhyun declines, slouching. “I’ve already fucked it up to the point of no return. She blocked my number, doesn’t respond to texts— I couldn’t even come to your house this past week because I knew she would ignore me. I look like a crazed boyfriend with how much I’m trying here.”

“You are a crazed boyfriend, you literally fucked up your chances with her.”

“Which is why I think I should completely give up.”

Rubbing his face in his hands, Chanyeol frustratedly groans. “Honestly, if you’re going to give up so easily, maybe you don’t deserve her.” Baekhyun swallows, anxiously shaking his leg under the table. “What am I supposed to do? Stand outside her house until she has to come out?”

“Well, for one thing, you got her brother’s permission and acceptance of the two of you being together. Isn’t that something? Wasn’t that one of the reasons that stemmed from the conversation?”

Baekhyun grunts, hands furiously ruffling his hair. “It wasn’t only that. I called her immature, Yeol. I told her that she wasn’t mature enough for me.” His best friend stays silent for a moment, so quiet that you could almost hear him blink. “Do you really believe that?”

“Of course not. She’s the most mature twenty two year old I’ve ever met. She has most of her life together than I do, not including the fact that she has more self-assurance than I ever did at that age. But she doesn’t make me feel bad about it either; she wants me to bask in my childish behavior and be myself—“

“—stop talking and save it for her, will you?”

His palms are incredibly sweaty. Wiping the excess moisture on the fabric of his jeans, he tightens his jaw but follows with a deep inhale and exhale afterwards. “Why are you so nervous? I thought you said you liked her and were comfortable with her?” Chanyeol is shuffling through his pockets and filing through the many keys he has for the front door of your parents’ place before a familiar voice is heard behind the wooden material.

“I think it’s Yeol, Dad! I got it—“ The door swings open and the sight of you clenches Baekhyun’s chest.

You’re so pretty; so fucking goddamn pretty. Hair tied back in a loose bun, oversized grey hoodie and black shorts yet the simplest outfit has Baekhyun almost gasping for air. It makes the acidity in his stomach grumble— or his intestines in a knot; he’s not quite sure. One thing he was certain of was that knowing that he was the cause of your tired and sad eyes made his heart drop.

“Oh, hey Baekhyun.” That stung. He missed hearing you call him your baby. “You guys coming in?”

“I’m coming in. But you? Stay out here and talk to Baekhyun.” A blank expression on your face, you blink profusely. “Is everything okay?”

“Apparently not. Seemed like my friend is rather smitten with you. What’d you do? Drug his drink?”

“With what? You think I have to drug your friends to think I’m somewhat pretty?”

“No, I think you have to drug their drinks to get them to fall in love with you. He’s crazy now; I don’t think I want to be around him anymore. You keep him.” His words don’t have an underlying tone that you can pick out but he ends it off with a soft smile before patting your shoulder and walking into the house.

It’s just you and Baekhyun.

“Why’s he talking like that?” You say, ultimately shattering the glass of silence. “He’s acting like I have all his friends by a leash.”

“You have me by a leash.” It’s a quiet again. A heavy empty space of stillness settled over the two of you, thicker than the awkwardness and tension that had never been there before.

“Why are you—“

“You’re home early.” Baekhyun states the obvious, gathering enough courage to speak up. “Bad date?” Sucking in your cheeks, you’re tempted to tell him that it’s none of his business, yet you play along to his game anyway. “No... he was great. He just had a lot to offer when it came to money and I knew I couldn’t reciprocate nor live that life.” He nods as if this information was helpful, knowing that regardless of the turnout of the date, he would still be having this conversation.

“I told Yeol.” Your eyes widen; this is the most of a reaction he has gotten from you in a while and he admits that he misses it. “You what? Are you crazy? It was supposed to be meticulously planned—”

“He said he was okay with it.” Blinking blankly, you’re still hesitant about what to say next. “That... that doesn’t change where we left off.” Distressingly raking his hair with his fingers, he nods. “I know it doesn’t make up for any of the things I said but I still want another shot. I said it in the moment of panic— I had to pick between you and Chanyeol, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“So... what are you trying to say?”

“That what I said the other day, I didn’t mean it. I guess, calling you little Park like I’ve always done made it easy, knowing that I didn’t have to choose between my best friend and the girl I’ve been head over heels for. It gave me enough time to figure out what I wanted to do and... I just ended up ruining it for myself.”

You’re quiet the entire time, hands twiddling with the fabric of your hoodie. Unsure how to feel and uncertain of what to say, you just swallow any words that want to leave your mouth, not wanting to be too easy and let him back into your arms so easily. “Please, say something, say anything. I’m in love with you and honestly, I never thought I’d be in this position. All those girls I’ve dated—none of them made me feel in comparison to you.” His voice is wavering; you assume it’s from him being nervous.

“Baek, I don’t want to get hurt again.” You say softly, almost in a whisper. “You made me feel so stupid that day. I put you on this pedestal, I thought so highly of you—“

“Don’t do that,” He interrupts, stepping closer to you. “Don’t think so highly of me because I already broke your heart once. I made you wait so long and never realized your feelings for me. You’re the one that I should be putting on a pedestal.” Tears begin to well in your eyes again—Baekhyun’s the reason again, but it’s the opposite from before.

“I picked my nose before opening the door and wiped it on the doorknob before coming out because I knew Chanyeol was going to touch it. Are you sure about that?” He laughs, arms wrapping around your frame before pulling you against his chest. “Exactly what I looked for in a girlfriend. Someone who would torture my best friend.”

“I think I’m ready to move out.”

“Oh wow,” You say, slightly impressed. “You’re like what, 29? You probably should have your own place by now. Instead, you’ve been living at your parents’ house, trying to steal your sister’s last can of coke from the fridge. And you didn’t even bother to replace it!” Baekhyun chuckles at the siblings arguing, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Nobody asked you to drink so much of it. It’s bad for your heath.”

“You’re just saying that because you can’t handle my hits. You want me to be weaker.”

“Rightfully so.” He attacks back, sticking his tongue at you. “Man, ever since Baek started dating you, he won’t even stand by me anymore. I felt like I had more confidence knowing that he might back me up.” His friend shakes his head. “I never did though, I let you guys just fight.” Chanyeol groans. “Whatever. Anyway, I think I should look for a roommate temporarily before completely moving out on my own.”

Baekhyun sits up on the couch. “You could always come live with me, you know.” Your older brother scoffs, shaking his head. “Nah, not after you started dating my sister. I’m only half okay with this, I’m not sure how I’d feel hearing your bedpost banging on the wall.”

“What— why would you even bring that up!”

Chanyeol sighs disappointingly, leaning back. “Man, I miss when Baek used to date other girls. He’d talk about how wild some of them were, how his flings were… he lived the life I wanted to live—ouch! Did you just throw the controller at me?” He winces, rubbing his head. “What was that for?”

“Are you seriously talking about his past sexual encounters in front of me, you asshole?”

“Okay but Baek—“ Baekhyun raises his hands in defeat. “I don’t know if I’m cool with you bringing this up with my current girlfriend, dude.”

“This is a losing battle, isn’t it?”

#baekhyun #baekhyun fanfic #reader x baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #exo #exo fanfic #exo fics #baekhyun & reader #baekhyun&reader #exo smut #baekhyun smut #gyukultfics

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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years ago

Text

Training Secession

Summary:

You finally get your boyfriend Shouta Aizawa all to yourself. What else were you supposed to do today besides teasing him relentlessly?

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhed x Reader

Contents: teasing, finger fucking, slight BDSM, restraint without handcuffs/rope, spanking. Mild fluff

It wasn’t often that you got Shouta all to yourself. Between teaching and working as a pro-hero, you saw little of your boyfriend. It didn’t help matters that you also worked as a pro from time to time, but your quirk wasn’t nearly useful or impressive. Shouta never pointed out the noticeable difference in your power levels. You admitted that he took things too seriously sometimes, and you wished he’d lighten up, even just a little. Still, waking up next to him was the best thing in the world as far as you were concerned. It was pure bliss to be able to wake up next to him.

You glanced at the clock. It wasn’t early in the morning. However, you wondered if you should let him sleep a bit more. When you peeled your eyes open, you saw his hair tousled around his pillow.

You sat up a little to get a better view. Shouta slept like a rock, unable to hear giggling at his snoring. You took a lock of his hair and twirled it around your finger. Surprisingly, and despite rumors, he took care of it. Of course, you insisted that he use your conditioner and it worked wonders. It was much nicer to run your fingers through while you two were fooling around in bed.

You checked to make sure he was still sleeping. Shouta snored like a fat cat. His hair slipped through your fingers as you laid down again. You were rarely the big spoon, so you liked being able to hug him, even if your arms weren’t nearly big enough to wrap around him properly. You gave him a good squeeze. Shouta shifted, and you stilled your movements. But then, you had a naughty idea.

You brought your hands to his shoulders. You kneaded his shoulder blades with your palms until you heard him groan.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“About nine,” you answered.

You continued to knead the muscles in his back and shoulders. You stopped for a minute just to see what he would do. You smiled cheekily when he turned with that grumpy look on his face.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“Okay, Mister Grumpy Gills. But you’re going to have to get on your stomach.”

Shouta rolled over at your request. You straddled his hips and sat on his lower back while you massaged his shoulders. There were kinks galore that the man never bothered to get rubbed out. He worked himself to death and didn’t think about himself. On the one hand, it was a quality you could admire. On the other hand, it made the relationship much harder for you since your boyfriend didn’t like to take of himself. Which meant you could spoil him whenever you wanted.

“Goddammit, Shouta. You’ve got kinks in your kinks. What the hell are you doing all day?”

He only groaned into the pillow. You continued working at the knots the best you could. Truth be told, you had no idea what you’re doing. Let’s be honest, you did it mostly because you wanted to feel up those muscles. The first time you saw Shouta undressed, your jaw dropped to the floor. Beneath his dark hero’s costume and capture weapon, you had no idea about the heat your man was packing underneath all that. Every time you could get him to take off his shirt was extra time to get your hands on him and his muscles.

Whether or not he knew about your fascination with his well-built form, Shouta didn’t shame you for it. Hey, if he got a free massage out of it too, you could put your hands on him any time you wanted.

“Those kids are going to kill you one of these days, right? Maybe not in a villain attack, but just stressing you out.”

“You have no idea.”

Shouta let you go on for a few more minutes. He rolled over much to your disappointment. With you still straddling him, Shouta lifted the both of you off the bed. He secured your legs around his waist and made sure that your arms were wrapped firmly around his neck. He kissed you. For a second, you thought he was going to toss you back into bed or slam you into the nearest wall. You were mildly disappointed that he took you into the kitchen. Putting you down, your hands lingered on him as you ran your hands down his arms.

“Ah, Shouta,” you whined. You pouted.

Shouta put an end to that real quick with a kiss and pushed you against the fridge. His tongue distracted you long enough for his teeth to catch your bottom lip. Shouta gave a little tug, not much, and never to hurt you. When you left you against the fridge, you were panting. Shouta turned on the oven and started heating some eggs. He gave you a sideways glance that said more than words could ever hope to. If you pressed your luck, you’d find yourself bent over the kitchen counter again.

You didn’t pout as you helped him with breakfast. Mornings with Shouta were rare but full of moments that showed him the side you often see in him while you were out in public. He was still reserved and no-sense, but when it was just the two of you together, he could be sweeter. If his class ever saw him in the matching couple’s pajamas you bought for each other last Christmas, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. As much as you wanted him, being able to make breakfast and sit at the same table was the perfect way to start today.

However, it was hard for you to keep your hands to yourself. Shouta knew about your slight kink for feeling up his muscles or his body in general. You were one of the few people who got to see it. You felt privileged. So when your hand wandered down his back and took up position on his ass, you couldn’t help but give a little squeeze. Naturally, he did the same thing to you. His hand was much bigger than yours, and even his hands were stronger. When he grabbed something of yours, he made sure you’d feel it hours after his hands left you. He firmly grasped your cheek with twice as much power as you’d done to him.

“I can give as good I get, little lady. Don’t tempt me,” said Shouta next to your ear.

You grew red in the face, but you liked it. If you heard anyone calling your Shouta a submissive, you could show them the bruises on your ass to confirm the contrary.

Even on vacation days, Shouta didn’t rest for a minute. He hung around you until after lunch before he excused himself. He was going to work out for a while. You huffed at the man’s persistence on working even while on holiday. You didn’t feel like walking to the other side of the house where you knew Shouta would be working out. Despite your more powerful instinct to follow and watch him build up a sweat that glistened on his skin, you prowled through your small library of books on the shelf. Guests could tell which books belonged to whom. Shouta owned a few works of fiction, but he was mostly interested in more practical knowledge. Your shelves were dedicated to romance and some cleverly hidden erotica. What? You were an adult, and so was Shouta and all your friends. You had nothing to be ashamed about. Out of boredom, you picked a random novel and took it with you back to the couch. You vaguely remember the plot, so you skip ahead to the sexy bits.

About a couple chapters in and you were rubbing your thighs together. It grew harder for you to finish reading even a passage knowing that Shouta was somewhere down the hall working out.

"'His lips caressed her moistened lips. He nestled between her legs and kissed each thigh before returning to her core. She trembled as he kissed her there, lashing his tongue against her swollen clit. Her back arched upwards. She felt his bruising hands grasp her hips to keep her from moving away. His greedy mouth tasted the dew and suckled at its source. His tongue laved the outside of her walls, testing her waters, so to speak.

“M-Milord…” The serving maid blushed like a rose. Her petals began to weep as she felt his tongue dive into the most secret part of her.'"

You toss the book aside. Quite literally. You don’t see where it lands as you’re preoccupied with the heat between your legs. You leave the living room and go off to find Shouta. Sure enough, you saw him in the midst of his push-ups. You didn’t dare disturb his counting but stood in the doorway. You licked your lips and gnawed a bit at them. You watched the sweat trickle over his skin, still unaware of your presence. For now.

He looked good with his hair pulled back. You didn’t know why, and you didn’t ask questions. Shouta eventually caught onto your peeping Tom behavior, though he said nothing. You couldn’t tell for sure, but you’d swear up and down that a smirk tugged at his lips. You had to take a seat on the floor before you dripped.

At one point, Shouta stopped to look at you. He almost sneered at the playful look on your face. He probably suspected that you had something dastardly planned. You pretended not to have an evil thought in your brain, all the while wanting nothing more than to tackle him and ride his cock till kingdom come. Pun very much intended.

“Come here. If you’re going to stare, you might as well do something useful with your day.”

The scenario played out in your head. You’d get him riled up to the point where Shouta would have no other choice than to pin you on the mat and have his way with you. It was unfortunate that wasn’t the game he was playing today. Shouta never gave you the chance to tease him. He was much more interested in kicking your ass in a few sparring rounds. Being built stronger and having more experience than you in the field, it was all but natural that he had you panting for breath for all the wrong reasons. You figured this out too late when he had you smooshed against the mat, face first, and your arms pinned against your back. Other than his hands on your wrists, he wasn’t touching you in the way you wanted him to. Now you were horny and cranky.

“Is that all you got?”

You couldn’t stand that smug look on his face right now. You immediately kicked up your legs and threw yourself back. Shouta didn’t plan for you to be so reckless and fell with you. You climbed on top of him, pinning his wrists above his head.

“How you like it, huh?” You mimicked his smirk.

Shouta had you pinned on your back in no time at all. His hair came loose from the elastic band holding it together, blocking your view of anything else but him. Being stronger than you, moving your hands out of his grasp was easier said than done. Before you could kick him, Shouta shoved his knee between your legs. At this point, you were sensitive enough that his knee against your core was enough to make you moan.

“You’ve been needy all day,” said Shouta.

“Maybe I am? So what? What ‘cha gonna do about it?”

You teased him with a kitten lick on his nose of all places. In your defense, that was the only place you could reach.

Shouta tensed for a moment. He took his time deciding what to do with you. The moment he did, you knew you were in for it. Shouta released your hands, but not for long. He stood up and admired you briefly as he stood over you. You wore sweatpants and a tank top, no bra. Your top was thin enough to see your nipples peeking through. You couldn’t stop the shudder rolling through you as you watched him lick his lips. You tried to get up on your own only for Shouta’s hands to find your waist, throw you unto his shoulder, and carry you like that. His hand held you tight.

“S-Shouta!” You laughed and playfully kicked him in the ribs. Only playful, you didn’t mean any harm.

All your play-fighting did was rouse him more. His free hand swatted you on the back of your thighs, stopping you from further fake protesting. He dragged you back the bedroom like a caveman—minus the hairpulling cliché—and you loved every second of it. The world spun for a second after he dumped you on the bed. He let you sit up long enough to get rid of your useless top. Once it was gone, you were on your back and lifting your hips so he could take off your pants too. You smirked when he found your little surprise. Shouta’s eyes widened.

“You…didn’t put on underwear today?”

“What of it?” Your smugness vanished when he crammed two fingers at once inside you.

“Is that you’ve been teasing me all morning? You wanted to show me how much you wanted it?”

His fingers plunged inside you fast and hard. His other hand gathered both your wrists and pinned them above your head on the pillow. Shouta was a through man; you could count on him to get the job done. You should have known better than to tempt him, yet you couldn’t help yourself. Only you got to see the kind of face he was making while finger fucking you.

“S-Shouta!” You shivered around his fingers. Shifting your weight didn’t help either. He just caged your legs so you couldn’t move.

“Mmm?” He hummed. “I thought you wanted to be teased. I told you earlier, I give as good as I get.”

“Please,” you whined.

“Please, what? Give me a good reason to let you come.”

“I’ll. I’ll do anything, please! I need you…I need you so bad right now.”

He curled his fingers inside you and sped up. You thrashed around, but the moment your eyes found Shouta’s, you became very, very still. His face hovered above yours as he watched your every move. Your juices sloshed around as he pumped wildly. Your backed arched off the bed as you came around him. Once you came down from your high, Shouta wiped your forehead. However, if you thought you were done, you couldn’t get more wrong. His hands tangled in your hair and pulled your head back.

“Open,” he said, upholding the fingers that just finished you.

You obediently opened your mouth and suckled on him, tasting yourself. Shouta pumped his fingers deep inside until he reached your gag reflex. He pulled them out quickly, leaving behind a string of your saliva in their wake. His tongue tentatively lapped at his fingers.

“Do you want more?” His gaze never broke away from yours.

You glanced at his hand, which thumbed the hem of his sweatpants. Looking back up at your boyfriend, you nodded.

“Greedy girl.” Shouta took off his tank top that had his sweat running down the front by this point. He tossed it over his shoulder and chucked off his sweatpants.

You hadn’t been able to notice before because your view had otherwise been blocked. Shouta sported a monster of an erection, and it was all for you. You were still seeping wet when you plugged you up. Shouta pulled you onto your side. He wrapped your legs around his hip and trapped your hands above your head once more.

“Would…you…say you’ve been…a good girl today?” Shouta asked while drilling you.

You didn’t have a thought in your brain. This angle made you dizzy, too dizzy to think of anything other than Shouta’s cock. You couldn’t form syllables if you tried.

“I think …you’ve been rotten. Do you think…a bad girl like you…deserves my cock?”

Shouta was nestled deep inside you. This was your favorite position for a reason, and he was using it against you.

“P-please, Shouta! Don’t stop!”

“And why shouldn’t I?” He pulled almost all the way out. “You’ve been a fucking tease since we woke up this morning. Didn’t think I’d noticed how you kept getting your hands all over me?”

Shouta thrust a few more times, then stopped again. “Have you anything to say? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself right now?” He went back to pounding you. “All you…had to do…was beg for it. Instead, you tease me…walking around without panties. Trying to…get my attention like the fucking cock-hungry, needy girl…you are.”

He flipped you onto your stomach. Your hands were against your back. Unable to resist him, your legs were shoved open wider for him to inspect your sopping cunt. You screamed into the mattress when you felt the first swat of his hand on your ass. You were stone-cold sober after four more. Tears bubbled in your eyes.

“Shouta!”

He was inside you again. His pounding was more furious than before. Your ears were filled with the sound of wet skin slapping against skin and his grunting. His hands left your wrists in favor of groping your breasts. His sweat drenched your back, and you felt his hot breath in your ear. Shouta ground his hips into yours.

“Fucking tease. Tell me…tell me when you want to be fucked, so I don’t have to punish you. Unless you like this shit?” He tweaked your nipples.

You screamed. You could no longer tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

“Such a needy girl,” said Shouta. He straightened up.

He let your arms fall where they may. Your hands tightened around the sheets, clenching and unclenching, depending on how hard Shouta gave it to you. His grip moved back to your hips, where you were firmly rutted against him.

“Don’t you dare cum before I do. That’s your punishment.” He growled before smacking your thigh.

He was asking something almost impossible for you. You wracked your brain for anything to keep your mind off of orgasming right then and there. Shouta never moved with reckless abandon; he loved to be lost in you. His movements were always precise, calculated, and sure to drive you up the wall. His cock was reaching deep within you to the point where you lost all sense. You could feel nothing but him moving inside you, driving in and out.

“Stop clenching if you don’t want to come before I do.” He smacked your ass this time. “Next time, I’ll slap your needy cunt since you enjoy punishment that much.”

You took his threat seriously. You tried to think of anything to break you out of the moment, for now, to stave off coming. Frog legs. Midnight’s cooking. Paperwork….

Suddenly, a warmth washed over you. Shouta’s hands flexed on your hips. He grunted as he unleashed himself. You screamed and clenched around him. His cum filled you deep inside. You couldn’t stop crying as he filled you up. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

You two remained in that position for some time. When Shouta finally pulled out, you groaned aloud. The absence of him left you wanting more, and you felt hollow inside. Shouta tried not to smother you with his weight. He moved onto his side and did the same to you so that he could look you in the eye. You had your eyes closed so you could only feel his hands moving your hair out of your sweaty face.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

You meekly nodded your head. Shouta didn’t mention the fact that you technically disobeyed him by finishing at the same time. He kissed your forehead nevertheless.

“I’m going to draw us a bath. You sit tight, okay?”

Again, you nodded. Shouta left you in that blissed-out state. From across the hall, you could hear the water running. You smiled to yourself; you should wear panties less often.

If you’d like to see more content like this, please consider going to my AO3 here

#my hero academia #mha #mha fanfiction #mha smut #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha smut #bnha fanfiction #shouta #shouta aizawa #aizawa #reader fic #aizawa x reader #eraserhead #Aizawa/Eraserhead #Eraserhead x Reader #minors begone

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jackdawyt · 5 years ago

Video

youtube

Your bird is back with another Dragon Age 4 News Update! 🐦

For the first time this year, I’m doing a massive monthly news recap of everything we learned about Dragon Age 4 going forward (JUST) in the month of March, because slap my arse and call me Andraste, this month was huge for Dragon Age 4 updates, we’ve got a lot of exciting info to get into!

(Romance Tweets)

Calling all romance fans, you can bank on Dragon Age 4 to fulfil all of your intimate desires, perhaps even more so than the previous games. Jon Renish, Foundation Programming Area Director working on the next Dragon Age had a few things to say whilst watching a romance scene script read through:

“Don't want to alarm anyone, but I'm starting to think 'Dragon Age' games might be a bit randy.” (March 3rd)

‘Randy’, according to the Oxford Dictionary, means ‘sexually arousing’ and ‘exciting.’ So, we can prepare for that, whatever that is! Jon continues his tweet thread with:

“Well now it's all sad and sweet and emotional. I was not prepared for this rollercoaster.”

In true BioWare fashion, we’re going to have a lot of sexy times, however, brought together with moving and character developing moments – y’know, the ups and downs of the romance as the relationship builds and grows throughout the entire game experience.

“Oh, nothing like that. Just watching a script read through.”

Jon confirms that this was indeed a script read through, as we can tell reviewing a potential romance scene. As a romance advocate myself, I am very interested in the direction romances will be going in for Dragon Age 4. That is something that I will especially be keeping my eyes on.

(E3/EA Play 2020 Update)

EA Play and E3 2020 are generally the most expected places to see a new Dragon Age 4 reveal trailer.

E3 2020 has been cancelled due to the current outbreak, however, we’ve yet to be updated on the status of EA Play 2020. Of course, it is most certainly cancelled since the tickets for the show were supposed to drop this March. But, we still don’t know what will replace the show.

The teams behind E3 2020 are supposedly working on a digital showcase to display new announcements that would’ve been revealed on stage. We can only assume that EA will follow suite and do the same for EA Play, making it a digital show, like Nintendo’s Direct conferences.

Regardless, this is something that we’re going to have to wait and see until EA speak out, and when they do, I’ll be sure to cover that in a news update. I feel we could have a Dragon Age 4 reveal, with an expected release of 2022/2023, but with everyone hectic right now, I’m unsure.

(C Virus Update)

Speaking of hectic... with the current outbreak, EA have spoken and shared a statement about health and safety during these times:

(March 13th) “These are challenging times for everyone. We’re working to look after our employees and their families, and make sure we’re doing the right and responsible things to fight this pandemic illness.”

Thankfully, everyone working at BioWare have been asked to work from home. Justin Masse, Experience Designer working on the next Dragon Age tweeted he’s “working from home until April 1st", confirming the length of this situation.

According to Crystal McCord, Associate Producer of Performance Capture and VO, working at home has been very productive for the team at BioWare as they have “exceeded all expectations.”

So, it’s great knowing that despite the crazy situation in the world right now, BioWare developers are staying safe, working from home and progressing hugely on the next Dragon Age title!

(Slack Server)

(March 13th) While Mark Darrah was working from home, he tweeted a picture regarding his tiling progression, as he’s currently redesigning aspects of his home. However, in the very corner of Darrah’s picture lies a laptop screen with a Slack Server revealing many Dragon Age development secrets!

The server shows plenty of channels for the BioWare developers regarding specific work notes on all aspects of progression. A large amount of the channels are abbreviated to “MOR_” - which is most certainly shortened from ‘Morrison’, Dragon Age 4’s current project title as we know.

This list of the channels are endless, and I could spend forever looking into what exactly they all refer to regarding the production of the next Dragon Age game. We have one channel called ‘mor_announcement’ - does this hint at a new trailer to soon be showed off, or is it an old channel since The Dread Wolf Rises teaser? Are they planning an upcoming announcement? Surely, they would be right? Is that anytime soon?

Another channel is called ‘mor_da_week’ which from what I can assume stands for Dragon Age week? We have a Dragon Age Day created by the fans and made offical by BioWare, but a Dragon Age week, that’s something I’ve never heard of...

And there’s just plenty of channels referring to Dragon Age 4’s current development, there’s even a bad design ideas thread, an ask Mark anything chat, approvals on key aspects of the game, marketing assets, and so on!

It’s a gold mine of tidbits, orchestrated by none other than Mark Darrah, the Executive Producer on Dragon Age. He has once more tweeted a cheeky little tease that may appear mundane, passing a blind eye to it, however, when you take some time and actually look at what he’s posted, it reveals a nug-ton of info we can speculate on.

(New Associate Producer / Jobs)

Illustrator and Creative Professional “Mad Bee” has returned to work at BioWare, they previously worked on Anthem as an Art Quality Analyst. However, this time around, they are an Associate Producer, most likely working on Dragon Age 4.

And, following that, BioWare are currently hiring! I’ve seen this news piece get quite the few news articles, but I figured I could break this one down better, rest in peace PC Gamer.

So, indeed BioWare are hiring for many roles at the company, the most prominent role is a ‘Technical Director’ for ‘the next major title in one of BioWare’s most prestigious franchises.’

Considering Mike Gamble, the new project lead for the next Mass Effect game tweeted this hiring out, I’d assume this position is needed for the Mass Effect team who are also in Edmonton, opposite the Dragon Age team.

What’s most concerning about this job listing relating to the future of Mass Effect is that, according to the job requirements, the applicant needs to have experience ‘developing, debugging and optimizing AAA multiplayer games on PC or console.’

To throw away my suspicion that Mass Effect or Dragon Age are going to have a heavy multiplayer experience, I looked at the other job listings located at Edmonton’s studio and I discovered other job listings, like an Engine Programmer which require the same experience of developing and debugging games, however, without the multiplayer element.

So, perhaps BioWare have two teams, one working on the main single player element and the other working on the much smaller multiplayer aspect? I’d be naive to not reiterate the fact that future BioWare games are going to be live service, however, we still don’t know to what extent that will look like.

(Tevinter Nights)

Patrick Weekes teased that Dragon Age 4 is most certainly in Tevinter following there Tevinter Nights Book plug, however, Patrick still calls the next Dragon Age game an unannounced project? Which I don’t understand because The Dread Wolf Rises teaser trailer at The Game Awards 2018 most certainly confirmed that a new Dragon Age game is currently in production and has been announced.

Unless Patrick is calling it ‘still-unannounced' because they’re planning an announcement soon...

I feel like Patrick is just joking at the fact that the next game is most certainly set in Tevinter, considering PC Gamer made an article a while back stating that Dragon Age 4 is set in Tevinter based on the Tevinter Nights book reveal, it made plenty of the BioWare staff and community laugh at their credulous Journalism. So, it could just be that.

Anyhow, March has actually been an amazing month to be a Dragon Age fan! We had the final issue of Blue Wraith and the release of the anthological Tevinter Nights!

Tevinter Nights dropped plenty of story hints for the future of Dragon Age. I was lucky enough to receive an early copy, as of which, I’ve created plenty of content regarding all of the story threads uncovered in the novel that you should check out once you’ve read the book for yourself, I’ve still got more to content to come from Tevinter Nights too!

However, if you have not read it and very much care about the future of Dragon Age, which if you’re watching this video, you most likely do. So, you should go and read this book because we learn A LOT going forward for the future narrative of Dragon Age. The book is a huge spring board for the next game, so go and read it!

(Blue Wraith)

The final issue of Blue Wraith launched and as much as I enjoyed it, the comic ended on a cliff-hanger!

The lead writers Nunzio DeFilippis and Christina Weir are hopeful for another comic to come, stating:

The two also spoke in a comic-centred interview by Deconstructing Comics about the direction of their entire Dragon Age comics. That since Knight Errant, their comics are created to prepare for a hypothetical Dragon Age 4, but not as a prologue or a plot for the next game. Nunzio suggested that fans should instead look at Tevinter Nights.

Nunzio shared on BSN Forums that hopefully the wait for the next comic won’t be as long as last time. Dragon Age: Deception came out through October – December of 2018, whereas Blue Wraith came out through January – March of 2020. So, perhaps the next comic run could come mid-2021.

(Future Books/Comics)

Speaking of future books and comics, just after I finished Blue Wraith and Tevinter Nights, I was asking myself what’s next to look forward to regarding Dragon Age content. However, on March 23rd we got not one, but two book announcements coming later this year.

Dropping on the 13th of October, BioWare are revealing a new development book, charting the legendary game studio's first 25 years in a massive retrospective hardcover book at $39.99. Perhaps we’ll learn more about Dragon Age 4’s previous iteration, project Joplin?

Following that, on October 27th, the five Dragon Age graphic novels are being put into a massive collection for $29.99.

This book collects Dragon Age: The Silent Grove #1-6, Dragon Age: Those Who Speak #1-3, Dragon Age: Until We Sleep #1-3, Dragon Age: Magekiller #1-5, and Dragon Age: Knight Errant #1-5.

But not Deception & Blue Wraith? Potentially they’ve left these two out because Dark Horse wish to progress with these comics, foreshadowing more comics in the future to come?

(Reddit Leak)

Moving on to a slightly weird, and most certainly fake-but-take-it-as-you-will-update... we have a reddit leak showing many upcoming games release dates, with some actually being accurate. Dragon Age 4 is listed here, and according to this leak, it’s releasing the 15th of November, 2020. Again, most certainly fake, but take it as you will.

Speaking of fake leaks, a 2018 leak for Dragon Age 4’s contents has resurfaced, and oh boy is this thing fake. I feel like dissecting this thing as a separate video just for a laugh, but tell me down below if that’s a good idea or not.

With that, that’s all the updates we had in March! We’re three, almost four months into 2020, as crazy as this year has been so far. I’ve already created plenty previous news updates, so if you need to be caught up to date, or you’ve missed an update, or you’re just stuck inside and need something to put your mind at ease - I have a news playlist with every single major update regarding Dragon Age 4’s development, so be sure to check that out.

I hope you all are holding up okay and staying safe, distract yourself by telling me some of your own hopes for the next Dragon Age game, it can be anything you'd like to see! Personally, I'd love to see Vaea make any appearance in DA4!

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tcm · 4 years ago

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James Stewart in the 1950s By Susan King

Jimmy Stewart was one of the biggest stars at MGM in 1940s and 1950s. In fact, he had just earned the lead actor Oscar for his indelible comedic performance in THE PHILADELPHIA STORY (‘40) when he became the first major performer to enlist in the U.S. Army in March of 1941, a full eight months before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.

Stewart, then 32, had made his film debut in THE MURDER MAN (‘35) and quickly became a leading man at the studio, earning his first Oscar nomination for his memorable portrayal of an earnest young senator in Frank Capra’s MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON (‘39). Audiences and critics loved the lanky, tall young man who excelled at playing an Everyman, the boy-next-door who was earnest, kind and often brave. Stewart, who was an experienced amateur flyer, spent a year training pilots at Kirtland Army Airfield and then in the fall of 1943 was sent to England. He ended the war with 20 combat missions, won awards for his service and remained in the USAF Reserve, where he was promoted to brigadier general in 1959. He retired in 1968.

When he returned to films in Capra’s holiday favorite IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE (‘46), he was 38 years old. He looked older; his hair was graying. He had only been out of the service for a year. There was a gravitas to his performance, a gravitas of someone who had seen the horrors of war. His George Bailey was still the Everyman, but one in despair, someone who is about to commit suicide. He earned his third Oscar nomination for his beloved performance. And, he followed that up with strong turns in the newspaper drama CALL NORTHSIDE 777 and Alfred Hitchcock’s ROPE (both ‘48).

But I think Stewart did his best work in the 1950s. He was certainly adventurous playing flawed, conflicted characters and eccentric individuals. There was a dangerous, nervous cat-like quality to his roles. And there was often a sexiness to his performances. He also worked with some of the best directors, including Hitchcock, Anthony Mann, Billy Wilder and Otto Preminger.

Stewart began his fruitful collaboration with Mann—they made eight films together—with the gritty Western WINCHESTER ’73 (‘50). Mann had made a name for himself in the late 1940s with such low-budget atmospheric films noir as RAW DEAL (‘48). Mann brought a noir sensibility to WINCHESTER ’73, in which Stewart plays the Everyman on the edge doggedly trying to find the Winchester ’73 rifle that was stolen from him, while laser-focused on tracking down the man (Stephen McNally) who stole it and also murdered his father. Stewart is just terrific playing a conflicted man who is filled with rage.

My favorite Stewart-Mann production is THE NAKED SPUR (‘53). In this exceptional Western, Stewart is even more wired. He plays a Civil War vet who lost his land during the war and becomes a bounty hunter. But he more than meets his match with his latest capture, a wily outlaw (Robert Ryan) and the two companions he picks up (Millard Mitchell, Ralph Meeker) to help him. THE NAKED SPUR isn’t just a Western adventure, it’s a psychological one. The scene at the end when Stewart loses it in front of the outlaw’s companion (Janet Leigh) – crying, yelling and shaking with hatred and grief – is an astonishing piece of acting.

Stewart and Mann didn’t just do Westerns. They scored a huge hit with the biopic THE GLENN MILLER STORY (‘54) and STRATEGIC AIR COMMAND (‘55). The latter was close to Stewart’s heart because it revolved around the Air Force and flying. He plays a baseball player who is reactivated in the Air Force to test flight new planes. The film gets bogged down on land when it concentrates on his private life with June Allyson, but he and the film soar when it takes to the air.

The same year he made WINCHESTER ’73, Stewart also began another fruitful collaboration with director Henry Koster. In fact, he received his fourth Oscar nomination for the delightful HARVEY (‘50) based on Mary Chase’s popular Broadway play about an eccentric Elwood P. Dowd, who has an invisible six-foot tall white rabbit named Harvey as his best friend. Stewart had filled in for the part on Broadway in 1947 when star Frank Fay went on vacation. Though Dowd is an alcoholic, the Production Code prevented Koster from showing him taking a drink. Almost 20 years later, Stewart and Helen Hayes appeared on Broadway in a revival of the play, and then in 1972 reprised their roles for a Hallmark Hall of Fame presentation.

The following year, Koster and Stewart teamed up again for the taut British thriller NO HIGHWAY IN THE SKY (’51). Stewart is entirely believable as a brilliant but absent-minded engineer who has a hard time convincing anybody that an expensive new airplane model is not safe. The film also paired him with his DESTRY RIDES AGAIN (’39) leading lady, Marlene Dietrich.

Stewart is probably best remembered in the 1950s for his work with the Master of Suspense in REAR WINDOW (‘54); THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH (‘56) and VERTIGO (‘58). So much has been written and discussed about those films, all I want to say is that REAR WINDOW and VERTIGO are my two most favorite Hitchcock thrillers, and Hitch had to have really delved into Stewart’s psyche to get that brave, daring turn from the actor in VERTIGO. I know that it’s a polarizing film, but I think it’s brilliant, demanding and a psychological thrill ride. I am still very much on the fence with the only film Stewart made with Wilder, THE SPIRIT OF ST. LOUIS (‘57).

Based on Charles Lindbergh’s award-winning best-seller chronicling his landmark 1927 flight across the Atlantic to Paris, the film is beautifully shot and consistently engrossing. But the big problem is that Lindberg was 25 when he made the flight and Stewart was 48 when he made the film. Just as with STRATEGIC, Lindbergh’s story was very inspiring to Stewart so, he lost weight, got in shape and lightened his hair to play Lucky Lindy. He’s very charming in the part, but there’s no getting over the fact he’s nearly 50 years old.

Stewart ended the decade with a real crackerjack of a legal drama, Otto Preminger’s ANATOMY OF A MURDER (‘59). Nominated for six Academy Awards, including Best Film, Best Actor for Stewart and Supporting Actor for Arthur O’Connell, ANATOMY OF A MURDER raised more than a few eyebrows for its sexual frankness at the time, with Stewart talking about rape, panties and even semen. He’s perfectly cast as the witty, brilliant small-town attorney who seems to enjoy fishing more than taking cases. He gets the case of his career, though, when he’s hired to defend a hot-tempered Army lieutenant (Ben Gazzara) accused of murdering the man who allegedly raped his wife (Lee Remick).

Stewart has a wonderful rapport with Eve Arden as his longtime secretary who secretly loves him and Arthur O’Connell as his alcoholic buddy, an attorney who gets his mojo back when he helps Stewart on the case. And the scenes his scenes with the flirtatious Remick and George C. Scott as the slick big city prosecuting attorney just couldn’t be better. Nevertheless, Stewart lost the Oscar to Charlton Heston for BEN-HUR (’59). Stewart was presented with an Honorary Award from the Academy in 1985.

#James Stewart #Jimmy Stewart #Vertigo #Harvey #Alfred Hitchcock #Anthony Mann #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #Susan King #Anatomy of a Murder #Henry Koster

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youarejesting · 5 years ago

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Quarantine.15

[Masterlist] Pairing: BTS x reader Friends2Lovers But as slow as you can go until the anticipation kills us all… Genres: friendship, drama, romance SLOWEST OF BURNS BUT IT WILL BE BURNING AN ETERNAL FLAME!!! Rating: PG-13 and above Summary: Your brother works with a few BigHit dance teams and whilst having permission to accompany him at work the city shuts down banning anyone from stepping outside for a whole WEEK while they disinfect the streets. If you step outside you might get arrested, shot or poisoned by the chemicals they are emitting through the city. Words: 1.5k Announcement: I reached 1,000 friends. Thank you so much all of you from the bottom of my heart. This chapter is dedicated to all of you. For showing support with a simple heart all the way up to some really meaningful comments. I appreciate you all so much. I promise to try hard to get better a little everyday. I want to bring you quality work.

[Part 1] [Part 14] [Part 16] [Tag Yourself Here]

It seemed sleep wasn’t going to come easily. Every time you closed your eyes, the memories played out like a distorted Spanish guitar. You were sweating, not every scenario was real, some you were captured or killed. It wasn’t until you saw the meeting in your head, you saw them vote and watched your brother walk out the building, dying a hundred different deaths. It was unbearable especially as he fell onto the ground face morphing into Seokjin’s. His handsome face, smiling up at you.

“Don’t cry” Seokjin wasn’t here it was all in your Mind. You tried to push the thoughts away, he was the tide pushing and pulling you in but the water was growing weaker. Retreating, pulling further from the land and leaving you behind. You looked for something to help him. He was dying. There was nothing you could do, focusing back unable to speak from the sharp pain in your throat like you had swallowed knives.

This was stupid you blinked at the dark ceiling you weren’t asleep. What was this? hallucinations? You were having some mild form of a panic attack and couldn’t move. Frozen in shock.

Yoongi took his place, pulling off his helmet and smiling just as content as he always was. He beckoned you closer, taking hold of your cheek with his palm, placing a slow desperate kiss to your lips. The kiss was beautifully orchestrated leaving your body humming against his. Turning his head it became a more lively kiss, lips burning a trail against your jawline. “Jagiya, don’t miss me too much okay” Hoseok’s voice shocked you as you pulled away.

Namjoon laid there out of breath “remember our promise, even if I’m not there you promised” he held up a pinky, you went to link it with yours but his hand fell limp into your lap.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Stepping out the secret base to see Jimin lying on the ground of the hallway looking up at you. You almost screamed at the thought your imagination had finally taken over. From above, his eyes appear glassy and his lips turning blue as he wore the broken suit. He gasped your name.

“Y/n hey why are you up?” You blinked. He really was there. Not dying but definitely sleepy, wearing long black pants and a jumper. “I am just going to the bathroom, go inside and I will be in soon,” he nodded, gathering his things and stumbled into the room. You stepped into the bathroom, relieving your taut bladder. Jimin hadn’t noticed your puffy eyes in the dark, you shivered looking up to the ledge for the weapon. If your brother was going at least he could go armed. A figure standing in the corner of the bathroom, hazard suit-clad arms extended out eyes milky white.

“I can’t see” his voice was a deeper note and the form fell to the ground clutching their throat crying. “I don’t like this” the figure seemed to come into view. It was Taehyung. He looked up at the ceiling foam escaping his mouth. Cloudy eyes searching for something or someone before he let out a final tiny whimper.

Shaking your head, you went to grab the gun from the ledge, he went still leaving you with the body of Jungkook. So still and looking so small, and innocent. The gun landing in your hands felt a rush of emotions, power, control, safety. You opened the stall door sick of these stress induce hallucinations. Washing your hands and your face, in the icy cold water that seemed to pinch at your skin. Looking up to see the boys standing behind you dead from the poison, your brother had been shot through the head.

You knew you had made your decision, these images would haunt you if you let any of them take your place. Tying your hair back and forming a plan. You could navigate the fog better than the others stuck in the building. You grabbed the backpack you stole from the lost and found and placed the weapon inside. Watching Jimin’s blankets slip off his body, you smiled softly. Yes, this was the right decision, you couldn’t live with yourself if any of them got hurt. Tucking him back in you whispered.

“Goodnight sexy,” you gently brushed his hair out of his eyes, glancing at his soft round lips. Thoughts beginning to wonder if he would get mad if you stole a kiss. You briefly pressed your lips to his, he came alive against you. Hands touching your face, running down your body, his soft lips molding to yours. He moaned your name squeezing your thighs in his hands, moving them only to palm your ass firmly. Pulling away before he did anything he would regret you headed out, taking the elevator to the sixth floor. Translating your speech onto your phone notes, as it ascended. Arriving at the designated floor, you approached the small group gathered around reception.

“I am here to escort the gentleman to the hospital faulty suit or not” the HR officer and the doctor who worked in the infirmary turned shocked by your Korean. “It’s not the suit it’s the breather, the filter is cracked, the tiny system still runs just we can’t guarantee you won’t get traces of poison seeping through.” “How much?” “Anywhere from three to twenty-five percent.”

“Please get him ready, and I will need to borrow a car. Do you think you can do that?” “You can’t drive in the fog?” “I think I can, if you want him there alive that is,” you hissed back “Here are his car keys, we can control the underground parking to let you out” “Well, excuse me while I pack some supplies for the trip” you went to your brother's room with water and food leaving it there for him.

Taking his phone you sent a text to the Bangtan Boys group chat saying he had left and that you were on the sixth floor being restrained until his return. Taking the door handle apart quickly, thanking your brother was the opposite of you, a heavy sleeper. Reversing the handle, the key lock was inside and the turn lock as on the outside. You pocketed the key.

Moving on it was now almost three in the morning. It would be starting to lighten soon, you got suited up and the HR officer handed you the breather, I tried to fix it, it might last another half an hour or not but it’s the best I can do. You took the older gentleman mister lee to his vehicle in the basement. Using the remote key locking to find his car, placing him in the back seat, laying him down.

“Please don’t scratch my car?” He was breathless and seemed rather nervous. “I won’t” you rolled your eyes scoffing audibly, and then looked back with a cheeky grin “Which side of the road do I drive on?” you didn’t turn on the lights moving quietly. As the gate slid open to let you out.

“It’s a quiet engine I will give you that,” moving through the fog quickly you got onto the long empty highway travelling a little faster. You passed something big scraping the side of the car knocking off a side mirror. The car was being shot at and you clipped whoever denting the hood. You weren’t going too fast so you knew they wouldn’t be dead, at worst a broken arm from the fall. What took you 2 hours to walk the GPS said 13 minutes. Three more minutes than you had time for.

You pushed the car a little faster watching the GPS for directions and you arrived at the hospital, swiping his card before getting him inside. They looked at you as you pulled off the faulty headpiece and they took mister lee who thanked you.

“Don’t thank me I took off the side of your car” “You drove” the nurse paled “Yup” you acted nonchalant checking out your nails and waiting for them to leave. You went to their side room and found multiple breathers but you knew it was for the paramedics to save some people. You hated how you couldn’t bring yourself to steal it.

You begrudgingly looked away towards at the filter on your hip; it still seemed to be holding itself well enough. You scanned mister lee’s card on the vending machine grabbing a cold coke. Half your job was done, now you just had to get back. A radio chimed through a broken message and hospital security brought out guns running off around the hospital.

“What’s going on?” catching one of the guards as he ran past, he looked you up and down seemingly on alert. “It seems a group of gunman are heading this way, someone hit one of the men with their car and now they are coming after them, we are locking down the hospital,” Your blood ran cold and you chased after him. “Let me out.”

“We can’t do that ma’am” He didn’t even look at you, “we are hoping they will just pass through” “it was me I hit the guy,” They acknowledge what you said and you pulled out your gun. “Let me out, I led them here I can lead them away” They backed up and let you walk out, slipping your headpiece back on before racing to the car. The engine purred softly to life. Half your job was done, now you just had to get back.

[Part 1] [Part 14] [Part 16] [Tag Yourself Here]

Tags: @bubbletae7 @lovemusicandotps @taetaebq @seveniefive @w0lfqu33n @anaiss97 @moccahobi @maddymal @lilacdreams-00 @lethargicalyssa @knjkitten @pieislife @bunnyboyenthusiast

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2bstudioblog · 4 years ago

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Konami’s wheels are turning... slowly

Lot’s of interesting news heading to our heads this Monday from what I heard from Yong Yea’s video about Konami wanting to outsource their IP’s to 3rd parties.

Obviously, Akira Yamaoka has kinda given away a strong hint that he’s working on a project with Bloober which in this case would be the long awaited SH remake or the direction they had with PT before it got cancelled. Akira Yamaoka also decided that (too late) he wanted to amend the article from his interview and release it later down the line. It’s very unusual that these news happen, but we all know Yamaoka is most famous for his music in Silent Hill.

Which brings me to a funny story about my own involvement of a Silent Hill game. I mentioned this on a podcast that I was part of 2 Konami-owned IP’s that went into another direction and killing off their franchises which have been like dead bodies in a morgue for the last 7 years.

I got the request to write industrial-metal music for a Silent Hill (of course at this time I only knew the IP and their most famous version of the game has been Silent Hill 2.) game. First I was of course very excited to be part of the series, but I jumped to early until I found out it was a Pachinko-machine (A japanese style pinball-game mixed with a touch-screen and a one-armed bandit and a slot-machine in one.), and my heart sank a little. I think I produced 4-5 cues for the machine, but I’m glad that nobody will be able to hear my “mediocre” masterpieces because all you would hear are metal-balls falling into a tray. But the thing about this machine, it had taken cut-scenes from Silent Hill 2, upscaled or even re-mastered/remade the graphics which would have looked great if it was its own game. But it was the same thing they’ve done with all their other IPs when those transfer over to this kind of entertainment. All what was left of it, Jim Sterling turned the game into a Meme and all I can hear is the -”HIT THE LEVER!” and the effects overpowering the music behind it. But I’m glad it didn’t go further then that. Technically here, Silent Hill(s) died with the arrival of the pachinko-slot machine and the series have tried to re-establish itself ever since.

Another game I was a part of was a Castlevania (Dracula in Japan) themed Pachinko-slot machine, with the revolutionary phrase “Erotic Violence” in it’s PR material and video-commercial. I mean, they took the music production part of this machine very seriously because I wasn’t aware of the “EV” part. I just thought it would be a machine praising the history of Castlevania. I was assigned to re-write and re-orchestrate a few songs from Neo-classical Metal music into more Progressive Metal style, and I was super-proud of this one because they had the sheet-music already available for me. All I had to do was re-arrange some parts for a string-quartet (1 cello, 2 violins and 1 viola) and I believe it was engineered and recorded by famed engineer Kenji Nakai who was under and working with famed engineer Mr Bruce Swedien (Michael Jackson, Quincy Jones).

From that moment me and Mr. Nakai stroke a friendship because he has a passion for Progressive Metal and he asked me if I could send more songs his way. From this we both have been incredibly busy on both of our ends, but I hope we can be able to work on something in the future. I have a feeling that might be soon.

So a long story short, Konami spent a lot of money for recording, they approved everything and we were done. But when it turned out to be a pachinko-machine and not a world-wide videogame release, I just had to facepalm myself, asking the question why they keep doing so many poor decisions. Why leaving all those fans out in the cold and really start making Castlevania mean something. This void of “lots of fancy things, but no substance” started right here...

Konami are turning their wheels a little bit too late and too slow until now. After they got rid of Hideo Kojima (Who I believe was thinking of the international-market rather than the domestic one), Konami had only one thing on their minds: Making money quick and domestically. No more wasted time on translations, straight for the gambling crowd. No need to write interesting stories. No need to introduce kids to this adult material. They wanted to earn it back as fast as possible. But we all see their decisions put them on the map as a “black-company”, who mistreat their staff, shaming them out in the office for overstaying their lunch-breaks. Moving staff from one business to another, from a programmer to a Konami-fitness Center-staff, or as a toilet-cleaner at a Konami-owned pachinko-slot gambling hall. The management of the company has been horrendous for the full-time employee. I’m glad I was not part of these later projects and only wrote stuff for them for Pro Evolution Soccer series from 2009-2012. (My work on 2010-2012 was unfortunately un-credited work. :(

Metal Gear Solid V - The Phantom Pain In My Ass

When the playable teaser called Metal Gear Solid - Ground Zeroes, came out on the PS3 and later on the PS4, it was an introduction for the new graphics engine designed by Hideo Kojima’s team, simply called The FOX-Engine. Basically this “game” was more of a demo rather than a full-product. But it looked great and with a fantastic score by Akihiro Honda, Ludvig Forssell and Harry Gregson-Williams, it had everything going for it to become something really awesome. It became a standard approach from Hideo Kojima now to produce “Playable Teasers” to show a great concept while offering a 3-4 hour short campaign, showing off the engine’s graphical capabilities.

Still, the story was under progress and I knew early on that Hideo Kojima really didn’t want to do it after he always felt that Metal Gear Solid 4 was final. But here is the curse of the die-hard fans, and I’m sorry to say it. No matter how many Iron Man movies Marvel crams out, at the 3rd movie, I started to feel “This does not feel like Iron Man anymore”. But that’s what the fans wanted and is a standard in the movie industry. Always produce a trilogy. Indiana Jones has always been the 3 movies from 1981-1989. The 4th one doesn’t really need to be called Indiana Jones at all. It was there I felt, just like with Metal Gear Solid V, they were beating a DEAD RACE HORSE.

I can’t deny the talents on display for Metal Gear Solid - Ground Zeroes. It laid down some really cool foundations for the gameplay, but I still believe the better game-series for stealth was beaten by the likes of Splinter Cell and most recently Thief. Stealth in MGS has always felt a little bit childish and I only really enjoyed MGS 1, MGS 2, tried to play MGS 3 (still have it one my Vita!) and will try to finish it. MGS 3 has felt like the TRUE Zeroes experience, with the inception of the story and lore behind the cloning of Big Boss. MGS 4 finally brought it all to a great finale and I felt, there is NOTHING more to tell. MGS 1, 2 and 4 is the Trilogy, MGS 3 serves as the Prequel and I see nothing wrong with that.

Mission - Erase Kojima’s Legacy

The making of MGS V - The Phantom Pain is kinda true to it’s title. Can you feel the nostalgia? Or are we just imagining the sensation of a Metal Gear Solid game past it’s prime? The missing link? The missing limb? And with the worlds biggest cop-out of everything that had to do with story was completely missing.

Each mission is playing out every time the same, with an intro to a TV-show, giving away massive spoilers to who would appear in the mission, you do your thing (not so much of story, just a “go-here, do that approach, sneak back out, head to pick-up) rinse and repeat. I wonder how much of this was Kojima’s fault? I don’t think he was up to it. I’m sure he fought for more story but the big heads didn’t want to listen to what makes a MGS game a MGS game. The new management had now already played the hand to disown the man who put Konami on the map for games since the mid 80s.

The game is no longer marketed like before. The tagline “A Hideo Kojima Game” no longer exists and will never be part of Konami’s mission of erasing the person who gave them their fame and the recognition that a game carrying the name Konami was a brand of quality for any gamer out there. Me myself, personally only played PES because of the stellar animations, but its recently since 2012, I stopped playing the series. FIFA had already cheapened itself, PES likewise. Updating the graphics, but the same old animations have been recycled back to the PES3 days. Maybe there’s been an update in the collision engine, but otherwise everything stayed the same, with the huge amount of data collected from previous years of motion-capture, why do it all over when its all about the brand recognition? Saving money on processes wherever possible. Simple Math. And here it is. MGS V is not a MGS game.

We already knew it was going to be a massive budget behind the game of MGS V. But what can Konami do to save money on MGS V? They already have the Fox Engine running from Ground Zeroes. The assets for “Snake” (I’ll let you know why I put quotation-marks around it) and standard models will extend somewhat. Oh, yes, let’s save money on a character that doesn’t speak (Quiet), over-sexualize the character to start a fan-base of people who just dig character design, animated a sexy “shower” routine for the character for boys to go nuts over. What about voice? Let’s not really try to sync the voices to the mouths. Let’s have the guy from “24″ record his performances onto tape-logs. Kiefer Sutherland would have been a good “Snake”, but I understand now that you are not “SNAKE”. The game explains pretty soon at the end that you are just a Medic and all the tapes you’ve been listening to is the original Big Boss. You never where the character of Snake. Even though this all could have been handled better, Konami wanted to save money wherever possible. We also knew David Hayter was not asked or put forward to return as “The Voice of Snake”. But in this case I start to wonder myself, David Hayter might have dodged the biggest bullet in the most expensive, commercial and very controversial game of all time once Konami decided to kill everything that built up their reputation.

Even during production Kojima managed to start working on PT. The game Konami “silenced” after it was released on the PS-store. Guillermo Del Toro and his friendship with Hideo Kojima’s dream-game was put on ice. All because Kojima was about to get frozen out of the company that was according to Konami “Wasting too much bloody money”. I might get blacklisted for saying this, but once the new management started to mess with the other IPs for just domestic/gambling market, that’s where everything went sideways. Konami wasn’t treating their heritage with respect.

It took them 7 years to realize their mistake! And now, for those who wants to be part of 3rd party developers who would get a crack at a new Castlevania, a new Metal Gear Solid (remake I hope), Konami has realized that the only way they will survive (Yeah, Metal Gear Solid Survive killed them HARD) is to let other’s take over. Maybe my dream of scoring a Metal Gear Solid game would be somewhat more possible now rather than working in the confined space of limitations posed by the higher ups at Konami. Let 3rd party developers breathe life into the IPs because I know there are smarter ways to tell a story and I would gladly like to see the return of David Hayter in the seat, without having to deal with the blank-face approach that he was faced with every time he had to audition for Snake in MGS 2, 3 and 4! David Hayter is a fantastic writer, actor and voice-actor. He has the chops and I think we are all ready for either a re-make or a better follow up to MGS 2 and the time between that one and MGS 4.

#Metal Gear Solid V #the phantom pain #Konami #Hideo Kojima #Akira Yamaoka #Yong Yea #Castlevania #Pachinko #Silent Hill #PT #Ground Zeroes #harry gregson williams #ludvig forssell #3rd Party #Bloober team #remake #Metal Gear Solid Remake

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archives-gyllenhaal-stories · 5 years ago

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extraordinary merry christmas 🎄 (part 2: th)

summary: the countdown to christmas was hectic! you ran errands, cooked and prepared the house to celebrate with your boyfriend, tom. your parents accepted to share their cabin on the countryside with you so you could both enjoy a real holiday together and properly celebrate. spoiler alert, the hot cocoa is not the only thing that’s hot!

warnings: fluffy smut & vanilla smut

word count: 1566

notes: read part one here! the stories are completely unrelated, but i’d appreciate if you read both! i know this is like two hours late, but let’s pretend christmas is extended this year!

“I didn’t know your parents owned such a beautiful place!” Tom exclaimed when he parked the car in the alleyway of the cabin. He was expecting something rustic and woody, not even bigger than a kitchen and a room, but he was wrong.

At the death of your maternal grandparents, your mother inherited her childhood home and decided to turn it into a cabin all of your family members could visit once in a while. She finally trusted you enough to give you the keys and let your boyfriend Tom and you spend some quality time together.

You two packed foods, board games and comfy clothings and drove outside New York city to the cabin. Soft snowflakes recovered your heads when you got out of the car and carried the bags to the front door. “When I was a kid, I used to think we had a secret castle.” You chuckled at the memories of this beautiful and historical house. Nowadays, it would not be worth much on the market, but it had a huge emotional value.

“And today, you love being called princess. Everything makes sense!” Tom poked his tongue out playfully at you and you replied by bumping your hip on his while you unlocked the front door. “I’ll start the fire!” He basically ran to the fireplace and worked on the wood already.

“Thank you for helping me with the bags, darling!” You rolled your eyes and smiled at his excitement before you went back to the car and brought everything home. The fire was highly appreciated since the weather started to get a little chilly, but your tired arms would have preferred extra muscles to carry the leftovers from your parents’ dinner and all the other things you carried to make the place feel homey.

“I get what cavemen felt when they domesticated the fire.” Tom thought out loud, rubbing his palms in front of the growing flames.

“Cavemen helped their cavewomen set the table for dinner too, you know.”

“I’m sure you made that up.”

It was your turn to poke your tongue out at him. This was a much needed vacation for the two of you. Work had been insane lately, both for Tom with Cherry and for you with your job. It all felt like the pressure of the December rush disappeared when you two sat down in front of the food.

*~*~*

You had built a cozy fort of pillows and blankets on the floor of the living room and you were watching the flames burn in the fireplace. Something about it was mesmerizing, but not as much as the light shining on Tom’s relaxed face when you looked at him. Only, you found him looking at you instead. “What?” You questioned, your eyebrows turning into giant question marks on your forehead.

“Nothing, just missed ya.” He shrugged and covered your cheeks with gentle pecks. “It was not the same without you, back in Cleveland.”

“I missed you too, Tommy.” You responded to his kisses by covering his neck with pecks too.

He continued talking. “I just wanted you around all the time. I wanted to show you around set, have you as an extra in all the scenes and I wanted to rehearse my lines with you like we always do.” He helped you set your head on his chest as he leaned against the couch behind your two bodies. “I also wanted to come to the hotel and forget about my rough day. I wanted to enjoy all of my free time and spend it with you. Hugging you…” He did exactly that. “Kissing those perfect lips of yours,” He put his words into action. “And making love to my beautiful girlfriend.”

You looked up at him and he nodded. When he came back to your home from filming, he was drained. He barely had enough energy to unpack his luggage and go out for the first two days. After that, you two were caught up in Christmas preparation and shopping that you were rarely left alone together. Plus, your parents invited you over and had this belittling rule of no physical contact under their roof, like you two were just some sneaky and hormonal teenagers. When he nodded, he was giving you, and himself too, permission to finally reconnect.

He fixed a pillow to lay your head down on when he helped you down, hovering your body with his. He was clothed in that beige Christmas sweater you’ve seen in all his family portraits for the past ten years. Despite how built and bulky he got for Spider-Man, or how he had to change his physique for his role in Cherry, it fit him the same way he did when he was a kid. You found it ugly when you pulled it out of the dryer or the drawer, but whenever he wore it, you could not help but think it was sexy. And he could guess it by the way you bit on your lower lip. Tom ended up removing his sweater and letting your hands touch all over his sides and chest, his abdomen and his back.

“Missed you.” You whispered and nibbled at his ear when you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him much closer to your body. He moved back up into a kneeling position so he could work his belt open and kick his pants off. You did the same on your side, along with your top too.

His eyes darkened with lust when he saw your almost naked body. “Missed you so fuckin’ much.” He replied and trailed kisses from your ankles to your inner thighs, making you shiver despite the fire nearby.

He went to kiss your core, still covered by your panties. He noticed the dark spot left by your wetness and you were hit by another wave of goosebumps at the feeling of his hot breath against your sensitive skin. You waited for his next move and your body responded to him, your legs being open wide as soon as he slid your panties off and threw them in the pile of clothing.

Tom brought his index to your folds and ran it through the wetness before he slowly and carefully slid it in your tight entrance. He found a comfortable position for himself and he rocked his finger in and out of you, adding a second and a third one carefully. “So tight for me, baby. Such a good feeling.”

“Tom, please, I want to feel you.” You begged and caressed his nearly shaved head gently, which was contradictory to how your body violently wiggled under his touch.

“Shhh, be patient.” He told you and brought his mouth to your clit. He teased it with the tip of his tongue, flicking over the exposed bud before he sucked it in his mouth. His fingers kept fucking you and bringing you just close enough, to his liking. “You’re not coming yet.” Tom warned you when he pulled his fingers outside of your hole. He watched you clench around nothing and he moved up to your face again. He held himself up with one hand and presented the wet ones to your lips.

You pouted when he decided to ruin your first orgasm, but you smiled of happiness when he allowed you to suck his fingers clean. Both of you enjoyed it and moaned when your tongue licked over the pads of his fingers.

“Ready for me, darling?” He waited for your approval and he pushed his hard cock, inch by inch, inside of you. You were stretching hard around him, despite his efforts of opening you up. It felt so good to him, being inside of you after so many weeks. He came over during Thanksgiving, but spent most of his time catching up with his brothers, promising that the holidays would be all devoted to you.

“Faster, Tommy, fast-” Your moans resonated against the wooden walls of the living room when he picked up the pace. He was filling you up so good that you tilted your head back against the pillow and wrapped your legs even tighter around him, helping him move deeper into you. “Just like that, yes!” You encouraged him.

Tom’s attention was focused on you and on your expressions every time he pulled out or pushed inside of you. You two were making obscene noises, and it was driving him wild. He leaned down to kiss down your chest and, as soon as you pulled one of your breasts out of the cup of your bra, he sucked the hardened nipple in his warm mouth. That extra touch was bringing you over the edge, he just knew it. “You wanna come for me, beautiful?”

He stared up at you and switched nipples, giving it the same treatment. “Fuck, yes! I want to come so bad!” You managed to say, in a barely coherent mix of moans and screams as he kept thrusting his hips against yours.

“Come with me.” He told you and you felt him spilling inside of you when you reached your orgasm too. He crashed down on your body, careful not to hurt you, and he captured your lips in a loving kiss.

“That’s exactly how I want to spend the rest of our holidays.” You admitted, with a content grin on your face.

“Merry Christmas, princess.”

#tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #one shot: extraordinary merry christmas #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine

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yolo-contendre · 6 years ago

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Billy Hargrove’s Clothes

Hi, I’m a sad cretin and have nothing to do but sip gin and catalogue each one of Billiam Hargroove’s outfits, scene by scene, throughout S2. Excellent possibility the gin will seize me half-way through this. STAY TUNED. (Also, I’m chucking half of this under a keep reading because, DISCLAIMER, it’s loonnggg).

Ok, our first scene.

We already know he wears boots. But did we know he wore black motorcycle boots with a big old pilgrim buckle? Probably not. They also have heels. The jeans are mid wash denim and boot cut. Which means we don’t know if this feckin’ dweeb wears socks. Since he’s so gross, I’m gonna place bets on no.

Then there’s this:

From the same scene. Billy’s wearing his denim jacket, which you’ll see a lot more of. Today, he has his earring hoop in. It appears to be silver. He’s wearing a white henley-styled shirt (notice the waffle pattern), his necklace, and his cigarettes stuffed into the left breast pocket of his jacket. Idk what brand of cigarettes he smokes. Someone tell me. Help. Something with red and blue?

Next up:

Here, Billy is rockin’ almost the same feckin’ outfit as above, but today he has on a wife beater, a denim snap shirt, and his trusty denim jacket. We can see the hoop too, just a little baby bit. The cigarette carton is red, and I believe, but don’t quote me on this, the blue part is electrical tape? The carton appears to have a red border around it. I searched way too long for old cigarette cartons on google, but didn’t find a design that looked close enough.

Same scene. A reminder that Billy has a brown messenger bag! It looks pretty thin here because I doubt this boi carries around his textbooks or homework. There’s something yellow inside it, probably a binder. Today, his cuffs are undone on his denim jacket. You can also see his ring, which he wears A LOT.

Now it’s Halloween. Oof bb. He brought a leather jacket out tonight. Probably treating the denim one to a nice night in. No shirt. His necklace appears to be gone? Actually, this is the first scene where he doesn’t have it, which is interesting. Why’d he take it off? Midwash jeans again, and a black belt.

So. He’s wearing fingerless gloves here (WHAT IS HE DRESSED AS? WHO IS HE DRESSED AS?) and his jacket appears to have a pin on it, attached near the left breast. I couldn’t get a good enough look at it to see what it was. Diggin’ that diagonal pocket, Bills. Still no sign of the necklace.

And we spot the necklace again. Very faintly in this burry grab. Billy is rocking the only pair of non-tennis shoes on the court. A pair of classic hightop Converse, which appear to be knockoffs, because they don’t have the star symbol. Maybe he didn’t have enough money for the real ones? They seem extremely worn in. The gym shorts are universal, but peeping out of them is a white band. I doubt those belong to a pair of boxers. Safe to say Billy probably wears briefs. At least in this scene.

Another day, another denim jacket. Our boy really likes this jacket. In fact, I’m gonna say, in canon, it’s his favorite. Today he has those cuffs flipped up. We see the ring in full display. His watch, which is digital, is on his right hand. The necklace is back. The belt looks the same from the Halloween party. Honestly, every man I’ve ever known has always had exactly one belt and no more. I bet Billiam is the same. This is probably HIS belt. THE belt. Shirt isn’t tucked in. Annnnddd, unnamed cigarettes, hanging in his left breast pocket.

Ok, ok, YES, he’s not wearing clothes here. Kill me. I just wanted to capture these bedroom eyes. Also, he’s wearing his necklace here too. SO. What the feck happened on Halloween? Why did he take it off?

Denim jacket? Check. Nondescript black belt? Check. Midwash jeans? double check. Our boy is rockin’ his fav jacket today with a little twist. This shirt looks like an actual button shirt and NOT a snap shirt. AND. It’s tucked in. Also, looks like that cigarette carton still has the piece of blue tape on it (unless it’s part of the design). That could mean Billy doesn’t actually smoke as much as I think he does if he has the same carton a few days later. So he might not actually be a chain smoker like I’ve been writing him.

OKAY. OKAY. We have a NEW leather jacket out to play. This looks like a weathered leather bomber jacket my grandpa gave my Mom sometime in the 80s. Also lovin’ Billy’s aviators here. He’s wearing a red crew neck shirt and his necklace in this scene.

Up close of the aviators from the same scene. You can also see here that the shirt really comes up high. Is that still considered crew cut?

Literally. What is in the fucking background? BILLY. What are you watching? Is it an exercise tape?? What is it?? Okay, so here we got a nice shot of his sweaty, shiny arms in a cut up T-shirt. GAWD. I love the idea of Bills sitting down on his bedroom floor and cutting off the sleeves of his old shirts. Maybe he’s listening to music and watching himself in the mirror.

Bad quality screen grab, but I wanted to see what his bottoms were. They look, from here, like nondescript basketball shorts. Love the above the knee action, Bills. Of course, he has his knock-off chucks on, and a pair of tube socks. Also, for anyone who wants to know, the Hargrove address is officially 5280 Old Cherry Street.

Our final scene. THE red snap shirt, which has a white pattern on it. Unbuttoned 4 buttons officially. He’s got his dagger earring in here.

Billy shrugging into what I presume is the same leather jacket from before. It looks exactly like my Mom’s bomber.

OOOOOOOHHHHHHH yeah. So, there’s like WAY more than four buttons undone here. Did he undo the rest just for Steve? He’s wearing his ring. He’s wearing his watch. The jacket came off because it’s fightin’ time. The same wash of jeans as previous scenes. I am actually convinced, after doing this, that Billy has exactly one pair of jeans. MAX two. MAX.

Alright, the gin is gripping me. Hope you enjoyed a meandering walk through Billiam Hargroove’s wardrobe. I’ve come to the conclusion that his favorite jacket is the denim one. He probably only owns like 15 clothing items max, and they all appear to be different solid colored shirts. He has one pair of jeans. Two different pairs of earrings. And two different leather jackets. He is canonically a walking dumpster fire. But, like, a really sexy walking dumpster fire.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #stranger things #meta #stranger things wardrobe #this boi owns four articles of clothing and they are all denim

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somekindofseizure · 6 years ago

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When the Ink Dries Part IX

This is not the end of the story, still working on the last few chapters but I felt these were ready to see the world and you all have been so patient. Thank you all for that and thank you @icedteainthebag for editing brilliance.

This is, as the previous 22 chapters were, adult-rated material.

* * *

Chapter 23

The vinyl upholstery crackled as Mulder shifted his weight and looked out the diner window onto the expanse of knotted beltway. FM radio scattered particles of music around him like dust that moved with the swoosh and capture of twin glass doors. It was a busy morning in the restaurant, but for Mulder, there was only unleased space and silence, the room Scully’s voice and body would soon take up across from him, where her new reality would be borne, where time would reset itself for them as it had so many times already.

The waitress dropped menus and clicked her gum, winked as though she knew what he was about to do. New realities, a zero on the stopwatch - these were things of science fiction, sexy from afar, terrifying up close. He turned down the coffee, he was jumpy enough.

He had run his finger up and down the coiled spine of the menu for the fortieth time when she finally slid into the booth, brushed back a front-leaning strand of hair from root to end, an impractical gesture that had never really seemed to serve any purpose except to distract him. Saturday brunch sunlight pierced the window like a bullet and Scully chose her spot carefully, taking redheaded cover in a shadow. He fidgeted in parallel, wanting to be directly opposite her when he said what he had to say. She laughed, as though he was making fun of her, and reached across for a quick squeeze of his hand. He fumbled the gesture, his grip still favoring the safety of carefully-named omelets over human women. She didn’t seem to notice his worriedness. Maybe in her mind worriedness had become his natural state.

“How was London?” he asked because he didn’t want to say you look so good, I missed you, please come sit next to me, and these exclusions limited small talk. And yes, because he wondered if she would tell him what happened with Stella.

“Nice,” she evaded, scanning the menu. They both knew she would get two eggs scrambled with an avocado instead of bacon, tell them to hold the home fries but on-purpose-forget to tell them to hold the buttered toast. Looking at the menu was mere formality. “How are you, Mulder?”

And now she flicked her eyes up to note the quality and integrity of his answer, a doctor assessing a patient, if the doctor and patient had spent many years being in love. And so he could assess back, could see now as she studied him was that though she was happy to see him, there was sadness too. No doubt this sadness had something to do with Stella’s phone call from the bathroom floor. The realization was bittersweet - a poignant comfort on Stella’s behalf that the heartbreak she’d nursed was shared by the silent party, the dizzying disappointment that that other party was the person he himself was still heartbroken over.

“I’m good, Scully. You were right about the therapist.”

“Well--”

Normally, she was happy as anybody to accept an I-told-you-so, but she demurred here, waving him off. He persisted.

“I should’ve gotten help much sooner. You were right.”

“Okay. Good. You look well.”

She turned the menu over, pretended to consider a milkshake. He’d only seen her actually order one once. It was as memorable a diner moment as they came - glow-cheeked and kohl-smeared, she’d asked for it with a sigh of relief, as though the night they’d just spent together had earned her some sort of bonus. Relief.

It had been like making love to her all over again, watching her gaze into the frothy glass, the Redi-Whip level and locking like a canal as she sucked her cheeks in making pinwheels of her cheek and jaw bones. He had reached over to take it, slurp the remains from the bottom of the straw and she’d slapped his hand away. When she finally chose something, she possessed it, devoted herself to it. What happened when there were two competing items on the table?

“Any good cases lately?” she asked.

Strawberry, chocolate, vanilla, her finger physically skimming the plastic cover over these joyful words.

“No… well, some,” he said. “Hospital good?”

“They’re still a little sore over my long leave, but they’ll get over it. I’m starting to think about retirement. I think I could do more good that way, volunteering on my own terms… It’s not like I’d do nothing, but...”

Myriad were the hypothetical topics Mulder loved and Scully hated, but this was one of a few that went the other way around. She could pass hours daydreaming aloud about what she’d do with free time. It incited a sense of panic in Mulder, made some voice inside him start chanting, I will work until I die. He muffled a sigh by coughing into his elbow, trying not to sound annoyed, and waited for her to take a short pause before interrupting her.

“I actually brought you here to tell you something,” he blurted.

She looked up, eyebrows at a two percent incline that indicated she was in no way prepared for this moment. He picked up the file folder on the seat beside him, but the waitress came by with her pad. Scully made Mulder go first, buying time she didn’t need, and then ordered her usual.

“And a black and white with whipped cream,” Mulder tacked on at the end.

“No, I’m on a cleanse. London was all red meat and chocolate and alcohol.”

London, not Stella. As though she’d been in a hotel somewhere alone.

“I’ll have it, then,” he said.

The waitress nodded as she jotted and Mulder wondered how many people used places to set a scene. Should he have done it in private, where she could cry or scream or do something else (he didn’t know what)? It was true, he’d been counting on the fake-leather booth and egg-pan breeze to undercut the drama, but now that he was here with her it seemed more likely to exacerbate the situation.

“Sounds like big news,” she said but lightly, a benign reduction - you, the boy who cried aliens. She folded her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Come on, you’re killing me.”

No sooner did the sarcasm settle than she spotted the mustard yellow folder under his hand and her technicolor complexion went grey. This news was not we’re going to a basketball game, I’m getting a dog, or I found your favorite sweater, here ya go. This news required a folder with a standard bureau label on it.

He placed it in front of her on the table, laid his hand flat on top of it so that she’d have to look at him before she opened it. She knew the moment their eyes met.

“How?” she demanded immediately. She regarded the folder itself like a bomb, waiting for him to tell her which wire was which. His heart raced and he tried to remember his patience, tried to quell the urge to rush her into feeling any one specific thing.

“I wasn’t sure we’d be able to find him at all. That’s not how we set it up,” he said to stall, and to explain why he hadn’t told her he was looking into it in the first place. He hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up.

“And… how?” she repeated, now sounding light headed, shallow-breathed.

“Working for the FBI for a hundred years has to come in handy at some point, right?”

“Is he…?”

He reached for her hands, bending forward like a branch, an unexpected gale of guilt curling his back. Generally file folders appeared when a body turned up. Of course he should have led with this:

“He’s fine, honey. Just fine. Sorry. I should have...”

She nodded quickly, let out a breath.

The waitress arrived with the milkshake in a deep old-fashioned glass, a spoon, two straws and the stem of a cherry sticking up out the top. For the first time, he understood Scully’s gravitas around ordering these things. There was a time and place. Celebration could turn to sorrowfulness, expectation to terror quickly. Sometimes you’d be sorry or embarrassed you had a milkshake in front of you. Neither of them touched it.

“There’s a picture,” he said. “Pictures.”

In slow motion, she registered this development, licked her lips, straightened up as gradually as a puppet, pulled her hand from under his and placed it on her stomach. Air shifted visibly within her ribcage, rippling her fingers as she tried to support her diaphragm externally. Condensation began to encircle the base of the glass.

“I know, it’s a shock. I’d half been hoping Stella told you, even though I asked her not to.”

Her face twitched in confusion.

“Stella knew?”

He shook his head quickly.

“Just for a couple days before you came back. It came up.”

Color reappeared in her cheeks and her fingers went to her temples. The kind of face she normally made when she found herself in the middle of a desert in a suit in hundred-degree heat, chasing down one of Mulder’s hunches, her how the fuck did we get here again face.

“Sorry -I -? When did it come up? How?” she stammered.

“She probably didn’t think it was her place.”

“Why do you talk to each other behind my back?”

“We weren’t talking behind your back, we were talking and it came out, Scully.”

This was a coping mechanism of hers, to bicker through a loss of control, but sometimes mechanisms malfunctioned, caused damage. He knew that ‘cause he went to therapy now. Sometime - definitely not now - he would tell her she should go too.

“I hate feeling like I’m the last one to know things,” she said.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice.

“I hate that there’s someone who can make you come faster than I can.”

She startled, almost laughed, but couldn’t - that folder was still here, in the room, staring her down, just like the milkshake.

Her eyes moved over the edge of the piece of cardboard, as though it required planning - how does one open a file folder that contains the son you gave away? He tore it open for her, a Bandaid off a scab.

Mulder wasn’t there the first time Scully laid eyes on their son. He’d had to guess at the way she must have marvelled, the beauty, the awesomeness of it. No telling how he might have held up then, how that experience might have toughened his tolerance so that now thirteen years later he might not fall apart watching this second first-time.

His chest tightened, tears freezing somewhere between his eyebrows to avoid falling. Across from him, Scully shed them with sensible abandon, weeping as science intended, peeling the surfaces of her eyes away like dead skin, leaving behind something new and unprotected, something healthier but easier to wound.

There was a school photo of William, a close-up, and then a few surveillance photos that had been taken at a distance. Mulder had insisted they take no chances disturbing the boy, so these were a little blurry, taken at odd angles, slightly refractory images. You had to use your imagination in order to piece him together. But Scully stared, tracing a finger over his profile like he might pop up from the paper and sit with them. What would he order if he could join them, Mulder wondered?

He was tall for his age and pouty-lipped, possessed of the pronounced Mulder brow. But he had Scully’s eyes and his skin was so fair he looked like he’d get a burn just turning the lights on. And there was one odd thing -

“He’s blonde,” she said finally, mystified.

“Yeah. Tell Stella I want a paternity test.”

She smiled and laughed, held a napkin to her upper lip to blot the snot.

“There’s some information, too,” he said. “It’s mostly, well, you’ll see.”

She flipped nimbly through, taking it all in like one of the old casefiles she’d had to cram before she got out of the car. As in those cases, there was little to go on. A tonsillectomy. One school change to enter a gifted children’s program, a broken arm when he was ten from falling off the edge of a staircase, climbing up the wrong side of the rail, an activity which had almost gotten him kicked out of the fancy school.

She looked up, topmost edges of the papers trembling over her knuckles. Her fingers were ripply at the knuckle, but her hands were still lovely, expensive looking - little blown-glass figurines that would outlast every piece of furniture in the house.

“He’s fine?”

“Yeah. He’s fine.”

William’s life was average in the extreme. It was regular. It was everything they could have hoped for.

She put the photos down in a neat pile, straightened her shirt, her lipstick, her hair, pushed the file folder closer to the center of the table beside a ceramic bed of sugar packets. In a moment, food would arrive and they’d have to pack everything up, put it on a seat to her left or to his right, but for now it sat evenly between them. Just as much his as it was hers.

She scratched her lips thoughtfully, tapped the other set of fingernails on the table.

“He’s fine,” she said, this time quietly, talking to herself, or to the folder, or maybe to God.

And then her gaze settled on Mulder. It lingered there as the waitress balanced their food on her shoulder, placed down little dishes of overly cold butter and plasticky jam. A few feet away, a newly minted middle-aged couple joined hands for the first time ever beside their forks. Behind Scully, an aide helped an old woman into the booth. Two college girls cooed at the counter, full up with things to tell each other. Time moving forward and backwards, borrowed and stolen and still and running in circles at every table.

“Fine,” Scully repeated and tugged the cuff of his sleeve. She mouthed the words thank you, bottom lip grazing her teeth. She did it again, this time forehead collapsing into the center of her face to make that vertical wrinkle she’d had above her nose since she was twenty seven.

He nodded, reached his foot under the table so that it rested against hers, his rubbery arch warming the sharp edge of her shoe and he pushed the milkshake across the table.

She laughed and then took a sip. Relief.

Chapter 24

As a biology major, Scully had sometimes been warned she was signing up for a life of disappointment. Satisfaction would be fleeting. Few of them, if any, would make grand discoveries in their careers. The earth was already round. The miracle of penicillin had already been witnessed, sprouted hundreds of other little miracles that bore an ever-less-impressive resemblance. A scientist, Scully was told, must learn to love the question, not live for an answer.

William had been a hypothesis for most of these past thirteen years, and though that was sometimes painful, it was familiar. It was a circumstance Scully had come to accept. She’d given him up because she’d firmly believed it was better for him. Conclusions: none. Control: none. It was how she’d assumed things would always be. But now there was an answer. William existed once again. He looked a certain way and sounded a certain way and lived a very certain life and she would always miss him. This was harder than she’d ever expected or allowed herself to imagine. The earth is round - think what that had taken for people to get used to it.

She rationalized things like the thing she was doing by going over this, comparing the unfamiliar emotions associated with her son to the familiar territory of science. But Stella was no scientist, and she was no poet like Mulder. She was an answers person. And now she was here, involved in Scully’s experiments, and was not particularly happy about it.

They were seated on a cool-slatted autumn park bench, Stella draped in cashmere and reluctance, the chilly peach East Coast air settling on her cheekbones like stains of faint embarrassment. It had been eight months since their parting ways - eight months of silence. Stella had granted Scully’s request for a visit without knowing specifically what it would entail. Now she clasped her brown butter leather gloves over a tightly crossed thigh, pulled the cuffs of her sweater down closer to the edge of her gloves to warm her wrists.

Had this once come easier? The restraint it took to refrain from touch and mentioning the effect of light on the color of her eyes? An evening they’d spent in a hotel as just-friends came to mind.

“Did you color?” Scully asks, her surgeon-steady hand poised over Stella’s, light pink bottle of Chanel nail polish in place of a scalpel.

“Color… my nails?” Stella asks and blows a stream of air across her other hand.

“No, you know, like, crayons.”

“Oh. No, not that I remember.”

Scully glances up quickly to make sure of two things – first, that Stella’s not touching her hair, her spaghetti straps, her Scotch, anything that would smudge the half-finished work, and secondly, that she hasn’t overstepped Stella’s bounds by asking questions.

Stella smiles, quick, casual, disappearing. It’s hard to tell if it ends quickly because there is no reason to force it longer or because some shadow of the past has swallowed it.

“Isn’t that the sweater you let me keep?” Scully asked, eyeing the grey marled drawstrings on the hood.

“Bought myself another one.”

“And here I thought you’d made an ultimate sacrifice.”

“That would be unnecessary when I could just re-purchase it.”

“You could have just asked for it back, it was expensive,” Scully says, feeling the sting.

“And now it has dog hair on it,” Stella continued.

A stranger’s Golden Retriever had brushed up against Scully’s leg and she’d kept him there for a matter of seconds

“It’s barely noticeable. You and the dog have the same color hair,” Scully said.

“I don’t shed.”

“We all shed.”

“I don’t like dogs.”

“You just pretend not to like them.”

Perhaps this had been a terrible idea. Perhaps she should have waited for Stella to call first.

“Are you certain he’s coming today?”

“No, not certain. I haven’t really established a pattern.”

“That’s good to hear. Aren’t you freezing in that denim jacket? What have you got under it?”

“A t-shirt. I’m fine.”

“I’m not pretending, I truly dislike dogs. They’re jumpy and they stink.”

Suddenly, Scully thought of some version of her life not lived, pictured Stella in their home, going stone cold as she brought in this or that mutt home from the pound.

“You’re a cat person, is that what you’re telling me?” she asked.

“I’m not an animal person, I’m a people-person.”

Scully double licked her lips as she waited for a punchline that never came.

“What?” Stella pushed back. “I’m good with people.”

“You’re good at making people do what you want, that’s not the same thing.”

“You should know.”

Scully looked away, scanned a group of children without guardians - not the right group of children.

“I should have told you this was where we were going, but I thought you’d say no.”

Stella looked at her hard - her hardest countenances were reserved for her kindness.

“I think you know me better than that,” she chided softly.

“Did you swim?” Scully asks with eager intrigue, that new friendship glee still fresh even after a few years of knowing one another.

“No. I learned when I was older,” Stella says.

Scully nodded, dug the heels of her hands into the bench as she shuffled her feet - uncrossed and then recrossed. She tossed her hair to the other shoulder so the wind wouldn’t pin it to her lip balm. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t show up.

“How many times have you done this?” Stella asked.

“Five or six times. Seven.” Eight, nine, if she counted the times he hadn’t showed.

“Long drive coming from your place, isn’t it,” Stella murmured.

Scully said nothing. She had never even noticed how long. She had spent exactly none of those hours considering the moral quandaries involved. It was only talking to other people about it that even made her aware of them. Alone, driving here, she wondered about his favorite color, his favorite food, if he could play any instruments.

“Mulder go with you?”

“Just once.”

He’d thought it was weird, said it felt wrong. She’d pretended to agree.

“What did you do then?” Scully presses.

“Horses. Everything was my horse. Riding, being with him, sitting there staring at him leaning on a fence, anything.”

Scully laughs and mumbles something about how very English this is and still Stella’s cuticles stay clean, not a stray stripe. Steady fingers, doctor’s fingers.

“Look at that,” Stella says in a soft, appreciative voice, eyes hot and hard where their hands are occupationally joined. “Even better with your hands than I remember.”

The flirtation is a change of subject, a subtle warning, and Scully licks her lips, doubles back for a second coat of the other hand, prepared to drop the topic of the horse. But Stella keeps talking.

“My father would take me.”

The father, yes. Somehow always comes back to him, somehow always seems like the best and worst of what Stella remembers. Scully paints, carefully considering her next question. The color on Stella’s nails thickens so that it goes from a translucent skin color to a ballet pink that matches Stella’s satin slip camisole top.

Stella had turned slightly to watch a crowd of nearby teenagers approaching the skate park. She slipped off a glove to scratch her lip with her nail. This was the kind of thing Stella remembered to do that Scully wouldn’t have - all her leather gloves were marked with pink, red, mauve colored wax.

“How did you and I wind up friends?” Scully asked, eyes on her son, voice going wistful against her better judgment Sometimes she wondered why they’d had to break up (was that what it was?). Other times, she wondered how they’d started in the first place. She caught Stella’s profile for a moment at such a perfect angle that she had to look the opposite direction to catch her breath. Perhaps eight months had not been enough. “Two not-people-people from separate parts of the world sitting on a bench together.”

“We almost didn’t.”

“And?”

“And I have irrepressible impulses to fuck beautiful people I know for certain I’ll never see again,” Stella said, pronouncing the F so hard it produced pulp in the air. The playground moms turned to look.

“Blonde, you said? How’s he blonde?”

“Mulder said to ask you.”

“Idiot,” Stella murmured absently, busy separating the boy out from a crowd, putting him at the crosshairs of her attention. Scully found him at once. She knew his walk by now. His carriage. She could spot him a mile away. She didn’t worry when he didn’t come. She didn’t think about talking to him or touching him. It was just this, watching, at a distance, periodically. Still there. Still there, watching him like he was an infant sleeping in a cradle rather than an almost adult riding a skateboard.

“There, yes?” Stella said, a voice like a long hooked finger, the drawl so sustained the word could have reached across the Atlantic Ocean. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she hissed to herself without Scully saying anything at all.

He was wearing a hat today, a striped beanie and a pair of Ray-Bans, trying to look cool, Scully thought, but the rest of him was still sloppy and silly, lecturing at his friends about something. Like his father, she thought, and still she felt no angst, no sadness, only peace. It was like bird-watching, only it was her son out there in the wild. And this lanky creature here is known as a young human.

“Not what I expected,” Stella murmured, as though a voice any louder might make him flit away, all the way across the park. Stella said. “All you.”

“Why is that unexpected?”

“They say the first child always resembles the father, to keep him from wanting to kill it, eat it or abandon it.”

Scully looked at her knees.

“That’s not what I meant,” Stella said quickly.

“I know.”

Ten, it had been ten times.

“Were you pretty? You must have been very pretty.” Scully is flirting and she knows it but it seems harmless enough.

“I don’t know.”

Scully gives one of Stella’s fingers a little tug, bats her eyelashes to let Stella know she’s teasing, overdoing it. She doesn’t know how to pay compliments without turning them into jokes.

“Did people tell you you were pretty, fawn over your golden hair while you relentlessly questioned them?”

It’s Stella’s turn to laugh.

The kids were moving closer, William looking at his phone as he smoldered leaves underfoot, swiveling on the balls of his feet with each step to make the crunch and sizzle. Who was he texting with? His mom? Maybe a girl. Or boy. She lost herself in the last of the questions she could dredge up - imagining his turns of phrase, his favorite emoji and soon he was closer than he had ever been, just a few feet away, kicking a ball as he walked. Scully felt her breath quicken as one of the boys got William’s attention, asked him something. She had heard his voice only a couple of times, from much further away.

Stella nudged her in the side, drew her attention to the map on her phone.

“Here look,” Stella said. “Says they’ve a good Caesar salad. I’m in the mood for that.”

Scully nodded, her ankles brittle as weak stemmed flowers succumbing to first frost. Stella tugged her up from the bench. She suddenly was very cold and shivered as she wrapped her denim jacket tighter. She knew Stella’s instincts were right, that it was too strange, too risky for them to just sit there, so close to him. Don’t turn back, she told herself. And:

“Don’t turn back,” Stella echoed aloud.

Stella’s hands were in her pockets as they walked, eyes sympathetic but stern. Scully imagined it was how she looked when she brought someone in to identify a body, tell someone their sister had been strangled.

“Mulder’s right about this, you know that.”

Stella’s mention of his name, even in this context of William, or maybe because of it, angered her. Stella pulled the scarf from her neck and forced it around Scully’s neck. Loving Stella was no more or less painful than loving someone else, but it was more embarrassing, like loving a ghost or a phantom limb.

“How did you know I asked lots of questions?”

“Most children do. And you’re a detective.”

“So are you.”

“Not like you, not a born one.”

“Well you do have a second profession to fall back on.”

“A doctor?”

“A manicurist.”

Scully fake-raps Stella on the wrist and a bit of paint splatters on the crests of her knuckles.

She was grateful that she was not alone, that Stella’s footsteps were falling right beside her own, Stella’s musk-heavy floral scent bedded in the fabric beneath her own chin.

“I’m glad I got to see him this once,” Stella said. That’s it, William was in the past again, at least for today.

Would she have disliked him as she disliked other children (and dogs?) She would have been good to him, spoiled him, refused to stop cursing in front of him, probably?

“You and Mulder doing all right?”

“I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“You’ll have to get used to it again at some point.”

“So you’re not going to fight for me,” Scully said, meaning it as a joke, but her voice cracked.

“Fight for you,” Stella repeated dubiously, deciding whether to enter a game or a boxing ring.

Scully was glad they weren’t facing each other now. She had things she wanted to say. A fireplace burned somewhere in the neighborhood, the smell of a family gathering around it.

“You sent me back home because of William, didn’t you? Mulder told you. That’s why you made me leave you and now I’m home and you don’t think I should see William but you’re not going to try to get me back either. It doesn’t quite track for me.”

She stopped only because her breath ran out. Stella was silent a moment. Walk, keep walking.

“I don’t fight for people.”

If not people, then what, Scully wanted to say. But she bit her lip instead, trying to keep it from trembling as she faced the chill, keeping time as though accidentally, side by side like strangers just off the same bus.

“You can’t keep doing it. This was the last time. All right?”

Scully pursed her lips, shook her head, looked at the sky. Stella was not going to use her son to change the subject.

Or were they the same subject?

“You could do worse than Mulder,” Stella said, sharpening the edge on her voice, her weapon of choice, that vicious casualness. “You love him. He loves you. You’re best friends. He’s very well-endowed, from what I remember. He can reach things. Kill bugs. He found your son for you despite absolute impropriety and deep ethical and legal breaches.”

“Stop,” Scully said, looking away over her other shoulder just to keep from crying. A cadre of barren trees was ready to march off into winter, leave their dead, once-treasured leaves at their feet. “Please stop.”

“Fine.”

This was how Stella faced her fears, she knew. Laughed in the face of murderers, memorized her nightmares, re-read them like fairytales, salivated at the sight of blood, sneered at a plane nose-diving with a slug of Scotch.

“You aren’t supposed to tell little girls they’re pretty too often,” Stella says with slow, deliberate breaths placed mid-phrase, as though she regrets having to tell anyone this, having to spoil an innocent, unruined worldview where a compliment to a child is merely a compliment, where little girls can be pretty and not suffer for it.

“Why not?”

“Because it makes them think they’re nothing else.”

“Mm,” Scully says and caps the polish. Stella sits still as stone, hands out in front of her on the magazine, watching the polish dry with more patience than Scully has ever seen her muster.

“Sometimes you just have to let a person go,” Stella said as a boy - not her boy - on a skateboard sailed by.

“Which of you are you talking about now?”

Yes, the same subject.

Stella stopped abruptly, took Scully’s chin in one hand. Rough enough that Scully might have objected except that it was stopping the incessant spinning she’d felt since they got up from the bench.

“I can’t do what Mulder can do, Dana. And Mulder can’t do what I’m doing right now, and I don’t live here, so you need to let me say this right fucking now and tell me you hear me.”

Scully tightened her jaw stubbornly. She felt small but safe here in Stella’s one hand.

“This is the last time you see him until he’s eighteen and you can ask. Or you’ll regret it.”

Scully nodded, gulped away the tears in her throat, but they were tears of embarrassment, not sadness. Stella’s grip loosened but did not release her.

“Tell me you hear me.”

Stella finally dropped her hand and held Scully’s. The skin was bare. Where was her glove?

“I wish I could have known you then,” Scully says, replacing the fancy second square cap over the little ridged round one.

“Take this,” Stella said and handed her one glove.

“Why?”

Scully heard the footsteps before she saw him and she saw the slightly sad, slightly satisfied smile in Stella’s eyes. It could be any of them, Scully told herself, any of those kids.

“Excuse me! Lady!”

But it was him. Stella nodded for her to turn.

“This yours?” he asked.

He held the abandoned glove out at arm’s length and Scully choked the sob in her throat. Despite Stella’s impression, he looked just like Mulder the first day she met him. First day of school science lab boy, nerdy and needy, sanguine and sweet and unaware of his charms, willing to cut open anything you didn’t want to touch even if he had to hold his breath to do it himself.

“Yes, yeah that’s mine,” she forced herself to say finally, knowing that once she did it would be over. Her pause made him laugh for some reason. When she stuck her hand out to take the glove, she must have still looked dazed, lame, because he frowned at her as though she’d made a silly mistake, then stuck his tongue between his molars and held her wrist with one hand, pretending to struggle to put it on her like a toddler. She laughed, counting the seconds until she could collapse. She’d have to make it out of the park, clear the area, she knew.

“Thanks,” she said and he nodded, licked his lips, and yes that was all her, turning them chapped to the wind and jogging off to meet his friends, a thirteen year old interrupting his afternoon to return a single glove to two middle aged women he’d never seen before.

Stella immediately took her arm, keeping the pace steady but consistent. Scully kept up but would not stop looking until Stella looked back.

“What if he didn’t return it?” Scully managed to whisper.

“Why?” Stella asks.

As in why would anyone want to have known a four- and six- and eight-year-old girl like her, freckle faced and quiet eyed, brushing a horse’s back as she stands on a stool, proud and kind and a little strange, inconceivably wise beyond her years.

“Because,” Scully says and picks up Stella’s hands, squeezes her palms between thumb and middle fingers. “Then I could have told you you were everything.”

“I was willing to lose a glove today.”

Chapter 25

He realized he’d left the door unlocked by the way the early November candy corn breeze whistled through the first grade teeth of the patched screen door, winter dragging autumn out by its ankles. The kitchen was as clean as it had been when Scully lived there, back when she’d tidy it every night before bed, caring for it like she cared for her teeth or her skin.

It had taken him some time to figure out how to do this. Time plus a therapist, two bottles of pills on the bathroom counter, and experiments with various citrusy smelling liquids in spray bottles. Toxic, non-toxic, lemon-mint, gingerberry, when to hit the hard stuff - bleach, served neat. Certain things like mental health and spotless surfaces had always been Scully’s area of expertise, but in her absence, he’d learned about both.

He’d done this often over the years, sat with William’s baby picture, forearms resting on the kitchen table, staring at it the way most people had learned during those years to stare at their tablets and phones. He only ever did it alone - waited for Scully to leave and go home, which she always did. When she lived here, he’d had to wait for her to go to sleep. He had never told her it wasn’t all research and computer screens wrestling him from their bed.

The photo paper was pliant from age and attention and it took only ten minutes or so for it to warm between his fingertips so thoroughly that he worried the colors would come off on his fingers, that baby William would disappear from prosperity into the temporariness of his skin. He used to think of old world boy-things - model rockets and baseball caps, the stuff of fifties sitcoms and Norman Rockwell. He used to think you belong here.

He used to wonder if William would look at him the same way Scully did when she was thinking aloud, the little line forming between her eyebrows, the squint, the lips tightening in distaste and restraint, or if William was more like him, a dreamer and a rambler. He knew himself. He knew Scully. That William possible, knowable. But now he was a third thing - himself.

The screen door hinge cracked and smacked behind him. He’d recently tightened the screws and she wasn’t used to its newfound snap. Stella must have gone back to London. He had not asked for dates and times - had never done that, not even when they were together. He’d always had plenty to keep himself busy while Stella was in town. He more often had trouble stopping that busyness when Stella had gone. He always made Scully re-announce her presence. “Just me, Mulder.” “I know.” I can tell by the way the gravel crunches under your tires, can tell by the tone of the wooden moan in the porch floorboards, by the way you breathe on the other side of a weight-bearing wall. You belong here. “So clean,” she marvelled quietly, as she often did when she stopped by these days to say hello or drop off some pizza or check on him, he knew that’s what it was. He wondered if someday it would sound like superiority. He wondered if he’d ever learn to take her for granted again, just a little bit, just enough to relax.

“How’s Stella?” he asked, and considered shuffling the photo out of view as he normally would, but for some reason, this time, he did not.

“She’s good, I think. You know, Stella doesn’t say much.”

She dropped William’s folder on the table. She’d had possession of it since the diner. Now she leaned on the back of the chair over him, her fingers snuggling between the wood and his back as she saw the baby picture. She petted his hair from behind, rested her chin on his head so that her voice came out funny. He wondered how long she’d been watching from the door.

“I didn’t know you still had that,” she said and her voice sounded strangled by the lump in her throat.

Someday something like that might feel like a vote of underconfidence, a dig… he wished for that someday to come.

“I don’t know what’s harder, having information about him, or when we had nothing,” she said.

“I was just thinking that.”

“Were you?”

For years, they’d resisted this. Done everything else together while they mourned the loss of their family in private. Like they’d had separate roles in that crime. Like they weren’t serving the same sentence. Just minutes ago, he’d been making plans to keep doing it forever. Why?

“I spoke to him,” she said. “Heard his voice.”

He tried not to look alarmed.

“No, not like that, not about anything. Just accidentally left something behind and he… he was… good, he’s good.”

“Of course he is, Scully. He’s yours.”

She came around the chair and leaned her behind against the edge of the table, half-smiled.

“Maybe it’ll be better if we put them away,” she said. “For us. And for him.”

Someday this might sound like she was couching her own self-correction in a criticism but tonight it sounded like thank Christ, Stella had talked sense into her.

“I think you’re right.”

“Regular people with normal jobs wouldn’t have even gotten this much.”

“No.”

“But I’m glad you did, Mulder,” she said and this would always mean what it meant tonight.

She picked up the photos - the baby one and the new ones, stared at them as she shuffled to the drawer next to the fridge and laid them in there with their love notes, blank birthday cards, Scotch tape. Sometimes junk drawers weren’t for junk, they were just for the things you didn’t know what to do with.

She hesitated, then pushed it shut, and then, leaning back against it, hands still behind her on the pull, she looked at him, really looked at him. Sweet and sexy and yes, a little sad. Her lips shined, caught the glow of the single source of light in the room over his head. He held his breath.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me,” she demanded softly. “That you were sad about it?”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

He waved her over and she came, held his hands like the holster of a carousel horse. In her eyes, shades of blue spun as she tried not to cry.

“Hard to say goodbye to him all over again.”

He nodded, swallowed, and put one arm around her hips.

“But this time I’m here.”

Her belly shook at his ear, though he heard nothing. He kissed the hem of her sweater, leaned his chin into the dip of her navel. She wiped her cheeks dry and then took his face in one wet salted palm, bent to kiss him on the mouth.

Her hands crept around his throat, thumbs at his Adam’s apple. The room stopped smelling “clean” and smelled instead like her, like the perfume she’d been wearing since the day she first walked into his office, something he had never heard the name of, never heard her mention having to replace. She was only good at keeping the silliest secrets. He put his hands around the trunk of her right thigh and tugged her towards him. More need than want is what it was up until then.

But now her body swayed toward him and she climbed into his lap in her sweatpants. It had been years and her lips dripped with salt. She tasted like love and sadness and the future. He was hard for her, hell, hard for all of it.

“I’m here this time,” he said, pulling his mouth just far enough from hers to speak, letting her tongue catch the chap of his lips. “I’ll always be here.”

She stopped then and something passed behind her eyes, a shift of color behind blue-tinted glass, a sheet in the wind, a wave of blonde hair, a silk shirt. Would she think of Stella whenever they kissed, when he made love to her on this table? Would he ever not wonder?

“Always is a long time,” she said without hiding the hint of mournfulness, of missing something, and he nodded.

“I didn’t say she’d be gone. I just said I’ll be here.”

She frowned, breath quickening even as her mind slowed.

“Mulder?”

“We’re too old to give up things we love,” he said and meant it. Who cared what she thought of when he kissed her?

She unzipped her sweatshirt, pushed it back off her shoulders.

He placed a kiss on her neck, stripped her naked from the waist up. She moved his lips back to her own and dropped her weight deeper into the cusp of his pelvis. With their noses pushed together and her shoulder blades clipped toward one another over the table, she breathed into his mouth.

“God, I missed you,” he said.

“Fuck me, Mulder.”

Her hair frizzed in his fist as she pulled her hamstrings tight atop his quadriceps. The grace of youth was gone but it was replaced with something better. This is what age looked like. This is what fixed mistakes looked like.

One hand on her lower back, hooked into the back of her pants, the tag silky between his thumb and her skin, he pulled her closer and tighter, sucking her into his mouth, savoring her like a sublingual pill, like he was waiting for her to melt under his tongue and be absorbed into his blood.

She arched and stretched, placing herself over him with such anatomical precision that he might as well be inside her rather than on either side of four layers of clothes. Her body was hot and impatient against his belly as his fingers slipped into her pants and under her thigh, past the cotton seam of her underwear. She hummed in his ear, fit her body more closely over his hand.

He lifted her at the waist, laid her back on the table, pulled her bottoms off in a swift but clumsy motion. He leaned over to kiss her cheeks, her neck, her chest. She bent a knee and brought the top of her foot to brush his cock through his pants, rubbed the sharp crest of her instep against him until it hurt.

“Fuck me, Mulder,” she said again, the solid edges of her voice absorbed by the wood at her back. She squeezed his arms. “Easy, baby,” he said and as he entered her, her eyes watered and a tear rolled out onto the table, crystal clear. She’d come over for dinner and television, sweatpants and chopsticks, but he had trapped her with his clean surfaces and exposed wounds. Her body shuddered, shoulders convulsing, shrugging off the past, making herself new for him. “So tight. How are you still so tight for me?”

She grinned wickedly.

“She only has so many fingers.”

And he laughed, bit her neck as he fucked her slowly.

They’d made their baby just like this, in a bed rather than on a table, but just like this, with this much love and intent. He’d known right away that it had worked, known just looking at her collapsed on his torso. “Oh my God,” she whispered as the edge of the table met the back of her knees. She pinched his t-shirt to her in both fists, then slammed one hand down hard next to her hip. He moved his hands from table to body, alternatingly bracing his weight and cupping her breasts, aligning her hips and brushing her lips, fucking her until she white knuckled the slab he used to eat his depressed dinners on.

She pulled herself up against him, gripped his neck and pushed her feet against the seat of the chair behind him for leverage. Sometimes it upset him how little he had to do to make her come. Sometimes but not now.

“Look at me like you used to,” she said and he spun around to sit on the table, let her put her knees down on either side of him. “Look at me so I can make you come.”

They did it together, like they did most things, their work and their driving and their arguing and their meals and now their goodbyes to their son. Soft staccatoed moans and her pelvic muscles squeezed and tugged him and he peeled the cheeks of her ass so that she’d take him deeper and then the rhythm of their bodies broke like a fever, madness taking over, breath tangling, toxic and medicinal at once, words all nonsense and undictionaried. If she was thinking of Stella too, that didn’t matter, that was not a bad thing, because nothing associated with this could be bad.

He held her until he went soft inside her, and she smiled - her favorite magic trick, his dick going from hard to soft and back again, biology and anatomy in motion at her whim. When they got up, she picked up her clothes, tucked them under one arm, and led him up the staircase naked, her rear silhouette incarnadine with freckles and friction. He followed her three steps behind, watching each calf raise each heel carefully on the edge of each plank, soles searching the wood grains for the stamps that showed where her footsteps belonged.

#wtid #stella and scully #the fall fic #xfiles fic #myfic

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mayquita · 6 years ago

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Call Me (21/?) - Chocolate, Pancakes, and... Something Else

It’s been 84 years... It seemed that this moment was never going to come and I still can't believe it, but yes, it's happening, a new chapter is here! I'm truly sorry I wasn't able to update before, but as I've already said on some other occasion, there have been a lot of circumstances that have prevented me from writing for one reason or another. My life is slowly returning to normal, and with that, it seems that my inspiration has also returned and I hope it stays with me for a long, long time.

I’d like to express my gratitude to @csmarchmadness , since this event has been the push that I needed to update this story so special for me.

Also, thanks to @captainsjedi for taking a look and to @chrissascorner for being my savior and helping me fix mistakes. Special mention to @onceuponaprincessworld for her feedback and for always being there. And, as always, thanks to @saraswans , for her advice, her constant support, her ideas and because without her this story wouldn't be the same.

Thank you so, so much everyone, for your eternal patience, for continuing to have faith in me and this story. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best to try to update soon.

A couple of notes about this chapter before starting reading. It begins the day after their first real date. There will be fluff, fluff and more fluff, and also sexy times... but... as I have already commented on other occasions, I'm not a smut writer, and, although this is probably the most smutty thing I've ever written, eh, no, nothing explicit will appear. At least I tried, right?

Summary: Emma loses her phone after a chase, but she finds a phone in a cafe just when she needs it most. Killian forgets his phone in a cafe when he is about to take a flight to Ireland. Killian makes a call to his own number hoping someone answers on the other end of the line. What will happen when Emma answers the call?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12Chapter 13 Chapter14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20

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Here we go...

Previously on Call Me... After Killian returns to Boston and after finishing the deal they had established to get to know each other better, they decide to have their first real date. Now is the time to find out what will happen after that first date...

Chapter 21 - Chocolate, Pancakes, and... Something Else

Monday, July 3, 2017

Ruby: Emma! Where are you? I can't believe you're still asleep.

Ruby: Come on, I'm dying here, I need to know!

Ruby: Or maybe you're busy right now...

Ruby: Tell me you're not alone in your bed.

Ruby: Any more qualities to add to Killian's list? Good kisser maybe?

Ruby: Emma, wake up!

Elsa: Omg! I just saw the picture! It's perfect! I'm very happy for you two. You deserve it. I'll call you later to get all the details of your date.

Emma dropped the phone on the mattress and stretched on the bed, a smile of satisfaction pulling at her lips, as the memory of her date with Killian popped up into her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment as she let herself be enveloped by the lingering sensations, her lips still tingling after tasting the first kisses shared with Killian, her heart still pounding because of her blossoming feelings...

The sound of someone knocking on the door brought her back to reality. Confused, Emma grabbed her phone again to check the time. Too early.

"Emma." Knock knock.

"Emma." Knock knock .

"Emma." Knock knock.

Seriously? Was the nerd imitating Sheldon Cooper? Again?

Despite his unexpected visit — or perhaps precisely because of that— a warm sensation began to hum beneath her skin in anticipation of seeing him again sooner than she had thought. After running her hands through her hair in a failed attempt to untangle it, she rushed to the door, not even bothering to put on her bra. He was her boyfriend now, wasn't he?

She didn't even have time to ask him about the reason for his visit. The moment she opened the door, she was invaded by his warmth, his arms wrapped around her body and his lips catching hers in a kiss maybe too passionate for those hours of the morning.

It only took her a few seconds to react, returning the kiss with enthusiasm while allowing herself to be carried away by the sensations. Even though they had kissed for the first time just a few hours ago, there was already an aura of mutual understanding and confidence in the way her lips molded to his or in the synchronism of their tongues dancing together, as if they had been practicing for much longer.

That didn't stop her body from betraying her in a certain way, because when Killian separated from her, she found it difficult to regain her composure, feeling a slight dizziness taking over her. Luckily, Killian didn't loosen his grip on her waist as she tried to catch her breath, blinking a couple of times to drag away the remnants of sleep and make sure that what she had just experienced had been real and not a figment of her imagination.

"Not that I'm complaining, because obviously I'm not, but what was this about?” Her intention had been to use a carefree tone, but she failed miserably, her words coming out in a shaky breath.

Killian's lips curled into a cocky smirk as he pointed his chin toward his raised hand. The bastard knew the effect he had on her. Even so, she forced herself to look away from his completely kissable lips and directed her eyes towards where he was pointing. Only then did she realize that he was holding a paper bag from which a delicious smell was coming off.

"I thought it was a good idea to bring breakfast on my way to work."

Emma ignored her stomach rumblings as she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a suspicious look. "But my apartment is not on the way to the docks..."

Killian shrugged. "I guess it's one of the advantages of being your own boss, that allows you to bring breakfast to your girlfriend without worrying about being late."

A strange sensation settled in her heart when she heard him say that word aloud, but Emma preferred to teasing him a bit instead of paying attention to her body's reactions or the escalation of feelings taking over her. "Girlfriend, uh? We've only had one date, don't you think it's a bit pretentious to use that term?"

"Oh, but you're wrong, love. If we ignore the whole month of 'not dating'..." He managed to do the quoting sign with both hands even though he still was holding the paper bag "...Yesterday's would be our third date."

"Third date?"

"Aye, don't you remember our first virtual date, or the second one, the 'movie and popcorn' date?"

She did remember. And she also remembered her own words about a third date — I don't do pillage and plunder until the third date —. The pillage and plunder thing hadn't happened last night, by the way. Emma noticed how her cheeks began to burn as a chill ran down her spine when her treacherous mind started creating different scenarios to develop that activity, each more sinful than the one before.

"Whatever you say." Emma snapped, forcing herself to save those thoughts for another time. "I'm hungry, let's see what you've brought me."

She grabbed the bag and headed for the kitchen. If Killian realized her agitation he didn't mention it, he simply followed her lead. And if her hips swayed slightly in her way trusting that he wouldn't take his eyes off her and that at least her actions would have the same impact on him, well, no one had to know.

They enjoyed their first official breakfast as a couple as they had done before, food peppered with smiles, banter and knowing glances. To her relief, no awkwardness arose between them. On the contrary, she felt even more comfortable and secure with him at her side now that she no longer had to suppress her feelings, didn't have to pretend that she wasn't affected by the accidental touch of their hands, and could express her affection through longing glances or the brush of her lips against his.

There was a moment, when Killian placed a soft kiss on her cheek before getting up to pick up the leftovers and clean her countertop, in which Emma had to shake her head to get rid of a certain feeling of disbelief. She found it hard to believe that only a few hours had passed since their first real date. The comfort and domesticity that surrounded them caused a warm feeling to run through her veins and reach her heart making it swell.

He even waited for her to take a quick shower. The last scene that her eyes registered while she headed the bathroom, was the image of Killian settling on her couch as if he owned the place, making it even more necessary a shower that would allow her to get rid of those mixed feelings — delight and panic — that threatened with colliding.

The spray of warm water falling on her had its desired effect, managing to calm her agitated heart. The calm was short-lived, though. That effect went out the window at the moment she returned to her living room and met with the bright flash of a smile and a look of approval through his very blue eyes. God! She was in serious trouble with that man.

Fortunately, her phone came to her rescue once again, as, at that moment, she remembered the unanswered messages sent by Ruby and Elsa. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth in an attempt to suppress the grin that threatened to appear when an idea jumped in her head.

"I have to do something before leaving, come here." Emma waved her hand at Killian as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. He, of course, complied, giving her an inquisitive look as he stood beside her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She raised the hand that held the phone in front of them, as she snuggled up beside Killian. He, always so perceptive, seemed to understand what was her intention, since, without any instructions, he planted a loud kiss on her cheek just as she pressed the button, capturing the moment.

Good Morning ;)

After sending the brief message accompanying the selfie to her two friends, she grabbed her boyfriend's hand — Gods, she still didn't dare utter that word out loud, the term still strange to her — and they both headed for the exit.

Killian, always the gentleman, accompanied her to her car. Before she got into the vehicle though, he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning down while kissing her softly. It was a brief kiss, just his lips brushing hers, but with the ability to take her breath away to the point that, feeling how he was beginning to break the kiss, she searched his lips again, reluctant to let him go just yet. She didn't care in the least that they were giving quite the show in the middle of the street. Again.

As Emma let herself be wrapped in the sensations, she wondered if that spiral of feeling inside her would ever calm down; if the warmth that spread all over her body would ever get cool; if the butterflies in her stomach would ever stop beating their wings. All of this was so new to her that she was a little overwhelmed by the escalation of feelings in such a short space of time; at the same time, she also feared that those feelings would end at some point, leaving her empty again.

"I would not complain if the breakfast thing becomes a kind of habit," Emma muttered once she managed to detach herself from his lips and look him in the eye.

"I'm afraid I cannot promise you that, love." One of the corners of his lips twisted slightly upward as he scratched behind his ear. "I have some routes scheduled early in the morning for the rest of the week." He added, looking at her sheepishly through his lashes.

Despite his cute apologetic expression, she felt a tug of disappointment in her stomach. Just as her lips moved in an attempt at an incipient pout, he went into action again, slowing the movement with a new kiss. "I'll make up for it, I promise. See you later?" He murmured, his breath caressing her lips and causing a warm sensation humming beneath her skin.

"Sure, just call me." She managed to utter through a goofy smile before finally entering the car.

Reluctant to lose sight of him, she checked from the rearview mirror as Killian walked away in search of his own vehicle. Only when he disappeared from her sight did she realize that she was still grinning like an idiot while she felt the heat on her cheeks. She forced herself to pull herself together, taking two deep breaths to calm her inner agitation and behave like a normal adult person, not like a girl with her first crush.

Just as she was about to start the car, Emma remembered that she hadn't checked her phone. In fact, several messages were waiting to be read. Although she tried to resist, since she was already late for work, she finally gave up, the curiosity to know the content of the texts was more powerful than her urgency to get to work on time. The messages she found did nothing to make her smile weaken, rather the opposite.

Ruby: Omg! He stayed??? He spent the night??

Ruby: Tell me something!

Ruby: Emma? Tell me we can add one more skill to the list.

Ruby: I want all the details! Well, maybe not everything.

Ruby: Who am I kidding? I want to know everything! Give me juicy information, please!

Although reluctant, Emma felt obliged to get her out of her mistake.

ES: We haven't slept together. Yet. He only brought me breakfast.

Ruby: He brought you breakfast? Well, ‘God in bed’ ability will have to wait then. Meanwhile, we can add a hopeless romantic, can't we?

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, but Emma didn't have time to answer Ruby, as her phone continued to buzz. This time it was Elsa who had sent her a message.

Elsa: Omg Emma! You both look so happy!! I can't wait to talk to either of you to know the details. I'm so happy for you... Seriously, call me when you have the chance!

ES: I'm heading to work now. I'll call you at lunchtime. Thanks for being there, Elsa.

Elsa: Of course. As I already told you, you can count on me. That's what friends are for, isn't it?

Elsa's last words sank deep into her heart, while Emma felt her eyes begin to sting. She still found it hard to believe that, despite the almost paralyzing fear of lowering the walls and risking exposing herself, that also resulted in a new blossoming sensation, with the ability to make her heart swell. She hoped that feeling of someone caring about her would never go away.

Dating Killian Jones turned out to be much more reassuring than Emma thought. The oppressive fear in her chest had been replaced by the steady flutter of her stomach every time she saw him. Or even if they were not together at that moment, any thought about him had pleasant physical effects on her. Surprisingly, it was as if, with the demolition of the last brick of the wall around her heart, instead of premonitory clouds, a promising sun would now have appeared in front of her.

If someone had told her long ago that Emma Swan, the lonely and guarded woman would at some point experience this continuous state of bliss, this feeling of floating while her heart burst with happiness, she would have laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.

There were days when she still found it hard to believe that this was her life now, her cheeks aching from so much smiling, stomach pain caused by laughter, the perpetual flutter in her stomach, the tingling under her skin. But it was a reality, Emma Swan was happy for the first time in her entire life.

Three weeks later, Emma was still in that kind of state and it didn't seem like it was going to vanish at any time soon, to her relief.

This new stage in their relationship had not brought great changes in their lives, at least compared to the weeks after his return to Boston (If she compared it to Emma's pre-phone loss the change was brutal, though). They continued to perform the same established routines, eat at Granny's, Fringe marathons, sailing, hang out with Belle and Will, and Sunday brunch including the BOWS club meetings.

There was a not so subtle difference, though. Now they had incorporated other types of activities much more pleasurable. That first Bridget Jones Style kiss had been no more than a prelude to the many that were to come. Intense sessions of making out in any of the two apartments were sprinkled with furtive kisses during visits to one or the other's office. Now there were sweet kisses, just a light brush of lips in contrast with the most passionate, those searing kisses with the ability to leave her breathless and make all her skin tingle craving for more.

Their level of intimacy had been limited only to those shared kisses so far, though. Three weeks later she had not yet had the chance to add " God in bed " to Killian's endless list of qualities. They had decided to take things slow. Well, Killian had made the request under the premise that they had all the time in the world, that he preferred not to rush to find the ideal moment, faithful to his decision to make all the advances in their relationship have a special, unique touch, just like their first kiss. Just like their whole relationship from the very first moment, actually.

She had agreed at first, but after several weeks with little or no progress at all in that regard except for some tentative caresses in the heat of the moment Emma had begun to grow impatient, the intense sessions of making out ended too abruptly for her liking, leaving her frustrated, flustered, breathless and exceptionally horny without the possibility of lightening the growing sexual tension dancing among them unless she took things into her own hands.

If this had happened with someone else —named Walsh —she would have started worrying. With Killian, the feeling was different, in spite of everything. At least that indicated his penetrating gaze full of desire, lust, and longing that he directed her non-stop, with the ability to make her melt or set her on fire inside. The way his body pressed against hers when they were wrapped in one of their many kissing sessions making it clear how affected he felt by their activities was also a sufficient indication that the desire was there, simmering inside. She just had to wait for it to surface.

The day he suggested dinner in his apartment for that very night, Emma wondered if the moment had finally arrived. She tried not to read too much in the way he had addressed her, purring the words as he undressed her with his gaze, but her body had betrayed her once more, a rush of liquid heat running to her very core.

Although she had tried to pretend in front of him, using a carefree tone while teasing him with his possible choice of menu for dinner, the truth was that nerves had begun to make an appearance, along with an old friend, a paralyzing fear. This would be the first time in a long time that she shared a bed with someone with feelings involved.

She wasn't a prude, sex was not a problem, or at least it was the least of her issues. This had happened with her several one-night stands over the years. These exchanges were usually something quick and easy, without complications. Both her partner and she knew what they wanted and went for it.

But she wasn't sure what to do with this growing amount of feelings bubbling under her skin. Her mind had only retained small vestiges of what it had been like to make love with Neal and back then she had been too young and inexperienced, at least at the beginning. She suspected that with Killian everything would be different for several reasons, but the main one was that she was already a grown woman, had gained enough experience and, above all, her feelings were now much more intense. That thought alone made her heart beat frantically in her chest while her head spun.

A sense of vulnerability and insecurity settled in her stomach, mixed with her almost irrepressible desire. After this huge step, she would not only have given her heart to Killian, also her body and her very soul. And that terrified the hell out of her. Old Emma would have run through the hills or turned the fact into just sex. This new Emma, however, after taking two deep breaths, forced herself to leave behind her insecurities and get the best out of this first night together. The prelude to the many that were to come, at least that was what she hoped.

Well, as long as her suspicions came true, of course. A thought crossed her mind just as she stood in front of her wardrobe choosing the outfit she would wear. Until now, showing a certain sense of selfishness, she had only taken into account her own feelings, but there were two people involved here, and the other person, Killian, also carried his own old demons. Maybe that was the reason, maybe he was also scared to offer her something that he hadn't offered since Milah.

Emma shook her head, blinking away all those thoughts and decided to let herself go. She would trust her instincts and Killian's reactions, without forcing anything. If tonight there was finally no sex between them, she could wait. She wasn't going anywhere.

Still, at the last moment, she decided to grab a backpack and put some toiletries and a change of clothes inside. It was Friday after all and, even if they didn't sleep together, at least they could continue with their Fringe marathon. Maybe she would fall asleep on the couch. It wouldn't be the first time. Would it be?

Friday, July 21, 2017

The sharp thud of the knife against the cutting board resounded in his kitchen, causing Killian to come out of his reverie and realize that he was perhaps exerting too much force in chopping the vegetables from the salad.

He should have known better. From the very beginning, everything about Emma had affected him in such a way to the point of feeling like a schoolboy sometimes and turning him into a bundle of nerves unable to control his emotions.

All the bravado displayed when he had suggested the plan for the night had gone out the window when the implications of what would happen washed over him. " Bloody hell ", he muttered to himself as he dragged his hand down his face and rubbed at the scruff on his jaw. He was a grown man, how on earth was he so affected by the idea of spending the night with a woman?

He had the answer, of course. Maybe he had tried to fool himself with poor excuses that masked the real reason why after three weeks of dating they hadn't yet had sex. The explanation he had offered to Emma was true. But there was another deeper meaning hidden behind that excuse, he had his own reasons for postponing the act. Even though his intention to keep moving on was firm, he was still far from reaching his destination. The fact that by the time he had finally gotten back his phone he had hidden it in a drawer without even checking out its contents was an indication of it.

He wanted to offer Emma something unique, something special and unforgettable. But for that to happen he needed that during their first time together there would be no ghosts of the past hunting them, hovering around the bedroom. He wanted to offer himself completely to Emma, without fissures, without uncertainty. She deserved it. And that state hadn't been achieved until now, when he had realized that all his thoughts were consumed by Emma. Her image was the first that came to mind when he woke up in the morning, her memory the last before closing his eyes and surrendering to sleep.

The ghost of that bloke, Walsh, was also hovering over him. No way did he want to be compared to such a despicable guy and he did not want to risk Emma getting the wrong idea either.

These three weeks had been real agony, as if he had decided to impose himself a kind of punishment by engaging in a frustrating and tortuous path. The innumerable cold showers he had taken throughout these days had been nothing more than a small relief to his almost constant state of agitation.

He could feel in all the fibers of his being that he was ready to take the next step, but that did not stop his insecurities from surfacing since this would be the first time he would sleep with a woman since Milah with feelings involved.

Because the truth was undeniable, he harbored deep feelings for Emma. He still didn't dare to put a name to them but they swirled inside, struggling to come to the surface even if it was in the form of a caress, a longing glance or a promising kiss, without him being able to stop them.

Other kinds of worries also boiled inside him. Far were the first years after Milah's death, when he had tried to drown his sorrows in alcohol and sex. He had realized gradually that the answer was not there, so even though alcohol had been a companion on more occasions than necessary, the female company had been spaced out in time. There had been no woman in his bed for quite some time, the last one, just before traveling to Ireland in November of the previous year. The fear of not measuring up, of not being able to offer Emma what she deserved was real.

The sound of someone knocking on the door made him flinch and almost cutting himself in the process. He dropped the knife between curses and forced himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to calm his growing nervousness before opening the door.

At the last moment, before facing Emma, he decided that, whatever happened tonight, enjoying Emma's company would be more than enough for him. But this time, if she, who always seemed to be one step ahead in that regard, decided to keep moving forward, he not only wouldn't slow down her progress but would gladly encourage her to continue exploring.

All his doubts and insecurities disappeared the moment his eyes fell on Emma. She presented herself to him as a goddess wearing a simple sundress, her golden hair combed in a braid that fell over her shoulder. Her cheeks were colored by a slight rosy hue and her green eyes glowed in a special way as her lips drew a tempting smile, in clear invitation to be kissed.

But what really captivated him, causing his heart to flutter was the fact that she was carrying a backpack slung over her shoulder, implying, without needing words, that she was more than willing to spend the night. With him. Preferably in his bed. And maybe the next day too, at least if he had anything to say about it.

"Hi," she greeted him before brushing his lips with hers. He watched in awe as she passed by him in the direction of the kitchen, dropping the backpack on the couch on her way and perching herself onto one of the stools located next to the kitchen island, as if she owned the place. As if she belonged there. Well, where would the lie be? A special part of his heart already belonged to her.

"Oh thank God!" She blurted, noticing the sandwiches on the counter, waiting to be grilled. "I thought for a moment that you were going to prepare some of those recipes of yours with fish involved."

Her expression of disgust with a wrinkled nose and an adorable pout caused a chuckle bubbling in his throat. He approached the counter, taking up the task of chopping the vegetables for the salad. "I was tempted, but I had the suspicion that wouldn't be the most appropriate choice if I wanted this not to become a one-time thing."

"So you decided to seduce me with food instead, didn't you?" She teased him as she arched one of her perfect eyebrows, her tongue peeking to moisten her already luscious lips.

He pretended to remain focused on the salad but couldn't help but cast a sidelong glance at her. "Is it working?" He asked dropping his voice to a husky whisper. "Just wait to see the dessert I've prepared just thinking of you."

In answer, she got up and pounced on him, taking him by surprise as she caught his lips with hers in a demanding kiss. He was definitely going to get cut before finishing the bloody salad.

Before he could react, she pulled away from him, sporting a naughty smirk as she returned to her position on the stool. "For me to decide I have to try it first, don't you think?" She murmured, licking her lips again as if to prove her point. Bloody hell, her performance was not helping in the least to control his agitation. He swallowed hard, while his blood ran hot to the south, all the cells of his body craving for her. He had to close his eyes for a second, trying to calm down enough to avoid having his way with her right there, in the middle of the kitchen.

He hastened to finish the salad, placing the bowl in her hands. "And that's the plan, love, that you taste all the delights I've prepared for you. And now, would you be so kind as to bring that to the table?"

"Are you sure you don't need help here?" She offered through a smile that seemed innocent enough, but he didn't trust that she wouldn't continue to tempt him if she stayed with him in the kitchen.

"I'll go up in a bit, when I finish the sandwiches." He assured her with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Everything else is already set on the rooftop."

Her eyes widened as a flash of approval crossed her gaze. "So dinner on the rooftop, eh? I like the way you think." She said, as she walked away in the direction of the spiral staircase, the swaying of her hips perhaps too suggestive for her own good.

When she disappeared from his sight, he clenched his jaw, directing his gaze to the ceiling in an attempt to summon enough self-control to finish the dinner without incident. The siren he had as a girlfriend was certainly making it difficult for him.

Killian arrived at the roof a few minutes later, holding the plates with the grilled cheese sandwiches. He found that Emma was already sitting in one of the garden chairs, while gazing appreciatively at everything around her.

She wore a peaceful expression, matching the quiet night that had already fallen on Boston. The place looked impressive, honestly. He congratulated himself for having achieved just what was he was looking for. The only source of light came from various candles and lanterns distributed along the balcony, creating an intimate atmosphere. A fresh, summery scent from the many plants in his private garden surrounded them. No sound, no outside glance could interrupt their dinner. There was just the two of them and the endless feelings dancing between them.

To his relief, dinner was a success. They seemed to have reached a non-verbal agreement to temporarily park the evident sexual tension emanating from them and instead they just enjoyed the delicious food while keeping a fluent conversation peppered with smiles and knowing glances. He still was surprised that they felt so comfortable in each other's company. Maybe the month of the pact, while they built their friendship without pressure, just getting to know each other, it had served its purpose so that now there was no awkwardness flitting between them.

When it was time for dessert, Killian insisted that Emma remain relaxed on the rooftop, but she rejected the idea immediately, alluding that she had to see with her own eyes if "that dessert of yours is so worth it."

He should have suspected that Emma would find a pleasurable way of waiting for the cakes to be baked. Actually, he couldn't blame Emma entirely, since from the moment he closed the oven door he turned around and they both met halfway, their lips fusing together.

Only when the timer started ringing, announcing that the dessert was ready, they managed to detach from each other, the intense chocolate aroma emanating from the oven reaching their nostrils at that time. Emma closed her eyes for a moment as she inhaled deeply, a soft sound sliding between her lips, as if she was already savoring the cake. When she opened her eyes again, she stared at him with a fire in her emerald gaze that immediately made his blood run hot.

He had to swallow hard, resisting the temptation to grab her and kiss her senselessly, to hell with the cakes. Later, he thought as he forced himself away from temptation and turned his attention to the oven. He had spent a lot of time elaborating the recipe and would be disappointed if the result wasn't what he expected, so he held his breath while unmolding the cakes, feeling the scrutiny of Emma's gaze on him.

"Oh my god, you've baked chocolate lava cakes, haven't you?" When Killian looked up he found that Emma's face had lit up, her lips drawing a giant smile. He couldn't help but smile too, marveling at Emma Swan's complexity. A minute before she was showing off all her power of seduction and the next minute she acted like a little girl receiving a birthday present.

Until now he had only witnessed some glimpses of the previous Emma, the lonely woman who protected her heart fiercely, erecting walls difficult to climb. But he had managed to see what was behind those walls almost from the beginning. The fact that, in a way, he was contributing to these walls disappearing, showing this wonderful woman, was a source of pride for him, although he also harbored some responsibility. But if he had to spend hours in the kitchen making a dessert for her to give him that bright smile and that sparkle in the eyes, so be it.

"There's only one way to find out." Killian winked at her as he offered her a teaspoon. She bit her bottom lip, looking around, as if deciding whether she stayed there or not. Then she grabbed the spoon and plate and hurried toward the stairs.

"Hurry up, I don't want it to cool and ruin the effect." Emma urged him, before climbing up and disappearing from sight. He, of course, followed her. He would always follow her.

The cake was delicious, that dessert was one of his specialties for a reason, after all. Emma seemed to think the same, at least that implied her expression, as she watched in awe how the liquid chocolate escaped through the crack formed by the spoon, reaching the plate. A soft moan slid between her lips as she closed her eyes savoring the chocolate, causing a chill to run down his spine. She was going to be the death of him even before they had the chance to move to his bedroom.

"One of these days I'm going to record you making those sounds while you eat. It's funny how they could be understood in a quite different way if someone doesn't know the context." The words escaped his lips before he had time to process them, but given Emma's reaction, he did not regret it at all.

Even in the gloom, he noticed how her cheeks flushed, but, far from looking embarrassed, she gave him a seductive look from under her lashes as she brought the empty spoon to her lips and licked the remains of the chocolate. Next, she simply shrugged, as she replied in a sensual tone, her low voice full of intention. "I can't help it, chocolate is one of my great pleasures, as you may have guessed. But I will try to keep quiet next time."

"Don't even think about it, Swan." He almost growled. If chocolate was one of Emma's great pleasures, one of his own was to watch her little gestures and sounds. He would never tire of continuing to discover all the pieces of the wonderful puzzle that she represented.

They managed to finish the dessert without any other interruption. When Emma offered to help him clear the table, he refused, alluding that she was the guest of honor and that she should take advantage of those moments to relax enjoying the magnificent night outside. Emma reluctantly agreed. Still, it was clear that she felt at ease, at least the way she settled into her seat indicated it.

Once the kitchen was cleaned, he returned to the upper floor, his skin tingling in anticipation of what was to come. The image he found reminded him immediately of the first time Emma had spent the night in his apartment, when he had found her the next day at that very spot.

She held the same position this time, leaning on the railing, her head slightly turned, allowing him to observe her profile, her gaze lost somewhere in the darkness of the night, her lips drawing a smile of contentment. She was breathtaking.

As on that occasion, he approached her and wrapped her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. Her back arched at the moment she felt his presence, while her hands moved to seek his arms and tighten the embrace.

"I love this balcony." Emma murmured as she rested her head against his chest. "I would be happy living here, even without a bed."

He was aware that she was just joking but the mere thought that this could come true in the near future caused a strange sensation in his heart, something like longing. He blinked away those thoughts, leaving them for another time and decided to play along.

"In fact, there's a pullout bed in the studio next to the rooftop, love."

"Uhm, tempting, but the bathroom is downstairs, too far away. A pity."

"Besides, while I've not been able to experience it until now, I suspect that winter in Boston is not the most suitable season to live in the open." Killian realized the meaning of his words when he noticed how Emma tensed slightly under his embrace. It was true, he hadn't yet spent any winter here, always traveling to Ireland during the colder months. A sense of uneasiness settled in his stomach due to the fact that in a few months he would have to leave the city again to travel and meet his family. But there was still time for worrying about that, they would cross that bridge when they both arrived. That was an agreement between her and him from the moment they started their relationship, to take advantage of the moment, not to let their future expectations dictate how they should live their present.

"Do you know one of the things I like the most about your rooftop?" Emma's soft voice brought him back to reality. She continued without waiting for an answer. "Privacy. Nobody can see or hear us."

"I guess we should take advantage of that, shouldn't we?" Killian muttered before beginning to sprinkle the exposed skin of her neck and collarbone with light kisses, his lips leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. Emma's response was immediate, to his delight. She turned around and, grabbing his shirt, she pulled him close, her lips capturing his in a searing kiss.

He was a goner from that moment on, too consumed by her kisses, her essence, the feeling of her warm body pressed against his. While trying to comply with her demanding lips, he lost track of time and space to the point that he wasn't even aware of moving into the studio and sitting on the couch with Emma straddling his lap.

They devoured each other as if there were no tomorrow, their hands were everywhere, her hips moving over him and exerting a delicious friction that was driving him crazy with need.

He wouldn't have minded giving in to passion right there, in the gloom of the studio, while the soft breeze of the night crept through the open door to the rooftop. But he had other plans that basically meant worshiping Emma's body for endless hours, under the shelter of his sheets, in his own bed.

Displaying an entire exercise of self-control, he managed to separate his lips from hers for a moment, searching her gaze while cupping her cheek with one hand. "Emma, love, we..." His voice trailed off when Emma ignored him, nipping his lower lip lightly instead as she moved her hips against his evident arousal. He couldn't help a growing groan from deep in his chest, but he tried again. "We need to move." He breathed against her swollen lips.

"I don't want to move." She mumbled, a shadow of disappointment crossed her gaze, as if she anticipated that her advances would be stopped once more. He realized at that moment that it might have been a mistake to wait these three weeks without giving her an honest explanation, which might have led to her getting the wrong idea. He needed to get her out of her mistake. "I need... I would prefer if we continue this in a more comfortable place."

She stared at him through narrowed eyes, her brow furrowed, as if she was trying to discern his true intentions. He decided to act to make it clear that he didn't have the faintest intention of leaving things that way. His hand slid down from the back of her head to the small of her back, looking for that part of her anatomy that he found so delectable, even covered by clothes. He pressed, drawing her close so that she could note how very interested he was in continuing.

She was a vision just like that, a moan escaping between her lips, a soft blush adorning her neck and cheeks, her heavy breathing causing her chest to move in a distracting way. But what fascinated him the most, was the fire in her eyes, he could lose himself in the intense green sea of her gaze. To his relief, she seemed to understand the message as her lips drew the ghost of a smile. "I'm pretty comfortable here."

"Aye, but we can get even more comfortable." He insisted, though his resolve weakened at times. He cradled her head with his other hand and tugged her lips to his to keep savoring her, something to which he had already become addicted. She moaned again against his lips, angling her head to allow him deeper.

After a few seconds —or maybe minutes, he wasn't sure, his mind too clouded with lust— it was Emma who decided to break the kiss, her eyes sparkling with a playful glow. "What happened to your idea of looking for something unique? Because I find the bed quite traditional and a bit boring, to be honest."

"That's because you haven't shared a bed with me yet, Swan. So, what do you say? Are you willing to find out if my bed and the activities we develop in it fulfill your expectations of originality?" He suggested lowering his tone to a sensual whisper.

He must have sounded convincing, at least that's what he assumed from the expression she wore, biting her lower lip as she arched one of her eyebrows. "Okay, take me to bed, Jones."

"I would gladly carry you, but I don't want to risk tripping while we go down the stairs."

She giggled, really giggled, before getting up and offering her hand, pulling him then and leading the way, as it used to happen lately. He, of course, obliged.

Once in the shelter of his bedroom, they took things more calmly, sharing languid kisses while their hands began their first tentative explorations on their bodies. Her mouth molded so perfectly to his that he could spend hours doing just that, savoring her soft lips, letting himself be intoxicated by her scent, feeling her teeth playfully nibble on his lower lip.

Emma grew impatient, since, after one last kiss, she turned around in his arms, offering him a sinful glance over her shoulder. "I may need help with the zipper." Her soft and seductive voice causing him to feel his pants getting tighter.

As the zipper of the dress descended, he got a glimpse of her underwear, making his desire to taste her creamy skin more urgent, the tingling of his fingers craving to touch and feel the warmth that emanated from her. Before turning around and facing him again, she let the dress slip down, pooling at her feet.

He breathed out on a shaky exhale when his eyes finally settled on her almost naked figure but he barely had time to extend his arm to caress her perfect curves, since Emma's lips were on his in an instant, as he reached for his t-shirt and pulled on it in a gesture not too subtle for him to take it off.

Once they stripped each other, their clothes scattered all over the room, he gently pushed her down and made her lie on the bed. He took a moment to appreciate her body, the corners of his lips rising slightly as the memory of a photograph came to mind.

"You're stunning, Swan." He leaned in, covering her body with his and leaving a trail of kisses from the line of her jaw to her neck. "Do you remember the picture you sent me with you in that bathtub?" He lifted his head, seeking her gaze. Emma did not answer, but her cheeks blushed even more, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She remembered, of course. "I haven't been able to get that image out of my head since then. Trying to imagine what would be hidden behind those bubbles has driven me crazy." His voice came in a raspy tone before he put back his mouth to better use.

"Have I exceeded your expectations?" She murmured, her warm breath caressing his lips.

"Indeed." He barely lifted his lips to mumble his answer and then returned to his task of kissing her senselessly.

She had other plans, though. Breaking the kiss, she cupped his cheek with one hand, locking her eyes with his. She had that expression on her face, her lips drawing the ghost of a grin, a challenging flash crossing her gaze. "And are you going to do something about it?"

"Aye." His whole body hummed in anticipation, while he was unable to hide the lust in his voice. "Would you allow me to touch you, Emma? To taste you?"

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

Her head nodded frantically giving him the permission he needed. From there, he became a man with a mission; his goal, to enhance every drop of pleasure Emma has.

For the next few minutes he devoted himself to touch, to taste, to explore and worship her body the way she deserved, using his hands, his teeth, his tongue and getting her to vibrate under his touch, the delicious sounds that escaped from her mouth causing his level of arousal to rise until it was almost painful, leaving him in need of an urgent release. The moment she came undone, uttering his name on a trembling exhale, he knew he had fulfilled his goal, a wave of satisfaction and pride washing over him.

But the night had not ended there, in fact, it had only just begun, at least that's what Emma's actions implied when she came down from her high, her breathing still heavy, her lips swollen, and a penetrating gaze with the ability to take his breath away. She pulled him towards her for a kiss, while her hands ran up and down his back.

He needed her, he needed to feel her on a deeper level or his desire would end up combusting him. She seemed to understand, helping him put on the proper protection, his movements somewhat clumsy at first, causing them to share a funny moment, easing the tension. "I'm sorry love, I may be a bit out of practice."

"That's not the way it seemed in your previous performance." She assured him through a grin. "Come here. Let's practice a bit more."

Only when he positioned himself between her legs did he realize that the delay of three weeks had been worth it, that they had managed to make nothing and nobody cloud their magical moment. His heart tightened in his chest at the thought that he should perhaps feel guilty for having developed such intense feelings and because now Emma was the one who occupied all his thoughts. But deep down, he knew that Milah would approve what was about to happen. She would have wanted him to be happy and, in fact, he was about to burst with happiness.

"Killian?" Emma's voice came to his ears with a slight hint of concern. A crease between her brows and an inquisitive look made him see that he had remained absorbed for too long. The time to take action had arrived.

She was all that mattered now. His lips drew a soothing smile in order to remove any trace of worry from her beautiful face. Only when she smiled back, cheering him up without words, did he lean in search of her lips at the same moment he slid inside her.

He stifled a moan as their bodies fused together, feeling her warmth envelop him, his heart beating frantically and threatening to come out of his chest. He wasn't used to such sensations running through his veins, all his muscles tensed, overwhelmed by the emotions. He buried his face in Emma's hair, needing a few seconds before beginning to move.

Once he was able to regain control over his body, he set a new goal, bringing Emma to ecstasy once more. It was then when they began to move in synchrony, enjoying the pleasure of skin against skin, their bodies molded to each other as if they had been created for that purpose.

He had been aware from the beginning that what would happen in his bed wouldn't be just sex, but it was one thing to think about it and quite another to feel it in all the fibers of his being causing a kind of vertigo, his head spinning to the certainty that they were making love, although the word was still too big to even think about.

Their movements were full of passion, her demanding lips never leaving his. He tried to comply with each kiss, but he wasn't satisfied with just tasting her mouth, his lips brushing any patch of skin that his movements allowed to reach, her neck, her collarbone, her chest, while he let himself be intoxicated by the indescribable feeling of having such a goddess beneath him.

She also showed that she knew what she wanted, her hands were everywhere, although she seemed to have a predilection for his back. The way she stroked that part of his anatomy was driving him crazy. She could go from a subtle touch with her fingertips to an almost painful trace with her nails.

At one point, when he felt the pull of the impending climax approaching, he grabbed her hand, moving it over her head and intertwining her fingers with his. It was like this, with their mouths fused together drowning out their respective moans, how they found sweet release. In that precise moment, when he was still panting, unable to move, the adrenaline rushing high in his veins, he had the absolute certainty that he would live to bring pleasure to this wonderful woman in every possible way.

"It's not that I'm complaining, because I clearly am not, but will you ever tell me the real reason why we've waited so long to have... to sleep together?"

His brain was unable at first to process Emma's words. They were huddled side by side in his bed, her head resting on his shoulder, while her fingers traced delicate patterns on his bare stomach, their lower limbs tangled together.

After their amorous activities, he had entered in such a state of bliss and relaxation that he felt almost like he was floating while his eyelids became heavy to the point where he was about to doze.

Emma's voice activated his senses again, but his mind was still a little clouded, so he took his time before answering. Indeed, there didn't seem to be any trace of complaint in her voice, rather curiosity. Killian took a deep breath letting out the air slowly and then he decided to offer her an honest answer. She didn't deserve less.

"I just wanted to be sure there weren't any demons from the past wandering around us, that's all." He placed a soft kiss on her hair, trusting that his answer was enough.

Emma slowed the movement of her fingers on his skin for a brief moment, while he held his breath, but, to his relief, then she continued with her traces, while she replied with a single word. "Good."

"Besides, I remembered that bloke, Walsh, and I didn't want you to draw the wrong conclusion." His words came out of his mouth without he could do anything to stop them. What was wrong with him, bringing another man to the conversation while he lay with a woman in his bed?

Emma lifted her head looking for his gaze. "Do you remember?"

"I remember everything you've told me, darling, even though I still didn’t know you in person or didn’t even know what you looked like."

How was it possible that Emma had that look of disbelief on her face? As if it were hard for her to believe that someone could have such an interest in her. It was evident that he must work more in that regard and that, like him, although Emma was doing an impressive job in her attempt to open up to others, she still had a long way to go. He was sure that they would accompany each other in their paths. At least he had no intention of leaving her side at any time soon, both physically and metaphorically speaking.

Her expression changed subtly, a soft smile pulling at her lips, but then her brows furrowed. "Don't ever even mention that asshole. You both are not comparable and I wasn’t really worried, not at least in that aspect."

"Good." He parroted her earlier response, his stomach fluttering at the passion she put in her words, even if it was to throw a scolding at him. Then he pulled her to him again, his fingers tangled in her curls, as she resumed her task of caressing him.

Soon, he felt the sleepiness begin to invade him again. He had already decided to surrender to it by embracing Emma in his arms, when something put him on alert again. Suddenly, Emma's weight on him disappeared, causing a wave of irrational panic to meddle him at the thought that she was leaving his bed.

Impulsively, he reached out his arm and captured her wrist, slowing her movement. "Stay." He hated the vulnerability in his voice, using a single word as a plea. "Stay." He repeated with a firmer tone. She stopped her progress but kept her back to him, so he thought frantically of some reason that would make her stay. "If you come back to bed I'll make you breakfast tomorrow, and you already know my cooking skills."

This time he did get a reaction from Emma. She turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder, her face showing an impenetrable expression. "Are you trying to seduce me with the food again?"

"Is it working?"

Only when her face split into a giant grin, was he able to let out the breath he had been holding.

"Always."

He offered her his hand and when she accepted, he pulled her towards him, both returning to their original positions. Sleep seemed to have abandoned him, though. He had already begun to resign himself to the fact that he would barely get to rest tonight, but having someone like Emma by his side, who needed to sleep? Indeed, the calm did not last long. Emma raised her head again, a mischievous smile adorning her features. "Just for the record, I wasn't going anywhere, I just needed to use the bathroom."

“Bad form love,” he muttered in a rough voice, as he pulled her closer, her golden curls brushing against his cheek, “taking advantage of a poor man desperate not to be alone. Should I punish you?"

“Is that…” she trailed off, a breathy moan slipping between her lips while his fingers slowly traveled along her spine, “... a promise?” A low groan blossomed deep in his chest, "you're going to be the death of me," he murmured before capturing her lips with his and surrendering to her once more.

Saturday, July 22, 2017

When Emma woke up the next morning the sun was already shining high in the sky, the soft morning light seeping through the window and illuminating the bedroom, causing Emma to remain reluctant to open her eyes just yet.

Her mind was still clouded by the vestiges of sleep, making her feel a little bewildered at first and with the need to snuggle, seeking refuge in the cool sheets in contact with her skin.

Gradually, as her mind cleared, she began to be aware of her surroundings. The moment her brain processed the fact that she didn't own such soft sheets, reality came in waves hitting her hard.

Of course, she was not in her bed, nor in her bedroom. A swirl of mixed feelings seized her as the memories of the previous night gathered in her head. She couldn't prevent a blush from crawling from her neck, making her cheeks burn, feeling somewhat embarrassed, something unusual in her with regard to such activities. Maybe the reason was that she wasn't used to waking up in the very bed in which they had carried out an intense, mind-blowing sex session just a few hours ago.

"Oh god." She covered her face with her hands while her stubborn mind insisted on repeating, again and again, the top moments of the night, making the blush of her cheeks increase, and also, a new wave of desire beginning to run through her veins.

She instinctively reached out her hand to the other side of the bed, finding it empty, something that did not surprise her, since Killian had previously informed her that he needed to get up early that Saturday morning. Still, a tug of disappointment settled in her stomach. But maybe it's better that way, she told herself. All this was so new to her that waking up with someone huddled by her side might have been like too much.

After letting out a deep breath, she stretched out on the bed, feeling her body slightly sore in the right places. An unstoppable smile of satisfaction bloomed on her face as she reached for her phone to check the time. The smile widened when, in addition to her phone, she found a handwritten note on the nightstand.

Good morning, my sleeping beauty. I apologize for having been forced to leave the bed so soon, but, as I had already told you, some clients wanted to watch the sunrise from the sea, so who am I to deny them such pleasure? Still, I'll be home in time to prepare the promised breakfast. Yours, Killian.

Two aspects caught her attention as she read the note. First, the deliberate use of possessives on two occasions and second, the word home and its implications. Maybe this wasn't her apartment, but he had made it clear that he was going back home, to her. She anticipated the arrival of panic, or the need to run away at the intensity of the feelings blossoming inside her, but, far from that, where before her heart would have tightened with fear, now it fluttered with anticipation. She really couldn't wait to see him and, above all, feel him again.

After placing the note on the table again she grabbed the phone. There was something important that she had to do. She opened the chat window with Ruby and started typing.

ES: We can now add 'God in bed' to Killian's list

The response of her friend was immediate.

Ruby: Yay! I knew it! Lucky girl, I envy you right now. I want all the details!

A chuckle bubbled in her throat at the shamelessness of her friend. In no way was she going to confess her intimacies, she might have opened up to others, but not to that extent. Even so, knowing that someone was out there interested in her caused a warm feeling to spread through her body.

ES: I'm not telling you anything, Ruby. Just suffice to say that I have every intention of continuing to practice throughout the weekend.

Ruby: Ouch, you're not funny. Anyway, enjoy the rest of the sex weekend. See you soon.

It was still early, at least for a Saturday morning. Emma deduced that Killian would still take a while to come back, so she needed to find a distraction while waiting for him. Although she was reluctant to leave the bed, she finally made the decision to crawl into the bathroom and take a shower.

The warm shower turned out to be a wise decision, the spray of water falling over her acting as a balm, although the water would also drag the vestiges of Killian's essence that still lingered on her skin. She was tempted for a moment to apply his shampoo, in order to keep his scent for a little longer, but finally decided to use her own, knowing in advance that Killian was quite fond of the vanilla scent, of her hair in general. Emma did not miss that he took advantage of the slightest opportunity to tangle his fingers in her curls, leave soft kisses on the top of her head or simply bring his nose close and inhale.

The shower had taken longer than she had thought at first since, when she came out, she perceived the unmistakable aroma of the bacon coming from the kitchen, causing her stomach to growl and her heart to skip a beat. Killian had arrived.

She hastened to towel off, untangle her hair, and get dressed, opting to wear only tiny panties and the famous Fringe t-shirt, which she had finally got two weeks ago.

Then she walked silently to the kitchen, finding Killian in front of the stove, his back to her, wearing only sweatpants and bare-chested. That meant he had changed clothes when he got home, which implied that, on his way to his bedroom, he would have passed in front of the bathroom door while she was inside, he just would have needed to open the door and... Stop! A flurry of heat flowed to Emma's core, as she bit her lower lip, holding back a groan. Breakfast. She needed to focus on breakfast and on her hungry stomach.

Still, that didn't stop her from slipping in quietly until she was just behind Killian. If he noticed her presence he didn't show it, since he continued with his task while humming in a low voice. Unable to resist any longer, she put her arms around him from behind, resting her head and her hair still damp on his back. A chill ran down her spine the moment her hands came into contact with his bare chest.

"Mmmm, something smells delicious."

Killian chuckled, the muscles of his chest moving under Emma's touch. "Wait to take a bite, they'll taste even better."

"I'm not talking about pancakes, I mean bacon." Without waiting for an answer, she approached the counter and grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate set there, bringing it to her mouth.

It was then when Killian's head turned, an arched eyebrow and an amusing expression on his face. "Bad form, love, stealing food while the other person is focused on getting the pancakes do not burn." He pointed at her with the spatula while winking. "I've always known there was a little pirate in you."

"Turn your head Jones, and do not get distracted." She faked a bossy tone, frowning as she made the gesture of turning around with her hand. "I'm still waiting for my promised breakfast, the bacon is just an advance." To prove her point, she bit the bacon again and licked her lips to savor it.

"So demanding, Swan."

"But you like it." She smirked at him as she perched on the kitchen island directly in front of him, from where she had the best access to continuing watching Killian. "I'm hungry, keep going."

He ignored her for a moment, his gaze scanning her body from top to bottom as if assessing whether to dash to capture his prey or not. Finally, his eyes traveled upwards, focusing on hers and directing her a penetrating gaze that shouted silently ‘later’. He licked his lips before tilting his head slightly. "As you wish." And then he turned around and resumed his task.

Emma enjoyed herself with the sight in front of her, with his broad shoulders, his narrow waist, the movement of his muscles as he worked, the way the sweatpants hung loosely from his hips... She suppressed the urge to send the breakfast and pancakes to hell and reach for those pants, now that she knew what was hidden under them. The mere idea made her mouth water and not just for the food.

Emma was unprepared for Killian to turn around unexpectedly holding a plate full of pancakes, "Your breakfast is ready, milady." He offered with an exaggerated bow. She realized at that moment that her mouth hung open, so she forced herself to press her lips together and focus her gaze on... the plate of pancakes. Too late. "See something you like, Swan?" The bastard smirked at her before approaching her with a predatory expression on his face.

Before Emma could react, he set the plate of pancakes on the counter, far enough away from her, and then reached for her.

"Good Morning." He murmured, his lips only inches from hers, circling her waist and pulling her to him.

"Hi," She managed to mumble, placing her arms around his neck, while a warm sensation spread all over her body, her stomach fluttering in anticipation. "I missed you this morning."

"Aye, love, me too." His lips came even closer to hers, without touching them. "Well, it's time to make up for the wait, isn't it?" Without waiting for her response, he finally offered her what she was craving, capturing her lips with his.

They continued like this for the next few minutes, the food completely forgotten, and instead, satiating their hunger for each other. His hands began to wander over her body, while he hummed in appreciation against her lips when he noticed that she had not bothered to put on the bra. "Even though I'm fond of that lovely t-shirt you wear, I'd rather see you without it." He growled while helping her to take it off with a fluid movement, leaving her bare torso to match him.

Even though her mind was clouded by desire, she found a glimmer of lucidity that she used to tease him. "So this is going to be the typical pre-breakfast sex session?" Killian ignored her, his scruff rubbing against the sensitive skin of her neck. Emma bit her lip in an attempt to suppress a moan and continued speaking in a seductive whisper. "You disappoint me, Jones. First, you go with the classic missionary position for our first time and now the cliché of sex in the kitchen. What happened to your idea of unique and special moments?" "I didn’t hear you complain about rounds two and three." He mumbled, hot puffs of air sending goosebumps down her skin. "But if you prefer, we can move our activities to a place that meets your standards of originality, like the rooftop, maybe?"

"Nah, maybe later. Come here, Jones, we still have several places to try in this apartment of yours." She drew him to herself pressing his chest against hers and enjoying the delicious friction of the hair of his torso against her delicate skin. Definitely, she could get used to this new way of enjoying Saturday mornings.

They spent the rest of the weekend in company with each other, much of that time in his apartment, exploring their bodies and discovering new forms of pleasure, their level of intimacy becoming even more intense. But they not only devoted themselves to enjoying fantastic sex, they also had time to get out of their particular bubble and socialize with their friends.

On Saturday afternoon Emma accompanied Killian to one of his practices to teach small kids to sail. Later, they met with Belle and Will to hang out for a while. When they returned to Killian's apartment hours later they resumed the task of continuing to enjoy each other.

On Sunday morning Emma did wake up with a warm body beside her on the bed. Contrary to what she had thought at first, feeling someone curled up next to her with a protective arm on her waist, far from appearing too much, caused her a feeling of contentment unknown until now, while she longed to wake up like this every morning— forever.

They had their usual brunch with Mary Margaret, David, and little Leo. This time, Graham and Merida, who had finally started dating, also joined them. She found this facet of socializing with other people more and more satisfying, something unexpected for her, but at least that was a sign that she was still on the right path of opening her heart completely.

They even had time to make a video call with Liam, Elsa, and the kids. This wasn't the first time she had participated in these calls since they had started dating. In addition, her level of affinity with Elsa had increased over the weeks and they chatted from time to time even if neither of the two Jones brothers were present. What differentiated this occasion from the previous ones was that she was dressed casually, with her hair pulled back in a loose bun, giving clear signs that she had spent the day—and the night— there. Elsa already knew of their plan in advance, of course, but Emma did not miss the look of appreciation that she directed at her.

Although Emma tried to extend her stay in Killian's apartment, on Sunday evening she resigned herself to returning to her own apartment. She needed a change of clothes and rest a whole night to go back to work the next day. Even so, when Killian accompanied her to the doorway, she still remained reluctant to leave. Killian was not going to make things easy for her, apparently.

"Are you sure you have to leave? Can I tempt you again with breakfast or something more special?" He practically purred his words, his warm breath caressing her lips.

Her resolve weakened at times, but she held her ground. "I have to rest, and something tells me that if I stayed I wouldn't get the rest I need. My boyfriend is quite insatiable, you know?"

Killian tilted his head, his eyes darting to her lips. "It's funny, because my girlfriend is also quite insatiable. I think they would like each other, wouldn't they?"

Emma hummed in agreement. "Maybe you're right."

"Anyway, I think that boyfriend of yours is a lucky guy." Emma lost herself for a moment in the intensity of his gaze charged with something akin to reverence. After letting out a deep breath, she brushed his lips with her own and walked away before falling into temptation.

"I am the lucky one, believe me." It was the last thing she said before turning and starting to walk down the corridor.

"Text me when you get home, please."

Emma turned her head slightly towards him and nodded silently. When she resumed her way she did it with a wide smile on her face and a sense of happiness spreading through her body.

I just got home.

Good;) By the way, how am I supposed to sleep now? Your vanilla perfume is everywhere, Swan.

Change the sheets?

Over my dead body!

How dramatic...

But you like it.

Maybe...

Sweet dreams.

I'm sure yours —if you get to sleep—will be sweet, indeed, sprinkled with a little bit of vanilla.

You're a bloody siren.

But you like it.

I do.

Even though the screen had gone blank, Emma stared at the phone for a few seconds, feeling the weight of the device on her hands. She sometimes had to shake her head at the feeling that this little device, or rather its predecessor, the one she had lost, had been the cause of her finding Killian. A sense of vertigo seized her as she thought what would have happened had she not lost the phone, had she not entered that cafe, and stolen Killian's phone by accident... Her life now would continue to be the miserable life she was used to. Instead, now she had a promising future ahead of her, something unthinkable until now.

Her brows furrowed when another thought, also related to the phone, crossed her mind. Even though it had been two weeks since he had retrieved his phone, he hadn't made any intention of using it again. He never carried it with him and wasn't in sight in his apartment either.

It was something strange in a way, since that phone had been the cause of bringing them together in the first place and was also quite more expensive than the one he had acquired at the airport. Her heart tightened in her chest as she wondered what would be the reason, sensing that there was a deep meaning behind it. Emma had the suspicion that the motive was not in the device itself, but rather in its content.

Before going to sleep, she took a mental note, she would ask Killian when she had the chance. He had helped her on so many levels to come out of her shell that the least she could do was help him to move on and overcome his past once and for all.

So, there was one more part planned initially for this chapter, but I then thought that, since it has been a fluffy one, that final angsty section wouldn't fit here, so I decided to leave it for the next chapter...

Thanks for reading, I'd like to know what you all think. :)

@rouhn @couldnthandleit @teamhook @malec4everr @ijustwantyoucaskett-always@kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @suwya

#cs ff #cs au #cs march madness #captain swan #call me #mayquita writes #my cs writings #cs ff au #captain swan ff

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acequeenking · 6 years ago

Text

winters nigh and summers o’er 1/? (M)

A collection of short stories centered on Hades and Persephone's relationship; some pre-canon, some during, some post. Updated weekly.

New: Hades gestured for her whiskey, topped up his glass, then put the bottle down under the table, which was his subtle way of tellin’ Persephone she’d had enough; she reached under the table and took a long swig straight from it, lookin’ at him the whole time.

Persephone liked to drink for a lot of reasons.

One, it tended to taste good; a little bit of poison from the fruit of her vines made her feel...electric. Fluid. It made her feel, just a little bit, free. Made her feel like she could harness the lightning that ran through her bloodlines and along Hades’ wires. It made her move easier, dance faster; made her smile with abandon and ease up all those long winter nights. Like her, it was poisonous; like her, it was healing. It was a dichotomy in a bottle, just like her, except for the in the bottle part. Though she thought, sometimes, Hades would keep her in a bottle if he could.

He looked at her from across the table, the whiskey bottle in his hands. He poured himself a rare second drink, tilted it toward her. She nodded. Hades didn’t mind a drink but he never quite drank enough to really get it as a hobby; he liked it as an appetizer, a one and done shot of whiskey or firewater or whatever he was sipping. He’d take quality over quantity; a private drink over a social one. He liked to drink as a sort of…muscle relaxant, she supposed, for it certainly never loosened his tongue, no matter how much she wanted it to.

Not like her, no; she was a real chatterbox once she’d gotten a drink or twenty in her, and to his admittedly limited credit, he never seemed to mind. He clinked the bottle of whiskey against her cup, poured her a bit more as they sat on their balcony, watchin’ the world above, the world below. Things changed at a glacial pace, they played games; Persephone drank. He poured her another round, smaller still; he had not yet finished his previous. She snapped back hers, then took his half-finished drink, downed it in one go, too. Spring was coming, and the resentment was building back into the permafrost on his skin and she hated it, hated it. She took the bottle, poured herself a shot and then another shot in his glass. She drank hers, and, a second later, drank his.

“Your turn,” he said, soft; he read the newspaper as she looked at her last domino piece. Used to be he’d look at her when she was making her play, and she told him so. His lips quirked into something that might have been a smile, once.

“You told me it made you nervous,” he said, putting the paper down with a dedicated snap and flourish; that was Hades, wasn’t it? Snap and flourish. Clean and professional. Touch ya like he’s your everything, then backs up after lovin’ you into a grave like he wasn’t anything to you at all. Too brief, too cold. Too cold a man and yet eternally her lover. She longed for his touch; would she melt his frost if she reached out and tried? Or would he just freeze to her, his skin permanently affixed to her own? He wouldn’t mind it, she thought, them livin' like that, and she wasn’t sure if she would. He was impossible to love and impossible not to; the thought of his lips on hers made her feel warmer than the whiskey’s burn.

She stared at him, well aware her vision was a bit blurry; even for a goddess, she’d drank pretty hard today, not that it could kill her. She moved her piece without looking, snarling at him. “Take that,” she slurred, and he chuckled. She poured herself a double. He gestured for the bottle, topped up his, then put her whiskey down under the table, which was his subtle way of tellin’ her she’d had enough; she reached under the table and took a long swig straight from it, lookin’ at him the whole time.

He didn’t break the look, but he didn’t say anything either. Typical Hades; sometimes she wondered if he said more than six words while she was gone up top. She licked her lips and debated throwing herself across the table, but such was a better move to be played on her own turn and she was out of hands this round. He looked away first, glancing at the piece she’d played, a 5 and 5, the last in her hand; strategically worthless, but she wasn’t gonna go back to the boneyard for it. Fates. Even in games, they couldn’t get away from death; there was something as too much aesthetic she thought and yet Hades seemed not to know that. She put down the bottle. He played his piece; somehow, of course, he’d had a 5 for his last domino. They were always completing one another, and that hurt, because it shouldn’t be so hard to be happy, if they were so good at bein’ on the same page. Shouldn’t be so hard to love him. She missed lovin’ him, wanted him to love her again, not just in the passive way he always did but the active way, the way he used to literally chariot up above just to swoop her down below and take her into her bed and lock them in their room or six months, mad and in love and dying and bein’ reborn every minute. Now he swooped up aand grabbed her alright, but it felt like held her at an arm's distance all winter long. She hated it.

“Game set,” he said, leaning back. “Match.”

“Hmph.” He’d won; there was a time in the past when he’d have smiled about that, would have kissed her in consolation. She’d fought him tooth and nail, had scored on every point but the final one; nearly his match this time, but not quite. She’d win next time, he’d win another, and what did it matter? Time was endless. Entropy was boundless. They existed since time began; would exist until time ended. Would they still be in love then? She wasn’t sure. The world spun on. She wanted it to go backward. It wouldn’t.

“Another game?” she asked, and he shook his head. She drank again, whiskey burning her almost as much as his look, heavy-lidded and sad. He was gonna leave her, go lock himself in his office and burn through paperwork, thinkin’ it made him a good husband for providin’ and not a coward for avoidin’. She could smell it on ‘im. She took another shot.

“Think you’ve had enough.” It was the closest he’d come to outright criticism with her; he stood and she stood after him, accidentally knocking into the table. He held out a hand; gentlemanly, as always, but cold. Impersonal. He’d have offered a hand for her father, for momma, for any soul who’d given him a sob story that he’d deal only death to in return; only mercy he knew how to provide. She was tired of it. She wasn’t a visitor here, even if she was gone six months of the year. And she didn’t want to be treated like one.

She shoved him against the wall.

“Since when do you decide when I have enough?” She asked; he raised an eyebrow. She touched his cheek – it was cold. She tilted her chin up and grabbed his; he got the idea and leaned down ‘til they were touchin' foreheads. His arms curled around her waist, she dragged his arms lower, ‘til they were on her ass.

“I decide,” she murmured, her lips so close to his patrician face she could feel his heavy exhale. She grabbed his cheeks, brought him closer still, and then told him her jubilant pledge in a heavy whisper: “What I want. When I want it.”

“Of course,” he hissed; he opened his mouth to say something else, but she wasn’t interested in hearing it as much as feeling him and captured his mouth in a dizzying kiss, her hands capturing the way he melted with longing into her arms. It was a good kiss, always a good kiss with Hades; she pushed her tongue into his mouth and he dueled with her, not playful, for he never was, but struggling, viciously, to win some sort of unspecified war between them. His tongue sought some terminus in her, pursuing her like a hawk, and she held him tighter, wanting to melt together, to exist together, for as long as it was possible to do so. It was easier when she was drunk, when some of her barriers fell away. Not that his barriers ever dropped; he was building interior walls to rival their outdoor ones.

But for now, his hand on her ass tightened; he found her argument persuasive. A whistle blew in one of his factories; he didn’t look up and neither did she. She ran her leg down his and felt him hiss; he broke the kiss then, going for her neck, his teeth nipping at her.

“I want you,” she spit out in what was little better than an alley-cat howl; she shoved him back toward his chair, threw herself on top of him in a way that momma might have called wanton but momma nature wasn’t here and she sure as fuck wasn’t going to think about her momma with Hades under her. His fingers slid to her waist, then lower, rubbin’ her thighs. Her skirt was hiked up enough to give anyone foolish enough to try to get into Hades office a hell of a show; she didn’t give a fuck.

“I want you,” she yowled again; he chuckled, grabbed her face and pulled her real close, finger-light kisses going on her mouth and on her neck, light and sweet but a shadow of the heavy touch he’d use in the old days. She had an idea, a good idea, of how to get his attention back. A hot idea. Yeah! He was gonna love it. “No,” she said, and he pulled back, one eyebrow raised.

“No?”

She swung down low in an ungraceful movement, grabbed the bottle, took a sip, held it. He sighed; obviously disappointed. Ass. Why couldn’t’ he be anticipating this? It was gonna be – gonna be hot as hell. Which they were in. Right now. Hee, hot-as-hell-and-hot-in-hell; she chuckled and a bit of the whiskey leaked out her mouth; whoops. That wasn’t so sexy.

To take his mind off of her dribbling, she grabbed his vest and yanked him real close. She forced his mouth open and poured the drink from her mouth into his; her hands on his head to make sure he didn’t buck away and wind up spilling in his lap. Her tongue savored the taste of the liquor in his mouth; it tasted different with Hades than it did with her. He held the liquor for a good minute, and she wondered if maybe it was enough that – maybe he’d understand. Why she drank. Why she wanted him when she drank. Why she drank because she wanted him back, even when she wasn’t drinking.

He swallowed and pulled back; wiped his mouth. She did a good job, not much of it spilled. A couple spots on his shirt; oh well. In this heat, they’d dry.

“I want you,” she said softly, leaning forward and sucklin’ on his earlobe. He wriggled underneath her, visibly uncomfortable; it was one thing for him to touch her in public, whole ‘nother thing for her to touch him in public. He never minded the first, always minded the second, and never once saw it as a double standard. Stupid asshole; beloved asshole, too. “I miss you,” she whispered.

“I’m here,” he said, in his gravel-deep voice; he grabbed her face again, directing her back to another long kiss. She wiggled against his cock; he was getting hard, and she liked that. That…was good. He still wanted her. She liked him wantin’ her. She moved her hand under his waistband, years of practice making it easy to thwart his belt; he kept too much locked away. She wasn’t able to get a full hand around him, too big for that already, but the soft groan in his throat told her he liked her attempt. His hands were wanderin’ now, and she wondered if anyone looked up, saw them like this; would have been a common enough show, long ago. Before she drank so much, before he read the paper cover-to-cover ‘cuz he didn’t want to look at her. She ran a finger down the most sensitive part of ‘im, and was rewarded with a full body shudder that set every nerve in both of them aflame.

“Lover,” he cried out; it was a half-strangled thing, loud and vulnerable; hot as hell. She moved to try to unbutton his pants, get him out in the open when she could get that cock in her, but he denied her, moving his big arms up around hers and pushin’ her hands up on his shoulders. She looked at him, pouting, and he gave her a goofy half-smile, the sort she’d never seen him have for anyone else.

“What the fuck are you–“ she started to say, but then he pulled her closer, one hand under her ass and the other goin’ under her skirt, gently pushing the thin material of her panties aside. Oh. Okay. This she – this she liked. He liked too; made it easier for both of them if he started with his fingers, though today she didn’t think he had to worry much about it tonight. She was wet, already so wet for him; she howled, a wild-cat ready to be mated. “You feel what you do to me, husband?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, breathing heavy. “Oh, yes.” He dove in for another kiss. He was a hungry man, yes, and her, too; his fingers glided into her, two fingers right away and no resistance, fuck, how did he do this to her, barely touching her but making her so wet? His thumb caressed her clit and she mewled, honestly mewled; moving her hips in an age-old rhythm she wanted more of.

“Kiss me, wife,” he muttered; she denied him, her lips going to his ear instead, sucking on his ear-lobe until he made a low groan; the finger at her clit faltered for one second, then pressed harder. She lit a trail of kisses to his big iron jaw and then practically swallowed his tongue. He moaned in response, his hips jutting as his fingers curled deep inside her, curled so hard she saw stars and she wanted him, wanted more than his hands and his stupid mouth, wanted his thick cock sending her right through their big bed and wanted it right the fuck now.

“Fuck me,” she growled. His response was immediate; he picked her up, both hands under her ass. He was always strong, so strong, fuck, he was the earth beneath her feet (literally, sometimes), and she wanted – wanted him. Wanted to touch him, needed to touch him. He wasn’t that sure on his feet when she was kissin’ him—and she plenty kissin’ him—but he managed to get the door to his office open without dropping her. He didn’t bother to close it in a rare moment of prioritizing her over his workspace, taking her hastily past tables filled with every kind of contract through another set of double doors to an old hallway and then crossing into their private chambers, to her bed, his bed; their bed.

“Fuck,” she muttered and he chuckled; he put her down and all but threw himself on top of her, so big, her husband, so big; he was bred by the Titans, and in the bedroom, he looked the part, something older, wilder, than her. He pulled off her dress, let it drop to the floor. Didn’t take off his clothes yet, just swung her back into his lap as he scooted back to their headboard. His hand waved and the door shut. His hand waved and her clothes were folded neatly on her chair. Old man, such an old man, so practical; how did she love him so much?

“I love you,” she muttered; heard him suck in a breath before he reclaimed her lips; whiskey burn nothing compared to his stubble on her chin. He followed her down and his head dipped lower, kissing at neck, then lower still. His tongue lathed at a nipple; she hissed. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he said, head down as he kissed her chest, his mouth right over her heart, and it was a cheesy move but oh, how it made her wet. No more teasin’. She was tired of it.

“Get yer—get your cock in me,” She grunted. She dragged her fingers down his back, wishin’ she knew how to get his clothes off without havin’ to watch. Not that she minded the show. “I want you. Now.”

He smiled and moved her delicately off his lap, sliding her toward his side of the bed and kissin’ her a few more times till she growled in frustration and he backed off. He shrugged off his vest, tossing it down, then his shirt. She ran her hand appreciatively over war-scars older than she was; the wall, they’d called him in the war, and he was still that now, and she hated it, but she loved it, too.

He stood to pull his pants off and she waited, all naked and ready; she laid herself out temptingly, her hand hitting a bottle she’d left on his side of the bed as he undid his fly – he froze. The clink heard 'round the underworld. Shit.

He bent down over her, picked up the empty bottle. His pants, annoyingly, stayed on. What was it she'd had before he’d come over to play a game? She tried to remember. He read the label.

“Absinthe?” He shook his head. “When?” He was quiet, which was worse than when he was angry. Sad Hades didn’t want to fuck her, angry Hades sometimes would. He sat back down on the bed at her side. “This wasn’t here when I left.”

“I dunno,” she sighed. “This morning. I think.” It was easy to lose time in the underworld; at first, it had no light, and she’d felt lost in that. Then, he’d invented lights that he ran every hour, but never got that it was just as bewildering to have eternal day as eternal night. Stupid man. “Wasn’t much left, maybe a drink or two.”

“…It was full before you came back this fall. You’re not leaving for another week.” He turned to her, his face hard as steel; ah, fuck. She curled up on his shoulder, sending him her best fuck-me smolder; he just turned the bottle over in his hands. “Are you so miserable you have to…?”

She groaned into his shoulder. There wasn’t a good answer to that question, cuz she was, and it was his fault, but it wasn’t really him, per se, and it wasn’t really her, either, and it was complicated. She put a hand, suggestively, over his crotch, trying to salvage things. “Can’t we talk about this later?”

“I do not want to fuck a woman who does not wish to share my bed,” he said, and the words came bitter; tart. She felt sick and it wasn’t the booze. He sighed. “I’ll go. Check in on you a bit, make sure you’re not…sick.”

And there he was, the great man turnin’ his back. As always. Love her and leave her, just like she did him. Every damned year.

“Wait,” she said; he turned. His face was neutral, damn him; she didn’t understand it, didn’t understand him. She felt like bawling her eyes out and there he was, face like granite and stone.

He sat on the bed. Wordless. Waiting. Makin’ her make the first move, just like he had, all those years ago, when she'd first asked him for a kiss in mama's garden.

“It ain’t that I don’t want ya.” She held out her arms, felt something blur the corners of her eyes that she ignored. Just – just a bit of liquid. He fell into her at once, his great bulk, and she closed up her hands over him. “It ain’t that at all. You still drive me crazy.” In every sense of the word, but that, too, was a conversation for later. “It’s just…it’s hard, being here, Hades. It hurts.”

“I know.” He folded himself around her; big and bulky and everywhere at once. His lips were on her forehead, sweet and shy, and maybe she did cry a bit, pulling her arms around him. His hard lips kissed those tears away, and she loved him so much she wished this wasn’t so gods damned difficult. His kisses tasted like regret; his voice was smoky with it. “Ain’t fair to you. If I had known all those years ago…”

But, of course, he hadn’t, and, truthfully, she would still be like this even if his bettin’ was better, even if he’d wound up with Poseidon’s grand boat or papa's mountain-retreat. She never liked mountains or seas any better than dirt. She thought they were always going to wind up like this, truthfully, and that was the worst part. She was seasonal. She wasn’t ever good about staying in one place, even if she just wanted to be with this one man. She changed everything she touched, and everything she touched, changed. Blessin' and a curse.

She held him tight and wiggled against him; he’d gone flat on her and she was sad, still wanted him more than anything and now she wouldn’t have it. “I want you,” she mewled, and he just smiled, sad, and tucked her head into his big neck and kissed her forehead, like he could shelter her from anything. She wished he could, but the storm raged all inside her. “Please?”

“Later. When you’ve sobered up a bit.” He rubbed the top of her head with heavy fingers; nothing about him was delicate, she thought, except his stupid feelings. Stupid. They were both so stupid. “Want ya to remember it when I make you come,” he whispered, rubbing harder, a bit of the desire still in his voice. “Want you to remember me when...” He faded off, but she knew what he meant: when she left.

She always did in the springtime and ached for him all through the summer, though he never seemed to realize it. Dumb asshole. But sayin’ that would start a fight, and she was so tired of fighting, so she didn’t say anything. She threw her arms over his neck like a vice and closed her eyes. If she breathed in enough, she could smell him all around her, and wrapped up like this, she could pretend he was more fire than ice.

“Will you stay with me?” She asked, knowing it wasn’t what he’d prefer; he’d rather go work a few hours and pretend like they weren’t drowning in this bed full of sorrow. “I don’t wanna be alone when the high fades.”

It was unusual for her to ask, she knew, and something unknowable on his face shifted, for just a moment. She kissed him, because she didn’t want to see it; couldn’t bear to see him perhaps pity her, or worse, resent her. The worst part was, he kissed her back, and she felt all the love that he had stored up in that big, dumb body for her, and yet, still, he wasn’t within her. Still, the space between them remained. And she still didn’t know, really, how to get past that, because the drink made her tongue quicker but not quick enough and he—he just was himself, all rocks and steel; cold, cold, cold, even warmed up against her body.

“Okay,” he said, quiet, like he knew just how exhausted she was, or maybe he just didn’t want to talk anymore; he pulled the covers over them, big heavy covers they’d had so long they smelled like them both now, a mix of his ashy-soot scent and her floral smell, sickly sweet like rot. No matter how many times she washed them, their scents clung to it, interweaving.

She held tight onto him and breathed deep and felt him all around her, and thought maybe if she closed her eyes and wished real hard, they’d be in the garden all those years ago; could try again. He held her tight and she wondered, for half a boozy second, if maybe he was wishin’ the same.

#hadestown #hades #Persephone #Hades/Persephone #hadestown fanfiction #winters nigh and summers o’er #ace writes fanfiction

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erasethedarkness · 6 years ago

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Sweet, Old Fashioned Notion -Day 2 | Netflix & Chill / Dating App- (Midnight x Reader)

Summary: You weren't one for dating apps, but your friend insisted so incessantly that you caved just to shut them up. By what you'd call dumb luck, you came across a Pro Hero's profile, and then- somehow- matched with her. At first completely skeptical, you were quickly proved wrong and pleasantly surprised by how everything turned out.

Note: This hella got away from me. I had so much fun writing this. I hope you all enjoy the spin I put on Netflix & Chill. ;) Bonus points to whoever can crack what “SVME” stands for.

Theme Song: What’s Love Got to Do With It - Tina Turner (covered by DNCE)

Reader: Gender Neutral

Word Count: 3536

@bnha-valentines

I’ve been taking on a new direction, but I have to say...

It seemed like every decade had its defining dating program. Supposedly it was something that began online all the way back in the 1990s, and then moved to cellphones in apps like Tindr. ‘What the hell does Tindr even mean? And why’d they take out the ‘e’?’ you wondered as you watched the installation bar go from empty to full in a matter of seconds. Dating apps kept the trend of omitting letters, and the hot new one was SVME- supposedly some pretty big heroes were even using it. It didn’t take long for it to spread like wildfire, and now it seemed like everyone was on it. Hell, you were about to be on it- and that was saying a lot, since you had absolutely zero interest in something like SVME.

“Okay, so now you have to make a profile- pick the pictures of you that you like best! And write something fun and like.. Mysterious. Or sexy! Or-”

“This sounds like way more work than it’s worth,” you grumbled. Your friend rolled their eyes and snatched your phone from you.

“Fine, give it here- I’ll make your profile for you. We’re gonna get you soooo many matches!”

You groaned, looking anything but pleased by the fact that you let yourself get dragged into this. Suddenly, the overly enthusiastic person you called a friend shrieked in delight.

“(Y/N), LOOK! MATCHES!” They leaned over to you and showed you your phone. You stared blankly at it.

“That’s.. Nice, I guess?” There was still absolutely no interest in your voice. “Hey- wait- how do you even get matches?!”

“Well… you click this button to show you’re interested, and if they click it on you, then you two match and can start talking!”

“Right… ...and.. what’s your criteria for showing interest in people while you pretend to be me?”

“Oh, I’m just picking interested for everyone! We’re going for maximum matches here!” they cackled. You groaned again at their response and snatched your phone back, looking at the person on your screen. Your breath caught in your chest while your friend squealed again. “(Y/N)!!! LOOK! A HERO!!! EEEEEE!! You have to pick interested. Do it. Doooo it. Let’s see if you match with her!”

“This is the last one and we’re done, okay? I don’t want my phone going off with people I’ve never met trying to get into my pants.”

“Yeah, yeah, but what if she wants to get into your pants?”

“Not happening,” you quickly snapped back- both implying that you weren’t going to cave, but also that it was completely unlikely.

Days passed and you forgot about the app. It wasn’t on the main page of your phone and you turned off push notifications after your friend finally left you alone. You were about to check reviews for a movie when you happened to see that there was an exclamation point on the corner of SVME. Curiosity got the better of you, and you clicked the heart-shaped shield icon. As expected, there was a slew of random messages asking if you were “DTF,” whatever that meant. There were suggestive pictures, as well as lewd writings that you absolutely did not ask for, and everything was as disappointing and unappealing as you anticipated it would be.

You were just about to close the app when a banner popped up, showing that you got another message. The small icon was unmistakable- it was the hero. Even from the small picture, her dark hair captured the essence of her hero name: borderline black, with the gentle coolness of a royal, blue-based purple. Disbelief froze you, halting your walk as you stared at your phone. With skeptical hesistence, you clicked on the message. It was probably just a bot, right? A scam? Or someone pretending to be her?

“Well, hello there, lovely.~ I must say, your negligence has caught my eye. You’re the only match I’ve had who hasn’t flooded me with messages, so now I’m intrigued.~ Are you even real, (Y/N)? Or are you just part of this poor girl’s imagination?”

The screen darkened as it went to sleep since all you could do was stare at the message, reading it a few times over until it wasn’t showing anymore. Your hand dropped to your side as you started walking again. How in the world were you supposed to respond to that? Could you even be sure that it was really her? It was public knowledge that there were heros of all levels of fame and recognition on SVME but… you never expected to match with one- you didn’t even want to be on this app. Yet, there was a part of you that felt like you should at least respond to this message. Damn all the other ones! You didn’t care; you weren’t “DTF” or interested in their photos. There was nothing of real quality in those messages to you. But this one seemed different, and it honestly wasn’t because she was a hero.

When you finally had the courage and words to respond, you were met with radio silence for a few hours, leading you to assume it was all a ruse. You even turned notifications back on for this, and still got nothing. It wasn’t until you were already asleep that the haptics of your phone jarringly woke you up- the vibrations against the wood shattering the peaceful silence of your bedroom.

“Sorry to get back to you during peak witching hours, but things got a little hectic. Hero work doesn’t always submit to a schedule… but maybe we could get something else to? ;) ”

Oh, no. Part of you sincerely hoped that she wasn’t just looking for a hookup, but maybe she was. That wasn’t your style, but truth be told, it wouldn’t surprise you if it was hers and there was no fault in that. You sent a sleepy reply that you would have forgotten by morning it if wasn’t for the fact that she promptly responded back and seemed thrilled.

“Oh, you are just too darling! Are you normally up this late? I could keep you up and make it worth your while.~”

Now, it must have been because you were still half asleep, but your snark factor was uncensored. You sarcastically took her up on this, and when she asked where to meet you, you gave her a nearby address that you could see from your window.

“That’s not far from my agency! If things go well, I wouldn’t mind making a habit out of this, cutie. I’ll be there in 15- don’t keep me waiting; I’ll punish you if you do.”

You scoffed, not buying much into it. Still, you got out of bed, washed your face and made the most out of the 15 minutes she gave you to get somewhat presentable- as presentable as you could be at 02:00 and with three hours of sleep. When you were changed and more awake, you looked out your window and nearly had a heart attack. Walking into view was a woman taller than your average Japanese lady. Her dark hair was pulled back into a spiky ponytail as she glanced down at her phone, the soft glow gleaming off her signature red and horned glasses. Her sweater dress was relaxed, neckline off-center and hanging off one of her shoulders. It was no secret that she shamelessly showed a lot of skin- and while most took it at erotic face value, you greatly respected her for it. The amount of confidence it must have taken to be her would have crushed anyone else, yet she bore it all with a powerful, fun, and exciting personality.

Your phone buzzed and you looked down at it, seeing a message from the hero you previously doubted was really talking to you. There was no mistaking it now though, as you gazed at her from your window and read that she was arriving- and brought presents. With a deep breath, you grounded yourself in the moment and situation you put yourself in, bracing yourself for whatever was to come once you invited her into your apartment. You went down to meet her, drawing her eyes as you opened the main entrance of your building. She smiled widely and unabashedly, waving to you, the glow of her phone creating a curving trail of light from her gesture. Returning her smile and wave, you waited for her at the door, the excitement of actually meeting her and not being duped by a bot or a scammer waking you up and giving you renewed energy- at least for the time being.

“You’re way cuter in person, (Y/N), I could just eat you up,” she purred. The disbelief at this whole chain of events was still at the forefront of your mind, inhibiting your blush as you remained somewhat guarded.

“Am I? I’ll have to chide my friend for picking less than accurate pictures of me then,” you joked with a smirk. With an open and welcoming sweep of your hand, you invited her into the complex. The light from inside illuminated her face for you to plainly see the delight in her expression at your playful severity.

“You left a friend in charge of your profile? My, that’s so daring and bold of you,” the hero giggled, preceding you into your apartment as you opened the door for her. “And you’re so chivalrous! How’s a girl supposed to resist your charm?~”

Her playfulness made you laugh, but the sound was unexpected to her and she actually looked a bit thrown off at first. Seeing her confusion, you chuckled a bit and apologized. “I’m sorry, but if basic respect and manners are chivalrous, then you’ve been surrounded by nothing but base humanity, Midnight.”

In the warm light of your apartment, her smile somehow seemed soft and sincere. Her lips weren’t pulled back as tightly, and it naturally fell away as she took off her boots. “That seems to be where working the hero industry puts a person, doesn’t it? Around the debased, the depraved, and the deviant.” The last word came with a smirk, as if she was trying to cover up that overlookable moment of openness with her characteristic sultriness.

“I would disagree, but… well, I’m not a pro-hero, so what would I know?” You two moved from the entrance of your apartment to the living room. It was a modest apartment- nothing to gloat about, but nothing to be ashamed of either. Midnight placed the bag she brought with her on your coffee table before falling back into your couch with a happy sigh, delighted to be off her feet and reclining. You sat down next to her with a respectable distance and leaving her untouched, but giving her the full breadth of your attention.

“Really now? Disagreeing with a hero- that’s gutsy… and quite a turn on,” she chuckled nonchalantly, turning slightly so that she could face you, her knees coming up onto the couch as she tucked her legs underneath her and rested her arm on the back of your furniture. “Enlighten me, cutie. What do you know?”

You shifted your weight to engage in the conversation with her. “Well, you’re right, it’s obvious that your line of work as a hero puts you in contact with villains, criminals, and the like- but it also keeps you involved with others who share the same ideals and goals as you, doesn’t it? Even though heroes are mostly stand-alone, you’ve worked with some of the greatest, and made yourself one of them as well. I remember when you stopped Suicide Bomb years ago, and that’s just one of many highlights and tributes to your skill.” Realizing you were going off and sounding like an over-eager fan, you blushed slightly and looked away from her- only making her smile.

“Sorry. I hope that didn’t come off as creepy or something. I’m sure a lot of people try to flatter you.

But… I’m just trying to say you’re not only surrounded by the ‘debased, depraved, and deviant’ or by the heroes they juxtapose. You’re a U.A. teacher, too, which means you’re also surrounded by students with good hearts and goals in mind, and other instructors and heroes who want to help the next generation of professionals succeed. You're surrounded in pure and youthful ambition and optimism when you're at U.A. So there’s more around you than just that dark and murky part of heroics.”

Bringing your hand to the back of your neck, you rubbed it, feeling as if you’d said too much at this point. Your eyes lowered and avoided hers.

“... And what am I surrounded by right here?” she asked with a gentle yet probing curiosity. “It doesn't seem like raging hormones or lust, or even the feigned prestige of bragging rights. So what is it that your presence offers and seeks in mine?”

The question stumped you, because you honestly had no idea. You weren’t on SVME because you were looking for a partner or friends with benefits- you were hardly on there at all- hell, it wasn’t even your idea to begin with. And what did you possibly have to offer a hero who probably had everything she could ever want? A flock of fans, suitors, good looks, talent, and the means for a comfortable life? You closed your eyes and leaned back into the couch, sighing once- deeply and pensively as you thought. When you didn’t answer readily, you felt a shift in weight on the couch, and then her head against your shoulder. Your eyes half opened, glancing downing at the top of her head, taking in the way her hair bent and curled against her shoulders and neck, pushed around in its ponytail as she rested against you and the cushions.

For some reason, it felt like it’d be natural- comfortable, even- for you to tilt your head and rest your cheek against her hair, especially since you did it without even processing it as a thought. You felt her cheek move as her lips curled into what you hoped was a smile.

“If I’m honest, I wasn’t seeking anything other than satisfying my curiosity. I didn’t believe I was actually talking to you, you know? I expected someone or some program to be posing as you.” At first, your words were soft and even a bit serious, but at the end of your confession, you laughed and lifted your head to look at her with a smile. “I didn’t think about what would happen if you actually showed up.”

Midnight lifted her head, brilliantly blue eyes gazing into yours while a grin kissed her lips.

“Well, now that you’ve caught me in your trap…” she began giving you bedroom eyes, her voice a whisper that carried her lust, “what are you going to do to me?~”

You grinned with a chortle, reclining again and gazing at at her with a confidence she couldn’t resist. She crawled over on top of you and stared into your eyes, picking her next move carefully, and then gave you an uncharacteristically sweet smile as she laid down and rested her head against your chest. Was it that obvious that you had no intention of doing that with her tonight? And was she really okay with it?

“Let me show you what I can surround you with, Midnight, and what my presence can offer,” you whispered to her, bringing your hand up to brush through her hair with an affection that not only surprised her, but you as well. “From the way you were quick to fall onto the couch, you must be exhausted. What kind of scenes relax you?” Fingertips brushed through her hair, down her neck, and against her back as you closed your eyes again, listening to her voice as she gave a few examples of different scenes and scenarios that she found relaxing or calmingly pleasurable. You just barely felt the way her jaw moved as she spoke, her voice as soft as yours, the seduction from it quelled. It was strangely soothing, and as silence settled between you two, you found yourself wanting to hear more of it.

“Will you close your eyes for me?” you asked her. She nodded, and you believed her, not bothering to check. “Please wait for me to let you know when to open them again, okay?” Once again, she nodded.

Slowly the savory scent of grilled chicken, squid, fish, and other foods began to mix with the sweetness of caramel, chocolate, and crepes. It seemed to seep in from the walls around you, as did the soft noise of chattering voices, beckoning vendors, and childish laughter, all escorted by lively music. You took a deep breath, your chest rising with Midnight’s head on it, feeling her wiggle a bit on top of you, expressing her curiosity at the smells and sounds that began to occupy your apartment without saying a single word. Warmth beyond your bodies blossomed in the living room, as if you could feel the heat from the vendors’ grills, or perhaps the would-be bodies of the voices that danced around your ears. When you opened your eyes, a satisfied smile was on your lips, and your hand dared to caress her face, tucking her bangs behind her ear and then following her jawline to her chin only to retrace the path and return to her back.

“All set.”

The heroine in your arms gasped and immediately sat up when she opened her eyes, looking around her in awe. Your living room had been completely transformed in the few minutes of quiet you two shared, embraced as if you were long-time lovers. A clear night sky replaced your ceiling, dotted with hanging paper lanterns, and rows of stalls took over two of your walls that faced each other. The other walls disappeared altogether, as yukuta-clad patrons surrounded you both, crowding around food and games and walking into the distance. Midnight reached her hand out to brush the sleeve of a passerby, and it flickered with holographic static before stabilizing again. Seeing her enraptured expression captivated you. She looked so happy, and it was different than that hedonistic joy she so often wore on her face.

Once you were convinced she was comfortable with the illusion, the scene slowly began to change in front of her eyes, as if you pressed “play” and allowed the projection to continue beyond a single moment. It was like being immersed in a virtual reality- you were walking through a festival together as you two laid on the couch. But the music, the warmth, the smells- it all made it so much more convincing than any game could. You even felt a breeze from time to time. And even though you couldn't partake in the food and the games, it was enough of an experience just to walk through the streets. What you created for her was a mix of memories and imagination. The festival was reminiscent of ones you’d attended and spliced together with ones you’ve watched and seen in movies and the news.

“Hey, (Y/N), I almost forgot-” she caught your attention, and the events around you paused. You both sat up as she reached for the bag from earlier. “I brought snacks.~” From it, Midnight pulled out a box of dango. “Now we can really make this feel like a festival date,” she purred, making you blush in the process. Scooting over to her, you smiled as your arm fell around her shoulders, holding her as the festival continued, this time enjoying the same sweets others were carrying around. Instead of handing you your own skewer, the hero held the stick of dumplings up to your mouth, and you couldn’t resist her, eating the little ball of dessert she fed you.

“Midnight?”

“It’s Nemuri to you.~” She nuzzled you as you skipped straight to a first name basis.

“... Nemuri,” you corrected yourself with a fond smile, pausing to appreciate how lovely it felt on your tongue and lips. “May I take you on a proper festival date?” There was no doubt that this was a pleasant time, but your quirk was no replacement for the real thing. You two shared a gaze for a moment before she grinned.

“No.”

Your heart sharply sunk.

“I’m going to take you out on one. You’ve be so good after all.” The huskiness returned to her voice, and this time, it only made you smile broader than you had before around her. She held up another dango to your lips, and as you leaned forward to take it, she pulled the stick away and kissed you as soon as your mouth closed on a bite of air. The morning didn’t go any farther than sharing soft kisses and endearing cuddles, and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep on the couch, holding Nemuri close to you as the festival illusion gave way to sweet dreams instead.

...I’ve been thinking of my own protection; it scares me to feel this way.

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kpopchangedme · 6 years ago

Text

Starboy II: Out of your League

#TB to your first mistake; the night you met Jaebum and asked him to take you home, way back in September.

Mini-Masterlist M A S T E R L I ST

Protagonists: Im Jaebum & You

Word Count: 3k

Genre: SFW – University!au – Baseball!Au – Romance – *Hook Ups* – *Socially offensive language* – Mini-Series

Lysandre’s note: FRET NOT! IT’S HERE ANON! 💗

You nod along to whatever the man-with-the-man-bun is saying; he’s hot but obnoxious. Feeling the buzz of the alcohol through your veins, you let your eyes survey the crowd of prospects at the welcoming Sport’s Dep party. Makayla and your other friends all disappeared one by one with dates, you wish at least one was still there to coach you on men.

Do and do not.

You’re certain your interlocutor is a definite do not. He’s handsome, but the fact that he’s been pestering you with Rick and Morty references is a major turn off. He’s a Frat boy, the type to start calling his dick pickle Rick as soon as his pants are off and that’d be a huge – or small, let’s be realistic – let down. You take a sip of the beer you brought over, amused by your train of thoughts.

Feeling observed, you search the crowd for familiar faces. That’s when you spot them: three members of the baseball team. They’re standing in a corner of the living room, across the dance floor, in deep conversation. One is named Choi Youngjae, the middle one is a stranger and the last one is Kim Yugyeom. You kind of recognize them since the school’s med clinic you work at has a tight relationship with the teams. Also, they’re always wearing their team’s jacket, probably just to show off and get girls.

It’s quite ironical, since baseball is probably the least sexy sport ever. Still, sportsmen are perfect for a casual one-night stand, perfect for a commitment-phobic like you. This is what you’re out looking for tonight a hook-up. You let your friends convinced you this was a good idea because you needed a quick fix. Now, you just need to choose one of those baseball guys, they’d be perfect since you don’t even want a callback...

You start with studying Yugyeom as a potential; the youngest addition to the team. Totally ignoring the Rick and Morty guy still trying to bore you to bed, you detail the man-boy with an expert gaze; sharp eyes, long legs, strong hands. Not bad, he could do just fine. He is quite handsome up close, you know because you’re his rehabilitation practitioner. He injured his wrist at practice last week. It looks like you’ll have to cover for Dr. Tran at the clinic again this year, but you don’t mind if his patients are as cute as this.

You gave the young player exercises to fortify his wrist and you’re supposed to meet weekly as a medical follow-up for a few months. Realizing this you blush heavily, you aren’t a Doctor though; there isn’t technically anything inappropriate about a kinesiologist relationship with a patient. You hold no real authority over Yugyeom, still, you cringe remembering he’s only twenty-one years old.

You need good sex – a guy more your age would probably be a safer bet.

Moving your evaluating gaze to the two other men next to him, a giggle escapes you. There is something ever so fulfilling in the idea of being the hunter tonight. Your friends were right, you should stop asking yourself too many questions and just go for it. You haven’t had sex in over a year and no mid-twenties commitment-phobic should fear one night stands.

No strings, no questions, no small talk.

Those were Makayla’s rules. Just pure filthy sex.

“Everything a’ight?” The man next to you stops his monologue, startled by your impromptu giggle. Thankfully, a simple nod is enough to start him again and you’re glad to resume your analysis of the jocks at the other side of the room.

The second player to be considered, you only know by name; Choi Youngjae.

He was the cute guy in your Human Visceral Anatomy class last year. He was memorable; he threw up when the class dissected a human dead body. You still remember how he changed colours when the teacher began to cut the hard skin of the torso with the scalpel. People teased him after that, but he didn’t drop out, ranking second-best in the class – after you – at the end of the semester. Right, determination and a certain love of challenge are probably useful qualities in a lover.

That’s it – he’d do – Let’s have meaningless sex, Choi Youngjae. Downing your beer, you fish for a new one in your purse and open it right away.

No strings. No questions. No small talk.

You start to walk towards the baseball trio with fake confidence, heartlessly leaving the Rick and Morty fan hanging in a middle of a sentence.

You can do it, y/n! You can have sex with strangers too… A stranger… Not strangerS. Oh my god, sex with one guy at a time! It’s enough for a first one-night stand experience, right? It’s a proposition between two consenting adults, there’s nothing to be ashamed of... You can do it! Fighting your own anxiety, you continue to walk forward with an almost convincing determination.

Just as you are getting close enough to capture the attention of the players, a petite silhouette appears out of nowhere, wraps her arms around your target’s waist and walks away with him.

Abort mission, girlfriend alert. ABORT.

You stop dead in your tracks but halfway through turning around, Yugyeom calls you out since you’re in the middle of the place and were obviously heading towards them. “Hey! Miss y/n!”

Wincing, you face him with a bright fake smile. “Hiiiii, Yugyeom! Please, call me y/n, just like everyone else.”

“Jaebum, this is y/n, she’s studying Kinesiology, she helps me with my wrist! That’s Jaebum, he’s on the baseball team too.” Obviously.

The young man smiles, vaguely gesturing the man standing next to him – the third one you haven’t taken the time to consider as a potential lover and...

Holy shit.

That guy is drop-dead gorgeous. Way out of your league. Since you spend several seconds staring, he raises an eyebrow, entertained.

“Hi, y/n”, your name rolls off his tongue like he knows you, so wrongly it feels right, “thanks for taking good care of our youngest.” He nods, holding your gaze too intensely.

“Hi-i, it’s nothing – H-How’s the wrist?” Highly intimidated, you turn your attention back to Yuygeom, looking at his hands only to find them wrapped around a red cup. “Are you drinking?” You shake your head, disapproving. “Athletes shouldn’t get drunk!”

The man-boy drops his eyes, blushing at your scolding, but his teammate only bursts out laughing. “Did you actually bring your own beer to a Uni party?” He asks, and you turn to face him, surprised by his playful tone.

Everything about that Jaebum’s face is knifelike; his eyes, nose, chin. You would’ve assumed his personality to be as intimidating as his features. When you don’t answer, he taps the glass of the beer in your right hand to illustrate his point, offering you a dangerously perfect smile. He’s enjoying this random interaction a little too much, as though he’s interested in an actual answer.

Oh my god, is that guy flirting with me?

“Y-yes, it’s safer”, you gulp, mind turning to Jell-o and forgetting all about your sexy plans. You sound so dumb and boring, exposing that a party like this isn’t your crowd at all. You need to change the subject asap. “Anyway guys, you shouldn't drink. Don’t you have a game in two days?”

“Yes, we’re on water actually!” Yugyeom pouts cutely, sorry about it as he shows you what’s in his cup. “Besides, let’s be real, I probably won’t even get to pla–”

“Gyeom?” His teammate cuts him off, leaning against the wall behind him nonchalantly. You’re hyper-conscious his eyes haven’t left your face yet and he doesn’t even look to Yugyeom as he speaks. You feel seen. You’re sure the room wasn’t that warm 2 minutes prior.

“Yes, JB?”

“You said you wanted to dance, go have fun. Remember, the curfew?”

You watch in awe as the younger player agrees and obeys his friend. He promises to see you at his next appointment and says goodbye, disappearing in the crowd in the blink of an eye. Did Jaebum get rid of him to be left alone with you? Is it as easy as this for athletes to get girls? – Oh right, you’re here to hook up too. You study the man in front of you anew while drinking your beer slowly, he probably has meaningless sex very often. He looks way too relaxed about this smooth and flirty leave us alone move.

“So, are you coming to our game on Sunday?” When you shake your head, he lets out a low chuckle and rubs his nape. “All that talk about drinking and you’re not even coming to see me play?”

See him play. You stare, blinking dumbly as he bites his lower lip, hopeful. He is flirting – the way out of your league guy is flirting – Holy shit, no one prepared you for that.

“W-what’s your favourite position?” Shit shit shit, too forward, too raw. Why are you so shitty at this? Why can’t you be normal with guys for once? No wonder your last relationship was forever ago and was so damn messy.

God, you hate yourself. You wish the ground would open and swallow you whole. The baseball player frowns confused as you’re filled with instant regrets and dread. That’s probably not how people insinuate to strangers that they want to have sex with them. Even animals have more complicated mating rituals. You’re about to run away or slap yourself across the face when he answers your horrible pun attempt.

“Favourite? I only have one, clearly, you’re not following our team.”

Before you can feel embarrassed about being called out on that, Jaebum laughs, flashing perfectly white teeth, the sound weirdly endearing. You’re not sure if he didn’t get your appalling sexual innuendo or if he’s mercifully choosing to ignore it.

“I’m the pitcher.”

“Oh! I know about baseball pitchers… T-Throwing and stuff…” He chuckles cutely at your awkwardness and you wash your shame down with another gulp of beer. “I mean, I know from a medical point of view. It’s straining...” You raise your closed fist, not noticing how Jaebum becomes more uncomfortable every time you enumerate common injury with a finger: “An overused arm can often cause a labral tear; rotator cuff injury; shoulder instability; thrower’s elbow; UCL sprai–”

“Okay, stop! I get it.” He stops you, raising both hands to lower yours in short panic. “I’d rather we don’t talk about that... It’s bad luck!”

“S-Sorry...” You falter, watching his hands disappear as soon as you shut up. Shit, you always forget about how superstitious athletes can be.

“It’s fine...” He grins at your guilty expression, trying to ease you. “So, you know about pitching injuries, but nothing about me? I’m deeply hurt.” When he pauses, it’s to stare at you again, gaze heavy, and your cheeks burn even more. You suddenly feel like you should know everything about that guy, like you’re supposed to know him.

“Sorry. Despite my work, I don’t really follow any Uni’ teams.” It’s true, you only knew about their baseball game in two days because your co-worker at the clinic is a fanatic. You’re too busy with your studies and although you wouldn’t say that to Jaebum’s face, there’s virtually no sport quite as boring as baseball to you.

“It’s alright, Gyeom said you’re in kinesiology?” He nods pensively, but you barely hear, lost because you’re gawking at him. Suddenly, you’re remembering you came to this party for one peculiar reason and just thinking about it makes you even more anxious. And that guy...

There’s something freakish about how symmetrical he is, no human should look this perfect. You gulp, either you make a move right now or find another – easier – target already. It isn’t late yet, but you planned on working early at the clinic tomorrow.

“It’s odd, I really thought you were in literature or something from the Art Dep!” Since you still haven’t said anything back, Jaebum fills the growing awkward silence between you two.

His words take you by surprise once more. Litterature, why? Do you look like a bookworm tonight? Surely not, you wore one of Makayla’s outfit. You don’t take upon yourself to ask for his reasons aloud, distracted again, by the way, his pink tongue darts through his parted lips. You must look so damn stupid, you need to say something, anything.

Make a move or move on.

Jaebum speaks again, apparently not appalled by your mutism. “It’s just… I hadn’t seen you on this side of campus before tonight. Except for Baseball, my Minor actually is–”

“Let’s go elsewhere.” You cut him off, finally opening your mouth. You need to act before you change your mind and end up going back home alone. “Don’t you want to get out of here with me?” Jaebum pushes himself off the wall, startled you got your voice back.

Less to no small talk was one of the hookups golden rules when the girls coached you earlier. You’re not here to make friends and learn about that guy, that’d be dangerous.

“Hum – Sure, is it because of that soccer douche?” Jaebum turns to the crowd of drunk students stumbling across the living room, eyes stopping on the Rick and Morty dude who’s glaring at you two. Apparently, he spotted you talking with him earlier. “Do you wanna talk outside?”

“N-No, I meant els–” “AH, STARBOY! That’s you, ain’t it?!” Before you can explain what exactly you were proposing, a tall stranger appears out of nowhere, slapping Jaebum’s right shoulder. The pitcher winces at the hit, offering you a somewhat embarrassed look as you stare, bewildered. “Wanna play beer pong? HEY EVERYBODY! STARBOY IS GONNA THROW FOR ME NEXT RO-”

“No thanks!” Interrupting, Jaebum naturally grabs your hand, pulling you behind him towards the exit and your heart rate accelerates. “We were going to get some fresh air!” He yells back at the man above his shoulders, ignoring the fact the small crowd around was already cheering at the announcement.

When you’re outside he stops on the house’ porch to face you.

“Jeez, that was a close call, I suck at beer pong!” You laugh, and Jaebum chuckles. dropping his head to stare at his feet, strangely flustered.

“Who’s Starboy?”

“Don’t call me that – It sounds weird coming from your mouth.” He pulls a face, finally releasing your hand and you wish he didn’t. “See? everyone knows me but you! You’re lucky I’m not offended...” He leans in closer, chest grazing yours, as if about to kiss you. The passing coyness completely disappeared from his eyes.

“R-Right, University sports stars and their gigantic egos. Your reputation precedes you!”

You shiver in the night breeze, looking up at him, it has more to do with his proximity than September’s cool weather. Still, Jaebum shrugs off his baseball jacket instinctively, wrapping it around you. He only chuckles at your attempted teasing, not even bothering to defend his kind. Your hook-up resolution wavers for a second, even if he seems close to making a move on you himself. Even though he’s a Baseball player, Jaebum seems too sweet for this kind of thing.

“Sorry”, you apologize for the umpteenth time, softening, “I’m just–”

“It’s alright, there’s Jaebum and their Starboy, ya know… They’re like… Very, very different guys, but we ‘sports stars’ are used to the reputation – Listen, I know you wanted to get out, but this isn’t a better spot if you’re freezing.”

His hands find your arms to rub some warmth to them through the fabric. Your whole body is afire at his touch, but he seems oblivious to that.

“We should probably go back inside, I can keep the soccer douche away if he’s annoying you.”

“When I said we should go elsewhere, I didn’t mean outside…” You take a deep breath, finding some courage in the fresh air.

Makayla said no man would ever refuse your proposition; you can do this. Even if he’s intimidatingly handsome and kinda caring, Jaebum’s still a player and you know too well how athletes are with women.

Didn’t he just admit to his own reputation?

“I meant somewhere more private...”

It takes a few seconds for him to register what you’re asking. You don’t doubt he’s used to girls throwing themselves at him but then again, they probably aren’t as straightforward. Perhaps they flirt until he decides to bed them, not the other way around. At first, his expression turns blank, then to surprise and finally, incredibility.

“Like – private private?”, his lips part in disbelief, “Us. N-Now?” But what he probably really means is – already.

Your mouth dries, and your stomach drops from embarrassment, you need to get laid, but maybe not at the price of your dignity.

“You don’t want to... Then nevermind.”

Oh my God. You have misread him, he isn’t interested at all. He just made polite conversation most probably since you were all alone and Yugyeom wanted to dance. You bite your cheek, turning around to go die somewhere in a ditch. There’s probably still an easier target inside, but you don’t want to go through all that again.

“Wait!” You freeze, staring down in awe at his hand wrapped around your forearm. You don’t move since you’re too nervous to meet his eyes. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to! You’re a very curious girl, that’s all.” You look up, shocked. Curious, is that good? Does that mean yes?

“Oh–”, you clear your throat, “Ugh, I mean good... Uuuum, your place or mine?”

Jaebum laughs so you don’t notice how uneasy he is, eyes creasing and disappearing. He pauses to rub the back of his nape before taking your hand in his again.

“My bedroom is at the sports dorm, no one will be back before the midnight curfew...”

You smile, heart pounding. “Let’s go then…”

Makayla was right, getting a guy to bed is easier than you thought, even someone that’s way out of your league.

Mini-Masterlist M A S T E R L I ST

#beommienet #JB GOT7 #Im Jaebum #GOT7 Fanfiction #Im Jaebum Scenarios #JB Fluff #JB Imagines #JB Fanfiction #Jaebum Fanfiction #GOT7 Imagines #GOT7 Fluff #GOT7 Scenarios #JB Scenarios #Jaebum imagines #why do i suck so bad with tags?#ugh #this shit is always the worst part #GOT7 Fanfic #Starboy

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