#updated because as i closed my eyes to go to bed i remEMBERED THE AUDIO ONLY LIVESTREAM THAT WAS INSANITY!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

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realityshiftingandblogging · 4 years ago

Text

Reality Shifting Methods

💕 I'll try to update them, please excuse any grammar mistakes 💕

Visual Methods

The Estelle Method - First collect a playlist or song that reminds you of your DR and something that you can dance to. It can also be an ambience! (For example a ballroom ambience with a soft melody playing in the back.) Then lay down in a starfish position (or any position that you feel comfortable in). Imagine yourself dancing with someone; it can be your friend, an s/o, a family member, a stranger, your enemy, etc. When the song is done imagine the person taking you to a door/hallway/portal/etc and saying "it's time to go home." Walk through it and say your affirmations until you feel like you're there (though some say to affirm and visualize "falling.") Once you feel like you're there open your eyes. (If you are going with the "falling" expectation then wait until you're done falling, and it's black, to open your eyes.)

Staircase Method - Imagine yourself climbing a staircase. When you arrive at the top there will be a mirror where you look at yourself. Observe that version of yourself for a while and when you're ready look behind you to see any person from your DR. Imagine them asking you "are you ready to go home?" Say "yes" and follow them to a door behind them that goes to your DR. Then go to bed and you should be there when you wake up!

Raven Method - Be sure you're pretty sleepy or halfway tired when using this method. Get a subliminal or playlist ready and then laydown on your back in a starfish position. Slowly count down from 100 while you think of your DR. After you're done counting you can visualize a scene from your DR and then go to bed. You should wake up in your DR!

The Heartbeat Method - (Not recommended for those who have anxiety listening to heartbeats or have misophonia. But you can listen to them if you are 100% it won't trigger any phobias, anxiety, or strong emotions. I can't stop you if you want to despite it <3) Have a heartbeat audio ready and you can place it under your pillow for a more realistic effect. Close your eyes and imagine that you're sleeping on your desired person. When the video is done, imagine that they wake you up then they say "(your name here) it's time to go home." Visualize that they lead you to your rooms door and start affirming as they lead you. Keep affirming until you feel like you're falling. Once you're done falling/land on the ground open your eyes.

Elevator Method - Visualize that you're entering an elevator. Imagine the elevator is going up and try to feel that your energy is going up as well. Once you have reached your floor you can imagine your DR self being in the room you went in. Imagine/visualize your consciousness into theirs and then fall asleep. You should wake up there.

Train Method - Imagine yourself going into a train. (You can play a train ambience with this.) Pick a seat and think about your DR, take as much time as needed, and during this just feel/visualize like the train is moving. When you're ready, imagine that the train has come to a halt and step out of the train and into your DR bedroom (or anywhere in your DR if that makes you comfortable) and affirm that you have shifted. You can imagine that you slept in your DR bedroom if you want, or open your eyes if you believe that you have shifted.

Alice In Wonderland Method - Imagine yourself sitting or leaning against a tree and then you see a sign of your DR (for example a dr friend, your s/o, a pet, etc) and start chasing it. Chase them until you see them jump down a bunny hole. Jump after them and at the bottom you’ll see a table with a key on it. Pick up the key and open the door. On the other side of the door should be your DR. Go in and close the door behind you. You can affirm if you wish or just go to bed (or both!). When you wake up you should be there <3

The Rope Method - Relax your body and meditate beforehand. Imagine an energy around you and really focus on it. Then start visualizing your DR and affirming. When you start to see white or flashing lights, imagine going up a rope that goes to your DR. Once you’ve gotten to the top, imagine there’s a portal and walk through it. It is recommended to imagine your DR self sleeping in the room you just walked into and transfer your consciousness into theirs (by that, imagine that you are now them). Go to sleep and you should wake up in your DR <3.

The Eye Method - Lightly rub your eyes and stop when you start seeing little shapes (and please remember to keep your eyes closed.) Start by repeating your affirmations and imagine that the shapes will form into shapes of your DR (like furniture in a room.) Open your eyes when you feel like you have shifted. It is also recommended that you do this with other methods.

Coin Method - Lay in any position you find comfortable. Visualize that you are “opening your eyes,” getting up, and then walking to the door in your room. Visualize that you’re now opening that door and you walked into a white room. Walk into the whiteness and imagine that there’s a person from your DR in there in front of a new door. Imagine that they are flipping a coin and ask them to flip the coin. (Similar to a bet.) If it lands on heads, you shift. If it lands on tails, you don’t. Imagine that they flip the coin and it lands on heads. Then they lead you to the door and you walk into your DR. You can either open your eyes or fall asleep!

Mirror Method - Get a subliminal ready and find a comfortable position. Close your eyes and imagine you’re in a room with a mirror and face it. In the reflection imagine your DR/WR/TR/etc self. Place your hand on the mirror and observe it and slowly step into the mirror. Once you’re on the other side you’re now your DR self. You should see a hallway with a door at the end and walk to it. You can affirm while you walk or open the door. Open the door and walk into the bright light on the other side of the door and try to “feel” an energy. Continue to affirm and once you feel like you have shifted then open your eyes and you should be there!

Piano Method - Play any subliminal you want and then find a comfortable position. Imagine that you’re in a big room with many people around, and you’re about to take the center of attention. Everyone stops their chatter to focus on you. Walk down the hall and play the piano with any song you decide. Focus on playing the piano and visualize as much as you can, try to use each of your senses if possible. When you finish, take a bow and leave the room to a corridor with a door or doors. Go through any that catches your attention. As soon as you walk through any person of your choosing tells you “welcome home” as you walk through. Try to imagine different scenes as you affirm. Then go to sleep and you should wake up there or open your eyes if you feel like you’ve shifted.

Ceiling Method - Put on any sub of your choosing and find a comfortable position. Try to lay on your back because you need to look at the ceiling for this. Now look at the ceiling, keep your eyes open, and start daydreaming about your DR. If you can, use your senses like smell and hearing, and try adding emotion. Now you can let your mind wander about your CR and take as much time as you want with this. Keep your eyes open and try to unfocus them. While doing that or after that try to imagine that the ceiling moving away from you. Visualize your DR, really anything about it, and affirm to yourself. You can either fall asleep or try to affirm until you feel like you’ve shifted and then open your eyes!

Sunni Method - Play your subliminal of your choice and find a comfortable position. Close your eyes and try to imagine yourself in your DR. Try to ask yourself (or affirm) what you hear, smell, feel, and taste. Try to include every detail. Then visualize a scene in your DR. Repeat the scene over and over until you fall asleep and you should wake up there.

(I think there’s more to this method but I seriously can’t find it and I had to go off of my memory.)

Non-Visual Methods

3,6,9 Method - You can use this method to manifest your shift. First you should write something you want three times (Ex: Shifting). Then write your intention six times (Ex: I shifted, I have shifted, I will shift, etc). Then write the action of what you want to happen (Ex: I have shifted to my desired reality, I am grateful that I have shifted to my desired reality, etc.)

Pillow Method - Write down your affirmations or gather your scripts and place it under your pillow. It is recommended to think, daydream, or visualize your DR if possible before going to bed.

I Am Method - Meditate for around ten minutes or simply do what you find relaxing. Then listen to theta waves, if you want to, and then close your eyes and repeat “I am” over and over. You can say it out loud or in your head. Do this until you feel shifting symptoms and try to resist opening your eyes! After you feel symptoms start affirming you’re in your desired reality and you can say your personal affirmations if you want! You can visualize your DR if you want but it isn’t necessary. Try affirming until you feel like the atmosphere around you has changed. Then you can open your eyes!

#current reality #desired reality #reality shift #reality shifting #reality #shift #shifting #ideal reality #shifting community #shiftblr #shifting methods #realities #shift your reality #multiple realities #shifting your reality

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moldisgoodforyou · 4 years ago

Text

ten voicemails

wordcount: 2.6k

______

Through the entirety of Rafe and Sophie doing long distance, he had been great about keeping it to himself that he missed her. He knew that sharing it once in a while was alright, but too much and he was convinced he’d make her upset and ruin her study abroad experience - the last thing he wanted to. He even put his phone away most times if he was going to get drunk, knowing he’d probably end up drunkenly confessing something he shouldn’t. He had a great track record - until he didn’t.

He had to admit, he was feeling himself. Earlier that day, he’d FaceTimed her after his long-overdue haircut appointment, at her request. She had answered the phone in a hurry, walking to her metro stop with her bag slung over her shoulder and hadn’t really looked too closely at the screen, more just listening through her headphones. When she finally glanced at him she stopped in her tracks abruptly, nearly bumping into someone. “Oh my god, look at you!”

He raised his eyebrows, running his hand through his hair nervously. He had let the hairdresser do whatever she wanted and she had gone for a shaggier cut that made his hair curl a little at the ends, a little trendier than he expected. “Is it that bad?”

“No! No, no, not at all - did you ask for that cut? That’s not your normal.”

He shrugged, still a little wary of her reaction. “No, I just let her do something new. It’s okay, right?”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” she cursed, trying to be quiet as people moved around her in the busy street.

He seemed to brighten almost immediately, his chest puffing up and cheeks turning a little pink. “Yeah? You think so?”

“Absolutely.” Sophie glanced around, bringing the mic on her earbuds a little closer to her mouth as she spoke. “I cannot describe what I want to do to you right now, because I think I might get cited for public indecency, but holy hell. You look great, baby.”

He beamed, but shook his head. “You’re just saying that because we haven’t seen each other in more than two months and you’re horny.”

“I’m not! I’m not, I swear.” She laughed. “Look, I gotta go or I’ll be late to work, but we can talk later, okay? You look hot, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

That conversation alone had boosted his ego to the moon. He’d gotten off work early - thank you, summer Fridays - and immediately convinced James and Colin into day drinking. They had just moved into their senior house a week ago and Rafe felt miles better not being under the pressure of living with Colin’s parents, as hospitable as they were.

Once the three of them were sufficiently drunk by five, they ordered multiple pizzas and indulged enough so they were somewhat sober again. Rafe had the brilliant idea of leaving Sophie voicemails every time they made the move to a new spot, keeping her updated. “Sophie! Sophie, baby, hello. We’re walkin’ to the Varsity Club now, then we’re gon’ get drunk again.”

“I think you’re still drunk.” Colin pointed out, reaching for Rafe’s phone. “Hi Sophie!”

“James, say hi.” Rafe ordered, holding the speaker toward him. James nodded and waved and Rafe was satisfied, despite the fact it was just a voicemail. “He says hello. Anyways, just giving you the update. I don’t think my typing fingers are all here ready to go, so m’ just gonna call you. Love you!”

That continued through the night as the boys got more drunk and got more indecipherable, with some yelling into the phone (“Sophie! James is hitting on a girl!”) and some accidental calls where the only audio was the muffled music in the background. Once they finally stumbled out of the bars at closing time, all on their way to a miserable hangover when they woke up later that day, Rafe dug out his phone again to call Sophie.

She typically kept her phone’s ringer on, just in case he needed her, but when she was woken up for the fifth time in the middle of the night, she had to silence it. However, she’d also seen how at least one of the boys got hurt every time all three of them got drunk, so she could hardly sleep well anyways. She groaned when her phone lit up again with yet another voicemail from Rafe, this time of him singing Just The Two of Us horribly off-key.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe, that’s like your tenth voicemail.” James shook his head, amused, trying to grab the phone away from him. He made a noise of protest, standing on his toes and holding the phone out of James’ reach. “No! Gotta keep Sophie updated, I promised I’d check in.”

“Good thing she loves you, because even this would be too much for me.” Colin jested, throwing his arm around Rafe’s shoulders to keep him supported as they walked out the bar. “No, she’s in love with me. There’s a difference.” He corrected with a scowl.

“Doesn’t matter.” Colin argued.

“Does too matter. In love is like...” Rafe trailed off, thinking, then grinned. “It’s like when it’s finally spring again and you get to sit in that first warm patch of sun.”

James rolled his eyes. “Okay, dummy. You’re a fuckin’ sap.”

“M’ not. Not at all.” Rafe argued, fumbling with his phone. Colin plucked it out of his hand, raising his eyebrows. “What the fuck are you trying to do, dude?”

“Gotta check in.” Rafe insisted, grabbing it back and finally finding the FaceTime app and jabbing it with his thumb. Sophie picked up after a few rings, squinting with messy hair and reached to flick on a lamp. “What.”

“Baby!” He exclaimed, grinning. “Angel, look, I’m with my friends, you know them.” He turned the phone to show Colin and James and they waved, Colin rolling his eyes.

“Okay. Do you know what time it is here?” She yawned, pulling the blankets tighter around herself.

“No, how many times is it?”

She raised her eyebrows at his slurred speech and the unfocused look in his eyes. “Holy hell, you’re wasted, aren’t you?”

“No no no.” Rafe shook his head quickly. “No drinkings tonight. Nothing.”

“Not good to lie to your girlfriend, Rafe.” James teased and Sophie scowled. “He’s right. No lying.”

“Okay, fine. I had...um...two drinks. That’s all.”

“No you didn’t.”

“No I didn’t.” He agreed, nodding. “It was seven. Eight. Nine.”

“Alright. Are you safe? M’ kind of tired, baby.”

Both the boys grinned to each other, making a mental note to give him shit for the pet name later. Rafe ignored them, not looking away from the screen once. “My liver might not be safe.”

She snorted, nodding. “Okay. Can I go back to sleep?”

“No. If you’re already up then we can talk.” He insisted and she groaned, dropping her face into her pillow. “Rafe, no. I’m hanging up, I went to bed at three.”

“You’re not hanging up on me. You need to get more sleep though, your schedule’s out of whack. Hey, remember when we used to fight?”

She lifted her head slowly, annoyed. “Yes.”

“Are we fighting right now?”

“Will you let me hang up?”

“No.”

“Then yes. We’re fighting.” She rolled her eyes as his face dropped and he put on a big frown. “No! I don’t like fighting Sophie and Rafe. You know what, though?”

“What?”

“We missed out on a hate fuck.”

“Rafe!” She hissed immediately, turning bright red. “James and Colin are right there.”

“S’okay, they know I liked you for evers.”

“They don’t need to know about our sex life -”

“We know way too much about your sex life.” James interrupted, swatting Rafe upside the head just because he could. “So it’s kind of useless to be embarrassed about it now.”

“Oh my god.” She covered her face with her hands, shaking her head. “Rafe, keep your mouth shut.”

He was completely unbothered and sent her a dopey grin. “Okay. Hey, when we get married, are you gonna let me buy the ring?”

Suddenly she was wide awake and she rubbed her eyes, unsure if she heard him correctly. “Hold up, you said when?”

“Yes, when. I don’t want to have to stick to your budget, you deserve the biggest damn diamond ever.”

Colin and James exchanged a glance as they walked up ahead of Rafe, a little wary of the conversation he was setting himself up for but too drunk themselves to care.

“Um. Who said we’re getting married?”

He frowned, sighing heavily like the topic was exhausting. “We are. You know it, I know it.”

Sophie hummed in response, unsure of how to answer that. “Okay then. That’s, um. Nice of you to say.”

“You have to promise me one thing.”

She took a deep breath. “Rafe, I’m not sure I want to be promising anything to you right now -”

“I want you to wear a garter so I can take it off with my teeth on our wedding night.” He insisted, looking way too serious as he told her. “We’re going to get married, or you wouldn’t have moved your ring.”

She blushed and hoped he couldn’t tell from the dim glow of the lamp, ignoring his request. “I moved it because it fits better on my ring finger.”

“I’m sure you did.” He nodded, placated, and she was grateful he didn’t press it further. “I wish you were here, it’s more fun getting drunk with you.”

“Hey!” James spun on his heel and Colin had to grab at him to keep him upright. “We’re plenty fun!”

“Are you gonna make out with me then cuddle? I don’t think so.” Rafe shot back, grinning when Sophie laughed.

“Rafe got hit on tonight.” Colin informed her, breaking into a round of giggles with James as Rafe sent them a glare.

“You got hit on? Was she pretty?” Sophie raised her eyebrows, trying to hide a small smile.

“Um…” Rafe trailed off, trying to form a complete thought. “She was nice.”

“Yeah? Just nice?”

He nodded decidedly. “Just nice.”

“Practically flashed you.” James argued. “That’s more than just nice.”

The girl had leaned over the bar to say hi to Rafe, giving him a view down her shirt - he had immediately blushed red and shoved Colin forward, telling her Colin was single but Rafe was most definitely not.

“Bold.” Sophie commented, yawning. “Good for her.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes a little. “You’re not mad?”

“Did you flirt back?”

“No! Of course not!” He exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously.

She shrugged. “That’s what I thought. I’m not mad, I have no reason to be. Can I go back to sleep now, please?”

“Pay attention, Rafe.” Colin called out, glancing behind him to see Rafe nearly walking into a streetlight pole as he kept his eyes trained on the screen.

“No. You get to hang out with me.” He decided and she grumbled, but rolled onto her side and set the phone up hands-free so she could at least watch him get home safely.

“Hey, Sophie!” James butted his head against Rafe’s to get in view of the screen, making him yelp.

“Hi James.”

“Remember you gotta come home soon. If you don’t, Rafe’s gonna be sad and I can’t have my buddy being sad.” He told her seriously, slinging his arm around Rafe’s shoulders.

She laughed, nodding. “I’ll come home, don’t worry.” She grinned. “I would miss you and Colin too much.”

“Hey!” Rafe exclaimed, indignant. “What about me?”

“What about you?”

He was about to open his mouth and make his case when he tripped on the uneven sidewalk and his phone clattered to the ground. James cracked up, picking up the phone and flipping the camera to show Rafe in someone’s front yard, lying next to a crumpled metal sign. “Get up, dumbass.”

“Wait, no, hold on, is he bleeding?” Sophie frowned, suddenly more attentive.

“Noooo. M’ fine.” Rafe insisted, clapping his hand over a slice down his arm.

“Show me your arm, Rafe.” She commanded and he scowled but obliged, showing her a small but deep cut on his forearm and the blood trailing out of it. She nearly retched but squeezed her eyes shut instead for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Where’s Colin? Is he sober?”

“Here!” Colin had gotten a solid block ahead of them, wandering, then jogged back once he realized his friends had stopped. “Damn, dude.” He mumbled, just standing there and watching Rafe bleed.

“Jesus Christ.” Sophie muttered. “Okay. Can one of you get an Uber to the hospital? Please?”

James handed the phone to Colin and took off his shirt, tapping it ultra-gently against Rafe’s cut, effectively doing nothing. “Mine’s dead.”

“I didn’t bring my phone.” Colin added, then squinted as he finally got a good look at her. “You look tired, you should sleep more.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to lose her composure. “Where are you guys?”

“Dunno.” Colin turned in a circle, nearly tripping over his feet. “Oh! We’re by the stadium.”

“Alright. I’m going to hang up and call my friends to come get you, do you promise to stay there?”

“Sophie?” Rafe asked, his voice a little weak.

“Yeah, Rafe?”

“If I bleed out and die, I need you to know that I love you and I miss having sex with you.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “That’s sweet. You’ll be fine. Stay there, okay? I need a promise from all of you.”

The boys all mumbled a chorus of “I promise,” and she hung up, satisfied, then immediately called Allie and Julia to go pick them up. Luckily they were both sober and corralled the boys into Allie’s car, taking the phone from Rafe to keep Sophie updated. Once they made the short drive to the emergency room, Julia opened the door to help Rafe out, making Allie’s car light turn on. He groaned and threw his uninjured arm over his eyes, squinting. “I can’t go to the light. I gotta make it for my girl.”

“That’s not - that’s the car light, Cameron.” Julia told him, tugging to get him out. He stayed limp like a ragdoll, shaking his head. “Tell Sophie I love her.”

“You’re not dying. Get out of the car.” Sophie commanded from the FaceTime call. Rafe snapped his head up toward the sound. “I hear her.”

“What on earth did you drink?” Allie asked incredulously, taking the phone from Julia. “Look, can we just text you when we’re out? Airhead here is gonna be too distracted.”

Sophie laughed, running her hand over her face. “Yes, that’s fine. Thank you for putting up with him.”

Julia grumbled, finally tugging Rafe out of the car with James’ assistance. “He owes us a bottle of some good wine after this.”

Two hours later, Rafe was fresh out of the hospital with a tetanus shot and three stitches, and a promise to detail Allie’s car in order to get the blood off of her leather seats (which she had just easily cleaned with a Clorox wipe). He was still a little drunk, but not nearly at the same level when the girls texted her a picture of him with a dopey grin and two fingers up on one hand, then one finger on the other.

Allie: your boyfriend is a nightmare drunk

Sophie: unfortunately

what are the fingers supposed to mean

Julia: he said it stands for two and a half weeks until he sees you

Sophie: aw. you two are the best, seriously

Allie: a boyfriend of yours is a boyfriend of ours

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx #obx fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #rafe x sophie #mine

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blue-bird-on-a-wire · 4 years ago

Text

Beroya (Bounty Hunter)

Part 4 of the Gar Cuyir Yaim series

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,664

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x (Y/n) with she/her pronouns

Warnings: Jabba’s slave culture, mentioned kidnapping/child kidnapping, insecure (Y/n), hinted/implied abuse of (Y/n), hinted/implied child abuse

Summary: Paz takes (Y/n) to Verith.

Updates: Every Tuesday at 5:30 pm MT

A/N: Hello! You can also find this fic on Ao3 under B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire. Please feel free to give me feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. If you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM me! 😊 Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Master-list

“-op! Stop it! Get it off! It hurts!” screamed a child’s voice.

“Keep quiet!”

There was the sound of skin on skin - someone had just been slapped.

“If I hear another word outta that mouth, that lip won’t be the only thing bleedin’! You’ll wear that collar and you’ll like it!”

A whimper. The sound of heavy breathing - shuddering, if you will.

Heavy footsteps could be heard walking away before something slammed shut. Perhaps a door of some sort.

“I-I wanna go home,” cried the child’s voice. “I want my aliit.”

“Paz?”

The audio recording immediately stopped.

The big blue Mandalorian sat hunched over something in the cockpit. I could see his shoulders tense at the sound of my voice. He reached for a rag at his feet and covered whatever was in front of him.

“Paz, what was that?” I asked, trying to peek around his body.

“It’s nothing,” Paz said, standing to full height as he turned to face me. “I didn’t hear you coming up the ladder.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I wanted to ask where we’re going.”

Paz’s helmet tilted down and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “First we’re going to stop at Verith, so we can refuel and get you some clothes.”

I felt my chest tighten but in that sort of warm good way. Here I was worried about asking for undergarments, and Paz had already been planning to get me my own clothes.

I never had my own clothes before. Outfits were always passed around between Jabba’s slaves. We never owned anything for ourselves. It was all meant to be shared or borrowed.

I smiled. “Can I stay here with you?” I asked, taking look at the wide window that showed off the passing stars. “You have a pretty view up here, and in all honestly I’m not too used to the quiet. It was always noisy at Jabba’s. Even when he was asleep he would snore.”

Paz quietly laughed. Actually laughed. His head leaned back a bit and his shoulders shook.

“Of course, (Y/n),” Paz said, gesturing to the co-pilot chair. “How did you sleep? You were in there for a while.”

“I was?” I asked as I sat down. “Your bed is really nice. I’ve never slept on something so comfortable before.”

Paz shoved whatever was under the rag to the side with his boot, beneath the ship’s controls. “You flatter me. That bed is stiff, no need to sugar coat it.”

“I… I wasn’t,” I said, turning my gaze to the stars.

Paz sat down in the pilot’s chair. He stayed silent, but his helmet’s visor didn’t look away from me.

I watched the galaxy fly past us. I wondered how many people were out there. What kind of lives were they living?

What kind of life had this Mandalorian lived?

“Paz, can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm.”

I assumed that meant yes. “You said you know me- or you knew me when we were children. But I can’t remember much of anything before Jabba.”

Paz nodded his head.

“... What was our childhood like?”

Paz’s helmet tilted upward as though he was thinking. His chair let out a creaking sound as he leaned back into it.

“Our childhood,” Paz said. He looked back at me, just as I was now looking at him. “... It was carefree. I was about seven when I first met you. Tinny little thing you were. Only about a year or two old, I think.”

I couldn’t help but picture a small boy wearing oversized Mandalorian armor, peering over a basket at an even smaller baby.

“I swore the creed not long after, so you wouldn’t remember what I looked like without the armor. I didn’t pay much attention to you at first. But we got older, and you learned to walk. Started following me everywhere,” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I had to watch out for you when I trained. Elbowed you a few times on accident. I didn’t know you were behind me. Made me become more aware of my surroundings…”

Paz lifted an elbow to his armrest, resting the chin of his helmet on his hand. “You liked playing games, but your favorite was this hiding game. I would count to something like ten while you hid somewhere in the covert. Then I would find you, and you would count to a number before you found me.”

I smiled, “That sounds like a pretty fun game.”

Paz nodded his head, “You would start laughing whenever I came close to your hiding spot. I never pretended I couldn’t hear you. Thought it would make you a better warrior that way.” A pause. “Well… Sometimes I let you get away with it,” he admitted.

I wondered if he was this kind with other children as well. Did he still play with them when they asked?

“... It was happy,” Paz said.

Happy. At least for a while, I suppose.

We sat in silence for a little longer, and my gaze fell to the blur of stars through the cockpit’s window.

Paz never turned away from me. He watched intently, but I didn’t feel as threatened by it. I couldn’t even see his eyes but I just had this feeling that his stare was one of curiosity or reminiscing. Instinct could be crazy that way.

“It’s good to see there is still some of that child left in you,” Paz whispered, as though he didn’t want to disturb the air in the room.

“Hmm?” I asked, still looking outside.

“You always did love the stars.”

I smiled but made no move to look at him.

“... I remember looking at the stars,” I said. “I remember a dark sky with tall trees. I had to squint my eyes to look past the branches… Or, at least I think I did.”

Paz seemed to hold his breath.

“...Just little white dots spread throughout the sky… I haven’t seen the sky since I was brought to Jabba. I never thought I would see it again, but then you showed up,” I turned to look at Paz. “You set me free so I could see the stars.”

How many of these stars had changed since I last saw them? How many had died or were new?

I looked down at my hands, playing with the excessively long sleeves. “I can’t remember much because I don’t allow myself to… Or rather, I wasn’t allowed to. I could keep my name but nothing else.”

A pause.

Of course, he didn’t want to hear about it. Why would he-

“What was your childhood like? With Jabba,” Paz asked.

Or maybe he did.

“Boring. Kept me on my toes I guess,” I said. “I didn’t have friends because the only ones I could freely talk to were other slaves. But, none of them stayed around or lived long enough to have a relationship with me… In all honesty, I don’t even know how I survived for so long… Maybe I’m just really good at keeping my head down, or maybe I’m just lucky.”

“I daydreamed a lot. Made the day go by faster. When I was bussing tables I got to overhear smugglers and bounty hunters talking about the things from their travels. I learned about-“

Well, I suppose I re-learned or rediscovered, or-

“- I mean. I guess I heard about Mandalorians… I became obsessed with them. I used to have dreams about Mandalorians storming Jabba’s palace and taking me away to be a foundling.”

I smiled, glancing up at Paz.

“I suppose that in a way, those dreams came true.”

“But you weren’t bussing tables when I showed up,” Paz pointed out.

I felt the heat rise to my face and I let out a nervous laugh. “Um, I may have had a bad encounter with a bounty hunter. This guy was trying to hit on me-“

Paz straightened up in his chair.

“-and I wasn’t having it, so he convinced Jabba that I would make a good dancer. And everyone knows that dancers are dead within a week or so. Which is why he-“

“Where is he?” Paz interrupted.

“Oh! He’s dead. Jabba fed him to the rancor.”

Paz almost seemed disappointed. “That’s unfortunate. I would have liked to kill him myself.”

“Oh?” I asked. “How come?”

“No one can look at you or treat you like a piece of meat. Not as long as I’m around,” Paz explained. “He’s lucky it was a rancor that killed him and not me.”

I felt my heart flutter. No one had ever expressed this kind of protectiveness over me. Not in a million years did I think anyone could.

“You humor me,” I said, my voice quiet as I looked away from Paz.

“No, Sarad. Just being honest.”

A red light started flashing on the ship’s control panel, and Paz turned around in his chair to press a few buttons and flip a switch. “We’re exiting hyperspace now. You might want to strap in.”

Strap in? What did he mean by-

The ship jerked as it came to a slow. I flew out of my seat and onto the floor with a yelp.

Oh. That’s what he meant by strap in.

Embarrassed, I scurried back to the co-pilot’s seat hoping that Paz hadn’t noticed.

He definitely had. His shoulders were shaking as though he was trying to suppress a laugh.

Oh boy.

Looking out the window, I let out an audible gasp. A planet, covered in patches of green and brown with huge white clouds swirling about. It was absolutely breathtaking.

“Welcome to Verith,” Paz said as he took the ship into the planet’s atmosphere.

Drawing closer, I could see the outline of tall mountains covered in little green fuzzy things. The closer the got, I soon realized those were actually really tall trees. Little towns and cities were scattered about between the foliage. I could see colorful banners and flags waving in the wind.

I had never seen such breathtaking scenery.

~ ~ ~

As Paz lowered the ramp of the ship, I felt excitement bubble up within me. Tatooine had been so dry and dusty. From the looks of it this planet was the complete opposite.

I followed behind Paz, taking a quick look around.

This hanger was huge. There were so many people running about with tools and dirty faces from working on ships all day.

A teal twi’lik woman walked up to us, sparing a glance at my oversized clothing before meeting my eyes.

She was beautiful in her gray jumpsuit, even with black marks smudged across her cheek.

“How can I help you?” she asked, looking between Paz and I.

“Fuel,” Paz stated, handing over a small pouch. “We won’t be long.”

The woman nodded and accepted the money with ease before walking toward the ship.

“Let’s get going. The sooner we can get back the better,” Paz said.

“Why is that?” I asked as we walked out of the hanger.

I had never seen so much vegetation. There were trees everywhere I turned, and bushes scattered all about. Green, string-like things were hanging onto buildings. I could feel the compact dirt beneath my toes. It was cool and fairly moist. Nothing like the rough sand on Tatooine.

“This planet is crowded. Far too many people for my taste,” Paz stated.

I smiled. “Are you not around people very much?”

Paz let out an amused huff. “Not large crowds like this.”

I could see what he meant. I felt like I needed to hold onto Paz so I wouldn’t lose him. There were so many people running around all packed together. I could hardly hear over all the commotion.

Soon enough, Paz led me to a marketplace littered with different vendors.

They shouted as people walked by, yelling about deals or asking questions about what people had or didn’t have.

It was funny watching people either get sucked into a conversation and subsequently buying something, or get irritated at the vendor’s efforts.

I could sit somewhere and watch the comings and goings of this little marketplace all day.

“Hey! Miss!”

One of the vendors reached out from his stand to touch my shoulder.

I yelped in surprise and jumped back, accidentally bumping into Paz.

“Ya know what would look good on you?” He asked, holding up a dangly-looking collar in his other hand.

That was an awfully sparkly collar. It didn’t look practical at all. I could probably rip that thing from my neck if I wanted to.

A gloved hand aggressively swatted this man’s arm away from my body.

“Not interested,” Paz stated, placing one hand on my back to guide me forward.

“I wasn’ talkin’ ta you!” The vendor called. “That pretty lady ya got there-”

I felt Paz’s hand drop as he turned his head toward the man.

His helmet tilted downward almost like he was glaring.

“Alright! Alright! Sheesh,” the vendor waved his hands and looked out into the crowd for someone else to bother.

Wait a minute. Why did he suddenly stop?

“How did you do that?” I asked Paz as we continued walking down the street.

“No one likes to be threatened by a blaster,” the big blue Mandalorian simply stated.

“Oh…” Yeah, I suppose that made sense.

As we turned a corner onto another busy street, I heard laugher coming from not too far away. It was young laughter, like that of a-

“Look out!”

A young boy came running through the crowd, pushing past people and giggling.

Paz sidestepped out of the way just as the boy went flying past.

“I’m gonna get you! You can’t hide from me!” yelled another boy, quickly catching up to the first one.

Children. It had been a while since I had seen a child, let alone ones that were happy.

I couldn’t help but stop and watch as they zig-sagged through the street.

I hoped they would be ok. I hoped they would stay happy and carefree for the rest of their lives. I hoped they wouldn’t be snatched from their homes and be forced to-

“Almost there, Sarad,” Paz said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I turned back to find him looking at me. Whoops.

“Sorry, I’m coming.”

Near the middle of the street was another vendor, but she was much less pushy. Hunched over and walking with a cane, her dark eyes light up when she saw Paz.

“Beroya!” she exclaimed. “It has been so long. How have you been?”

Bair-oy-ah? I thought his name was Paz.

The Mandalorian chuckled. “I’ve been fine. I have someone I would like you to meet.”

I nervously waved my hand at the woman. “Hi.”

The old woman gave me a once-over before her eyes landed on my neck. “My goodness, what happened to you?” She placed a wrinkled hand on my collarbone.

Oh. I had forgotten about the lines on my neck. This place had already made me feel too comfortable.

“Oh, um-”

Paz placed a hand on my shoulder and started speaking in another language to this woman.

She looked up at him and her eyes widened before softening and glancing back to me. “Oh child, how strong you are.”

What? What did she mean? Paz had said that too.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

The woman smiled, before swatting Paz in the leg with her walking stick.

He didn’t budge.

“How come you haven’t introduced us yet, Beroya? Where are your manners?” asked the woman, before turning back to me. “I am Jalimia, an old friend of Paz.”

Oh good. His name was Paz and I wasn’t going crazy.

“Nice to meet you Jalimia. I’m (Y/n),” I said.

“Ah, I see. Well, let’s get you into clothes that aren’t three times your size. Come, look here,” Jalimia said, walking behind her vendor’s stand.

I looked to Paz to see if it was ok.

Paz gestured toward Jalimia. “You don’t need my permission.”

I smiled before following after the old woman.

“Let’s see. What sorts of colors do you usually wear?” she asked.

“Uhh, great question,” I said.

On Tattoine, wearing white or generally light colors was a trademark of slavery. Before Oola’s outfit, I wore faded beige tunics. However, black didn’t feel right just yet. Black was symbolic of freedom, but I still didn’t fully feel free. Whatever that feeling may be. I didn’t know what to do with myself or where I was going. Almost… in a limbo of sorts.

“Hmm,” Jalimia looked me up and down before glancing at Paz.

She gasped, “I know what would look nice on you!” She reached under her stand.

Jalimia pulled out an old wooden trunk, filled to the brim with clothing. Opening it, she shuffled through several colorful pieces before pulling out some duller outfits underneath.

That made me feel better. At least she wouldn’t put me in anything flashy. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself.

“Ah, here we are,” Jalimia said as she pulled out a sky blue tunic top and a pair of dark gray pants. “Go behind that curtain and try these on.”

She shoved the outfit into my hands.

“And you can’t forget these, my dear,” Jalimia whispered, tucking something between the folds of the outfit.

She then waved me off before turning to a box full of shoes under her stand.

I made my way behind the curtian, safely out of view from the people walking by. Unfolding everything, I found a plain pair of undergarments between the folds of the tunic. I felt my eyes dampen at the gesture.

I took off the clothes Paz had lent me and put on Jalimia’s. They fit much nicer around my from. There was not much excess fabric on the sleeves, and the pants didn’t hang below my feet.

Stepping back out into the light with Paz’s clothes hugged tightly to my chest, my eyes fell onto the big blue Mandalorian. He was standing on the opposite side of the vendor’s stand, leaning against it with his arm crossed.

He straightened up once he spotted me.

“Oh how beautiful!” exclaimed Jalimia. “If I didn’t know they were nearly extinct, I would say you look like a Jedi in training.”

“A what in where?” I asked.

“No, Sarad, you look fine,” Paz turned to Jalimia. “Thank you. How much do I-”

“No, no, no. You have done me one too many favors. You just promise me to take good care of this one,” Jalimia pointed at me.

She then pulled up a pair of boots from the box. “And take these as well,” she said.

“Oh, I can’t possibly-”

“Hush child,” Jalimia said to me. “Think of these as gifts that come with your newfound freedom.”

Oh… That’s what Paz must have told her about.

“Go ahead and try them on. We don’t want you getting any blisters walking around in those boots.”

I slipped the boots on. They were snug against my feet, and padded enough on the inside that I didn’t feel any pebbles beneath the soles. I liked them.

I smiled. “You are so kind, Jalimia. Thank you for these.”

“We should get going,” Paz said to Jalimia. “Our ship is waiting for us not too far from here.”

Jalimia feigned disappointment. “What, you don’t want to spend a night here with old Jalimia?” she laughed. “I better see you around soon, Paz. Your company is anyways welcome.”

Paz nodded his head. “I’m sure it won’t be long.”

With that, I gave Jalimia a wave goodbye before following Paz back down the busy street.

I felt happier. Lighter. I had my own clothes now.

“How do you know Jalimia?” I asked as we turned a corner.

Paz’s helmet tilted to glance down at me. “She was a Mandalorian a long time ago. Her riduur died during the Siege of Mandalore. After her death, Jalimia took off her helmet never to dawn it again.”

“Oh…” I said. That made my heart ache. Jalimia seemed like such a happy person. I couldn’t imagine seeing her so distraught from losing someone she was close to.

“... What is a ridurr?” I asked.

“A life partner. Spouse. In Jalimia’s case, her ridurr was her wife,” Paz explained.

That made my heart hurt even more. She lost the most important person in her life. I couldn’t imagine having to endure such pain.

“... Where are we going next, Paz?”

“That’s up to you,” he said. “If you want to stay with me.”

The thought of not staying with him terrified me. I had nowhere else to go. Besides, Paz had already been kinder to me than most. Aside from Jalimia.

“If… If you don’t mind I would like to stay. At least for now,” I explained. “I hate to be a burden or anything, but I also don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Paz hummed, though I couldn’t tell what for.

“You could never be a burden.”

I smiled. That meant more to me than he could even know.

“... Once we get back to the ship, I was going to set course for Ket’yci. There is a Mandalorian covert stationed there.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “No way! You’re actually taking me to a Mandalorian covert?”

Paz chuckled, “Keep your voice down.”

“Paz, you don’t understand. I’ve wanted this since I was little,” I loudly whispered.

“Then you’ll be happy to know that you will be embraced with open arms,” Paz said, though I still caught the hurt in his voice he tried to mask.

It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t remember. He knew that. If the roles were reversed, I’m sure I would be just as pained that my childhood friend had no memory of me either.

I grinned up at him. “Let’s get going then,” I excitedly said, gently gripping Paz’s arm and pulling him down the street.

(Part 5 coming soon!)

Mandoa Translations:

“Aliit” - “Family”

“Sarad” - “Flower”

“Beroya” - “Bounty Hunter”

“Riduur” - “Patner/Spouse/Husband/Wife”

(If you are interested in being added to the tag list, please tap/click this link Tag List & More 💕 Same goes for being taken off the tag list 😊 ALSO! If I forgot you on the tag list, I am so so sorry. Do not hesitate to remind me that you belong on the tag list. Thank you!)

#the mandalorain #the mandalorian fanfiction #paz viszla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla x y/n #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #also on ao3

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seokmattchuus · 5 years ago

Text

Innocent - Seungyoun

A/n: I’m 100% honest in the fact that I have no idea what I did here.

“Such a dirty girl aren’t you? I bet no one knows you love shit like this, huh? I wonder what they would say if they saw you like this. All spread out and desperate for me. Or would you like that? Getting caught-”

“Whatcha listening to?” Your boyfriend smiled as he sat down, reaching for one of your headphones.

“Just some music.” You said, quickly switching to Spotify and smiling up at him.

Of course it was a lie, but Seungyoun was the last person you wanted to find out about your little secret.

Maybe you’d stumbled across a few NSFW audios on Youtube, and maybe they were addictive. It’s not like it was big deal. Everyone gets off to something, right? But from you? It wasn’t expected to say the least.

“So, your class ended early?” You spoke up, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I was going to go pick you up, but you were here waiting.” He smiled, his hand coming up to pet your hair. “Now let’s go get some food.”

You smiled and got up with him, grabbing the hand he stuck out for you.

“What are you in the mood for?” You asked, swaying his hand. “’Cause I kinda want a burger.”

“Then burgers it is.” He smiled.

You’d ended up taking the food back to Seungyoun’s place since you had some homework to finish but when you got there, you barely even touched your food, too engrossed on looking at the videos your professor assigned, your head dropping onto your notebook as you gave up on taking notes.

“Why not take a break and finally eat?” Seungyoun chuckled.

“I can’t take a break, I’ll never get back to it.” You sighed.

“How about this.” He started. “I go take a shower, you take a break and when I’m done showering, you can get back to work.”

You gave a small nod, and paused the video before closing the laptop.

“Sounds good.” You smiled, sitting back and stretching your arms, watching as he disappeared into the hallway.

You pulled out your phone, looking to see if there were any updates on the viral scary story you followed, but the only notifications you had were for some music videos, and a couple for true crime. You settled for a true crime video and started eating. But you were halfway through it when you got a new notification.

For an audio.

It wouldn’t hurt right? It wasn’t a long one and Seungyoun was in the shower. He’d never find out. You could get away with it.

With that thought in mind, you forgot about your food and plugged in your headphones before taping on the notification, slightly glancing towards the hallway just to be safe.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t see through your little plan? Wearing that short dress and giving everyone a view of that perfect body of yours. You wanted to make me mad. Get me all riled up and have me drag you back home so I could teach you a lesson? And to think you act like such a good girl. Who would’ve figured you’d be such a brat-”

“Caught you red handed!” Seungyoun cheered as he snatched your phone, the headphones unplugging in the process and playing the video out loud. “This? Really?” He held back a chuckle.

“That was a quick shower.” You tried, clearing your throat as you looked away, trying to hide how red your face was getting.

“It was like, twenty minutes. Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh, you said to get back to work after you showered, right? I better do that.” You continued, opening your laptop only for it to be shut right in front of you.

“Nuh-uh.” He smiled, waving the phone in front of your face. “Explain.”

“You watch porn!” You yelled in defense. “This is...kinda like porn.” Your voice was quieter as you said the last part.

“Kinda but not really.” He kept smiling. “Could’ve just told me you liked dirty talk.”

“I do not!” You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Why would I bring it up if we’ve never even..” You trailed off.

“Never what?” He teased, cocking his head to the side.

“You know...” You trailed off with a frown.

“I really don’t.” He smiled, watching as your face turned even more red. “Why don’t you try explaining it to me?”

Your eyes tried to look anywhere else, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Be a good girl for me, yeah?” His voice softened, but it wasn’t the usual soft tone he had, this one made your stomach tighten. It didn’t help that his hand came up to make you look at him. “I could make you feel better than this stupid audio ever could.” He was whispering now and his eyes softened as he spoke. “All you have to do it tell me.”

This entire situation was so unreal but you didn’t even have time to question it. Everything he was doing had you melting into him and you didn’t even bother fighting it.

“Just..we’ve never..even kissed..” You trailed off nervously, your lips pressing against one another as you held his gaze.

“Is that what you want?” His voice stayed as a whisper, but it was more serious now, comforting even. You couldn’t even form words, only nodding your head.

It wasn’t until he leaned in that you flinched back, Seungyoun stopping immediately and looking at you with concern.

“I just..” You paused, your eyes falling to your lap. “I don’t know how..”

He let out a soft chuckle and asked you to look back up at him.

“It’s okay.” He said softly. “I can show you.”

His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over it softly as he leaned back in. He moved slower this time, gauging your reaction to make sure you were okay with everything going on.

When he saw that you weren’t backing away, he finally pressed his lips yours. As much as he wanted to be patient, he couldn’t help but get a little carried away as he worked his lips against yours.

It wasn’t hard for you to follow though, and since you were too caught up in the moment, you weren’t bothered by the fact that you had no idea what you were doing. But since he wasn’t stopping, you didn’t let it get to you.

As the kiss progressed, you took the initiative to pull him closer, not missing how he smirked into the kiss before pulling away slightly.

“It doesn’t seem like you don’t know what you’re doing.” He chuckled and you felt yourself blush. “You’re so cute,” He scoffed. “I can’t believe how dirty you really are.” He paused. “I wonder what else you’re hiding.”

You felt small under his gaze but it didn’t last long as his lips formed a smirk.

“How long were you hiding this for?” His eyebrow rose as he smirked at you. “And be honest.”

As much as you didn’t want to answer, you really couldn’t stop yourself from easily obeying.

“Only a c-couple months.” You spoke.

“And why did you start?”

You felt your face get more red, if that was even possible, and you looked away.

“Because of you...” You trailed off, not wanting to give the full truth this time.

“What about me?” He pressed.

“You make me..want you.” You whispered the last part and hoped to whatever higher power there was that he’d take it.

“Were you always like this?” He scoffed. “Acting all innocent and deep down you’re the opposite?”

His words had you gulping and sinking into the chair you were in.

“A brat, though?” He tsked as he remembered the video. “I can’t have that.” He sighed and he reached for your chin, slowly making you look back at him. “You’ll be good for me, right?” He said softly. “I don’t want to have to punish my little girl.”

You melted at the words, your stomach flipping in a mix of emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. You nodded and he only shook his head.

“Tell me.” He smiled. “Tell me you’ll be my good little girl.”

You looked at him and nodded again.

“I’ll be your good little girl.”

Surprisingly, the words didn’t feel foreign as you said them and the embarrassment wasn’t as bad as you saw him smile at you.

“Then come on.” He said as he pulled away and turned to walk towards his bedroom, you following him a little too quickly.

“Come here,” He licked his lips as he sat on the bed, patting his lap.

You slowly walked up and situated yourself on his lap, still nervous but not as much as before. But just when you thought you were composed, he leaned in so his breath was fanning over your ear.

“I’m the only one who knows what a dirty girl you are, huh?” He scoffed and your breath hitched as he moved to press a kiss against your neck, goosebumps forming over your skin as he moved to press another one below the previous spot.

“How badly you want me that you’ll listen to audios instead of coming to me.” He pressed another one.

“Did you touch yourself to the thought of me saying those things?” He lightly nibbled on the spot he just bit. “Doing those things?” Another bite. “Answer me, baby.”

“Yes,” You whimpered out as his lips made their way to your shoulder.

“Fuck, you really are dirty, huh?” He whispered as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt and pulled it over you before throwing it to the side.

“God, you look so pretty.” He sighed as he took in the sight of you. “I just want to mark you up.” His tongue came out to swipe along his lips at the thought.

“Seungyoun, please,” You whined, his words being too much for you. “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“What do you want me to do?” He pulled away to look at you, the same smirk as before plastered on his face. “Tell me.” He bit his lip as his hands moved to play with your bra clip.

You completely ignored his question as your lips turned to a pout.

“What about your shirt?”

“Only good girls get what they want.” He smiled. “Answer my question and I’ll take it off.”

Your brows furrowed but you didn’t argue.

“I want you to,” You paused. “T-Touch me..” You trailed off.

“Touch you where?” He whispered as he unclipped your bra, the sudden cold making you gasp.

“Touch you here?” He cocked a brow as his thumbs moved to brush over your nipples before trailing to your lap and sliding under your skirt, his hands caressing your inner thighs. “Or here?” He asked again, his voice lower before they slid up, stopping at the hem of your underwear. “Or does my baby want to be touched,” He paused as he ran a finger up your clothed slit. “Here?”

You couldn’t stop the whine that came out as your face fell onto his shoulder as you nodded.

“Yes,” You breathed out. “Right there. Please,” Your hips rolled into his and he let out a soft chuckle as your neediness.

“You’re so cute like this,” He cooed. “It makes me want to ruin you.”

You clenched around nothing at the words, your mind running wild at all of the things he could do to you.

His finger moved to slide under your panties and he groaned at how wet you were.

“You really wanted this, didn’t you?” He bit his lip. “Or are you just easy?”

“Seungyoun~~” You whined again as he traced a small circle on your clit.

“Shh, baby,” He smiled as his finger went down to your entrance before slowly slipping into you, groaning again at how tight you were. “We have to start slow.” He said as he started pumping his finger at a slow pace. “How else are you going to take me?”

His words were followed by a second finger and you let out a chocked moan against his shoulder, your hips rolling into his hand.

“Faster, fuck,” You moaned out as your hips moved faster against his fingers.

“Who knew you’d be this needy.” He looked at you as he licked his lips, his fingers curling inside you. “I wonder how long you’ve been holding out on me.”

You couldn’t form any words to respond, too lost in your own world as you felt your stomach tighten.

“Seungyoun, fuck,” You whined, your hands reaching out and balling the hem of his shirt in your hands. “I’m gonna cum.” You moaned out, your pitch higher as your head fell back.

“Look at me baby.” He encouraged. “I wanna see how pretty you look when you cum.”

You let out a whimper and slowly brought your head down, looking at him with hooded eyes.

“Fuck,” He groaned, curling his fingers again and watching your eyes close momentarily. “You look so good like this.”

His words threw you over the edge and you fell apart as your orgasm washed over you. But you couldn’t bask in it for long as he slowly slid his fingers out and fixed your panties.

“Open your eyes baby.” He whispered, waiting for you to look at him before taking his fingers into his mouth, his eyes staying on yours even when you looked away in embarrassment.

“So sweet.” He cooed, softly, his fingers sliding under your skirt again to run over your now damp underwear, smirking when you shivered from the sensitivity. “All you had were my fingers and you’re already a mess.” He gave you an amused smile before continuing.

“I can’t wait to see how you are when I finally fuck you.”

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beca-mitchell · 5 years ago

Photo

you are my favorite thing (1/1)

Summary: Beca and Chloe find themselves alone in their apartment after the instruction comes to self-isolate. Set pre-PP3. Just pretend PP3 doesn’t exist.

Notes: Apologies for this fic. It stuck with me...and I had to write it before it drove me crazy. I know it's not that good but hopefully it brings a small smidge of levity to your lives. <3 I promise I'm working on other stuff, just haven't been feeling well lately.

Word count: 3.1k

Rated M/E.

Read below or on AO3.

When the announcement came that it would be in everybody’s best interest to self-quarantine and self-isolate, Beca hadn’t really known what to expect. In fact, she feels kind of bad for not taking this more seriously and leaving Chloe to pick up the slack. Chloe, who had been almost zealously preparing for the “worst to come” by her standards.

And now, apparently the CDC’s standards.

With the rampant news updates and social media seemingly tearing itself apart at the seams, Beca kind of wishes she had picked a career that required her to be on her computer less but now as she lugs her two laptops and three pairs of headphones home from the label’s head office in midtown, she supposes that she has no choice.

“Oh good, you’re home,” Chloe says upon seeing her. She reaches out automatically to help Beca with her bags as Beca belabours the fact that they live on the fourth floor of their walk-up. She tries to smile gratefully at Chloe, but Chloe is already pacing across the small kitchen space in front of her.

“No welcome home?” Beca jokes. She shrugs off her blazer and moves towards the rack of clothes so she can hang it up neatly. Chloe quickly places a hand on her chest but before Beca has a chance to squawk indignantly at Chloe’s hand placement (Beca totally doesn’t think it’s nice or whatever...because she doesn’t care), Chloe stares at her seriously.

“Do we have enough groceries?”

“Did you eat all the groceries from two days ago?” Beca asks, confused. She turns on her heel to open the fridge to check. “Nope, we literally have all the food that we still haven’t eaten.”

Chloe slumps, moving to sit at the table instead. “Sorry, it’s just been super hectic today. I know we just went to get stuff, but my parents are stressing me out so much.”

Beca smiles sympathetically. “I get it, my dad was messaging me all day today. I told him it would be fine. It’s just a matter of waiting it out.” Beca injects some optimism into her tone. “Plus, Amy isn’t around this weekend so…” she trails off hoping Chloe will understand.

Chloe brightens. “Trashy television night?”

Internally Beca groans, but the smile on her face is genuine because it’s worth it to see Chloe smile.

— — — — —

So the whole having a crush on your captain/co-captain/best friend/bedmate thing?

Kind of overrated. Beca’s over it—or she wants to be over it.

She wants to stop thinking about how nice Chloe’s smile is or how effortlessly Chloe can lift her when she overenthusiastically hugs Beca.

Or how ridiculously happy Chloe makes her.

All those dumb things and dumb feelings that she never really felt to any extreme or significant levels with Jesse. And definitely not that one night stand after her break-up with Jesse.

It’s just that Chloe had somehow always been there, somehow slipping through the cracks and all the crevices of Beca’s carefully constructed walls—places that Beca didn’t even know were available to fall victim to Chloe’s special brand of love and care.

But if there’s one thing that Beca has come to love about Chloe, it is exactly that care—that specific way Chloe somehow makes her feel like she’s the most cherished person in a room. In the world, maybe.

It’s gross and cheesy.

Beca loves it.

It just kind of sucks that all of this pondering—all the pondering the world, maybe—wasn’t enough for Beca to be wary of what it would mean to be stuck twenty-four-seven in an enclosed space with the girl she’s in love with.

— — — — —

With how busy their lives have been, Beca realizes with a pang in her heart that she really hasn’t had time to just sit down with Chloe and just be. It’s Tuesday and after a weekend spent just catching up with Chloe and meal-prepping for the rest of the week, Beca realizes that this whole situation could be a lot worse.

I’ve missed you, is what she wants to say.

Like most things when it comes to her feelings for Chloe, it just sticks inside her head instead and she settles on saying good morning to Chloe.

“It feels weird,” Chloe admits, sitting down next to Beca on Tuesday morning. She scoots her chair closer to press her cheek against Beca’s shoulder.

Beca scrolls lazily through her social media feeds, a habit she picked up from Chloe. Naturally, her body turns into the warmth offered by Chloe’s close proximity. “What feels weird?”

Chloe sighs. It is a large enough sigh to shift Beca’s shoulder as Chloe moves against her. “Not having work.”

Unlike Beca who was permitted to work from home, Chloe’s supervisor suggested that she just take some time off. It wasn’t like Chloe was really being paid a lot to begin with, as a temporary veterinary assistant, but Beca knows that the blow must be hard on both the financial and emotional level.

“You can be my assistant for the day,” Beca suggests. “I have to finish finalizing a few tracks on this album. You can give me feedback. It’ll just be like the old days. Just, um, don’t tell anybody about it. And no posting on social media.”

Chloe immediately brightens at that, like Beca just offered her the entire world on a silver platter. The kiss that she presses to Beca’s cheek is absolutely worth it.

— — — — —

Chloe is, as Beca has always known, incredibly attentive. She also has no real concept of personal space.

Beca knows however, that if she had bothered to say anything to Chloe about that, Chloe would have backed off years ago, but Beca kind of likes that it’s their thing. Kind of.

So when Chloe leans right over her shoulder to watch her work, Beca says nothing.

Whatever.

This is way better than being stuck in an office.

— — — — —

“Hey,” Chloe says, drawing Beca’s eyes up from her screen. “I’m just going to shower, do you mind.”

Beca shakes her head, no, because she doesn’t mind. Chloe lives here too. Chloe can totally walk around half-naked if she wants. She’s confident about all that. Chloe can toss a towel over her shoulder and hum to herself. Chloe can squeeze Beca’s shoulder in affection. Chloe can step into their dingy bathtub, draw back the curtain and proceed to strip off all her clothes in front of Beca—almost quite literally—and just shower a few feet away from where Beca is accidentally deleting an important layer in her audio editing program.

Chloe can do whatever she wants because Beca and Chloe are roommates and that’s what roommates do.

— — — — —

Chloe doesn’t need to shower every day, Beca’s sure of it.

She’s not really complaining. It’s not like she can even see anything, though the reappearance of her rather vivid sex dreams about Chloe on Thursday night is alarming.

But honestly, Beca’s not really complaining even though she hundred percent moves her seat at the kitchen table on Friday so her back is towards the shower.

She thinks Chloe pouts at her on the way to her shower, but Beca’s too busy renaming arbitrary files on her computer to really pay attention to that.

— — — — —

It’s crazy that it is in these circumstances that Beca is really truly considering that she should just tell Chloe how she feels. It’s just hard, wanting to kiss Chloe all the time. It’s hard because they’re really and truly alone and Beca has nothing to do but stare at Chloe’s stupidly perfect face and her lips and she has to see her sweet smile.

It’s gross. Beca’s gross.

(It also doesn’t help that sometimes she catches Chloe staring back—with the same degree of affection to boot. The same care, affection, and desire in her eyes that Beca knows must be shooting out of her own like fucking spotlights.

But she supposes that she could be imagining it too.)

“Beca?” Chloe asks. “Are you watching?”

Chloe’s voice cuts through Beca’s thoughts gently. Beca gazes up at Chloe who has not moved her attention from the screen. She takes the moment to genty observe the curve of Chloe’s nose. The fullness of her lips. The way her lips gently part as she expels a breath.

“Yeah,” Beca says before slowly dragging her eyes back to the screen with some reluctance.

She’s fucked.

— — — — —

Beca Dude where are you

Fat Amy At a friend’s place, don’t wait up xoxoxo

Beca What???? Come home now Amy?????

— — — — —

“Remember college and how I said I wish I experimented more?”

Beca chokes on her water.

“N...yes? Why?” Beca demands, ignoring the way her heart races. Being in close proximity to Chloe tends to do that to her. Nothing new.

Chloe hums to herself. “Nothing. Just lots of time to think today.”

“Oh,” Beca says. “Okay.” She quickly refocuses on her work.

Chloe sighs and returns to her textbook.

— — — — —

Beca blames the long, extended time spent inside. She kind of forgets that they had dinner plans. Or that she probably should have sent that email to her boss.

It’s so easy to forget that they’ve been confined to their apartment for days, but Beca can’t complain.

Mostly because Chloe’s tongue is in her mouth doing absolutely sinful things.

And well—now they’re kind of tumbling onto their deeply uncomfortable but satisfactory for the moment bed, Beca grunting as her back hits the mattress heavily.

“Sorry,” Chloe pants out, drawing back. “Are you—”

“M’fine,” Beca mumbles, pulling Chloe back down for a kiss. Chloe responds eagerly, not-at-all minding that she had been cut off. Instead, she makes a happy little sound, curving her body neatly into Beca’s. The warmth of Chloe’s body on top of her own is driving Beca crazy—that and the distinct lack of friction between her own legs. “Wait,” Beca says, after pushing lightly at Chloe’s shoulders. “Wait—can you—”

Chloe’s brow furrows. “What is it?”

“Just…clothes,” Beca mumbles.

“Oh!” Chloe grins then. “So forward.”

Beca’s cheeks heat up spectacularly. She both loves and hates that Chloe can still tease her like this, even though they’ve both completely eviscerated whatever fragile lines they had set up in their already-confusing friendship.

Chloe, ever the master of making Beca feel many things at once, doesn’t stop there, however. She smiles, leans back—sits all the way upright for Beca’s viewing pleasure—and pulls off her shirt in a smooth motion that makes Beca’s mouth go dry.

Then, when Beca thinks that it can’t get worse…

“I like it when you’re forward,” Chloe murmurs, leaning back down to cup Beca’s cheeks before kissing her so thoroughly and deeply that Beca thinks she might soak through her jeans completely.

Speaking of her jeans—

Beca whimpers into Chloe’s mouth when she feels Chloe’s thumbs expertly popping open the button on her jeans before Chloe is pulling away again to slide the offending material down her legs. Beca scrambles to sit upright so she can pull off her shirt quickly.

It is all pent-up urgency and flying clothes as Chloe climbs back over her, all messy hair and flawless skin, and pulls her into another sweeping kiss. It ought to be illegal, the way Chloe’s tongue flicks through her mouth, desperately seeking out Beca’s. Chloe somehow has made making out a high-level art form and Beca is only all too willing to pay full price for admission to that particular show.

Beca has imagined this, she would be remiss if she weren’t going to admit it right off the bat. It is just difficult reconciling her imagination with this reality because the reality is making Beca’s imagination look very, very weak.

Chloe’s arms come around her, pressing against the mattress before Chloe is rolling them all at once. Beca groans, moving to straddle Chloe which proves to be a mistake, somewhat, because suddenly she can feel the ripple of Chloe’s stomach—damn abs—right against her soaked center. She bites her lip, leaning back slightly and watching with rapt attention as Chloe follows, folding Beca into her arms again.

“I want you so much,” Chloe rasps, voice hot and low against Beca’s neck. “Like, right now.”

Have me, Beca wants to say. I’m yours.

A whole slew of clichés float through Beca’s mind, but all she manages is a guttural moan because Chloe chooses that mount to eagerly palm Beca’s stiff nipple while sucking a nasty hickey into the side of her neck.

“Was that a yes?” Chloe murmurs.

“Fuck yes,” Beca grits out, holding Chloe’s head against her as Chloe’s kisses descend lower so she can envelop Beca’s neglected nipple in her mouth. The sensation of Chloe’s lips, her tongue, the graze of her teeth—all of it right against Beca’s sensitive flesh.

— — — — —

So how that happened is kind of a long story and it might or might not be Beca’s fault.

The short story is that Chloe wanted to watch a movie and Beca had agreed because movie nights with Chloe usually meant cuddling.

But strange times call for unexpected occurrences, though upon reflection, the build-up had been there all along.

(Literally. For years.)

Beca just didn’t really expect the whole making out thing. And the sex thing.

Oh—

And the whole ‘watching Chloe sleep next to her while she runs her fingers through beautiful red hair to calm herself down because her heart is threatening to burst out of her heart’ thing.

That thing.

— — — — —

“You’re horrible at picking up signals,” is the first thing Chloe says to her when Beca wakes up on a bright and sunny Saturday morning.

“I am,” Beca agrees, rolling into Chloe’s body with no intention of going outside ever again. “But maybe you’re horrible at dropping hints.”

“Maybe,” Chloe murmurs, breath hot against Beca’s mouth.

— — — — —

“So this is week two,” Beca says in the most dramatic voice she can muster. She grins at Chloe’s little delighted giggle as she pulls the sheets over both of their heads. It is early Monday and Beca’s phone has been on silent pretty much all weekend. She and Chloe pretty much only left the bed to shower and eat, both of which were activities that could be pleasantly underscored by sex.

“It is week two,” Chloe echoes, pulling Beca in for a slow, muted kiss. It reminds Beca of the kiss Chloe had woken her up with after their first time—the mild disorientation had faded away quickly.

“Whatever shall we do?”

— — — — —

Beca thinks that morning sex absolutely should be part of her regular routine—no matter the circumstances.

Chloe trails gentle fingers down Beca’s neck, between her breasts. Beca waits with heavy breaths, watching Chloe’s progress as she maps out invisible lines on Beca’s body, like an artist at work. Beca clenches her hands into fists, resisting the urge to pull Chloe into another messy kiss. She kind of likes this slower pace—this care and attention bestowed upon her. Chloe’s eyes are incredibly blue as they track over Beca’s body carefully, like she doesn’t want to miss a thing.

“You’re so…” Chloe trails off, sighing happily as she presses lazy kisses around the curve of Beca’s breast before leaning up to suck gently at her nipple. A familiar sensation now, Beca’s back still arches obediently as her breathing quickens.

She doesn’t need Chloe to finish her sentence. She just needs Chloe to continue whatever she’s doing. Naturally, Chloe settles between her legs after a few more torturous minutes of lavishing attention on Beca’s chest. Beca’s hips rock up impatiently, almost of their own accord. She is wholly aware of how uncomfortably wet she is and she knows she’s going to need another shower, but she doesn’t care about that at the moment. The ache between her legs only intensifies when Chloe’s fingers finally make their way to her aching clit.

“Oh fuck,” Beca mumbles. She slowly moves her hand to tangle her hand in Chloe’s hair, needing to feel Chloe closer on all accounts. She spreads her legs wider to accommodate her lover, heaving a breath when Chloe shifts closer still and leans up to press a kiss against Beca’s neck delicately.

“I think I love seeing you like this the most,” Chloe murmurs.

“Like—how?” Beca squeaks out when Chloe’s fingers press down more firmly against her clit. A soft whine escapes her lips.

“This. Spread open. For me.”

Chloe says that like it is the most natural thing she could say to Beca. She says it like she is simply discussing a reading assignment or that she thinks Beca should add another layer of harmonies.

Not at all like she's describing exactly how much Beca wants her; how wet she is; how much she needs Chloe between her legs before she combusts.

Beca pulls Chloe in for a messy kiss, already aching for Chloe’s tongue in her mouth. Chloe indulges her for a few moments, sweeping her fingers through her wet folds. Up, down. Around.

Beca cries out, muffled against Chloe’s mouth. She rips herself away from their kiss. “Chloe, please. Fuck me.”

Chloe grins and leans back in to nip at her lower lip gently. “I thought I was?”

Beca groans in frustration. Fucking tease. She tightens her legs around Chloe’s waist, moving her hips so that Chloe’s fingers almost slip inside her. At the sensation, her head falls back and she lets out a broken whimper.

“Oh,” Chloe murmurs. “You meant like this.” Chloe gently pushes a finger past her folds and Beca clenches hard around it. Chloe begins a slow rhythm, curling her finger every now and then. “And like this.”

It is such a slow, steady pace that Beca has no real reason to complain. Uncomfortably, her neck arches. She reaches down to grip at Chloe’s wrist with a trembling hand, but she does not stop her. “More,” she whimpers. Begs. “Please, baby, more.”

Chloe seems to perk up at the pet name (or the begging—Beca thinks she should do more research; she can absolutely do more research with all the time in the world at her disposal) and to her credit, she listens to Beca for once. She picks up the pace, this time adding a second finger to join the first. Beca grunts at the fullness, blinking up at the ceiling for a brief moment before she squeezes her eyes shut only to see stars explode behind her eyelids. She grunts again, louder, slackening her grip on Chloe’s wrist. Automatically, her hand drifts to her momentarily-neglected clit and she rubs at it with as much pressure as she dares.

Chloe growls—full-on growls—and nips at her throat before using her free hand to move Beca’s hand out of the way. “I want to,” is all she says when Beca opens her eyes, ready to demand Chloe explain herself.

Oh.

Well, if Chloe wants to do that, Beca isn’t going to stop her. They’ve got weeks to figure it out.

— — — — —

Beca Amy, nvm, you should probably stay exactly where you are Just to be safe yknow thanks

fin.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #anna kendrick #brittany snow #pitch perfect #its dumb i know #au #gif #my fanfic #mine #queue #mine:au

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emmakillianfan · 4 years ago

Text

A Christmas Story for You

To @whimsicallyenchantedrose for Christmas. While I haven’t had as much time for it as I had hoped, I hope you are having a wonderful Christmas and enjoy this little story that kind of got away from me. Merry Christmas and a very happy new year to you!

Due to illness and post graduate studies I’m a bit rusty on the fanfiction story writing, but I hope you enjoy it. I have loved the opportunity to be your secret santa. As I said from the beginning, I’m a big fan of your writing.

Getting to Know You at Christmas

Emma Swan hated to mingle at these social events her parents held each year as a welcome to the holiday season. Her mother easily socialized with people, remembering names and details of each person’s life in the coastal town of Storybrooke, Maine. Her father was just as gregarious, shaking hands and clapping older gentlemen on the back as the mused over details of long-ago exchanges and funny occurrences that she never quite could understand. She liked people, even had friends. But there was something missing for her from the conversations and laughter that seemed to lift over the swell of Christmas carols and the flashes of lights from the tree and cameras snapping shots of huddled groups of friends, family, and compatriots.

“Your mother is worried about you,” Ruby Lucas-Gale said with a knowing smile as Emma reached for another mini pizza and shoved it in whole. “You don’t look happy.”

Keeping her lips sealed, Emma shot her friend a plastered smile and shrug.

“You could at least move away from the bar. She’s going to think this is a re-do of last year’s party where you went to bed with a bottle of tequila under each arm after telling everyone that you were sleeping until the new year.”

“I should have kept that promise,” Emma groused, giving a slight wave when her mother looked at her pleadingly. “I could have avoided the Christmas Karaoke party at Victor’s, the cookie exchange at your grandmother’s, and let’s not forget the pot luck at Regina and Robin’s where I was shamed for bringing your grandmother’s frozen lasagna as my contribution. Not only had Regina made one, but I didn’t even realize it was still frozen.”

“You brought a pie too,” Ruby reminded her. “I don’t remember anyone noting that was store bought.”

“I ate it in the car working up the nerve to go inside because my mother set me up on a date. Who does that? Blind dates on Christmas?”

“She means well,” Ruby added consolingly, patting her hands down her red dress that seemed to creep up her toned thighs each time she moved. “And Graham was…”

Emma held up one hand in protest. “Don’t defend him. First he was your ex. He was nice but a little or more than a little too intense with his whole getting back to nature and communing with animals thing. My mother has horrible taste in men for me. For a woman who believes in fairy tales and calls my father her prince charming, I don’t think she would survive a day on Tinder.” It had been the long running commentary at the parties that somewhere in the crowd was there to be set up with Emma. Some who did not partake in the dancing or singing along around the piano would try to guess who it was going to be this year. Bets were currently on about a gawky man with a green tie who was currently chatting up Zelena Mills in the corner.

“Just remember she means well.” Linking arms with Emma, Ruby pulled her friend out onto the makeshift dance floor and began to sway her hips to the beat of a modern Christmas tune that Emma knew was by some current pop singer. “So I’m guessing your next date is in here somewhere. Where oh where could he be?”

“You are annoying,” Emma pouted, folding her arms over her chest yet still swaying a bit to the up-tempo beat. “I thought you had money that guy in the green tie.” He was the typical type her mother would love to see her date. She could hear the school teacher turned public servant now telling her how she just knew he was the kind of guy she would love to get to know.

“Possibility,” Ruby said, tapping her bright red lips in mock thoughtfulness. “What about Archie?” He’s been hanging around over in that corner in a conversation with Regina and Robin for a little bit now. Seems to look over here every once in a while.”

“Everyone is looking at you, Ruby,” Emma hissed in exasperation. You are showing more skin that is advisable with the temperature and you’re currently bumping and grinding to Christmas tunes.”

“Maybe he’s setting up some pre-marital counseling for them. Okay…one of the guys from the mines? Leroy?”

“That’s a tad incestuous since they are practically my uncles.” Emma scanned the crowd to see her father and mother in conversation over by the French doors leading out to the patio that had been sprayed with twinkle lights and that included a new audio system he had spent the day fiddling with as her younger brother tried out the microphones in his own rendition of some sort of heavy metal meets classic rock rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He was just 14 and still at that awkward stage, suffering the embarrassment of parents who doted and friends who loved to point that out to him. Her own son idolized him though. “I’m thinking he’s a no show. My mom is in her plotting mode. Look at the way she’s talking to my dad.”

Sure enough her parents were furtively whispering, her mother holding up a hand to hide her mouth as though nobody would notice. It would be debated for years to come which of the two women noticed him first though. A slender, tall man with piercing blue eyes and sardonic smile seemed to rush up to her parents and hug them in turn. Even though Emma couldn’t make out the words, her father gave the man his double shoulder clap before spinning him about to the crowd and pointing out a few people.

“Maybe him,” Ruby said, lifting onto the balls of her feet even higher than her shoes allowed and balancing herself against Emma. “He’s a hottie.”

“Doubtful,” Emma noted, swinging her gaze across the room to the man in the green tie who was now eating a banana and doing nothing for his resemblance to a simian creature as Ruby had declared. “I don’t have that sort of luck. My mother doesn’t…” She never got to finish the sentence when she noted who had just entered the party and made a line straight toward greeting her parents. Neal…the once love of her life turned affection into weapons and her self confidence into a puddle of what if. She was better now, but the sight of him seemed to jangle her nerves in a way that made her doubt her recovery. They managed to co-parent their son with little trouble, but he wasn’t one she wanted to see socially. The fact he always had a date on his arm just added to her discomfort.

Ruby was one of the few people who understood. Twirling her in the direction of the mystery man who was now noshing on a few of the crisp veggies without bothering to dip them into the various sauces, Ruby leaned in and whispered loudly in Emma’s ear. “Don’t question it. Just go introduce yourself. It’ll be less awkward that way.”

Emma would forever question the logic in that, but for the moment felt her feet begin to move one after the other and in no time she was standing in front of him. His eyes were even more striking up close and she caught a whiff of his cologne that was a spicey scent that she would later blame for her mouth watering and her words feeling like they slid off her tongue without regard to custom or reason.

“Emma,” she said by way of invitation. Her smile was a little forced and her hand held out in mid air a beat too long as he shoved a celery stick in his mouth and raised his own in greeting. “I guess my parents probably told you that.”

“Your parents?” he repeated, the smiled he was giving her lifted higher on the right side of his face as did his right eyebrow. He seemed to be surprised by her, almost as if he was not expecting the conversation. That irritated her a bit.

She gave a wave over her shoulder to where they stood by the fireplace. “Mary Margaret and David. The Nolans. You were just talking to them.”

“Aye, David and my older brother went to school together back in the day. They invited me to…”

She brushed off his explanation. “No, I get it. It’s so them. They don’t think I have any skills in that area at all. Apparently, they have given up on finding someone local.” She shrugged and when he seemed he wasn’t going to answer, she reached across and grabbed a carrot stick. Placing it in her mouth she made a face and immediately removed it. “Rabbit food.”

“You do know how to flatter man, love. I’m not sure I would want to be just one of the multitudes.” His smile was wider as he watched her, his questions about her easy and slick as she tried to explain that her parents were young when she was born and waited nearly two decades before their miracle child was born. He seemed to know nothing about her, which was odd for a set up. Maybe he was just being polite.

“So you’re not from around here,” she asked when he paused to take a drink. Even over the rim of the cup his eyebrows raised again. “I’m the sheriff. I sort of notice things like accents. I do sort of like accents like yours. Different than other guys around here.”

“Boston by way of London,” Killian answered. “And you, love? Always a resident of this seafaring town?”

“Most all my life,” she admitted, leaving out a few pit stops along the way. “Mom probably told you that the best place to take me for a dinner date is Granny’s. She loves it there, plus Granny will spy on us and give her updates every few minutes. I’m more into this Italian place near the docks. Awesome seafood and pasta. And their lasagna isn’t frozen. It’s more date like, I think. You know, checked table clothes, drippy candles, wine, and all that.”

“A classic romantic?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Well, I mean if we have to go out, it makes sense to go someplace like that.” She held out her hand and gestured to his phone. “I’ll give you my number in case mom hasn’t already. A date is a date, but might as well get a good meal out of it.”

“By all means,” he said, handing her the latest device on the market. She noted that he did everything with his right hand, his left staying next to his side and covered in a black glove. She was about to mention it when she heard her father’s voice and laughter.

“You’ve met our Emma,” David said, joining the duo at the table and placing one hand under Emma’s elbow. “Our daughter can be a bit blunt. I hope she hasn’t insulted you or made you change your mind.”

“Dad,” Emma said, swatting him playfully.

“She’s been absolutely brilliant,” Killian answered, shoving his phone in his pocket. “By the way, love, name’s Killian Jones. I don’t believe I properly introduced myself.”

David nodded knowingly. “Killian is here to work with your mother on her bid for the mayor’s office. He’s a wiz when it comes to all things in local politics. Very highly recommended.”

“Work for mom?” Emma asked weakly, trying to ignore the not quite so humble smile that played about Killian’s mouth. “You mean he’s not…”

“Of course, Regina is taking time off to plan her wedding and then get settled into married life. She recommended Killian to run your mom’s campaign since Archie is considering and Mal has already announced. Anyway, it is good you met. Killian’s going to need to talk to you about your role in promoting our family. Maybe you can meet up at Granny’s later this week.” David glanced around the room and gripped his daughter’s arm harder. “I wanted to introduce you to someone I met when I was buying supplies for the farm. His name is Walsh.”

Emma stammered a bit, her face turning pink as Killian continued to hold that smile that showed both bemusement and cockiness. “Walsh…”

“Go ahead, love,” Killian said. “We’ll finish our conversation at this Granny’s or perhaps you might like the atmosphere.”

Emma was sure that her face was bright red as his eyebrows lifted up and down in a way that made her wonder just what lascivious thoughts were rolling around in that head of his. She felt those blue eyes on her as her father made another excuse and led her over to the man in the green tie who was smiling nervously at her and oblivious to her discomfort and not so secret looks over at Killian Jones.

She nodded appropriately and even asked a few questions about Walsh and his furniture design business. Her own rental was outfitted with castoffs and hand me downs that had seemed comfortable and worn at the time. He was telling her why it was important to have pieces that spoke of her uniqueness and character. At least that was what she heard on the occasions she bothered to listen and didn’t internalize the flinches and groans as her parents introduced Killian Jones to every person in the room. She wasn’t pleased to see most of the single women giggling and flashing him flirtatious smiles that he easily returned. There was no need to be jealous, but still the emotion was creeping up her spine as she watched him actually kiss Ruby’s hand like something out of a novel.

“I could show you sometime,” Walsh interrupted. She jumped at being caught unaware and repeated the words back to him in hopes of making some sense of the situation. “My shop. I have some really beautiful pieces I think you would like.”

“Well, if I am ever in the market,” she said, realizing that he was holding out a business card with his personal number written on the back. “Have you met August and his father Marco. They do some of the most beautiful woodwork you have ever seen. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“We were right about the monkey guy,” Ruby said defeatedly, kicking off her shoes and reclining on the bed in Emma’s childhood bedroom. The room didn’t quite do justice to the angsty teen she had been, but still boasted teen idol posters of boy bands and even the dollhouse brought by Santa one year. “But that other guy was cute and quite the charmer. Even I was about to hit on him. I had such high hopes for your mother.”

Emma flinched as she unclipped her hair and left it to fall around her shoulders in soft waves. “Yeah, so he’s not my set up of the year. Yet I asked him out, sort of. I don’t know. I made a fool out of myself.”

“He didn’t seem too offended,” Ruby suggested. “I mean I was distracted once Dorothy agreed to dance but every time I looked in his direction he was looking in yours. And I might add that was pretty often.”

“Right, he was probably trying to figure out what was wrong with me.” Emma was about to bemoan her embarrassed state a little more when her phone dinged out one and then another text message. She reached over to grab it and groaned with the realization. It was Killian. Ruby immediately wanted to know what he had to say and proceeded to inspect the picture he sent just in case Emma was confused if he was the guy in the green tie or not.

“Emma, you might have had a rough start, but he’s hot. And he’s clearly interested. Why else would he text?” Passing the phone back, she shrugged. “And let’s face it, you and commitment aren’t that strong of allies. He’s from out of town. Mary Margaret said he travels all over to do these little campaigns. I’m seeing excellent fling material.”

The text was taunting her, a coy comment about Italian restaurants and then a reminder of who he was with the picture. “I should answer him. I mean it would be rude not to answer, right?”

“Your mother would say not to be rude to anyone, but I’m telling you there is no reason to be rude to that guy.” Ruby reached over and grabbed a 10 year old magazine from the table, clearly bored with the conversation. “But I mean it is up to you. Text him. Don’t text him. Your choice.” Ruby flipped the pages casually, bringing up what dresses Regina was going to want them to wear at her wedding. She insisted that red wouldn’t be that garish at a Christmas event. It wasn’t until Emma refused to correct her that Ruby even looked over cautiously. “You haven’t texted him?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Ruby propped herself onto one elbow. “It’s written all over your face.”

Emma shoved the phone back in her bag and let her head loll against the mattress as she sat cross legged on the floor. She rarely was in this room now, but somehow it felt comfortable and almost nostalgic to discuss dating and boys with her friend just down the hall from her parents. At least she wasn’t practicing writing his name with hers or anything like that. “I don’t get crushes.”

“You’re much too tough for that.”

Emma wasn’t exactly wrong about her aversion to crushes. She was in her twenties and already sheriff of the small coastal town. She wore practical boots or sneakers more than heels and her long hair had not seen princess curls in months. This event at her parents was the first time she’d worn a dress except to church. “If I did, and I’m not saying I do, what difference does it make. I’m a grown woman, mother of a 10 year old, and I have a career. I’m hardly going to make cootie catchers and see if his name comes up after saying some horrible rhyme.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully and went back to the magazine. “Not to mention horribly ugly and boring. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

“You are going to pay for that one, Ruby,” Emma laughed, tossing a pillow and joining in as Ruby cackled with laughter. They were both laughing so hard that Emma barely heard the familiar chirp of her phone ringing. Holding up a hand to silence her friend, she shushed her and reached for it. She only hoped she sounded less winded than she felt as she said her own name and waited for the response.

“I hope I didn’t call to late,” a male English accent sounded on the other end. Even without seeing him in person, she could already picture that bemused smirk and light in his eyes. “I meant to check back with you, love, but time got away from me and then you were gone.”

“Oh um…good…I mean great…I mean you didn’t call too late,” Emma gestured wildly at her friend who was making choking signs in response to her word vomit. “But why did you call?”

“Well, love, you did give me your number,” he reminded her. “I tried texting, but didn’t get a response. I thought perhaps you were screening, but I had to give it a shot. I was hoping you might have a bit of time for me tomorrow – breakfast perhaps? I know you said you preferred that little Italian place, but I have never known such an establishment to be open very early. Perhaps that Granny’s, you spoke of? We could save the Italian place for our dinner date. I have been craving some ravioli lately.”

“Date?” Emma stammered, ignoring the way that Ruby looked ready to pounce. “I…”

“You did sort of ask me out and I must say it was a masterful way to do so. I would love to accompany you for dinner, Emma. But first we have a bit of business to discuss about your mother’s campaign. Breakfast then? 8 a.m.? Granny’s?”

“I’ll be there,” she answered dully as he spoke politely for a moment about thanking her for her time.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

Emma’s father had not gotten the memo that she was going out for breakfast, as he was flipping pancakes onto a large plate as she descended the stairs, handed her son his permission slip for the field trip, and dodged the family’s collie that seemed to be underfoot. Her mother showed no signs of worry as she sipped her morning coffee and reminded Emma to wear a scarf and hat as she consoled her husband that there were not too many pancakes and Emma wouldn’t have eaten them all anyway.

She pulled her yellow bug up in front of the diner, taking the last of the spots at 8:05 a.m. That was early for her and not a big worry that she was late for meeting with Killian. That was until she walked in, kicked a bit of the snow off her boots (the black ones with a heel that were in her old closet and could not be described as practical – don’t judge), and spied Killian at one of the booths talking to Tink. The bubbly blonde was petite and perfect, a face and voice like a cherub in a painting. Every year she had the solo at the church choir’s Christmas Eve performance and every year people wiped away tears at her beautiful rendition. She didn’t look very angelic as she perched on the edge of her seat and leaned forward to talk animatedly with Killian. Her smile flashing at him and even an occasional stroke of his arm with her hand to emphasize a point. Even in the 90 seconds she had been standing there kicking her boots and unwinding the mile long scarf from her mother, she had watched the waitress stop by and lean across the table to give Killian quite the view down her shirt.

Ruby must have noticed too, as she left her spot behind the counter and fluffed Emma’s hair with an encouraging nod and a teasing note that Emma was wearing lip gloss. Spinning her with one hand on her shoulder, Ruby sort of nudged her in the direction of the booth with a hissed reminder to smile.

“Killian,” Emma said, ignoring the pout from Tink, whose real name was Isabella but didn’t want to be confused with the town librarian, Belle, “sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, love,” he said, scooting out to stand as she arrived. “I was going over a few notes for the kick off and Tink here was catching me up on some of the ideocracies that make small town politics so fun.”

Emma flashed a quick smile at her childhood friend, watching her slink out of the booth and tell Killian she was in the town directory if he wanted to call. He did not follow her with his eyes as she sashayed toward the door, nor did he smirk like Emma wanted to do when Ruby called after Tink to tell her that she still owed for her morning tea. It wasn’t that she disliked Tink, but there was that feeling that made her feel ill when she saw her flirting with Killian.

He gestured for her to sit down a simple glance toward the counter sent the waitress scrambling to bring them menus and take their orders. Or maybe it was just his order, as he had to call her back to get Emma’s. Despite his seemingly healthy eating style the night before, he matched her order of a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon. Granny had even fancied it up with chocolate shavings.

His questions were easy at first, wanting to know about her childhood and then her job. While a few were personal, he did not seem to be prying. She even managed to ask him a few and he offered some answers of his own without objecting too loudly and then quickly getting them back on track. She learned of his naval experience that paid for his education and how he had become involved in the campaigns and politics of small cities and his love of the ocean and aged rum.

“So is your position as sheriff an elected one?” he asked, casually resting back in the vinyl seat across from her.

She was taking two sips to his one when she noticed the way he smiled as he watched her. Instinctively she raised her hand up to swipe at the whipped cream that might have gathered on her nose but found none. “What?” she asked in exasperation. “Did I make a mess?”

“No, I am simply enjoying watching you share your experiences as sheriff. Your passion for it shines on your face, love.”

She knew she was probably blushing and rolled her fork through the home fries as a distraction.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

For the next few days they saw each other often. There was the announcement of her mother’s candidacy where she helped place signage. She ran into him when she went to inspect a license of one of the vendors at the skating rink and ended up sharing a drink and conversation. While pondering which type of creamer to buy, he popped up out of no where and offered a suggestion. He was even there when the church choir had a rehearsal, claiming he was talking to some potential volunteers. He did apologize for that when the choir director called Emma out for missing two of her cues in a row because she was watching him, in the words of Regina, make doe eyes at her and silently flirt.

In the mean time, her mother had been talking up Walsh’s skills in design and potential as a date for Emma. There was now a gaping hole in the living room at the farm house where her mother was having him design a custom entertainment center. Her brother was already complaining that the television on the floor was not the greatest idea. Emma tried to explain Walsh wasn’t her type, but her mother wasn’t hearing it and was asking when she was seeing him again. Given that she had not saved his number and had mutually agreed with him that they weren’t really each other’s type it seemed unlikely. However, Mary Margaret was so cutely sure she had done well this year that Emma hadn’t the heart to tell her.

One morning over doughnuts at the station her mother read the speech Killian had written for her campaign and asked her daughter for feedback. Emma offered a few remarks as the woman adjusted the clutter on her father’s desk.

“I think he’s handsome,” her mother said at one point. “Kinda has that mysterious look to him.”

“Who?” Emma asked distractedly. “Dad?”

It was the pronoun game.

“No, I was talking about…” The phone ringing cut off what Emma was sure was a pep talk about Walsh. The conversation was left unfinished as Emma went to investigate the case of the missing trash can lids. Spoiler: some of the kids were using them for sledding.

It was a full two days later before she saw Killian again. Granted he had texted a few times and called her “by accident” when he claimed he had meant to call her mother to discuss strategy. He was humming a tune and scrolling through his tablet when she and her son, Henry, spotted him inside the library. Apparently, he had set up shop in the corner and had everything but a receptionist there to greet visitors. Her son, who had heard his name a few times from his grandparents, pointed him out in a totally obvious way that made Emma want to crawl under the table. Somehow she managed to take a few steps closer and do more than the wave she originally planned.

“Nice office,” she said of the table he had commandeered. “Quiet I guess.”

“It has it’s perks,” he offered. “I was heading over to talk to your father. He said he would be at the station this afternoon. I take it you are not?”

“Short break to get my son home before I go back to face the files on my desk.” She knew her son was already done checking out his three books and would be joining them any second. She only hoped he would not blurt out an inappropriate question. She was about to send up a silent prayer when she noted that the glove Killian normally wore on his left hand was off and a synthetic material prosthetic was in its place. Before she could say anything, he looked down at the hand as though surprised by it and shrugged.

“Naval accident, an accident.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” she said not sure what else to say about it. It was clearly an old injury and hardly one she had a blame in causing.

“Tis an old pain,” he told her. “Most days I don’t really think of it.”

She nodded, glancing at her son who was still in conversation with Belle. “Does that mean you are getting more comfortable with me?” She instantly regretted saying that, as it came off a little weak.

“You do seem to put me at ease, love.” He winked at her and leaned a little to the left as her son ran up beside her. “You, lad, must be Henry. Your grandparents tell me you are quite the author.”

Henry nodded enthusiastically and continued the conversation for a few more beats, nearly forgetting his mother was there. Even a comment from another patron, Will, that Killian was clearly trying to get to the mother through the son, went unnoticed by all but Emma who stood taller and tried to let it slide. Killian was quite the conversationalist, observantly noting that Henry was holding a book on piracy along the New England states. That really got them going until Emma reminded Henry that she needed to drop him off at home to meet the tutor and get back to work.

That was how she ended up with Killian sitting in her living room and then the two of them walking side by side back to the station to interview her father. He opened doors for her, asked her less probing questions, and complimented the way she handled one of the boys known for getting into trouble with a stern look and warning. She was starting to feel natural about it all when he stopped short at the wreath decorated double doors and scratched behind his ear.

“I was wondering, love,” he said, shifting his eyes to the door and back to her again. “Rather I was hoping you might…well, bloody hell, I was hoping to ask you on that date. I gather you weren’t aware of who I was or why I was here when you sort of asked me.”

“I thought you were the guy my parents set me up with this year. It wasn’t my finest moment.”

He smiled nervously, his lips tight and his eyes again darting to the doors. She realized he was looking to see if her father was lurking. “It was rather adorable actually and I was thinking…”

She closed her eyes as he searched for the words, something she was sure he rarely did in his life. He always seemed to know the perfect thing to say and the perfect way to say it. “Killian, you don’t have to…”

“And if I want to?”

“Then maybe we could meet up tomorrow evening? Or wait no…tomorrow is the winter carnival for the kids at the orphanage and I am hosting the movie portion. Maybe Thursday…no Henry’s got his soccer game. I would say Friday but I’ve got choir practice and Saturday is mom’s campaign rally.” She truly looked sorry about her schedule as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Busy lass,” he muttered. “I suppose we’ll have to consider another time. Or by chance are you free this evening?”

Biting down on her lip, she closed her eyes briefly. “I want to say yes, but my father is in there and I’d rather not mention this to him. And given that my son is likely to either eat potato chips and chocolate milk for dinner, stay up past bedtime for video games or inappropriate movies, or worst yet burn the place down in an attempt to see what he can melt in the oven, I’m thinking I need a back up babysitting plan that doesn’t include my parents.”

“Rather not hear the I told you so? Or are you hoping to keep me your little secret?”

“My parents are a little on the enthusiastic side when it comes to my love life.” She tilted her head back for a moment and then made eye contact again. “I have a plan, but you have to swear to me that we won’t be going to Granny’s or any place else they would be spotted.”

He assured her that paper napkins weren’t on the menu. “I have no issue with being circumspect, love. Trust me, I can plan an evening for us.”

If she didn’t trust him, she didn’t show it as he ushered her inside and greeted David. His cheeks were a little red from the cold and she knew hers were too. However, David never seemed to notice their conversation outside. She saw him pulling out his notes when she spoke up and asked David if Henry could perhaps have dinner with them. She managed to ask nonchalantly, simply a scheduling glitch.

“Any particular reason,” David asked, barely hiding his smile.

“I’m going out,” she answered vaguely, crossing her denim clad legs and pulling a stack of files into her lap. “Did you see Leroy’s file? I need to check about his court date.”

“Haven’t seen it. Anyone I know?” He was trying to watch her in the reflection of his computer screen, sneaking a few knowing looks at Killian who was flipping casually through his notebook.

“Oh you know,” she said, pausing to look at a document, “that guy from your party.” She didn’t want to lie to her dad, but she could tell he was not going to let up. It was one thing to have her father believe it was Walsh but another to flat out tell him that.

Killian seemed to understand, interrupting the awkwardness with a cheeky smile. “Since Emma appears to be on a deadline and you’ll be entertaining the lad this evening, it sounds like we need to get through these questions to prepare your wife’s talking points. Let’s start with the most obvious. You have a role that is second in command here at the station and in the community. How does that work with you effectively reporting to your own daughter?”

Emma let out a little sigh and as her father droned on about how proud he was of her, she shot Killian a grateful look. Her father seemed to take pride in both his work and how well she did her job, showing him pictures of celebrations after tough cases were solved and the commendations she had gotten from the governor. Most grown children worry that they aren’t successful enough or are somehow a disappointment to their parents. Emma didn’t have that worry when David Nolan talked about her.

He was still talking about how well Emma had worked with Regina who was stepping down to concentrate on her new life when Emma slipped out to change. Neither he nor Killian seemed to notice that she almost spoke up twice to tell Killian that maybe tonight wasn’t the best timing. Then she reminded herself of Ruby’s advice. He was a nice and more than good looking man. He didn’t even live here. So what if she went out with him. It was just fun.

She repeated that to herself as she went to her car to head home and change. That is until the realization hit that she didn’t really have anything to wear. A trip to one clothing store in town would rouse suspicion and the tailor was a friend of her mother’s. There was only one place to go.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“No leather, no spiked heels, no red, no plunging necklines, and I would preferably like to sit down without flashing everyone in town,” Emma said as Ruby dove into the bowels of her closet up above Granny’s. The woman had squealed, hugged Emma, and asked if certain parts had been shaved or waxed. Emma assured her that was not an issue and that she just needed something that didn’t have the capacity for her shoulder or hip holster. Ruby had of course said she had just the thing.

With no sign of her wardrobe addition, Emma looked at her phone and two unread texts.

Killian: Your father is in search of your old scouting badges. I feel like we should have code words. Perhaps not. Meet me at the docks at 7?

She answered quickly, not wanting Ruby to interfere with the response that would probably be inappropriate. A quick see you then and an internally debated smiley emoji would have to suffice. The next message was from her mother.

Mom: David says you have a date. Very exciting. When you come by to pick Henry up, I want to hear all about it. I’ll wait up.

Her mother was going to be an issue. She loved the eternal optimist that was her mother, a woman who had more than her fair share of darkness, including losing two parents early in life, but rose above it to see the good in people. Wasn’t that what Emma was doing. She was seeing the good in Killian despite the voices inside that said this was a bad idea. Well, she could rationalize it that way. Her mother truly wanted a happily ever after for her daughter, something even Emma couldn’t disagree with in scheme of things. The fact that her mother even believed in such things was pretty amazing.

Ruby emerged with a black dress that looked more like a set of random strips all stitched together. Beneath it was a red dress that flared out and looked more appropriate for dancing. And beneath that was a soft mauve frock with a full skirt and wrapped bodice. She knew that was the one she wanted to wear, but knowing Ruby she had to at least try the others. Half an hour later she was wearing the lighter colored dress, matching nude heels, and her hair was what her friend called casually curled.

She was standing with her arms crossed for warmth at the docks at 7:01 when Killian emerged from one of the sailboats with a single red rose in his hands. “Apparently,” he said, steadily walking the gang plank despite the swell of the waves that had her not quite sure if she was standing still or not, “it is nearly impossible to procure just a rose this time of year. You almost ended up with a pot of poinsettias.”

“It’s beautiful,” she remarked. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

He assured her that it was no trouble and that she was beautiful herself. Below deck he had a small table set with real dishes and flatware, a bottle of wine and containers of pastas and sauces from the Italian restaurant she had mentioned. The only thing, he mused, was that he could not do the candles since such items were not really safe on a boat.

“Confession time,” he said, clinking his glass with hers. “I borrowed the boat. I don’t have one here in Storybrooke.”

“I knew that,” she admitted. “It’s my uncle Leroy’s boat.”

“Short man, scruffy looking, kind of grumpy?”

“Always grumpy, yes. It’s nice of you though. Not too many prying eyes.”

He took a sip and pondered that for a moment. “I take it that you would prefer to keep things clandestine just in case. I am also guessing that you gave the information to your friend Ruby just in case I turn out to be a murderer.”

“I can take care of myself.” She squared her shoulders off.

“Aye, I believe you can, love.”

The rest of the meal passed with pleasant conversation and only a few awkward pauses that were usually filled before it got to be too much. Killian had even brought along a set of speakers to stream music allowing them to dance. It was a tough that even Emma thought was sweet as his arms were around her in a way that she admitted fit. She wasn’t sure how much life was left in his phone or when the clouds that had been building all day would open up with snow, but time seemed to stand still as they swayed. Her eyes closed and her head resting against his right shoulder. He lifted their entwined hands and softly kissed hers. She was glad her eyes were closed and her head nestled against his chest.

She could feel his breathing change and his hold feeling tense. Her name came out as a whisper from him. She lifted her head and found his eyes searching hers. “Emma? I would very much like to kiss you.”

“I’m not sure you can handle that,” she teased in just as soft of a voice. Yet she closed the space between them and let him close the rest. Their lips touching softly at first and then with more passion. Her hands gripped at his shirt, pulling him toward her and his hand hovered at her hair before threading through it with a sort of awe she had never experienced.

They might have stayed like that for a while had the siren of her dad’s cruiser not shattered the cold and quiet night. Maybe they should have stayed below deck, ignored her father’s presence on the docks. However, that plan faded as his footsteps grew closer and she knew, just knew that someone had spotted them on Leroy’s boat and reported it. Resigned to the fate that her father was about to find out who her date was with and probably have an opinion about it, she took a step back and turned to climb up into the cold. While he said nothing, Killian placed his own jacket, a worn leather one, over her shoulders. It was a gentlemanly gesture and one that shouldn’t surprise her.

“Dad?” she asked, holding one hand over her eyes to shield it from the giant flakes falling silently from the sky. “Did something…”

Her father looked startled and even a little embarrassed to see her there. His breathing was normalizing when Killian emerged too, which sent his eyes wide and his gasp of surprise sharpening. “I didn’t realize…”

“Everything okay, mate?” Killian asked. His dark colored shirt and black vest offered little warmth against the plummeting temperatures. However, he did not indicate it by shivering or otherwise complaining.

“Sure…I mean I was just answering a call about someone attempting to break in cars when I saw Emma’s bug. Someone said they thought they saw the suspect run this way and…”

Emma gave her father a nod, taking a deep breath to switch back into her role as sheriff. “Any description?”

Her father’s eyes drifted to where Killian’s hand was covering hers and giving it a slight squeeze of reassurance. They narrowed and his voice faltered as he answered, “light colored hair, red sweatshirt, about 5’9”, thin.”

“Sounds like a juvenile,” Emma assessed. “I’m assuming we don’t have any camera visuals. Last time we investigated over here the cameras were malfunctioning and I haven’t noticed…”

“Emma,” her father said, his boots shuffling a little on the worn planks of the dock that were beginning to be covered in snow. “You don’t have to…I mean…You’re on a date…I guess you are.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, glancing at Killian who seemed to be enjoying the moment. Suddenly she felt the urge to clear up the misconceptions she had caused. “I didn’t mean to…” She cleared her throat. “I know you probably thought I meant I was seeing that Walsh guy.”

“Your mother’s buying an entertainment center from him,” David answered with confusion. “It’s not my business who…but where is Walsh?” He did manage to lower the flashlight and seem less ominous there on the docks, but still had his hand on his hip and was rocking backwards as he waited for explanations.

“I’m not really sure. I haven’t exactly seen him since the party.” Emma glanced at Killian who was standing closer to her than she realized. That wasn’t exactly unpleasant as a prospect. “Killian and I…”

“You and Killian,” he father parroted with the confusion that it hadn’t dawned on him. “You and Killian what?”

Killian gave her hand another squeeze and took a step forward as though offering himself as tribute. “Aye, mate. I do fancy your daughter and she and I have been spending time together.”

Blinking back at them, David appeared to running through the occasions he had seen them together and attempting to digest this information. “So the conversation about intentions toward Emma should be delivered to you and not Walsh?” It was too dark to know for sure, but Emma thought he looked a little disappointed.

She reminded him that there was a potential thief on the loose and he assured her he had it under control and to go back to her date. Killian just sort of shrugged and offered his analysis that it wasn’t that much of a secret after all. They talked a bit longer, took a slow walk toward her car, and both hopped in with him saying he would walk to Granny’s after she was safely at her parents with her son.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, speeding up the wipers against the snow. “I can drop you off. No need for you to freeze.”

He looked toward her in the dark car and gave her a soft smile. “Your father is bound to have told your mother about our date, love. I know you had hoped to keep it secret. I only wanted to offer my services should you want them to fend off her disappointment and concern.” He jumped when she placed her hand over his prosthetic.

“I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. I guess I just don’t want to disappoint them with another failed attempt at matchmaking. My mother has to be ready to give up by now.”

“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “she might have to give up anyway. If we were to date, surely she would not attempt to replace me each year.” Her hand jerked away fast, something he noticed. “I hoped you might want…”

She sighed, turning her car off the coastal road to the one that led toward town. “Killian, I am the one who originally asked you out. Even if that was a misunderstanding. I had fun. I enjoy spending time with you. But…”

“But?”

“But we live in two different cities. The special election is going to be over next month. What kind of relationship can we have when you’ll be off on your next job and I’ll still be here? I’m not 18 and free to wander around after you. I have a job, parents, a son, and responsibilities.”

“We could…”

“Killian, I like you. I like spending time with you, but I’m not interested in starting a go no where or long distance relationship. I want more than a pen pal. Think about it. You do too.” The driveway of the farmhouse was coming into sight and then disappeared as she passed it. “I’ll take you back to Granny’s. No sense in talking to my mother about this. We’ll just say it was a one time thing.”

“As you wish.” His voice was quiet, deep, and almost wistful.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

As the holidays grew nearer, Emma’s parents and Killian went into campaign overdrive. There were photoshoots of the whole family on the farm. Her mother even managed to sneak in a few candid shots of Emma and Killian. Speaking of Mary Margaret, she was only mildly disappointed at Emma’s secret that she was not seeing Walsh. That was quickly erased as she said she had considered setting her daughter up with Killian, but was quickly dissuaded when her internal voice said her daughter would object. Nobody corrected her on it.

For his part, Killian worked hard and would try to sneak in time with Emma. They shared a few lunches, walked around the farm discussing a few strategies, and shopped together for a present for her parents. He sat with them on Christmas Eve when Emma performed with the choir for mass, looking just as in awe and proud as her parents did. He even joined them for the evening meal on Christmas, leaving behind a gift for Emma rather than making a big deal of her opening it in front of everyone.

As the wreathes were removed and the snow seemed not as white, the election day finally drew close and Killian was even more of a fixture. He was constantly showing up with a new tactic and shoving his client in front of cameras to announce a proposed initiative. Everything from illiteracy to hunger would be addressed by Mary Margaret Nolan for mayor. When election day arrived, more than 60% of the voters chose her and he beamed proudly from the sidelines. Most people noticed the hug shared between Emma and Killian, but it seemed to be just part of the celebration. It went so long into the night that nobody really saw the two of them saying goodbye the next morning.

“I wish it was different,” she admitted, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Perhaps someday, love. After all, nothing stays the same.”

She watched as the Uber driver loaded his bags and Killian reluctantly slid into the backseat. Their eyes were locked and the unsaid words hung in the air. She wasn’t sure she even breathed again until she was pulling up in front of her parents’ house. Her father was flipping pancakes, but her mother was at the doorway even as she dragged up the steps of the front porch.

“I like him,” her mother said. “He’s a good man.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, accepting the hug and hurrying in before the next gust of wind. “I just…I don’t want this every time we see each other. I don’t want to miss him and have the constant feel like a clock is counting down the hours.”

“I know, Emma. And that is very practical, but if you…”

Emma didn’t wait for her mom to finish the statement before greeting her father and asking about setting the table. It wouldn’t be the last time that her mother brought him up. She would over the next few months, mentioning seeing him at some event or another. Emma never asked, but her mother would always update her on his well being. It wasn’t that Emma didn’t know. He still called. He texted. When he was in the area he would invite her to dinner or to an event. She occasionally went but always told herself it was just casual. He never tried to kiss her again and she never sat herself too close to him, despite Ruby’s advice to do so.

A book he had mentioned to her once said of the protagonist and her lover turned best friend, “they would continue to call and write until eventually they were just acquaintances and no longer a real part of each other’s lives.” That’s what Emma resigned herself to when he didn’t answer her text or voicemail inviting him to her parents’ annual party. He’d been pretty scarce for the past few weeks. Their conversations short and usually interrupted by something or someone. She once even heard a female voice in the background and wondered if he was seeing someone. That idea hurt more than she wanted to admit.

She wore red to her parents’ party, her hair hanging loose and the smile on her face tense and unyielding. She was sipping on champagne and watching as Regina and Robin twirled around the room still in bliss nearly a year after their wedding. Walsh was there too, dancing with Zelena and inking a new design deal with Marco. Neal had brought Tink as his date, which made Emma roll her eyes. And her parents were at their prime greeting and hugging all of those in attendance.

“Emma,” her mother called out when a few more guests were greeted. “Come here. I want you to say hello to someone.”

Ruby gave her a sympathetic look as Emma begrudgingly dragged her feet over to where her parents were standing. And there he stood, Killian in a freshly pressed suit with a wide smile on his face as she approached. Her mother was giddy as she mockingly introduced them. “Emma, you remember my old campaign manager, Killian, right? Well, he was in town getting settled because his new job at the governor’s office starts next month. I was thinking that he might be just the kind of guy you’d like to get to know.”

#csss #csss2020 #Captain Swan

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gothgirlmahi · 5 years ago

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All That’s Best (Chapter One)

Dark!Steve x Reader

Masterlist

So this is Chapter 1, I’m making a part 2 and 3 to my story Selfish so the second part of that will probably be my next update. If you wanna be tagged in all my stories or just this one please send an ask and enjoy reading :)

Chapter 1

The process of taking you and getting you in his car was easier than it should have been. Steve recalled that you liked to open your window during the morning as you cooked breakfast. He also recalled that he never saw you lock it. As luck would have it, that was the only window you had that was unlocked. And it was his way in.

When he stepped into your apartment he could hear your soft breaths coming from your bedroom. You were asleep. He crept in silently as not to wake you.

He had only been in your apartment twice, the first time was while you were at work. He installed a few cameras and mics for audio. Just so he could be sure you were okay when he couldn’t physically be there. The second visit was after catching you having some personal time with a bullet vibrator. You hand was down your panties as you held it to yourself and the other was groping your breast. He wondered what you were thinking about as you came and hoped it was him. After you were done, you threw your panties in the hamper and he snuck in to take them. They smelled like you and definitely helped him curb some of his more carnal urges towards you.

Your bedroom was a bit Spartan. Very basic and not many hints of the exuberant personality you had shown him. He knew you had moved in rather recently but he had to wonder why you never decorated more. There was a cute little elephant figurine on your nightstand that he remembered seeing you buy at an open air market in the city.

That was okay. He’d let you decorate however you wanted when you moved in together. Hopefully the process of it wouldn’t be too hard. Of course he expected initial resistance but he could get you to love him. You had to.

The idea of sedating you pained him so he did it quickly, jabbing the needle in your arm and letting go. Your eyes shot open for the briefest of moments before your body went completely slack and unconscious. Steve placed a quick kiss on your forehead before pulling you over his shoulder. He was an expert at stealth so getting you into the car and into his house was no issue.

He smiled to himself. It was all coming together.

Your mind was alight with worry as soon as your eyes fluttered open. There was the memory of...something happening. You weren’t quite sure what, but you woke up in an unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar bed so something had definitely happened. Your skin was damp with sweat and your head was banging. Your wrists were sore and bound to the headboard with rope. Instinctively you tugged at them and realized they didn’t have much give.

Panic set in.

You had obviously been kidnapped. For reasons you couldn’t even speculate about. It didn’t make sense. The fact that you were tied to a bed didn’t exactly quell your fears about your captor’s intentions.

The door swung open and you blinked in surprise.

Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers was standing there looking nonplussed with his hands casually in his pockets as he looked over you. Any relief you felt at first seeing him vanished when you took in his body language. Then confusion set in because this didn��t make sense.

“Untie me. Please.” It was worth a shot. He just chuckled and sat next to you.

“I’m glad you’re awake, sweetheart. I know this is confusing for you. I brought you here because I love you. I can protect you. I’ll provide for you. I’ll be a good husband. You’ll never have to work again. All you have to do is—“

You tugged on your restraints again and Steve’s face fell.

“Calm down, you’ll hurt yourself like that.”

“What the hell is going on?!”

A flurry of theories went through your head along with your fear and paranoia. Steve Rogers has kidnapped you. He was absolutely deranged. Maybe he was some kind of blood psychopath and wanted to kill you. Maybe a cannibal? He was definitely looking at you like he wanted to eat you. That train of thought normally would have made you giggle to yourself but you were too scared to find any humor in the situation.

You weren’t sure if the truth was worse than him being a killer or a cannibal. Steve Rogers had convinced himself he was in love with you. And he wasn’t planning on letting that love fade or taking things slow. He wanted to be your husband. You barely knew this man. You had gone on one date and now you were chained up in his house.

“I’ve been thinking. I came to the conclusion that the only way I can keep you safe is if you’re with me. I know this is sudden, but it works out well for both of us. I’m devoted to you. More than you could possibly know. One day I want you to be my wife. I want you to have my kids. I’ll take care of you. We’ll be a family and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t want to set him off but he was also looking at you waiting for a response. A little whimper left your lips and you tried to stretch your arms as best you could in their increasingly uncomfortable position.

“Steve, I don’t know what you want me to say.” There was definitely an attempt on your part or remain calm. Or to, at the very least, look calm.

“That’s okay. You’ll learn. Now let’s talk about rules. You—”

“Rules?”

“One of the rules is don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking. I’ll give you a pass this once because you didn’t know yet. If you don’t follow the rules I give you, you’ll be punished. On that note, when I speak to you or ask you a question I expect a response. It’s only polite.

“You do what I say, when I say it. I don’t want any back talk. This is my house and what I say goes. Do not attempt to leave this house. Even on the off chance you could escape, I would just find you and you won’t like what I do when I bring you back. So let’s not have that happen. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you affirmed, shaking in your restraints. The sight of you made Steve sigh, looking a bit sad. He ran his hands through his hair.

“I didn’t want to do this. I just need to know that you’re safe. I know you’re scared, but I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to take care of you.”

You stared at him for a while. He inched closer to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Steve, my hands are going numb,” you said. He looked up at the restraints and back to you.

“If I untie you, will you be good? No kicking, fighting, screaming?

”You nodded. What could you do anyway? It wasn’t like you could beat up Captain America. Steve reached and loosened the ropes, letting your numb wrists fall limply to the side. A quick glance around had you noticing the lack of windows and stifling air in the room. You were probably in a basement. The bedroom was well furnished. Paint smelled a little fresh.

There were three doors. Hazarding a guess, you could assume one was probably a bathroom, at least one of them led to the rest of the basement and one might have been a walk in or another room. In the corner there was a vanity with makeup and beauty products out on it. Next to it was a rack of shoes of various types, pumps, tennis shoes, ballet flats, even a pair of black Mary Janes. A very familiar painting was hung on the wall. A simple scene of a field of flowers that you saw during your gallery date. It had cost a good bit of money but you had really liked it and you said as much to Steve. So why was it here?

Steve couldn’t have meant it for you. There had to be something else. Maybe a female roommate could explain all the products. But that didn’t make any sense either. If he was really as devoted as he claimed, maybe it was all for you. After all, he did intend to keep you here.

You turned away from the objects in the room and looked back to Steve. He was staring at you, face blank and unreadable.

“Do you like it?” he asked evenly. You didn’t know how to reply. You didn’t even know what was going on. When you hesitated in your response, Steve grabbed your thigh in warning.

“I don’t understand,” you sputtered out eventually. He nodded and smiled.

“Your room. Do you like it?”

“I—what? Steve, that painting was fifteen thousand dollars.”

“When you told me you liked it, I bought it immediately. I want you to like your room. When you move upstairs maybe we can put it in the living room.”

“Upstairs?”

“After you learn to trust me and love me and after I know I can trust you, I’ll take you upstairs and we can be a normal couple. For now I need to keep you here. Until I know you won’t make a break as soon as you get a chance. Hopefully soon. Are you hungry? I know it’s been a while since you ate.”

The room felt like it was closing in on you. Steve meant to keep you here. Long term, locked in his basement until he made you love him.

“I’m not hungry.” Your stomach was doing flips and you didn’t need to add vomiting to your list of problems. Steve looked disappointed.

“I’ll bring you something anyway. Just try to eat. I may have gone a little overboard with the sedatives, I didn’t mean to make you sick.”

Now that he mentioned sedatives you realized how weak your body felt. Even if you tried to get out of bed, you weren’t sure you could. Although you were literally laying down, you were still dizzy and slow in processing what was happening. It was past time for you to start screaming and crying but all you could do was lay there and resist the urge to dry heave. Steve got up and pointed to each of the doors.

“Bathroom, closet and this is to the rest of your space. There’s a TV you can watch and some books. I got you a desk and lots of paper for you to write. I’ll try to run out and get you some more books soon.”

You just stared at him. What was there to say? This was unbelievable. Your brain was foggy and you felt like you weren’t processing quickly enough. It was high time that you started screaming and attempting to fight your way out. That’s what kidnapped people usually did right? You could barely muster the energy to move let alone fight so you laid there staring at the wall, staring at Steve and trying to understand what the fuck was going on.

Steve was conflicted. Since you woke up you were mostly calm and compliant. Your eyes were a bit glazed and unfocused as he talked to you. He could tell the sedatives were still in effect because you could barely move your arms or legs. You launched yourself from the bed with a surprising strength and he went after you until he saw you were headed for the bathroom. Your knees hit the floor and you emptied the contents of your stomach into the bowl. Steve grimaced.

He could hit himself. This was not going according to plan. Ideally he would have brought you here, explained the rules, dealt with whatever resistance you had and fed you dinner. He had been prepared for you to yell and scream and hit him. Now you were just in the bathroom throwing up. You couldn’t even cling to him as he carried you back to bed, just weakly grasped and pawed at his shirt.

He looked at you, helpless before him. It would be too easy. He could take you right now and there would be nothing you could do about it. It wasn’t like you could win a fight against him on any other day either, but now you wouldn’t be able to resist at all.

Steve didn’t want your first time to be like this. He wanted you reactive and lively even if it was due to your resistance. For now he would just take care of you, get you healthy again so he could properly make love to you. The way your wet skin clung to your tank top only tempted him but he swore he would hold back.

Against your better judgement, you fell asleep. Whatever he had given you was still hitting you hard.

Your eyes fluttered open to a darkened room. A small lamp burned dimly in the corner. You were propped up against a warm mass and you panicked, remembering where you were and what happened. When you turned to look down at him Steve was already awake and smiling at you.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay? Feeling any better?”

“I don’t know. I’m so tired.”

“Go back to sleep, baby girl. I’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”

You blinked and your eyes went down both of your bodies until your eyes were on Steve’s erection which was pressed into your ass. He pulled you closer to him and grinded against you slowly.

“Go to sleep,” he demanded. You looked up at him with wide eyes. His hand came up to squeeze at your breast and you tried to wiggle out of his grasp. He held you firmly in his arms.

“Steve, what are you doing?”

“Shh.”

You knew it was risky and you knew there was no way to get away from him at the moment. He was stronger than you but you were determined. Mustering all of the limited strength you had, you pushed yourself away from him and only managed to roll to the other side of the bed. Steve pulled you back, pushing you on your back and kneeled between your legs.

He held your arms down with both of his hands.

“I told you to go to sleep.”

“Steve, let me go! You fucking psychopath!” You screamed and thrashed around as best you could which wasn’t much. It only served to make Steve more angry.

“Oh, I’m a psycho? I brought you here to keep you safe. You want me to hurt you? Is that what you want?”

“I want you to let me go!”

“I can’t do that, sweetheart.”

He let you go and ripped your tank top off, throwing it across the room. You screamed and hit against him to no avail. Steve groaned, reaching down to bite into the side of your breast. He ground his clothed cock into your flimsy panties.

Steve quickly undressed, still managing to hold you down with his weight. He resumed grinding against you and you screamed for him to let you go. He angled himself to move against your clit and kept going until he felt a wet spot on your panties. You were mortified, knowing that you shouldn’t be reacting like this but here you were absolutely dripping for your captor and Steve thrived on it.

He let out a low chuckle before pulling your ruined panties off of you.

“I want our first time to be good for both of us. If you start fighting me, I won’t hesitate to tie you down and fuck you like that. Do you understand?”

You nodded with wide eyes. Steve smiled.

“Good.”

He flipped you to lay on your stomach and pulled your hips toward him. The quick movement made you dizzy and you grabbed onto a pillow to bury your face into. Seconds later he was slamming his entire length into you, until his hips met your ass. You whimpered from the pain and he leaned over you, petting your hair.

“I know it hurts, sweetheart. I’m sorry, it’ll be over soon.”

Steve knew the pain was subsiding when you weren’t shaking as badly. He gave a few shallow thrusts, brushing against a spot that made you moan and tighten around his length. He pulled back and aimed for it again. The noises you made spurred him on and he was picking up a quick rhythm within seconds.

You couldn’t help the way your body was reacting to him. He knew that and counted on it. With his sweet little doll face down and ass up on the bed for him, he was in the perfect position to do exactly what he wanted. Dominate you. Humiliate you. Prove you were his. Prove that you needed him.

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

You had lost all fight and laid there pliant while he used you. His hand between your legs had you shaking and pushing back against him.

“I love to see you enjoying yourself. Being such a good girl for me.”

Your moans were muffled by the bed sheets as you grasped at them mindlessly. The loud wet noises of your coupling filled the room. Steve held you in place as your legs shook, pulling you close to get as deep as he could.

“That’s it, baby girl. Is daddy making your pussy feel good? This is what happens when you let me take care of you.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

Your vision went white as you spasmed around him, pulling on the sheets underneath you. The entirety of your body trembled erratically as you came, pushing your hips fervently against his thick cock. The wetness on the inside of your thighs dripped onto the bed and you bit into the pillow trying to stop yourself from screaming. Even after you came down a bit, you were still delirious for him, moaning mindlessly.

“Ah, fuck.” He growled and leaned over you, his mouth to your ear as he pushed deeply into you.

”I’m gonna put a baby in you. I’m gonna make you a mommy. My pretty girl is gonna give me a baby.”

You squirmed around again, trying to get away. Steve held you tightly and pushed you further into the bed.

“You’re fucking crazy,” you said, but your voice was mostly muffled by the mattress. Steve kissed your neck.

“I know. God, I know.”

The bed creaked and hit the wall with how hard he was fucking you.

“Ah, fuck. I won’t last much longer. You’re gonna come for me one more time.”

“I can’t. Steve, stop, I can’t.” The pillow you held onto was now stained with your tears as you approached your climax once more. Steve was relentless. Your legs were numb and useless at this point so Steve’s strength was the only thing keeping you from collapsing into the mattress.

He put his lips to your neck and smirked.

“You will.” He had an arm firmly around your waist while he fucked you and the other one playing with your clit. It was more pain than pleasure but you could feel your orgasm coming whether you wanted it or not. Your legs shook as you came, screaming your orgasm into the humid air. Steve moaned above you and pumped a few more times before his hot seed exploded inside you.

He pulled out of you slowly. You could feel his cum oozing out of you and his your face further into the sheets. His fingers were suddenly in you, stuffing it back in and you yelled out from the overstimulation. You reached back to stop him but he pushed your hands against your back roughly.

“Uh uh. Bad girl. You’re mine. This pussy is mine and I do what I want with it.”

Steve pulled his hand out of you and laid on his back, pulling you against him. Before you could try to pull away, he pressed a kiss into your hair.

“Now go to sleep.”

Taglist

@xoxabs88xox @princessdancingonthesunshine @sllooney @americasass81 @shippers-heart @villanellevi

Masterlist // Chapter Two

#dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark fic #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #dark steve x reader #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark marvel #marvel x reader

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firemblem-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Smitten Kitten [3]

one | two | three | four | finale

-> Pairing: Felix x Female!Reader | Hybrid!Au (mostly platonic idk)

-> Words: 1.6k

-> Warnings: Cursing, A Literal Karen, Mentions of Abuse (not too in depth, but still there), Manipulation, a Slightly Suggestive Conversation

-> Genre: Fluff, Crack, Some Angst

-> Summary: You never wanted to be involved with hybrids. They were risky and had too many rules for you. But what will you do when a little black and white cat that you take in turns out to be the very thing you steered clear of?

-> A/N: so I made two FE3H oc’s and also have gotten back into drawing so I was wondering ... how would y’all feel if I wrote and also posted some of my drawings and stuff here? it would give y’all more content and I’d probably be inclined to post more often lol anyways enjoy

“This is fucking stupid-”

“Stupid? Felix, you lied to me.”

You were livid. First this fuck-ass cat shows up in your life, worms his way into your heart even though you swore you wouldn’t get a hybrid, and then brings all kinds of trouble with him. If you weren’t already so attached to him, you’d just let the people- Doug and Karen- take him. But you couldn’t. You cared too much.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s a huge deal! You told me that they didn’t want you, not that you ran away. Do you know how this can affect me keeping you? They can take me to court or something and get you back.”

“But you signed the papers, I’m yours.”

Your heart fluttered, but you ignored it. “You’re mine, but you also belong to these people. I can’t just take you from them, but I can’t let you go back to them if they were that bad to you- were they even bad? Or did you just not like them? Did you lie to me about that too?”

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t like them because they were bad. Look at ‘em. They don’t love anything except for the gold around their necks, especially not me. I was literally put in cat shows to earn money. If I ever got below first place, they’d…”

He shuddered and sat down on the edge of your bed. You leaned against the door, arms crossed. From the other room you heard talking. Ashe probably saw your front door open and came to investigate.

Felix couldn’t look you in the eyes. You looked so hurt. Not even angry- just hurt. “Please don’t make me go back.”

You sighed and dropped your arms. “I don’t want you to go back, Fe. But I- I don’t know what else to do. They’ve obviously got more money and if they take me to court they’ll win for being ‘better equipped’ to care for you.”

“But they’re not.” His voice was growing desperate. “You are. What if- what if we can prove the center that you’re better than them? Courts don’t deal with Hybrid ownership, the facilities do. Nancy does.”

At that moment, the door creaked open. Two red ears appeared first, then a mop of red hair.

Sylvain grinned and walked in, closing the door and throwing a wink Felix’s way. The cat bristled.

“Give me your phone.”

“I’m not cheating, I swear.”

“We’re not- fuck you, give me your phone, Sylvain.”

The dog practically whimpered and handed over the phone. Felix had a Cheshire grin as he unlocked it. Typical Sylvain to not have a password despite all the dumb shit on the phone. You tapped your foot impatiently, anxious for Ashe who kept the two other people occupied.

“So, what are you planning?”

“I’ll go back with them, but I’ll keep this phone. I’ll- I’ll take those audio messages and send videos and shit when I can. I’ll just have to be careful.” This was the most Felix had ever talked to anyone. His voice was shaky, despite trying to desperately hide it.

“Absolutely not. Felix, you're not going with them! Who knows what they’ll do-“

“I think me dealing with their shit for a few weeks will be worth it if I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your eyes widened and so did Felix’s. He flushed a bright red after realizing what he said. Sylvain cracked up.

“I- I mean, as an owner. You don’t do those things, that’s all. I just-“

“Nah, nah, it’s alright, you little smitten kitten~” Sylvain still smiled. “We catch your drift.”

Felix huffed. “There’s no drift to catch! Fucking drop it! Drop the drift!”

He stood up and yanked the door open, scaring the shit out of Ashe. You followed him quickly, grabbing onto his sleeve as Sylvain went back to Ashe��s side.

“You don’t have to do this, we can find another way.” You whispered. Felix could clearly see your absolute distress at letting him leave.

He held your gaze and let out a sigh. “I’ll be okay. You and Ashe just keep a lookout for my messages.”

With that, Felix tugged his arm out of your grasp and walked to Doug and Karen. He didn’t say anything, just looked down at the ground, his head lowered.

Submission.

That wasn’t the Felix you had come to know. Felix was loud and didn’t take shit from anyone. To see him suddenly reduced to something resembling a kicked puppy- the irony- was borderline heartbreaking.

You couldn’t help but tear up as the door closed. Sylvain whimpered. Ashe, who was silent and confused the whole time, whipped around to you.

“What the fuck is going on?” He seethed. “You didn’t even put up a fight-“

“Take a chill pill, Ashie.” Sylvain went behind Ashe and began to massage his shoulders. Ashe slapped his hands away. “We’ve got a plan.”

“A plan? Y/N, listen, you’re not Claude. You’re not Yuri. Your little plans never work the way they should.”

“Just give this one a chance!” You practically pleaded. “Felix has Sylvain’s phone. He’s gonna send updates and videos on what they’re doing. Hopefully they’ll be enough to convince the facility that Felix is better off with me.”

“Or not! If you don’t remember correctly, the lady fucking hated Felix. She’d probably do whatever she can to make sure he suffers.”

“Maybe the fact that we’re fighting to get him back will prove that we care more than the others-“

“-who literally came to your door and wanted him back. I’ve got no doubt they’ll fight too.” Ashe sighed. “This will only work if they really do something.”

At that moment, your phone pinged. The notification was from Sylvain’s phone. A video from Felix.

You opened the message and pressed okay, shushing Ashe and turning up the volume. Felix was in the backseat of the car while Doug and Karen sat up front. The angle was shitty and the phone was extremely shaky. Felix was trying to hide the phone from them.

“Felix Hugo, what the fuck were you thinking? Leaving like that? After all we’ve done for you?” Karen’s voice was shrill and loud, not even hiding her anger.

“After all you’ve done for me? You’ve done nothing-“

“Shut up! You’re ungrateful. We’ve fed you and housed you. You’re lucky someone even does that for a dumb cat like you. You’re practically feral- unlovable!”

The camera shook a little harder at that word.

Unlovable.

Your heart clenched, but there were still a few more seconds to the video.

“I can’t believe you thought a girl like that would even care about you. See how easily she let you go? She didn’t really want you. See, Felix Hugo? See how worked up you’ve gotten me?”

Doug’s voice cut in, silencing Karen’s annoying distress. “Just wait until we get home. We’ll deal with him there.”

You were probably shaking even more than Felix at this point. ‘Wait until we get home��... you didn’t even want to think of the implications of that.

The video was pure manipulation. But… to some, it may not be enough to make them question Felix’s safety.

Unfortunately.

You texted back, “Just a little more. In about two days, we’ll contact the facility and try to get them to hear us. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re trying your best. Just… try faster.”

“Miss you already.”

Seen.

Hanging your head, you looked up at the two boys. You shrugged and turned off your phone. A few more days, you said. Could you even handle that? You were already so used to his presence. To have an empty household again was something you didn’t want.

Even if it was full of Felix yelling… it was kind of endearing. He was always angry when Ashe and Sylvain were around. It makes sense why other people would be put off by his personality. But he was just…

Defensive.

Felix had walls up that were practically impenetrable. Could that excuse the rude, borderline abusive words he said to others? No. He could only apologize and do better from that. But he wouldn’t get better if he was with Doug and Karen.

You put your head in your hands and began tearing up. “I just want him safe. With me.”

Ashe and Sylvain exchanged glances.

“Yeah, you want him with you. To be with you. To… share your bed, in a literal sense, right?” Sylvain’s eyes held a sly glint in them. You raised an eyebrow.

“What are you on about now?”

“You and Felix. You want him to be with you. You want to be with him…”

“What?”

“Do you have feelings for him? You wanna fuck that cat?”

“Wh- I don’t want to fuck a cat! He’s… he’s more human than cat. Hybrids are just people that can turn into animals…”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Hybrids are people that can turn into animals, have ears and a tail, go into heats, all that shit. You don’t want to deal with an angry feline in a heat-“

“Is that why you’re neutered?”

“I’M NOT NEUTERED. FUCK YOU.”

You just sighed and checked your phone again. No check from Felix, even though it hasn't even been five minutes since the last message. You were just scared.

Ashe got up and began to cook dinner for you, deciding that you weren’t fit to do it tonight. You protested, but ultimately complied as Sylvain laid his head in your lap in hopes of an ear scratch.

That night, you tossed and turned. It was weird without a little cat body at the foot of your bed. You couldn’t help but think of worst case scenarios, spanning from just not being able to get Felix back to rather… unsavory ideas of what could be happening to him now. You finally settled down and forced your eyes shut, hoping that your dreams would be better than your thoughts.

They weren’t.

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companionjones · 5 years ago

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Love In The City

Pairings: Seth Meyers x Stefon, Leslie Jones x Colin Jost

Fandom: Saturday Night Live

Summary: Some friends go out for drinks, but a conflict erupts.

Warnings: Curses, Leslie Jones, many sexual references

*******

“Jeez, it’s almost been an hour. Where are they?” Michael Che questioned Amy Poehler.

She shrugged, “Who knows? Maybe they finally killed each other.”

“Oh, shut up you sensual snow storm on Christmas day,” Leslie Jones complimented Colin Jost as the two of them entered the bar.

Che commented upon spotting the couple, “Nope. Haven’t killed each other yet. S’up, Colin?” he greeted his friend.

“S’up, Che?” Colin returned, using the same tone that Michael did. Which, let’s just say, wasn’t Colin’s usual style.

Michael put a stop to it. “No. No. Stop that now.”

Colin winced, “Yeah, sorry.”

Leslie and Colin took their seats at the table Amy and Michael were at.

“Sorry we’re late, guys.” Leslie explained, “We were busy doing some paddy whack.” She smirked at her partner.

Colin cleared his throat and tried to hide his blush. “Come on, Leslie. They don’t need to know about that.”

Leslie smacked her lips. “Oh baby, you know Mama’s just excited. She wants the whole world to know that we do the do, you white, sexy version of Urkel.”

More to himself than anyone else, Colin mumbled, “Why Urkel?”

Amy Poehler decided to change the subject. “So Leslie, how are you doing since you left SNL?”

“Oh, I’m doing great, Amy. I have this new audio series coming out with John Cena.”

Michael nodded, “Yeah, I heard about that. What’s it about?”

“I’m telling you, gorgeous,” a new voice entered the bar. “This place has everything: hobos, orphans, that fitted sheet you just can’t get to stay on your bed.”

The strange man’s husband, Seth Meyers reasoned, “Okay, we can go there later tonight. But let’s just hang out with our friends for now.”

Stefon agreed, “Sure, but we have to get there soon, they close as soon as their owner, Sarah Silverman’s vagina, gets arrested. And, trust me, it’s coming.”

Meyers nodded vaguely to respond to his husband while they took their seats. “Hey guys, hey Amy,” he addressed the others at the table, “How’s everyone been?”

They all gave their answers, then everyone ordered.

“So,” began Amy, “Stefon, I heard you’re getting back into writing. Any projects yet?”

“No,” was Seth’s immediate, dismissive answer.

Stefon contradicted, “Yes, actually.”

“Oh,” Michael tried to encourage, “What is it?”

“You don’t want to know,” warned Seth.

The former tourism correspondent replied, “It’s this flick about two step-brothers trying to find their way as they moved to the city together.”

Michael endorsed, “That doesn’t sound bad at all. Seth, why are you so stressed about that?”

The late night show host bluntly answered, “It’s a porno,” just before taking a sip from his coffee.

Amy and Michael voiced their sudden distaste.

“Well,” encouraged Leslie, almost pervertedly, “Don’t stop there.”

Colin hesitantly agreed, “Yeah. I’d like to know how fast it goes from that to...porn.”

Jones turned her head to Jost. “Shut up,” she instructed without batting an eye.

“Oh, thank God,” Amy sighed, “Food’s here.”

The six ate in silence for a minute or two before conversation started up again. Luckily, the atmosphere wasn’t as hostile as it had been before.

“Remember that, Che?” Colin laughed, “It smelled so bad!”

Michael chuckled, “You don’t have to remind me. I felt bad for Aidy and Kate. They were the one’s holding it.”

Everyone had stories to tell.

Amy, for instance, couldn’t catch her breath at one point because she was laughing too hard. “And...and Lorne hadn’t even shown up yet, but we were all losing it because of that stupid newscaster skit.”

“We didn’t even end up doing it!” exclaimed Seth in a fit of laughter.

Meanwhile, as everyone else was giggling, Leslie leaned over to Stefon. “I hate when they start talking like this. It’s like they all have some sort of bond because they were all anchors on Weekend Update.”

“I know,” Stefon rolled his eyes, “You should see Seth when we get home. He brings up things that are wildly different from the actual subject of the conversation.”

Leslie nodded, “I get what you’re saying. You know what? We don’t need this. You know any good clubs near here?”

“I know plenty,” assured Stefon.

The two got up to leave.

“Whoa, wait. Where are you guys going?” questioned Colin.

Stefon answered enthusiastically, “We’ve had enough of your bullshit!”

“What?” Seth disputed.

Michael bewilderedly repeated, “Bullshit?”

“Yeah!” Articulated Leslie, “If you ‘Weekend Update’-ers want to keep carrying on like good ol’ pals, that’s fine with us. We’ll be out actually enjoying ourselves. I am a strong, independent, fine black woman. I do not need to take this!”

Stefon exclaimed, “Yeah!” as if every word Leslie said applied to him.

The two outlandish characters left the bar.

“Oh no,” Colin worriedly voiced.

Seth sighed. He was used to that particular situation. “Come on, let’s go after them.”

“What? No,” disagreed Amy, “They freaked out for no reason. They’re in the wrong here.”

Both Colin and Seth got out of their seats--much to Amy and Michael’s surprise.

Jost swallowed, “I don’t know...Were we too rude? Should we have included them more?”

Seth put his arm on Colin’s shoulder to try and council the man. “Hey. We don’t worry about that stuff now. What we do now is we go after them.”

Colin nodded, “Okay.”

“Why?” wondered a confused Michael Che. “Why would you go after them? Come to think of it, why even be in a relationship with them in the first place?”

Colin Jost was suddenly protective of his girlfriend, “Listen, Che--”

“Whoa there,” Seth almost had to hold Colin back. “Sorry guys, but we have to go. Let’s do this again.” Meyers paid for everyone, then he and Jost were out of there.

Out on the street, Jost turned to the more experienced man when it came to dating crazy people. “How the hell are going to find them? Do you have any ideas where Leslie and Stefon would go?”

“Hang on.” Seth stopped to think. “Let’s see. Stef was pissed, and when he’s pissed he wants to dance...He was in a tequila and Pepsi Fire mood...We’re on 43rd and 6th...Duck!”

Colin immediately plunged his whole body downward. “What?! Why?!”

“No, ‘Duck!’ The club. I know where they are.” Seth hailed a cab.

Ten minutes later, Seth and Colin pulled Stefon and Leslie out of the EDM club.

“Okay, okay! We’re out. What do you boys want?” Stefon took a sip from a drink of his own invention.

Leslie was less compliant. “Get your hands of me,” she ordered.

Colin backed off.

“Look, guys. We’re sorry,” conceded Seth.

Stefon played dumb. “Sorry about what?”

Again, Seth sighed, “Sorry about ignoring you at the bar.”

“Oh, you did?” tested Stefon, “I didn’t notice.”

Seth chuckled, “You didn’t?”

Stefon barely took a break from his drink. “Nope.”

“Not at all?” teased Seth.

The club-goer shook his head, but he was trying to hide a smile.

Seth scoffed tauntingly, “Yeah, right,” before moving to kiss his husband.

Colin looked to Leslie.

She wasn’t taking it. “Nope. Don’t even try that stuff with me.” Leslie started walking away.

Colin went after her again. “Leslie! I’m sorry.”

“Mmhm, sure you are,” was Leslie’s sarcastic response.

Colin sighed, “I am! You know I could never consciously make you feel like that.”

Leslie just eyed the man.

“Hey, I am sorry. That’s just how I am sometimes...You know me, baby. I’m forgetful.” Colin decided to push his luck with the nickname.

Fortunately, it made Leslie smile, “Yeah I know, you pineberry covered in white chocolate that I’m gonna eat for dinner.”

Inwardly, Colin sighed, happy he was back in his girlfriend’s good graces. “Good. Now how about we go back to my place and we make an Oreo with your thighs and my head.”

“Oo, Colin. I’m rubbing off on you, aren’t I?”

He just smirked, “I hope you will be later tonight.”

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I also would love a comment if you have the time. If you would like to read more, I have more fics about SNL over on my page. You should go check it out. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I take requests for one-shots, drabbles, multi-chapters, headcannons and preferences. No smut, please. I write for a variety of fandoms. If you’re wondering if I write for a specific fandom, please ask me. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you.<3

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whimperwoods · 5 years ago

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29-Day Whump Challenge - Day 14

Day 14: Concussion || Dehumanization

tag list: @inky-whump

Happy Valentine’s Day! Kyle doesn’t know it yet, but his new team is going to be very good for him - so this is almost a happy post? Sure. Sweet fluff valentine’s ending, even though he does not know that he’s about to have a new team and couldn’t process that information if he did know.

Anyway, I’ve never had a concussion, but when a friend of mine listed all the things she wasn’t allowed to do in the days after hers I immediately knew I’d hate it.

Continuation of this one from Day 3. Prompts by @yuckwhump

tw: sensory deprivation (ish), tw: confusion

*****

Being in the hospital had been confusing and frightening, but something about it had at least been safe, had at least made sense.

Now, he could see the world, and he was allowed out in it, and he was lying in a dark room in a new place, with no idea what to expect.

He almost wished he were back in the hospital.

His head hurt, but not as badly as it had for the brief time he was in the sunlight between the hospital and here, letting the man who’d introduced himself as Hank lead him to a strange car because at least it was shady, and his brain couldn’t come up with any real alternatives.

Now, in the dark, with his headache getting duller and less overwhelming, he wondered why he hadn’t run.

He’d have made himself dizzy, but it might still have been better.

He sighed.

The doctor had given him a list of rules. No physical activity. No intense concentration. No thinking. No video games, tv, books, or computers. No phone. Rest for his brain, like that was even possible with so much around him that needed figuring out.

Hank had agreed to all of it, and Kyle had gotten the impression that the man was in charge of him, which probably didn’t bode well. He didn’t know anything about him, or who he was, or where he was taking him, and when he tried to ask, Hank had just told him they’d worry about all of that when he was better.

Better. What a crock of shit that was. There was no better.

He knew what the world at large thought of his boss, and his team. He knew what they whispered about them, behind closed doors. He knew they were villains but they weren’t - it wasn’t - he’d never been sure what he was good at or good for, and then the boss had given him a job and told him how to be good at it, and it had been-

Well, it had been miserable, and even if he could go back now, which he probably couldn’t, he’d only be beaten for his trouble, or tortured full-on if they thought he was a spy.

Trying to think about the future was definitely on the list of things he wasn’t allowed, and it made his head sting with pain and spin dizzily until he had to stop thinking entirely.

*****

Hank was quiet opening the door, and quiet walking across the floor to the bed, and quiet laying a hand on Kyle’s shoulder before he spoke, and even quiet whispering, “Hey, bud. How you doing?”

It just made listening for him, trying to understand what was happening in the room, that much harder. Kyle concentrated on listening until his ears rang and he couldn’t hear at all.

He needed to answer, though. He needed to answer so Hank knew he’d heard. So Hank would tell him things. So Hank would tell him anything, and he could figure out - stuff. He didn’t remember what. Everything was confusing.

He moaned, hoping it was enough.

Hank squeezed his shoulder again, a gentle pressure instead of the warning crush Kyle was more used to when there was a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, bud. Do you need more painkillers? Something to help you sleep?”

Questions. No. He had questions.

He moaned again, sure that he could come up with the words he needed if he could just - if he could just -

The hand squeezed his shoulder again.

“I’ll go ahead and bring both. You can take whichever you think you need.”

It wasn’t an answer, but trying to think with Hank here and moving and speaking was even harder than trying to think by himself, and when the man returned with two bottles of pills and shook out one of each, he just took them, too lost to know if he should or not.

*****

For the first day, he slept.

For the second he napped, off and on and off and on.

On the third, his head still hurt and he still felt confused, and he still couldn’t get answers out of Hank, but he was awake.

Then he was awake.

He was awake.

He hated lying still, but moving too much hurt his head, or drew Hank’s attention, or both.

He hated having nothing to look at, nothing to listen to, but Hank just told him the doctor said not yet and left him alone again.

He felt trapped in his own body, his limbs tingling and desperate with restlessness, not allowed to move.

He had too much energy and not enough, hovering at the edge of sleep, of shutting down from sheer boredom, but unable to drift off and leave the empty, dark space of his room behind.

There was a faint glow on the ceiling where the light from the hallway came through a vent over the door. He’d watched it for a while, desperate for anything to do, had stared at it until his eyes crossed and uncrossed and crossed again, but now even that was empty, aching, full of despair.

He raised his hand up just to spite all of it and waved his fingers in front of his face, counting them to himself. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Thumb, forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, pinky. Pinky, ring finger, middle finger, forefinger, thumb.

He vaguely remembered that there was some kind of math you could do with fingers, besides counting, but trying to remember what made his head ache.

It was quiet. He hated noise, but he hated the quiet more.

He snapped the fingers on the hand in front of his face, but it was mostly unsatisfying.

Hank’s arrival was almost a relief.

“Time to eat something, again,” he said cheerfully, “Keep your strength up.”

Kyle didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to give this stranger anything, especially when he knew so little about him.

But he couldn’t be left alone. He couldn’t. “Thanks,” he managed, hoarsely.

Hank’s eyebrow shot up in surprise. “Hey, buddy, you’re welcome!” He sounded delighted. At least someone did.

“Where am I?” he asked again, not for the first time.

Hank handed him a plate of toast and helped him sit up. “You know that’s a question for after the doctor clears you.”

Kyle almost cried.

“They can’t stop me from thinking,” he said, “Please. Please, I have to know.”

“The doctor said-”

Kyle worked up his nerves and grabbed Hank’s wrist. “Please. The not knowing is-” he didn’t know how to say that not knowing made him think and think and think until his ears rung and his head spun and he had to just squeeze his eyes shut and wait for more medicine. He didn’t know how to say lying here not thinking about all the things he didn’t know was just as bad a torture, leaving him buzzing and empty and helpless. “Please,” he repeated.

Hank sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, no, I - I get that. Truth is, I don’t know all of it, myself. We have a pretty good idea who you are, but we’re missing details and you’re gonna have to make choices and so are we and - it’s gotta wait until you’re better. We’re gonna get you better, and then we’re gonna make choices. You think you can trust me that far?”

Kyle had no answer.

Hank let him eat his toast in silence, and didn’t make him give one.

Finally, Kyle finished the toast and Hank took the plate and started walking toward the door.

“Wait!” he called after the man, loud enough to make his own head throb until he had to close his eyes against the feeling.

Hank’s footsteps stopped. “Don’t go,” he said, “I can’t - it’s -”

Hank still wasn’t moving. He wasn’t speaking. He was waiting.

Kyle tried again. “I don’t want to be alone. It’s - a lot.”

“I can stay, but-”

“Yes.”

Kyle surprised even himself with how quickly that particular answer came to him.

This was a bad idea. It was a bad idea to trust Hank. An even worse one to rely on him.

Hank walked back over and sat on the edge of the bed.

“What do you need?” he asked gently, “I mean, what do you need that isn’t on your no list from the doctor.”

“I don’t know,” Kyle whispered.

Hank sighed. “Well, that makes two of us.”

Hank sat beside him in silence until the boredom set in again, tingling and awful in his limbs.

Silence stretched between them.

“Hank,” he whispered, the first time he’d said the man’s name.

Hank reached over and squeezed his ankle, this time.

“What am I allowed?” he asked, the only question he could think of that might not get shot down.

Hank sighed. “I don’t know. How bad are sounds for you, right now? I have an audiobook with me, and that’s not lights, but it’s probably too much thinking.”

“My mom used to read me Charlotte’s Web,” he said, the words falling from his mouth as quickly as he managed to think them. “And The Trumpet of the Swan.”

Hank snorted, a soft, fond sound. “Alright. The library ought to have those. They’ve got an app now, with things like that. But we’re stopping as soon as you hurt. Or if the doctor calls back for an update and says no.”

Kyle didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t think about the future. He couldn’t imagine it. But Hank opened his phone, tilting the screen carefully away from Kyle’s eyes, and then there was audio, an unfamiliar voice reading a familiar story, and he felt himself relax.

“Where’s Papa going with that axe?” the voice asked, tinny from the phone’s speakers.

“I always liked Fern,” Hank whispered, “I always thought I’d be like that, if I were her.”

“Me too,” Kyle answered.

That was true, and he didn’t remember when he’d known that, and he didn’t remember when he’d forgotten, but he knew he was remembering it all over again for the first time in a long time.

He wasn’t supposed to think. He wasn’t supposed to remember.

But maybe knowing was alright.

Fern yelled at her father, and Wilbur was saved, and Kyle had liked that, once, had wanted it, and he knew it. It was nice, in all the stillness and the dark and the not-thinking, to suddenly find something he knew, somewhere in his chest where knowing didn’t need his bruised-up brain.

He relaxed for the first time all day, and Hank squeezed his ankle again, a gentle pressure, and he didn’t need to keep track of all the words to know Fern and Wilbur and Charlotte and a kind of friendship he missed believing in.

#whump #concussion #recovery #bed rest #boredom #sensory deprivation #but like... low key #29-day whump challenge

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odinsonsobsessed · 6 years ago

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Talk Loki To Me • Part Two

Businessman by day, someone else entirely by night… An AU where Tom Hiddleston isn’t a famous film actor. He’s just a normal guy, your roommate of two years. The two of you are really close and you think you know everything about him, until you discover his secret… He’s a popular erotic audio star, taking on the persona of Loki, a god hellbent on making you cum. And when you accidentally discover this secret of his, everything begins to change.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston/Reader || Word Count: 1.3k || Rated M (18+)

Your roommate was into audio porn! Not only was he into it, but he made it. Tom, the sweet, nerdy, adorable best friend of yours, did something like this! God, you had no idea! He never once in the millions of deep conversations you had, mentioned this. Questions began to flood in your mind, but you didn't have time to think too hard on them, because Tom had just come home!

“Honey, I'm home!” His playful voice echoed into the flat and you heard the door close.

Your eyes widened and you quickly closed out of Google Drive, shutting the laptop.

You looked up as a tipsy, grinning Tom appeared in your doorway.

“Hey Tom!” You greeted, hoping he didn't pick up on the nervousness in your voice. “D-Did you have a good time?” You asked as he crossed your room and fell onto his back on the bed in front of you, glancing up at you as he landed near your feet.

“Fantastic. Man, those guys really know how to loosen up.” He sighed, “God, I needed that. I've been so stressed from work lately.” He stretched his long limbs as he spread out, taking up a good portion of the bed.

You looked down at him, taking in the way he smiled at you upside down. His goofy grin, the shiny gray frame around those eyes… those gorgeous blue eyes that always seemed to stare straight into your soul when he looked at you.

Suddenly feeling extremely nervous and self conscious, you panicked. You did the most logical thing your messed up brain could think of at a time like this, you grabbed his laptop and set it on top of his face to break the eye contact. “Hey!” He yelled, reaching to take it off.

“T-Thanks for letting me borrow it!” You scrambled off of your bed, mumbling to him about your sudden need to use the bathroom. You shut the door, leaning back against it as you let out the breath you didn't realize you’d been holding. You felt like your cheeks were on fire and your heart beating like crazy.

What was wrong with you all of a sudden? Why were you acting so weird around Tom? This was the exact same Tom you knew ten minutes ago. The same Tom you shared breakfast with just this morning. The one who always made sure you were content before leaving the house, like he did tonight when he went out with his friends. So what was your deal?

The audio file.

That damn audio file was messing with your head. The fact that he didn't tell you, did that bother you? You guess you could kind of see why, but… still.

You splashed water onto your face as you attempted to wrangle the thoughts into your mind before you went to bed. When you reached your room, you were relieved to see that Tom had exited your room. You closed the door, changing into your pajamas, which consisted of a tank top and shorts for the summer. You climbed into bed and got comfortable, closing your eyes so you could drift off to sleep.

Your door creaked open and a small amount of light spilled in from the hallway. The door shut and you felt the bed dip behind you. Familiar bare arms engulfed you and you were pulled into the warmth of his chest.

“Tom?”

“Yes, darling?”

“If you're going to sleep in here tonight, can you at least put a shirt on?”

“You know I sleep naked. You're lucky I have pants on.” Even though you couldn't see it, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You swallowed, shaking your head. “Fine.” You didn't have the energy to argue with him. He was right. Anytime he slept in your room, for some reason he could never be bothered to put a shirt on. But you were used to it. So why did it bother you all of a sudden?

The next morning when you woke up, Tom was gone. You remembered him mentioning something about being out for most of the day. So you took the opportunity to catch up on your chores, the laundry, the dishes, cleaning up your room. The next thing you needed to catch up on was grocery shopping. You grabbed the list and set out for the market.

You returned by mid afternoon, perfect time to fix yourself some lunch. You flipped on the telly, turning on Netflix so you could resume a show you'd been watching the other day.

About halfway through the program, your mind randomly flickered to the audios. You found yourself increasingly becoming curious to listen to another. What were they like? Some of the titles were interesting to you.

You weren't sure how you'd be able to do it. You weren't sure you even should. You'd have to go back on Tom's laptop, which was in his room. You never went into his room without permission, so that option was out. And you couldn't login to his Google Drive on your phone, because you didn't know his password, it had been automatically logged in on his browser the night before.

Patreon. The word flashed through your mind and you decided to open your phone's browser to search for it. Patreon came up, but it was generic, a website that was full of members that you could subscribe and support financially by making small payments for them to update their work. You needed a username. You typed in Loki's name and there it was.

Tom Hiddleston is creating Erotic Audio.

If that didn't confirm it, his followers in the thousands did. He had so many followers. His page was littered with thirsty comments and many different audios, all named after his persona, Loki.

You spent an hour without even realizing it, searching his page, reading comments, reading the different scenarios he had to choose from. With his prices and how many loyal followers he had�� Damn, this guy probably made so much money!

Just how good was he, anyway? The longer you searched his page, the more curious you got. You decided listening to one wouldn't hurt. You could always turn it off if you felt uncomfortable. You glanced at the clock, noting Tom wasn't due to come home for another hour or so yet.

Heading to your room, you grabbed your earbuds and plopped down on the bed, making yourself comfortable. Selecting the first audio after his intro, called Loki 01, you closed your eyes and let the audio begin.

“I see you've come back for more. So, I was right. I know the desires of your heart better than anyone, pet. You've come to me for guidance. For relaxation. For… pleasure.” You shivered again, just as you did the other night. Damn, that voice. The way his words rolled off his tongue, so smooth, so suave, so… seductive.

“Come, little one. Let's get to know each other a little better. Tell me... what makes you shiver? What makes your toes curl? And what makes those beautiful sounds flow out of your mouth?” Loki’s laugh echoed into your ears, making your face flush.

“I already know the answer to that. It's me. I am the one that is going to make those shivers run along your spine. I am the one who is going to make you flex those delicate little toes. And my name, is the one you will call out for when you're reduced to a whimpering mess.”

You paused the audio, breathing heavily. Fuck, he was good. He’d barely even started and you were already so hot… so wet.

No. You shook your head and exited out of the browser. You couldn't do this. You wouldn't. Even though it was Loki, this was technically still Tom, your roommate. It was wrong and how could you look him in the eye if you continued down that path?

@fandom-and-feminism @fadingcoast @igotloki @mrshiddleston-uk @nikkalia @manager-of-mischief @spidey-bites @kcd15 @dangertoozmanykids101 @xxloki81xx @starletah @msunnsstuff @hiddlesbatchsworld @redfoxwritesstuff @just-the-hiddles @heart-shaped-hell @thatweirdwalangpake @loki-and-hiddles @kitsuneharo12 @thathedonistgirl @littlefrogstuff

Taglist is OPEN!

#talk Loki to me #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston/reader #loki

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joie-university-rp · 5 years ago

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Dear DANTE NOIRE,

It is with great pleasure we invite you admission to Joie University! Welcome to the Thunderclap family!

Congratulations, JUSTIN! Please be sure to check the New Members’ Checklist and send in your character’s account within 24 hours from now. We cannot wait to see all that you will bring to this roleplay! We love you already!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias; pronouns: Justin, he/him

Age, Timezone: 20, MST

Activity, short explanation: 3-4 hours a day, after work.

Ships: Dante/Kurt since I am filling the connection. Dante/anyone.

Anti-Ships: Nothing.

Triggers: None for me.

Preferred photo for Character’s ID (please give a link): https://media.gq-magazine.co.uk/photos/5d138d392881cc034d0a7267/master/w_1280,c_limit/Adam-Driver-04-GQ-12Dec17_Dante-Brookes_b.jpg

Anything else: I’m filling this connection. https://joie-university-rp.tumblr.com/post/189809373804/requested-connection-for-kurt-hummel-suggested

IC INFORMATION:

Full Name (First, Middle, Last): Dante Matthew Noire

FC: Adam Driver

Age/Year at University (Freshman [1st Year], Sophomore, Junior, Senior, or Graduate Student): 24 years old, freshman/first year

Birth date (MONTH DAY, YEAR): August 13th, 1995

Hometown (please be sure to check the hometowns listed for characters your muse is related to!): Los Angeles, California

Gender/Pronouns: Male, he/him.

Sexuality: Pansexual

Major(s): Philosophy

Minor(s) [optional]: Songwriting/Music

Housing request (remember, only the president of a Greek Organization is required to live at a Greek House to be in it!): Schuester Dormitory Single Dorm 205

Extracurriculars (Click here for the list. Be sure to specify any executive board positions [i.e. president, secretary, etc.] If something isn’t listed, please put it here and we will add it to the masterlist!): Glee Club Member, Fencing Team Member

Greek Life Affiliation [optional] (Please be sure to specify any executive board positions [i.e. president, pledge educator, etc.] or if your character is not yet a member, but plans to rush): None.

CHARACTER PROFILE (TW; Alcohol abuse, suicidal tendencies):

Dante was born into a relatively normal upper-class family. His parents were a very successful pair, his mother a lawyer and his father a banking executive. He lived in peaceful comfort, went the best private schools for teaching, yet when it came time for him to start building towards a career path, he couldn’t seem to pick one. He was a joy in the classroom and had a knack for tutoring other students that struggled as well. Alas, he didn’t want to be a teacher like his mother recommended, or a social worker like his father suggested. He found his true home in the music room. His parents had him learn piano and other various instruments, including vocal lessons, much to their detriment. When it came to his senior year of high school with not a single college application submitted, Dante came clean to his parents; he wanted to be a musician.

He moved away from L.A. when his family rejected his selected career path, especially after they cut him off from his allowance. When he got to New York, he was dead-broke, but found a job quickly as a jazz -ballad singer and pianist at a couple bars around the city. He sang in parks and street corners, releasing self-written songs online, hoping one day he would get noticed. It wasn’t until he actually took a piece of his father’s advice that he started to gain fame; “Dress as if you already have the job when you go in for the interview.” So, Dante gave himself the new look, dressing like the jazzy, big band singers and performers of old, promoting his image as well as his music.

Dante’s relationship with Kurt ran along with his quest to fame. He met Kurt during one of his nights working at an underage-friendly jazz bar near NYADA’s campus. Due to his talents, the students that came in would tip him well. It was in September of 2016, one year into Dante’s tenure in New York, did he spot the other man in the same seat once a week. It didn’t take long for Dante to introduce himself. Kurt and Dante together felt like they were two puzzle pieces, making a complete picture. When Dante started to gain a small following online, he made efforts to separate his professional life from when he was at home. Kurt made him feel like he could be his true self, open and free, yet while he was on stage, performing for an audience of strangers, he was putting up an act. He knew Kurt’s voice was magnificent, but he never wanted Kurt to think he was using him like that to promote his own career. Dante loved Kurt, and he wanted to keep Kurt far away from his growing spotlight. Let Kurt find his own dream, his own claim to fame, with Dante supporting him the entire way. At least, that was the promise Dante proposed to Kurt with in 2017.

As his fame began to grow and explode, the lines between his face to his growing public and at home began to mix. Dante would come home shitfaced from some party, or a concert, or PR event. Photos online with him holding fans close, kissing their cheeks, and being flirtatious would come out in the tons each time he stepped outside. Kurt would have to sober Dante up, thwarting his attempts to get into his pants. Kurt never obliged while he was drunk, which would result in a heated argument. It wasn’t until the next morning that he would apologize. Trust became very thin, very quickly, turning into a vicious cycle, over and over. It was Dante returning from his first 3-month tour, as drunk as ever, that ended the relationship for good. Another argument had broken out, this time Kurt demanding to know why there were clips online of him running around some party with his hand in some girl’s back pocket. Dante became furious Kurt would think he cheated, yelling up and down it was just for PR. Kurt didn’t buy it, eventually locking himself in the bathroom when Dante threw a glass at him. It wasn’t until Dante woke up the next morning, somehow in his bed, that he realized just how badly he had fucked up. Kurt left him, with the ring on the kitchen counter, the glass cleaned, and fresh coffee brewing in the pot.

The depression that followed Kurt leaving had Dante near suicidal. He tried to find Kurt; his number was blocked, and when he contacted NYADA to find him, they said that he had dropped out. He was blocked on social media, using dummy accounts to find out none of them were being updated. Kurt had disappeared, and there was no way Dante could find him. He gave up, vanished for months from the public eye, nearly destroying his career in its infancy. In that time, Dante wrote songs, poems, and love letters for Kurt he could never send. When his agent demanded work from him, he just tossed the papers on the table in frustration, that having been his only work during that time. It was a good thing his agent had more business sense than Dante, recommending he commit his works to the studio, to audio, to music. And hence, his chart-topping, record breaking, radio dominating album, ‘To Kill the Canary’, was born. It tore away from his jazz swings of the past into a ballad genre, featuring less sax and more acoustic guitar. The day the album released, he saw the crowds form at his feet, resonating and praising his work. He was determined to live despite what happened, even if he couldn’t seem to move on.

With all this success, why attend Joie for a degree? He was set for life, he didn’t need more education. Dante’s agent thought the opposite. With the influence he held, and with him turning twenty-five in August, they thought it would look great for his image if he wasn’t just some good-looking musical flounce, doomed to fail when he was no longer dominating the public. They opted for the Emma Watson route; go to college. Get a degree. That way, he was a cut above all the others in his industry; he wasn’t just a talent, he was educated. He chose philosophy as his major over music because he already mastered music. He didn’t want college to be a complete waste of time, so he decided to learn something completely new. Joie was an easy choice for a university; it was a world-renown college, one his fans would recognize. The fact one of his dummy accounts notified him of a post to Kurt’s Instagram had absolutely nothing to do with this college selection. Nothing at all…

STUDENT CENSUS SURVEY:

(Please answer the following questions IN CHARACTER. Responses can be as long or short as you see fit!)

What made you want to attend Joie University?

The prestigious nature of the school seemed the perfect place to both earn my degree and gain life experience I have been lacking. The administration seemed accommodating considering my current position and gave the impression that I would be treated just like everyone else. Overall, I felt very welcomed and fell in love with Joie instantly.

What are at least 3 positive or neutral and at least 3 negative traits that you believe you possess?

My most positive trait would be my unwavering determination. Even in the face of my family being nay-sayers in the quest for my dreams, I went after them anyway. Now, I wish to prove there is more to me than a pretty voice, exceed my own expectations. Perhaps that is my second trait; ambition for a new challenge. No mountain is too high for me. And that ties into my third best trait being creative problem solving. I simply cannot take no for an answer. If there is a will, there is a way, and I have a lot of willpower.

As far as the negatives of my personality, every positive is a doubt edged sword. For all my determination, it is very difficult for me to know when it is time to stop, reflect, and take it what is around me. I am always pushing for the next goal, leaving me often forgetting to savor the moment. I don’t know when to stop pushing for more, for better. This has had my personal relationships suffer in the past as well, and I do plan to remedy this. Apologies are another weakness of mine. For all I try to correct any wrongs on my part, simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ seems to escape my mind. A third flaw… I am frequently told I am too generous with my money. It isn’t like I could possibly use it all, so I use it on others. This has lead to a few personalities latching onto me simply for my wallet or my fame. I suppose that makes me a sub-par judge of character.

Which of your traits do you value most?

My ambition, by far. Taking on the impossible and making it believable is something I enjoy doing, both in music and in life. I wish to up the ante by studying for my degree, see what challenges I can tackle next.

How can that trait benefit the University (or its student body) as a whole?

Being I am a special case, it would be no lie to say my experience in the school could lead to positive press. I would also be interested in investing in the school through funding scholarships and such, once I am no longer a student. I do believe in the power of education, so on the same hand I do not wish to distract from other students attending. Making a show of myself here is not the goal. I wish to meld into the student body just as a regular attendee, no special treatment. That is what I could bring.

What do you hope to gain from your experience at JU?

The typical college experiences. The ups and downs of dorm life, the stress of finals, the development into a greater person leaving than you were when you arrived. I want all these things.

What is a quote or song lyric that describes you?

“I wanna take you high up, Let our hearts be the only sounds, I wanna go where lights burn low, And you’re only mine.” -James Bay, ‘Wild Love’

#Accepted

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 6 years ago

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Late Nights, Early Mornings (PT. 1)

anonymous said: Anything w/ Bri cause he’s the cutest please xxx

(a/n: I actually wrote this a while ago and figured no one on here would like it but since it’s a multi-part brian piece and we luv brian, I might as well post it. buckle in, girls and gays. I have part 2 mostly fleshed out, its just a matter of finishing it. should be up in a few days hehe)

“What kind of all-nighter is this if Brian isn’t fucking here?” Roger asked irritably, sitting behind his drumset in his room off of the main recording area. “Wah wah, boo hoo, I’m tired! So am I! What makes him special?”

You sighed, trying not to laugh at how Roger looked when he was angry. Despite the rage, he still looked like a small animal on the defensive.

“I suppose I can swing by his flat and see if he’s still awake?” you offered, wanting desperately to get away from Roger anyways. Also, going to see Brian would brighten up your day a bit. He was quickly becoming your favorite of the group, Roger being a lot to handle on the daily while Brian was relatively low maintenance and very sweet when you got him alone.

Giving you a nod, Roger continued to look sour as he returned his focus to the drumset, and when you turned around, John was giving you a look that said ‘Why do you put up with him?’

“I’ll go along with Y/N,” Freddie offered, but someone pointed out that he still had to do some testing before they started recording. Giving you a sad look, Freddie apologized and sent you out on your own to retrieve Brian. You didn’t mind, anyways. You needed some fresh air, and Brian’s flat wasn’t too far from the studio, so you opted to walk.

Along the way, you stopped for some coffee, and when you showed up to Brian’s door, you found it unlocked. Carefully balancing the coffee in one arm and hand, you knocked on the door before letting yourself in, at least giving him some semblance of a warning.

“Bri?” you called out, shutting the door behind you and sitting the coffees on the counter before wandering through his lounge to get to the hallway. You heard something in the bedroom, so you went up to the door and knocked softly.

“One moment,” was Brian’s soft reply from the other side of the door, so you returned to the lounge and plopped down on the couch, laying your head back and closing your eyes to get a tiny bit of rest. After a minute, he walked out into the lounge, and you opened your eyes to see his tall, lanky figure, his hands working on buttoning his shirt. He was still in his jeans from today, but he looked like he’d just started getting ready for bed.

“Christ, now I almost feel bad,” you blurted out, looking at him guiltily. Your heart clenched a bit, partly because you felt terrible for him and partly because he admittedly looked kind of cute like this. Very homey. “Forget I was here, I’ll just tell Roger to suck it up for a night and record without the guitar.”

“Roger throwing a fit?” Brian asked, giving a half-hearted smile as he looked over to the counter, rubbing the deep five-o’clock shadow that was forming on his jaw. “And you brought coffee – I assume I’m being summoned?”

You nodded, smiling a bit sheepishly and scooting over as he grabbed his shoes and came over to sit down so he could pull them on. He moved a bit slower than usual as he tied them, quite sleep-deprived from last night’s session with just him and Freddie recording. You’d come along with Roger tonight for moral support, seeing as you were usually just their tour audio engineer and you were on break for a while since they wanted you fresh for their tour coming up. He’d convinced you to come so you could give your famous shoulder rubs if he got sore, and he promised to buy you drinks as payment.

“Since I feel like I could pass out right here, can you grab my little black journal from my bed in my room? It’s got my notes for the recordings in it.” You nodded, getting up and heading to his bedroom to grab it really quick as he grabbed a coat and Red Special.

When you got to his room, you found it a mess, but decided against chastising him for it and instead made your way over to his bed. The problem you encountered when you got there was that there were two little black journals, so you grabbed both and decided to ask questions later. Joining him in the lounge again as you put the journals in your pocket, you grabbed the coffees before both of you made the short trek back to the studio. Upon entering, Roger make an exaggerated noise of surprise.

“I thought you were too tired!” he sneered, earning a smack on the back of the head from you in response. You handed Brian his coffee as Roger pouted, and produced the first of the two journals, which he seemed to recognize as his notes, so you left the other in your pocket.

“Good evening to you too, Rog,” Brian replied, his voice softer but still salty.

“Brian, darling, come here for a second. I want to get your opinion on this,” Freddie interjected, not letting any more bickering start tonight. John gave you another one of his looks, then kept fiddling with his bass.

You perched on the back of the couch, sipping your coffee as you watched everyone do their thing, Brian hovering over whatever Freddie was looking at near the tapes. Roger came over and placed himself between your legs, sitting back against you before looking up at you.

“How’d you convince him to come?” Roger asked, just loud enough for you to hear. “Did you use your magic lady powers?” he teased, making weird sparkly finger hand gestures.

“Coffee,” you replied simply, raising your cup before taking another sip. “You do know that if Freddie and him are here tonight, they won’t be tomorrow night?”

Roger groaned, looking forward towards the recording booth and resting his head against your left thigh. “We’re never going to get this record done,” he lamented.

“You will, these things just take time, drama queen.” Roger grumbled incoherently at your little name for him, and you sat your coffee to the side as you began to braid a small section of the back of his hair. He closed his eyes and let you do it, Brian soon finishing whatever Freddie was needing and joining you both on the couch so he could get Red Special ready.

“Am I next?” Freddie chuckled, referring to Roger’s braid that you were wrapping in rubber band you had around your wrist. You smiled softly, finishing up the braid before looking up at Freddie and scrutinizing his hair.

“I suppose I could give you all a braid, though I’m not sure Deacon would enjoy it.” John chuckled a bit at that, shaking his head as he sat his bass to the side. You then looked at Brian, and pursed your lips as you rested a hand on the top of his head. “And I’m not sure how I could even navigate this.”

Brian hummed with amusement, looking up at you and giving you a small smile before continuing his work on Red Special. “Good luck,” was all he said, scooting forward to give you room to sit behind him. You moved over so that he was now resting between your legs instead of Roger. Chewing your lip in concentration, you starting trying to figure out what hair was even the same length.

As you figured this out, they were finally ready to record, so you pouted as you had to give up on Brian’s hair for now. “Promise you’ll come back so I can actually braid it,” you stated, holding out your pinky. Brian smiled lopsidedly, his eyes crinkling up a bit and making him look not so exhausted as he pinky-promised you.

You slid down to sit on the regular part of the couch, pulling what you recognized as Freddie’s coat over you and laying down. They began recording sections of a song Freddie and Brian had partially constructed the night before, and you didn’t realize how tired you truly were until you woke up to the sound of the door opening, only Freddie walking in. You sat up for a moment and let him sit down where your head was, then you rested your head on his thigh and got comfortable again.

“What’d I miss?” you asked drowsily, yawning a bit. Freddie shook his head, also yawning and stretching a bit.

“Not much. I’m just resting my pipes a bit. Go back to sleep, lovie,” he said, starting to attempt to braid your hair in an effort to keep himself awake.

“Bollocks, I know it was in here,” you could hear Brian over the intercom, and you could just see him rifling through his notebook for something he missed in the last run through. Remembering the notebook in your pocket, you pulled it out and you were about to get up to offer it to him over the intercom when Freddie made you stop in your tracks.

“Why on Earth have you got Brian’s journal?” he asked, looking at the little black book in your hands like it was a precious crown jewel. “He wouldn’t even let me peek at that on tour and he just gives it to you?”

You shook your head, suddenly afraid of the journal, so you handed it to Freddie. “I grabbed it off his bed, it looked like his other journal and I didn’t know which was which. Am I in deep shit, Fred?”

Freddie started rifling through the pages, apparently unbothered by the fact that he was intruding on Brian’s personal thoughts. Your question went unanswered as he started mumbling words to himself, reading a passage halfway out loud.

“This is from last night, my God,” Freddie stopped to observe, pointing to the date. “This man updates his journal religiously, I haven’t even looked at mine in weeks because of this damned record.” You tried to subdue your curiosity about what he had to say about last night, seeing as you’d thought it was mostly an uneventful night. Freddie started reading some of it out loud, though, which only piqued your interest. “Had a late night recording with Fred, Y/N, and some others. We got a few of the songs started and knocked one out, but the one took forever because Fred kept being a tart.”

You burst out laughing at Freddie’s face when he read that, a look of pure insult spreading across his features. Quickly throwing a hand over your mouth, you apologized quickly. “Keep reading though,” you urged, wanting to hear what Brian had to say about Freddie’s little fits he had last night.

“He wanted to redo the same part over and over, and we were all getting tired of it. I asked him what was wrong with it and he went on and on about not being able to feel out that part of the song because of my guitar playing. Y/N thought it was quite a hoot, she looked quite…” Freddie trailed off, suddenly snapping the journal closed and shoving it down his shirt so you couldn’t get it. “That’s enough of that,” he said quietly, avoiding eye contact and crossing his arms.

“What the fuck, Freddie?” you asked, trying not to be too loud as the sound tech at the board talked to Brian through the mic. “What did it say?”

“It said Brian thinks I’m a tart, that’s it,” Freddie replied, evading the subject and refusing to look at you. You scowled, then started tickling Freddie, who yelled out in surprise and then started writhing and laughing, trying to keep you from getting the journal but failing miserably. You had your hand up his shirt, just getting ahold of the book when you heard John’s voice come over the speaker.

“You alright, you two?” he asked, both him and Brian standing at the window that was between you and them. Oh shit.

PT. 2 PT. 3

#brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may #queen #queen imagine

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