#when posing him I need to make sure nothing is halfway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cynisterstuffs · 11 days ago

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Paint me like one of your French girls.

| MDNI - smut fic, will include the ff: anal sex, hate sex??, blowjob, whiny till heh , little to no after care.

NOT PROOF READ

word count: 3.8k

Till's eyes widened and he almost spilled his paint on the floor. He was painting in the art club again. He didn't even need to look back to know who was by the door. It was none other than—

"Ivan" grumbled the silver haired male. "I told you to stop bothering me, especially when I am working, idiot" he scoffs, wiping a bead of sweat from his cheek before turning around to be met with Ivan's cocky smirk.

"I am not bothering you; I am talking business" Says the black haired boy as he closed the door and stepped closer.

"Do you take commissions?"

He repeated, and this time Till was finally paying attention. Well, a little bit, that is.

"What do you think of me? A guy who you can buy with your money—" "200 dollars?" "I... I am not, I have–" "350 dollars"

Blink Blink

Till was... surprised? Who knew rich people loved to throw money around like that.

"Besides, it'll be good practice for you, no?" Ivan added. "Having a model..."

"You want to commission me... for what, exactly?" Till asked, a brow raised, finally actually listening.

"A painting of me" replied the jock. "I really like your art, emo boy"

"Told you not to call me that, jackass" Till scoffs, rolling his eyes before crossing his arms. "So, what do you want done anyways?"

With that question, Ivan smirks and leaned closer, tilting his head to the side. He didn't care if he was up in Till's personal space, why would he?

Ivan smirked, shameless, cocky, and unbothered, leaning in like he owned the space between them.

"Paint me like one of your French girls vibes,"* he said, voice smooth and just a little mocking. "Come on, surely you've seen that movie..."

"You know—just a necklace, perfect lighting, me looking irresistible."

He raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a smug grin.

"Shouldn't be too hard, right?"

The two ended up back in Ivan's dorm which he shared with his roommate, Marty. Ivantexted in advanced that he needed the dorm to himself tonight. He need not elaborate more.

"I am only fucking doing this because I also need to practice my anatomy, okay?" Till scoffs as he sets up his easel to put the canvas on while Ivan was on the couch, smirking at him.

"Oh, yeah, of course. Anatomy practice, commission money... I get it, it's a win-win, emo boy"

"I said don't fucking call me that" Till groaned as he glared at the black haired boy. Gosh, he wanted to snap that stupid snaggletooth out of his mouth.

After setting it all up, Ivan got undressed. First just his white shirt, then soon he began to unbuckle his belt making Till avert his gaze for a second.

"Shy?" "Oh, hell no. I have seen more dick than you have—" Till's eyes widened. "For practice of course! The models are usually males for the art class... studio! I-i have seen tits too, duh! I-I like... tits and–"

Ivan began to laugh as he kicked off his slacks and rolled his eyes at the way Till was overexplaining himself. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You get way too flustered"

Till flipped him off as Ivan was now laid bare on the couch. He was wearing nothing but that silver necklace around his neck, and maybe a cherry lipgloss that made his lips... glossy.

Till was focused. This takes time and lots of effort. Ivan was posing, but Till would often scold him for moving too much and threats about spilling paint on him was blurted from his mouth.

After almost an hour, Till was barely halfway done before he suddenly felt a hand on his wrist, making him gasp. It was Ivan, standing behind him and examining the art piece.

"Oh... that looks good" he murmurs, leaning down, his warm breath hitting Till's ear, which made him blush and stand up from his seat.

It was so easy to fluster him.

"Hey! Models aren’t supposed to move, what the fuck are you doing? Do you want me to finish this or not—! Woah!"

Till’s words cut off as Ivan’s hand shot out, catching him by the waist and pulling him in close. The sudden warmth of Ivan’s bare chest against his sent a shock straight through Till, making him freeze for a second. Ivan didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in, lips just a breath away from Till’s ear, warm air stirring his skin.

Ivan’s voice dropped to a low murmur. "Relax, emo boy."

Till could feel Ivan’s fingers pressing into his waist, his proximity far too intimate. Damn it, it was impossible to ignore the way Ivan’s breath lingered on his skin, how close they were now. Till’s heart raced in his chest. He tried to back off, but Ivan just pulled him in even closer, his body a solid wall.

"Don’t you want me to finish?" Ivan’s voice was teasing, knowing, too confident.

Till’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t think. He could only feel Ivan’s heat, his hands on him, his chest pressing against his own. "You’re such a pain in the ass," Till spat, but his voice came out quieter than usual, less sure of himself than he wanted it to.

Ivan grinned. "I’m just getting started."

And then, before Till could say anything else, Ivan’s lips were on his. No hesitation. No warning. Just a kiss that was all fire and demand, rough and insistent.

Till’s heart skipped a beat, his hands coming up to shove Ivan away—but his fingers brushed against Ivan’s bare skin, and it felt like his entire body short-circuited. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Ivan’s lips were against his, and there was nothing he wanted more.

Ivan dragged him away from the unfinished painting and pushed him against the couch with a cocky grin. Gosh, Till wanted to smack that stupid grin so bad... and by smack, he means by his lips and have a heavy make out session.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Till says panting from their heated kiss while Ivan was leaning back in, pressing him against the cushions of the couch some more.

"Shh," the other male says, placing a finger on Till's lips. "Don't mess with creativity, you should know that as an artist"

The two of them were suddenly enveloped in another heated make out session. Ivan had one of his hands propped beside Till's head, the other on his hips, gripping on him tightly.

Till had no room to think as his hands instinctively grabbed a handful of his raven colored hair as the kiss became rough, deep, reckless...

Ivan was consuming him, kissing those lips as if he owned them–hot, unrelenting, tongue slipping past his lips like he wanted to taste everything he could ever offer.

A low sound escape Till's throat as he tried to keep up with this insatiable man on top of him–half growl, half moan, while his other hand held on his back. Ivan was... well built. He was the captain of the football team after all, what would he expect?

Till's black nails scratched at them while Ivan's hand traced from his abdomen to his chest and to his neck, gripping on it. Not tight, just firm, enough to show who was in control really.

Till gasped, making Ivan pull away panting, his hand letting go slightly. "You good?"

"Don't act like you care..."

Ivan could only chuckled as he licked at the silver haired boy's earlobe. "Sensitive..."

"Shut the fuck up..." Till hissed, and he hated the way his voice cracked, he sounded so wrecked just from a heated make out session.

As Ivan just stared at him, Till groaned leaning his head back, an arm covering his eyes as he sighed. "Well?" he scoffs, leaving Ivan with a confused look. "Don't stop now, what are you trying to do? Edge the fuck out of me?"

The black haired male just snorted as he got comfortable between Till's legs, a hand on his thighs, squeezing through the man's slacks. "Thought you hated me, emo boy" "Shut the fuck up and just– ah... ahhh–"

Till's voice was cut off with his own moan as Ivan palmed at the growing tent in his pants. The jock bit his lower lip, before looking back up at Till who had his eyes hidden under his arm. His chest was heaving up and down, lips swollen and parted. It was erotic. It was hot to know that he was the reason why this silver haired male was a flushed mess.

Ivan didn’t need more of an invitation.

He let his hands trail down, fingers hooking into Till’s waistband as he looked up at him—waiting, teasing, eyes dark with want. When Till didn’t stop him—when he just groaned and shifted his hips like he needed it—Ivan took his time peeling the slacks down, kissing along the skin as it was revealed.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice low, almost reverent as he palmed him over his briefs. “Fucking trembling for me already.”

Till hissed a breath, hips bucking up just a little. “If you’re gonna do something,” he growled through gritted teeth, “then do it—”

Ivan didn’t need to be told twice.

He tugged the briefs down in one smooth motion, Till’s length springing free, flushed and aching. Ivan took a second to admire the view. He was... surprised. Well, who wouldn't be? Did you expect the quiet emo nerd looking loser to have a dick shy off almost 8 inches? The pretty pink tip was just calling out to Ivan.

Can Till get even hotter? Yes, he can. Ivan believes so at least.

He gives the underside a slow lick, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. Till's brows would knit together, nose scrunched as he held back a moan.

"Ivan–fuck..."

Ivan chuckles, pressing kisses from his base to the tip. "Are you always this talkative when someone is giving you head, or am I just special?"

"If you're going to do something," Till murmurs under his breath, gritting his teeth. "Just fucking do it. You're so fucking cocky"

"I earned it."

Without giving Till time to reply, Ivan's mouth lowered and wrapped around his pink tip, licking the already leaking pre. He dragged it out on purpose, slowly sinking Till's hard cock into his throat, fitting in snuggly. He wanted Till to feel everything–the brush of his tongue, the way he hummed low that would send vibrations on the other male's body.

Till gasped–loudly, sharply, almost desperately.

His dainty fingers immediately found itself tangled on the other male's soft black hair–not pulling, not pushing–just holding. He needed something to ground him to reality from this other wordly head he was receiving.

Ivan took him deeper, his eyes rolling back slightly as the tip hits the back of his throat, but he won't stop there. He needed to take all of it in for the artist, didn't he? Till arched his back, mouth parted, eyes shut tight under the crook of his arm. He couldn't look down at Ivan or he might just cum. He twitched under his touch, but he didn't try to stop him. Why would he? He gave such a good blowjob.

Was it his first time? No way? Till thought to himself. He probably fucked the rest of the football team, that's why he's the capt– "Oh, fuck~!" his train of thought was interrupted when Ivan has fully put his aching cock deep into his mouth. "Ivan...!"

Till arched his back, hips bucking up—quickly caught by Ivan. "Don't" he says firmly after he pulls off with a slight pop just long enough to speak. "I am not done with you yet..."

He went back down, hungry for more, and much faster. Ever sound Till made–ever choked breath, every curse–only encouraged Ivan to go faster, give him more and more. It was like he wanted to ruin him with just his mouth. Judging by Till's trembling body, clenched jaw, and loud moans... He was succeeding.

"I–Ivan..." he said, voice breathy and hitched. "I–I am gonna–fuck..."

The black haired pulls away again, making Till whine and removes his arm from his face, looking down at the other male with a frown, panting.

"You're not coming yet," Ivan says panting, his voice was hoarse, possessive even. He had a bit of drool slipping down the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin. "Not until I'm inside you."

Till grumbled, frustrated as he was just pulled away from the high he was desperately about to reach. But when Ivan finally kissed him—messy, tasting like himself—he melted.

And then and there, he knew that he would let him do whatever he wanted to do next.

Till's canvas was now forgotten, resting against the easel. Ivan had moved too fast, too confident, and well, Till did not really stop him now did he?

Tangled on the couch, Ivan continued to kiss Till's lips. It wasn't clean, no. Messy, raw, real. That is what this is. Tongues tangled, breaths short, and neither cared how bruised their lips would be later. Ivan kissed like he needed it—gripping onto his hips tightly, before he dragged it up to bunch Till's shirt up to his ribs, teasing that waist of his before he pulls away for a second to slip it off his body.

His hands began to explore the canvas that was Till—not the one on the easel, but the real thing, the man beneath him. Till was lean, almost delicate at first glance. Ivan loved holding onto that narrow waist of his for sure.

"Is this what you wanted too?" Ivan asked after he pulled away, panting, their lips still connected by a string of saliva.

He did not respond with words, instead Till wrapped his arms around his neck and pulling him back for a kiss. But for some reason. this one felt more sensual. Instead of rough and hungry, it was something else—slow, savoring.

"You still haven't stopped me..." Ivan says as they both adjusted their position on the couch that creaked with their movements. He made sure Till was comfortable lying down beneath him while he got positioned between his legs.

The black haired male leaned down, breathing heavily as he nipped and licked at his earlobe making the artist whimper, whining slightly, and before he could "complain", his lips were met with Ivan's fingers coaxing them apart, actually, well, he was hooking his lips open.

"Suck it"

He says with that deep voice of his that made Till immediately obey. While Till's slick mouth covered his fingers with his saliva, Ivan was kissing and nibbling on his ear and down his neck. He had to leave his mark somehow. He was a whining, moaning mess, but the sounds were slightly muffled by Ivan's calloused digits.

After awhile, he pulled it away and pressed it against Till's aching entrance, making him gasp. "Till" he breathes out, watching the man beneath him whimper. "I've got you"

They kissed again which stifled Till's whiny noises as Ivan's fingers continued to prep him.

Aligned to his eager entrance, Till looked nervous as he averted his gaze, biting down his lower lip before Ivan cupped his cheek to guide his gaze back towards his own.

"Last chance..." Ivan murmurs, voice hoarse as his aching tip pressed against Till's hole earning him a low groan. "Tell me to stop"

Till looks up at him—flushed, breathing heavily, eyes dark with desire and lust. "I'll kick you if you do."

With a chuckle, Ivan moved forward. A loud groan was left from both of their lips. Not long after, the room was filled with sighs, soft gasps, and muffled moans filled the room.

Ivan bucked his hips, holding onto Till's waist as the silver haired male wrapped his legs around his waist, whimpering and whining. "Fuck, h-haaa... Ivan"

He only needed to hear those sweet moans to know he was doing it right. "Till..." he calls back, pressing his body against his as Till's tight walls swallowed him inch by inch. Ivan's hands explored his body, wanting to commit it to memory. Every breath was a stuttered gasp, Ivan swallowing each of his moans as their lips connected again, wanting to distract Till from the current pain as he entered him.

"You're too fucking big..." Till complained against his lips. He was girthy, that was for sure. This comment just fed Ivan's ego and he chuckles. "Yet you're taking me so well... don't worry, your tight ass can take it" he teased.

Ivan finally pushed into him, fully, slow but steady, Till’s whole body tensed, then melted. The stretch stung, burned—but it was nothing compared to the feeling of finally being full, of having him so deep there was no space left for anything else.

The easel was long forgotten, paint brush on the floor with some of the paint spilled from it. They were tangled on the couch like nothing else mattered. As Ivan soon buried himself to the hilt, he caressed at Till's hips as he hissed in the slight pain.

As the room filled with their moans, the sound of skin against skin, lips against lips, their high began to build up. The one Till had been chasing for since Ivan wrapped his lips around his cock.

Till's hands fisted in the fabric of the couch, his knuckles white, jaw clenched so tight he could barely breathe. Ivan’s hips moved against his again, slow and deliberate, and it pulled a low sound from the back of his throat—something helpless, desperate.

He hated that he was already this far gone.

Ivan pulled back just enough to look at him. His lips were swollen, his cheeks flushed, hair a mess. “You still good?” he asked, voice lower than before—genuine, but edged with want.

Till nodded once, sharp, like admitting it was a sin. “If you stop now I’ll fucking kill you.”

Ivan huffed a breath of laughter, then leaned back down, their mouths meeting again—but this time, it was slower. Not softer. Just deeper. Like he wanted to memorize every part of him.

Till felt Ivan’s hand curl around him, finally, and his entire body arched off the couch. His gasp was sharp, unfiltered.

“You’re so easy to ruin,” Ivan murmured, stroking him slow, cruel. “I love it.”

The shift came with a change in weight, in rhythm. The way Ivan’s body pressed against his, settling between his legs. There was no room left to think, no room for clever words or witty comebacks. Only heat. Hands. Lips. Breath.

Till clung to him, nails dragging down his back, sharp enough to leave marks. Ivan’s mouth never left his skin—kissing, biting, breathing against the places that made him twitch, shudder, whine.

He gasped out Ivan’s name, half-choked, and that alone seemed to break the last bit of restraint left between them.

Ivan set a rhythm—deep, steady, intense. Every thrust hit just right, stealing Till’s breath, unraveling him piece by piece. Their skin slapped, the room echoing with gasps and curses and groaned-out names.

And Till didn’t care how loud he got. Didn’t care that he was shaking, clawing at Ivan like he needed him to stay, like if he let go he’d fall apart completely.

Because maybe he would.

But right now, he didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to feel anything but this.

Just Ivan. Just heat. Just want.

And it was so good.

Just Ivan.

"I am about to come" Ivan murmurs into Till's ear, panting as his thrusts slowed down just a little bit but got deeper, hitting just the right spots. With one swift motion Till was flipped over by Ivan and now he was on all fours. "I-Ivan–" he gasped when he felt Ivan's chest pressed against his back, his knuckles whitening as he gripped on the couch, babbling incoherent words.

The black haired jock thrusted his hips faster, reaching down with his hands to stroke and pump Till's length, matching his pace. "Can't leave your pretty cock without attention..." he nipped at his ear, a low moan leaving his swollen lips. "I-I am gonna fucking come...!" Till managed to say as Ivan pushed his head down the couch with his hand.

Ass up, head down, fuck he was just so hot like this wasn't he?

"Me too," Ivan hissed as he shuts his eyes, chasing after that orgasm he had been holding back on. "Where do you want me, baby? Come on, speak up"

Till was fucked stupid at this point, all he could do was mutter a train of cuss words and babble about how good Ivan's cock was fucking him. "In... inside..." he managed to say, which made Ivan chuckle. "I'll do as you ask"

A few last thrusts and pumps happened before they both come undone, their moans filling the room, and the creaking of the couch finally stopped as Ivan stilled inside him, burying himself to the hilt. Thick ropes of white spilled into his hands as he continued to pump Till's pretty cock.

Till felt the warm fluid fill his insides, making him whine and whimper, biting down his lower lip.

"You come a lot..." Ivan smirks as Till's cock just kept fucking coming on his hands. The artist could only grumble as his body was so limp, the only reason he was not collapsing on the couch was because the other male held him close. "Don't squirm... I don't want my come to spill on the couch"

This was embarrassing. Till thought to himself as he finally was out of the haze of sex. He was still on the couch, in Ivan's living room, held by his strong arms. He just let himself get fucked by the guy he swore he hate... the captain of the football team, Ivan.

Was it good?

Hell, yes. Best fuck of his life.

Did he still hate the captain?

Of course, duh.

Would he let it happen again?

Absofuckinglutely.

#ivantill #alien stage #ivan alnst #alnst till #alnst smut #alien stage smut #smut #mlm #mlm smut #ivan x till

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dantes-jacket · 2 months ago

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Pose

Oliver Aiku x fem manager reader

Description: What happens when Oliver's modeling partner doesn't show up and so you take her place instead?

WC: 8.8k

Authors notes: mean JFU owner (don't worry he gets karma), name calling (whore, slut, dumb,)- the owner is a meanie, but protective Oliver! photoshoots in underwear, mentions of sex, talks about having anxiety, anxiety attacks, described as a smaller chest reader and shorter than Oliver, kind of an aged up au

I need him so bad

You enter the elevator to head up to Oliver’s apartment and just hoping to yourself he is actually awake. You’ve been his manager for about a year now and it has been nothing but a rollercoaster, but it’s honestly super fun… even if he does get on your nerves sometimes.

You hear the ding of the elevator and see the doors open so you make your way down the hall to his door. You knock hopefully not having to use the spare key he gave you because he would be answering your wish of being up. After a couple of minutes of the door not being answered you groaned digging in your purse for the spare key.

You push the door open and mumble to yourself “Can he just not listen to one thing I ask him? Today we really can’t be late.” Today he has one of his biggest modeling gigs for a big designer company that has been trying to get him to model for them for ages. His schedule has finally lightened so he had time to do the shoot right before the company goes off and does a world tour of different fashion shows.

You look at the time on your phone and see it’s 8 am, which is nice because you have to be there at 9:30 so you have time to wake him up, make sure he eats, and gets ready. You walk to his room and open the door to see his asleep on his bed.

He has the blanket at his waist showing his strong and toned upper body. You could really just stare at him for hours… you realize you’re stuck in a day dream and shake your head. You release a heavy sigh and tell yourself, “He would never see you that way. He sees you nothing more than a manager, you’re lucky if he even views you as a friend.”

You walk on over to the side of his bed a bend down a bit and run your fingers through his hair, he wants you to wake up him like this because it reminds him of his mom. “Oliver, you gotta wake up. You have your photoshoot today.”

Oliver slowly blinks his eyes open and stares at you with those beautiful mismatched eyes of his. He groans a bit but mumbles out a good morning. You smile down at his sleepy form, “Good morning Oliver.” You stop running your hand through his hair and stand back up and go to leave his room.

Oliver lets out another groan, “I didn’t say stop.” You turn back to him, “If I didn’t stop you wouldn’t get out of bed. I know you love your bed so much but can you please get up and ready? We can’t be late to this shoot, they’ve delayed their shows so much to be able to get this to happen. We shouldn’t make them wait more. So please get up? I’ll make you breakfast while you get ready.”

You leave his room and shut his door. Oliver stares at the ceiling and murmurs, “When is she ever going to take a damn hint.” Oliver then gets up and tries to get ready fast so he can spend more time with you.

While he gets ready, you to check to see what he has in his kitchen. You check the fridge and pantry the decide to make him an omelette.

You cut up some peppers, tomatoes, spinach, and mushrooms. Then cut up some ham and shred some cheese. You start by cooking the ham a bit to make sure it would be fully cooked by the time the omelette is done.

Once the ham cooked you take that out of the pan setting it in a bowl to add back in later. You the start adding the egg to get it halfway cooked before you start adding the fillings.

You feel a weight on the top of your head and then you laugh, “Hi Oliver.” You have gotten use to his clinginess as your time being his manager. He always has to be touching you somehow no matter where you guys are. You’ve asked him about it before but he shrugged it off not giving you an answer.

“Hey. Are you making an omelette?”

You nod, “Yep. I wanted to have you eat something filling that’ll get you through your shoot. I was thinking about making pancakes but you’d be hungry quicker and I don’t think they are going to give you many breaks while shooting today so I gave up on that idea.”

“Ahhh, shouldn’t have told me that now I want pancakes.” He moves his head off of yours to look down at you and give you a wink.

You meet his duo colored gaze and smile lightly at him, “I can make them for you some other time. When your schedule is lighter and we aren’t in a rush.”

Oliver pinches your side having you jump back into him and sending him a glare, “I’ll hold you to that then.” He steps back to go and get a glass a water then sits at one of the barstools he has.

You finish making his omelette and plate it for him. You hand it over to him, he gives you a smile and quick thank you. He starts to dig in while you start to do the dishes.

After taking a bite of his omelette and sees you not joining him he pauses to ask “What are you doing?”

You turned to him confused, “Uh, the dishes?”

“No.”

You stare at him being even more confused than you were before at his answer, “What do you mean, no?”

“I can do them later. Sit down and relax, it’s going to be a long day for you too.”

“Oliver really it’s fine. I don’t mind, you’re going out with some of your friends tonight. The last thing I want you to worry about is dishes after I’m the one that used them.”

Oliver looks you in your eyes then basically starts to inhale his omelette. “What- OLIVER WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?”

He swallows his last bite and comes over, “I am helping you with the dishes.”

You roll your eyes because you know you’re not going to win this fight. You wash the dishes as Oliver dries them. After tag teaming the dishes you look at the time and see it’s 8:45.

You bump your hip into Oliver’s side, “Do you have to finish getting ready at all?”

“Yeah, but I just gotta brush my teeth again.” You nod and he walks off to his bathroom. You grab the extra bag you have and start packing some snacks and drinks for Oliver just in case the company doesn’t have any for him or don’t have choices he likes.

Once you finish Oliver is coming out of the bathroom. You turn to him, “Ready to go? I packed some snacks and drinks just in case for you. Then I have all your other stuff like contracts you have to go over with them.”

He smirks at you “As prepared as ever I see. But thank you, really I mean it. I’m ready though, let’s go.”

Oliver grabs his keys and while he watches you put on your heels, he grabs your bags and starts to walk out. You close and lock his door and jog to catch up with him, “I can carry those you know.”

He looks down at you and gives you another one of his signature winks. You let out a little laugh and follow him to his car. He puts your stuff in the backseat then opens your door.

You smile and thank him, he nods then walks over to his side of the car. Once he’s in he asks you to put the address in so he can follow the gps. You do as he says and once it’s all pulled up on the screen he starts to drive.

The car ride is spent you telling him about the photoshoot. “So they are a designer underwear brand?”

You grimace, “Kinda? I don’t really know much myself because I don’t wear anything designer. The whole pitch of this though is that you can wear it while you workout but also wear it for intimate time.”

Oliver nods, “But why did they want me so bad? Doesn’t make sense, I’m not an actual model.”

“Well my ever so humble captain, you’re much more attractive than any male model out there now. Plus you’re also an athlete which is a double bonus. And maybe it has something to do with your playboy tendencies…”

“Ohhh so you think I’m hot?”

“I feel like you ignored most of what I said. But I never once thought you weren’t handsome. I think I’d need to get my eyes checked if I thought you were ugly.”

Oliver lets out his deep laugh that you’ve grown to love this past year. “Good to know you think I’m attractive.”

You roll your eyes and look out the window. “Let’s just hope your partner thinks that.”

He turns to you confused, “What do you mean?”

You turn back to him giving him a smile that doesn’t reach as high as it normally does. If Oliver realizes he doesn’t comment, “For the intimate part you have a female model you’ll be working with.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I didn’t because I thought you read the contract saying what you’ll be doing. Don’t tell me you didn’t read what you needed to… again.”

He gives you a sheepish smile, “I guess I did. But why do I need to have a partner for that?”

“Oh the great playboy Oliver Aiku turning down a model he gets to see in no clothes? What has happened?” You say in a sarcastic tone.

You see Oliver grip the wheel tight, “I don’t want that.”

You start to worry seeing Oliver’s mood change, “Are you okay? I can’t tell them you’re not up to that part of the shoot if you want.”

Oliver shakes his head “It’s fine, don’t worry about. It’ll be done fast right?”

You nod your head and the rest of the drive there is silent. You look back out the window hoping your answer was right not just for his sake but yours. You’ve seen him model a bunch of times but never with another girl. You don’t honestly know how you’re going to get through this.

You and Oliver get to the place where they are doing the photoshoot. He parks in the back of the building and you two get out of the car. You grab your stuff from the back seat to see Oliver waiting for you so you two can walk in together.

Once you two are inside you two get surrounded by the crew. You two start to drift a bit apart but as soon as Oliver notices it, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into him. You’re starting to get overwhelmed by the sudden grouping that Oliver can feel you stiffen.

He speaks up, “Hey, let us get in first before you bombard us. There’s a process to this. Let’s go over the contract, then I’ll get ready and we can do the shoot. Okay?”

The crew nods and apologizes that’s when you see a man come up with a woman following right behind him. “OLIVER AIKU!!! I’m a BIG fan. I’m so happy you agreed to do this! My name is Aoi Kai and this is my assistant, Mae Lee. Let us go to my office real quick so we can talk the contract and get it signed.” Aoi then leads you two back to his office.

You and Oliver ask questions along the way while Aoi and Mae go through the contract to make sure everything is clear. Once you all come to an understanding Oliver and Aoi sign the contract. Aoi then tries to push Oliver to the dressing room but it fails due to his strong physique.

“Wait, I need to talk to my manager before I get ready.”

Aoi quickly responds, “Oh of course! We will head out to the shoot area while you two talk. I’ll have one of your makeup artist be outside to lead you where to go.” Oliver gives him a quick nod and waits for them to leave the room. Once they leave the room Oliver turns to you.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Is everything okay?”

“Yep.”

“Uhh then what did you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to give you a couple minutes for a breather. I could feel how anxious you got. The last thing I want is you to have an anxiety attack when I can’t be there for you.”

That takes you back to the first time Oliver found you having an anxiety attack.

It was only a couple months into working for the JFU. The old fuck of an owner really likes pushing you past your limits.

Today he assigned this whole folder profile he needs for Oliver tomorrow. TOMORROW!! He said he got told about it a while ago but “forgot” to tell you about. Yeah forgot your ass. He has hated you since you started working here and has been trying to get you fired for no reason. But he hasn’t succeeded and it’s pissing him off, you can tell.

So here you are at the JFU stadium in your office at 9 pm just getting this folder that needs to be done by 8 am tomorrow. It needs to be filled with all different stuff about Oliver. It has to be multiple pages with pictures and everything. You have no idea what even to do.

You don’t even have anything to base his off of. So you silently stare at the folder then look at your computer. It’s 9:30 now. You have to try something but you don’t know what to do. Or even how to start.

You start just to write down facts about him as a person and a player. You then print out some pictures you have. After working for a bit you look down at your work and see that it looks awful.

You then just start to break down. If you knew about this earlier you’d ask more questions to Oliver but he’s finished training and should be sleeping by now. You can disturb him especially because he has another early training tomorrow.

You keep crying not even being able to see through the tears welling up in your eyes. That’s when you hear a knock on your door. You pick your head and start to panic more. Words don’t seem to come out of your mouth. That’s when you see the handle turn.

Your heart is racing you don’t know what to do or expect. Once you see the door open more you hear Oliver, “Yeah thanks coach. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You hear a mumble of a second voice then Oliver respond again, “Yeah I promise I won’t get home too late. I just gotta make sure she still isn’t here. If she is I wanna make sure she gets home safe.”

No. No. No. No. No.

You can’t have your crush and the player you manage see you like this. You try to wipe your tears but it’s futile, they won’t stop.

Oliver then opens the door fully before he makes eye contact he speaks up, “I always knew you were a workaholic but I didn’t-“ he looks at you then freezes. He takes in your tears stained face and messy desk, he calls your name “What’s wrong?? What happened?"

That only makes you break down more and bury your face into your hands. You hear Oliver lock the door and drop his bag on the floor. You hear soft footsteps come up to you.

Oliver kneels down in front of you and pulls your hands from your face. He pulls you from the chair into him and tucks your head into his neck and starts to play with your hair. “It’s okay. Let it out. I’m here for you whenever you want to talk.”

This isn’t the first time you hugged Oliver but this hug made you feel the safest. You cried a little bit more into his neck until you calmed down a big. This hug really did wonders. You pull yourself back from his neck to look at his duo gaze. You seem he holds patience but also worry in that gaze. “Oliver, you have really pretty eyes. I don’t think I ever told you that.”

He chuckles, “Thank you.” Oliver wipes the his thumbs across the bottom of your eyes, “I think your eyes are beautiful too. Even after you cry.”

You smile lightly at him, it was the first time he ever complimented your looks (not that you’re expecting him to while you are working). “Thank you.”

“So, wanna tell me why you’re here late and crying?” You nod and then tell him all about what the owner is having you do and how you got it right before you were about to leave for the day. You see Oliver clench his jaw, “Goddamn I hate that old fucker. He really pisses me off, can’t he get fired already? Or even die?”

You laugh and lightly smack Oliver, “Oliver, thats mean.”

“You have a pretty laugh. I’m glad I got to make you laugh.”

You stare at him not knowing what to say. He senses that and sends you a wink.

“All right now that since we know what the problem is, let’s do this folder.”

You shake your head, “No, I can’t ask you to do that. This is going to take awhile and you have training in the morning. You need to go home and sleep.” You try to wiggle out of his hold but he just holds you tighter.

“Too bad, I’m helping. After all this folder is about me. Who knows more about me than me?”

You really don’t have a comeback argument to that so you mumble out a “You win.” Oliver just grins and picks you two up off the floor and sits on your chair with you on his lap. You two look at the project and make a game plan and get to work.

After hours of work and raiding your mini fridge for food and drinks, you two are finally done. You check the clock and see that it’s 5 am. You nudge Oliver, “Oh my god, I am so sorry to keep you here all night. You have training in a couple of hours and you haven’t slept at all.”

He looks at the clock then you, “It’s fine I still have 4 hours before training and I’m already here. I’ll just sleep on your couch right here.” He keeps his hold on you and walks to the couch. “Now you’re going to sleep here with me to before you turn that folder in and I am going with you to turn it in. But right now you’re my teddy bear so night night.” Oliver then passes out holding onto you tightly so you wont fall off of him while you slept. You set an alarm on your phone to make sure you two wake up in time.

After 2 and a half hours of sleep you and Oliver are getting up and grabbing the folder to go turn in. Once you get to the owners office and turn in the work, he’s mad to see it done but also mad to see Oliver there with you. “It is good enough. You can leave.”

You and Oliver leave the office, you start to head a different way than him because he needs to go get ready. Before you can get to far he grabs your wrist and turns you around. “Do you have anxiety?”

You turn to look away from him not wanting to see the his reaction to your answer, “Yeah.”

“Can you promise me something?”

You turn back to look at him before you can answer he says, “Whenever you’re having an attack, can you call me? I want to be able to help you. You’ve helped me so much within these past few months and I want to be able to do that for you too.”

You smile at him and nod. “I promise. I’ve never had someone offer so thank you so much Oliver.”

He smiles back you and pulls you into him. He gives you a quick kiss to your hairline, “Now go home and sleep. I’ll call you later.”

Since then Oliver has always watched out for you and it warms your heart so much. You really wish that there was more behind it, like he did it because he loved you. But you don’t think that’s it. Little did you know he is doing it because he loves you, it’s just you’re so blind and oblivious.

“I’m okay now Oliver, don’t worry. I made you promise didn’t I? I don’t intend to ever break it.”

“Good.” He leans down to give you another quick kiss to your hairline, “I guess I gotta go now. See you out there.” You wish him luck before he leaves. Once you’re done you walk out of the office to see Mae standing there. “Hey, I can lead you to the shoot area while we wait for Oliver.”

“Thank you!”

You two start walking and once you’re in the staircase Mae turns to you, “Do you like Oliver?”

You freeze and look at her, “Uh what makes you think that?”

“The way he protected you when you got here, how you two looked at each other when the other would talk and how happy you two were when you both walked out of the office. I feel like it’s pretty obvious you both like one another.”

You sigh in defeat, “Yeah I do. But I don’t think he’s interested in me. He’s just supportive of me and made sure something in the past didn’t happen again today. Plus I am not his type at all.”

“I heard he was a playboy but is he really that bad?”

“Um to be honest I don’t know. His old manager told me I would be chasing girls out for him all the time or having to break the hearts for him, but I’ve never done that before. He also doesn’t talk about meeting girls to me.”

Mae is quick to ask, “When did that start?”

“What do you mean? He’s never been a playboy around me.”

“I think you changed him. If he hasn’t done anything since you came around, I think thats a big sign he’s into you.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think so...” Mae just smiles, “Think about it okay?”

You nod and she opens the door from the staircase you two climbed. You walk out to see a whole workout setup for the first part of the shoot. Mae explains to you that Oliver will do different workouts like running on the treadmill, weightlifting, bodyweight, and soccer tricks during this shoot. You nod along and then hear Aoi cheering. You turn your head to see Oliver walk in shirtless with shorts on and the underwear line above the waistline of the shorts to show off the brand. He is also wearing a pair of nice clean socks and shoes the company has given him.

Oliver walks over to you, Mae and Aoi who suddenly spawned by your side. “So where do I start?” You don’t answer leaving that up to either Aoi or Mae and you just look over Oliver, focusing on his muscles and the v line leading to… it’s not until a hand is waved in your face that you return to reality. “My eyes are up here sweetheart.” You look up to see Oliver smirking at you.

“Yeah, yeah I know. Just go do workout stuff.” You respond with your face bright red and pushing his chest. Oliver quickly grabs one of your hands once you finish “pushing” him. “Whatever you say sweetheart.” He then brings that knuckle to his lips and kisses it. He then drops your hand and goes to where Aoi told him to go first.

Mae comes up beside you again, “Told you so.” You turn to look at her smirking too. You groan and run a hand through your hair and think to yourself. Oliver has been more touchy today? Is there a reason for it? Does he like you? Or is he just trying to push your buttons? You honestly don’t know. Before your thoughts can spiral too much to decide to watch Oliver.

He starts out on the treadmill, then goes to the bench to squat, then they have him doing some push ups and sit-ups. You can see his muscles flexing the entire time with a light coat of sweat coating him. Oliver is really a beautiful person. You don’t think he understands just how beautiful he is.

Mae then hands him a soccer ball and you can see his eyes light up. He really does love soccer. He still has the childlike wonder when he gets a soccer ball. Once he gets the ball he starts doing a bunch of different tricks to showcase his skills. Aoi keeps cheering him on and encouraging to do more and more tricks. After 10 minutes of him with the ball Mae cuts the two boys off because they have to get to the intimate part of the shoot. You’re really dreading it too.

Oliver comes to meet you, Mae, and Aoi behind all the cameras. One of the crew members gives Oliver a towel to dry up any sweat. He thanks them then directs his attention to you three, “So what now?”

Aoi responds all excitedly, “IT’S TIME FOR THE INTIMATE SHOOT!!”

You frown and look away from Aoi and Oliver. Oliver focuses on you wondering why you’re upset. Wait, are you jealous? God, he really hopes you’re jealous. That means you like him back and he wants that more than anything.

Oliver responds, “Okay. So what’s the plan?”

Aoi looks around, “Well your partner should be around here somewhere.”

A crew member then comes running up, “Mr Aoi! We just got a call that the model Oliver is suppose to be shooting with isn’t going to make it because she needs to fly out for another show she needs.”

Aoi looks like he’s seen a ghost, “WHAT?! This was the shoot that was going to be the headline shot. Can any of our backups come??”

Before the crew member can respond Mae speaks up, “I have an idea.”

Aoi turns to her, “WHAT?!”

Mae pushes you forward, “Why don’t we have her model? She has chemistry with Oliver so the shots will be more pure and intense.” Aoi gasps, “YES! Mae, get her ready.”

You look around and shake your head. “No! I can’t do that. I am not a model and I do not have the build for this shot you want to get across. I am too small chested to do this. Plus I would just mess it up. That’s the last thing I need Oliver to go through and worry about.”

Oliver quickly buts in, “I like that idea. I want to model with you. You’re prettier than any model I’d work with.”

Aoi grins, “It’s settled then! Get ready you too!”

Mae pushes you to wear the models get ready. The crew does your makeup then hands you what you are going to wear. It ends up being a dark blue lace set. The thong is barely covers anything and the bra is showing up of tiny boobs you have.

Once you’re out of the fitting Mae looks at you and smiles, “You look beautiful. I bet Oliver is going to freak when he sees you.”

You start getting self conscious, “I don’t think so. I don’t think I look good.”

“You are a showstopper. Now leads head to the other shoot area. This one has a bed.” She calmly states while wiggling her eyebrows. Today is going to be the day you die.

You finally get to the shoot area and see Oliver and Aoi talking. Once they hear you and Mae they turn to look at you. Aoi speaks up, “Ah perfect! This is going to turn out great. You look beautiful.”

You turn to look at Oliver who staring deeply at you. You walk up to you, “Don’t say anything. I know I look bad.”

Oliver clenches his jaw, “Don’t say that. You look absolutely breathtaking.”

He’s never spoken to you like that before and it throws you for a loop. You just nod and listen to what Aoi has to say.

“First we are just going to do some standing and sitting poses with that chair over there.”

You and Oliver nod then walk over to the shoot area. “First let’s do her back facing us and Oliver you stand facing her. Put your arm around her waist, you put your hand on his chest, then your other hand on his stomach and Oliver tilt her chin up to look at you.”

You two do as he said, your chest is pressed his while his hand is really low almost touching your underwear. Oliver tilts your head up and smiles down at you. He whispers, “Are you okay?”

You whisper back, “Yeah, especially since you’re here.” He smiles at your response. You get a couple pictures in that pose then Aoi tells you two to change it up. The next pose is him dipping you like you are dancing.

Once you are in position Aoi seems to have a problem. “Get closer you two.” You decide to figure out how since Oliver is holding you up, you wrap your leg more around his waist and pull yourself up more with your arms that are around his neck. Once you’re closer Oliver stares deeply into your eyes and lets out a breath and then lightly touches your foreheads together. Aoi’s screams of perfect nearly makes you jump but you force yourself to stay in position.

You and Oliver just stare at one another and he mumbles out, “Beautiful.” You blush and disconnect your foreheads and bury yourself in his neck and Aoi freaks out seeing this pose too. After a couple of ones like that Aoi says, “Okay one more standing one. But Oliver you are picking her up and putting her against the wall.”

Oliver snaps his head to Aoi, “Really?”

Aoi says, “Yes. Now do it.”

Oliver turns to you and whispers, “Are you okay with that?” You nod your head, “Yeah, don’t worry.”

Oliver nods then goes to grab the back of your thighs, “Jump pretty girl.” You jump up a big and hold on tightly to his shoulders. You can feel your lower area rub against the lower part of his abs and it sends a fire down to your core. You then hear the voice that has been nonstop today, “Okay Oliver, press her against the wall and have your back to us.”

Oliver does and he’s told and buries his head into your neck. You tell him, “Don’t drop me Oliver.” As you hold onto him tighter, he can start to sense your fear and holds onto you tighter, “I would never drop you.”

You run your hands through his hair looking down at him making Aoi freak out a lot again. After that Aoi tells you to let go of his hair and wrap your arms loosely around his neck. Oliver can feel you stiffen a bit at that request but you do it anyways. The only way Oliver can think about calming you down is leaving light kisses down your throat. When Aoi sees that he nearly breaks the sound barriers, “YES OLIVER KEEP KISSING HER!!!”

He does as he’s told and you lean your head back more giving him more access and he doesn’t hesitate to continue. Aoi then tells him to let you down that you have to do the sitting poses now. This one was a lot harder to break from but Oliver sets you down lightly and pushes some of your hair behind your ear.

You two smile at each other but then walk to the single chair that Aoi said you guys would be using earlier. Those poses are simple, one of you are sitting in the chair while the other one is behind doing poses. You and Oliver seem to have the same idea during these shots though. You both are leaving light kisses on each other’s neck and cheeks.

Those poses go by quick but your heart you swear is going quicker. Being this close to Oliver with barely anything on, feeling his strong, warm body against yours, and now kissing one another. You’re not sure if your heart, or lower area can take much more of this. But, you guys are almost done. Yet it’s going to be the most intimate part of the this shoot, the bed shots.

Aoi speaks again, “Okay first pose on the beds, you’ll be sitting down while Oliver stands over you leaning down.” You and Oliver get into position once again. Oliver has his arms on both sides of you and you have your arms wrapped around his neck again playing with the ends of his hair. Oliver connects your foreheads again. You get a couple shots in this pose then Oliver mumbles again, “Breathtaking.” Then kisses your forehead and Aoi makes sure to get a couple of photos of that.

Aoi breaks the moment… once again. “Okay this one is going to be more fluid than the rest. So first Oliver you’re going to be sitting down and she’s going to be standing between your legs. You’re going to have your hands on her butt and pull her closer. Then you’re going to pick her up and put her on your lap. Oh and by the way you two go with the flow.” You and Oliver look at Aoi and he’s smirking. Then you see Mae standing next to him and giving you a wink. You turn to Oliver and he’s smiling at you. He reaches out his hand to you and pulls you into your positions.

Oliver looks at you, “Are you okay with this.”

You not but Oliver speaks up, “I need to hear you say it sweetheart.”

“Yes Oliver, I am okay with it.” Oliver nods then puts his hands on your butt and pulls you impossibly close. Your body is pressed up against him and it all became too much that you accidentally let out a little moan that only Oliver can hear.

Oliver grunts, “Fuck, baby you can’t just do that.”

You lean down to his ear, “Oliver, I’m so sorry. I’m just- I’m just so turned on.”

Something snaps within Oliver, “Hold on.” You’re confused until he is pulling you onto his lap so you hold on tightly to his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall. You stare down at him breathing heavily and you see he is breathing heavily too. “Baby, you can’t just say shit like that so easily.”

“Oliverrrr.”

“Goddamn you’re so captivating, I can’t hold myself back anymore.” He put a hand on the back of your head and surges upward you catch your lips in a heated exchange. You gasp at the suddenness and boldness of his actions that he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth to connect with yours. It’s a hot and heavy kiss with your tongues and teeth clashing. Oliver disconnects but spins you two around so he has you pinned on the bed below him.

He goes back to connect your lips into the messy make out session you two were having. Before things could get more steamier Aoi claps and yells “CUT.”

Which makes you and Oliver freeze and brings you two back to reality about where you two actually are. Oliver gets up off of you and reaches out a hand to help you up. Once you’re up he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you close to him. Aoi and Mae come up to you two, “As much as I would love to have you two continue we sadly have to cut it there because you two have almost been here all day and we have to leave for our shows.”

You nod and Mae tells you she can lead you to the dressing rooms. You look up and Oliver who is looking at you already, “Meet me outside okay?” You smile at him and nod. He leans down quickly to kiss your hairline once again. He begrudgingly lets you go so you two can get dressed. Once you and Mae are out of the shoot area she nudges you with her elbow, “Told you so.”

“Yeah, I guess you did.” You responded smiling to yourself.

Once you’re dressed and grabbed your bags you head outside to meet Oliver. You see him standing under a tree on the phone, so you walk up quietly to him making sure not to disturb the call.

Once you get closer, Oliver sees you and his eye light up. He raises his finger saying “one minute.” You nod and stand beside him. Oliver goes to hold your hand thats unoccupied by all the stuff you are carrying.

Oliver groans, “Yes Sendou, I’ll be there. No I didn’t forget. How can I have forgotten if I just said I was going to be there? I’ll be there in 30 minutes, at the AGREED time. Yes, bye Sendou.” Oliver hangs up the phone and turns to you, “Sometimes I really hate that guy.”

You laugh and squeeze his hand, “He can be ahead handful sometimes. Let’s head out so little miss princess doesn’t get his panties in a twist.”

Oliver lets out a deep laugh nearly bending over at your joke. “Ah yeah good idea. Wanna come out with us?”

You politely decline, “I would love to but I can’t. I have to work on your schedule that is due tomorrow. Then I have to schedule some stuff for you so going out for drinks is a no. Plus it’s a guys night, I am not crashing it.”

Oliver lets out a sigh, “Alrightttt. Let me drop you off at your place though.” You agree and he walks you back to his car. You put your bags in the backseat then Oliver opens your door once again. Once you’re in he closes your door he walks over to his side getting in. He pulls out of the parking lot heading for your apartment.

Oliver puts his hand on your thigh, “Can we talk about it.”

You don’t dare to look him in the eyes, so you play with his hand that is lying on your thigh. “Yeah of course.”

“Before you get in that pretty little head of yours and try to deny it, it meant something to me. I haven’t been sleeping with random girls since I met you because I was so in awe of you. I really wanted to show you that I can put my best foot forward and not come off and a playboy because I want something real with you. I really didn’t imagine that this is how I would tell you but with how everything played out today, I really want you to know that I do like you. I am so captivated by you and I want to be with you. Will you please give me a chance and let me be your boyfriend?”

You look at him to see him already looking at you with a serious look in his eyes, one that you only see when he is on the field playing. “Oliver, I have liked you since I became your manager. I never ever once had a bad opinion about you. You are one of the kindest, selfless, and most the dedicated people I have ever met. I regret not telling you before today and I won’t admit the thought of you doing this with someone else made me so jealous. But in the end I am glad I got to be the one to do it with you. I will totally give you a chance. I want you as my boyfriend.”

Oliver picks up the hand that was playing with his to his lips and kisses it, “I want you as my girlfriend and no one else.” Giving you a signature wink. The rest of the drive he is holding your hand while you two make small talk. Once you get to your apartment he parks and turns to you.

“I don’t wanna say bye.”

You laugh and brush some hair out of his eyes, “Oliver it’s not bye. I am seeing you tomorrow at the stadium. We literally have a meeting too…”

He blinks at you, “Wait, we do?”

“Do you ever read the emails I send you?”

Oliver smirks, “No not really.”

You roll your eyes, “Ugh. But yes we have a meeting don’t be late please.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Good. I’ll let you get going now.” You lean in to give him a quick kiss. You lean back but Oliver pulls you back for deep and passionate kiss. Oliver breaks the kiss, “Bye baby. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye handsome.” You get out of his car and grab your bags from the backseat giving him once last wave before you head up to your apartment.

Once you’re back up to your apartment, you kick off your heels and plop down on the couch. You then touch your lips and think about how you can’t wait to see Oliver tomorrow.

You wake up the next day more excited than you ever had before. You hop in the shower real quick then pick out a black pencil skirt and white blouse to wear. You want to look really good today to match your mood. You feel like nothing can stop you today. You eat a quick breakfast, then grab your bags and head off to the stadium.

Oh you were so wrong. Here you were talking with Isagi’s, Barou’s, and Bachira’s managers about the schedules coming up since those four guys had a press conference they were doing together the next day. Then here comes the old and ugly owner screaming at you to get into his office with some of the other board members. The other managers turn to you confused and you’re just as confused as them but also scared and nervous. You hope the other managers don’t see or sense it.

The entire time you’re walking to the office you’re shaking because you do not know what to expect. Once you get to the office and sit down you’re bombarded by multiple board members and the owner asking many questions. You’re confused on what they are asking until they pull out pictures from the photoshoot yesterday. The ones of you and Oliver, and your heart stops.

“You slut. What do you think you were doing?!”

“I- I, I filled in for the model that couldn’t make it.”

“Now why would they want an ugly flat lady to do that?”

You start to cry not being able to hold back the tears from all the insults and yelling. You quietly say “I don’t know.”

“You went against the contract you signed. You realize that right you dumb whore?”

You take a deep breath, “There’s nothing in my contract against this.”

“Oh you piece of shit. You can’t even get with the players.”

You try to calm yourself down, “If you are implying that is also a part of my contract you are wrong.”

The owner growls at you, “Don’t you dare talk back to me you incompetent girl.” You start to cry more. “Yes cry more you little cry baby.”

While you were going through that Isagi’s, Barou’s, and Bachira’s managers run to go find Oliver. They find Oliver hanging out with their players and goofing around. Isagi’s manager yells “OLIVER!”

The boys turn around to see the managers out of breath and worried. Oliver stands up and walks over to them, “Yeah? What’s up?”

Bachira’s huffs “It’s...” trying to take deep breaths after running around. Then Barou’s manager says your name and Oliver stands straighter. “What do mean its her? What happened to her?”

The managers all explain what happened and Oliver clenched his fists, “I’m going to kill that old bastard.” Then darts off with Isagi, Barou, Bachira and the managers in tow. Bachira’s manager stops in the run and calls out to the other managers that are far behind the players. “Didn’t that new owner start recently? He should be here, so he should be able to stop this and kick the old owner who shouldn’t even be here out.” The other managers nod and head a different direction than the players.

Back in the office the yelling and taunting hasn’t stopped a bit. You keep crying not knowing what to do. Only wishing you can call Oliver to come help. As if the gods heard you, the door swings open and there is standing your knight in shining armor. With Isagi, Barou and Bachira behind him looking all kinds of mad.

Oliver looks around to find you and makes direct eye contact with your tear stained face. He rushes right over to you and pulls off his jacket to wrap it around you. “Hey. I’m right here okay? You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.” You nod as he wiped the tears off your face.

The owner laughs “Oh perfect timing Aiku, you’re just in time.”

Oliver looks back at him with a deadly look in his eyes, “For what?”

“Her getting fired of course! That flat, dumb slut had it coming.”

Oliver sees red and gets up “I’m going to beat the shit out of you for saying that about my girlfriend.” The owner looks at him in disgust, “You can pick anyone in the world and you chose that thing?”

Oliver lunges at the owner but Isagi and Barou are quick to hold him back. Oliver growls, “She is a person not some “thing” you can berate and talk down on.” You watch this all unfold you have never seen Oliver look so mad before. It warms your heart he is standing up for you but you don’t want this to affect him negatively. As if Bachira can sense your turmoil he crouches down and says “He isn’t going to get in trouble, don’t worry. We got his back so does everyone in this club. He is our captain for a reason.” Bachira gives you a light smile and pats your head. You nod and continue to watch what goes down.

The owner smirks and looks back at you, “Hey you dumb whore, you’re fired.” Your world freezes and you can’t breathe. No, it can’t end like this. You just got everything you wanted, you don’t want it ripped out of your hands just as soon as you got it.

Oliver tries to lunge forward and Isagi and Barou still hold him back. Isagi begs, “Oliver please. We know how much you wanna throw a punch but we can’t let you.”

Oliver speaks up, “Fine, if she’s gone I’m done.”

The whole room looks at Oliver. You speak up first in your watery and horse voice, “Oliver you can’t. This is your dream, I am not going to take that from you.”

Oliver turns to look at you, “I don’t give a shit anymore. I don’t want to be aligned with a club if this is how they treat the staff. That doesn’t align with my dream. My dream can take me anywhere and I’ll take you with wherever it takes me.”

The owner stutters “You- you, YOU CAN’T DO THAT!! You would be breaking your contract and no team would want a captain that breaks a contract!!”

“I don’t know how many more times I have to repeat myself but I don’t give two shits. If you fire her, find a new captain.”

You respond “Oliver-“

But you are cut off by a throat getting cleared. You see an older man, not as old as the board members and owner here but not as young as you, the players, and the other managers. “What is going on here? I was filled in by these three managers but it seems it has gotten crazier since.”

Since he’s really the only one that can, Bachira explains everything. This new man just nods and turns his head from you, to Oliver, and then the owner.

“I see. So this was who I replaced.” Everyone froze at that comment and looked to the new man. He clears his throat again, “I am the new owner of JFU. As of two weeks ago this man no longer holds the title or the right to do anything with JFU. So,” the man turns to you saying your name, “is it? You are not fired and still have a position at JFU. I have also brought security to take this man and all these board members of our property. If anyone objects, then I will call the police.”

Oliver shakes off Isagi and Barou, and rushed over to you. “Hear that princess? We are still together.”

You smile at him and throw your arms around his neck and hold him tight. If possible Oliver’s grip is even tighter than yours. The new owner calls Oliver’s name and Oliver lets go and stands up then bows. “I am sorry for my actions here today, owner. They were unbecoming of a captain and I understand if you would not like me to serve as captain anymore.”

The new owner only laughs, “Pick your head up boy.” Oliver does as he’s told. “You will still the captain of the Japanese National team. Just from what I heard and saw, you are a strong and dedicated young man to all of those around you. It pleases me to see we still have players like you but also young man who isn’t afraid to stand up for his girlfriend and manager.”

Oliver smiles, “Thank you sir. It makes me happy to hear you say that.”

Barou then throws an arm around him, “For a defender that puts up quite the wall to break through, you can almost break through one easily. Really thought you were going to go break through Isagi and I.” Isagi lets out a sigh of relief, “I thought it was done for.”

Bachira laughs, “I would have loved to see him beat up the old guy. Would have been great.”

Everyone laughs but yours stands out the most to Oliver. He turns to you and reaches for your hand, “Well after all that excitement I think the two of us are going to take a break. We will be in her office. Let’s push back the meeting till 1, to go over the press conference so she can rest a bit.”

Everyone agrees and Oliver leads you back to your office. Once you’re in the office he wraps you up in a tight hug then carries you to the couch. He lays you down then lays on top of you. He peppers your neck with kisses, “I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you. I am so sorry you had to go through that alone.”

You run your hands through his hair, “It’s not your fault Oliver. Don’t beat yourself up over it, we didn’t know that would happen. Let’s not talk about it, I get undisturbed you time and I don’t want to waste it.”

Oliver laughs, “Whatever you say beautiful.”

“By the way the photos turned out great.”

“Oh yeah I know, Aoi sent them to me first and let me post them before the public saw with the brand.” “WHAT?! And you didn’t tell me??”

“I posted it on social media haha.” “OLIVER YOU WHAT?!” Oliver pulls out his phone and shows you the post. He picked out the photo of him dipping you, him standing above you on the bed and the one of you on his lap. The caption was “I’m so captivated by you.” You also see it has millions of likes and many comments.

“Yep, so now the whole world knows you’re my girlfriend.”

You hide yourself in his neck, “Oliverrrrrrr.”

He gives you more kisses, “What? You’re hot and I gotta show off my girl. I have no regrets. Well I do have one.”

“What’s that?”

“That I haven’t fucked you yet.” “OLIVER!”

He lets out a deep laugh and mumbles into your neck, “You’re coming back to my place tonight and I’m fucking you till you can’t walk.”

#oliver aiku x reader #aiku oliver x reader #aiku x reader #bllk x reader

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writing-whump · 7 days ago

Text

Off Beat

The next morning after the anxious spiral. Isaiah goes to the wolf meet. Things get worse.

When Matthew woke up the next day, the light was still muted. The birds were singing though, annoyingly loud.

Bleary-eyed, he slowly made his way towards the kitchen. The balcony door was open, that's why the outside noises were so loud.

Isaiah was already up. Cause, of course he was. Fresh shirt and pants, hair still wet and combed back.

"Mornin," Matthew said, trying to shake the sleep off like a heavy blanket. When he opened the bathroom door, he scrunched his nose. The smell of disinfectant hit him like a brick. "Eww. What is this—were you cleaning it up all night or what?"

Isaiah shrugged, rubbing at his chest absent-mindedly. He was holding the coffee mug, but wasn't drinking, balancing it precariously on his fingers. "Couldn't sleep. Got up early. Figured I'd do something useful."

"You should do something fun to relax. Sheesh." He brushed his bangs away from his face, eyes still heavy from sleep. Why did he not hear him waking up?

He squeezed his nose, debating whether to risk the bathroom or wait till it aired out a bit more.

Isaiah said nothing, turned away. Still. Kinda too still.

Matthew eyed him. "You okay?" It flew out before he thought better of it.

"Hmm."

Right. What else would it be. "You got that big meet today, right?"

"Yes."

Geez, what a conversation.

"Anything I can help with?" He tried.

Isaiah was silent for a long moment. He still hadn’t taken a sip. Just holding the mug like he was posing for a photoshoot. "It won't take long. I'll take Rip and be done quickly."

Ehhh. Fine.

Matt steered away from the bathroom back towards the kitchen. Opened the fridge, but forgot what he came for.

Something about Isaiah’s stillness was sticking to him. He'd ask again later.

...

The weather was nice so for once, the meet took place outside in the city hall's park.

It was already crowded when they arrived—voices low, bodies drifting in and out of small groups like pieces on a slow-moving chessboard. The sun filtered through the clouds in that pale, washed-out way that made everything look colder than it was.

Isaiah walked a step ahead of Rip. His pace was even, but he couldn’t feel his legs properly. They moved like they always did—strong, measured, trained—but his chest was tight, like someone had wrapped a belt around his lungs and kept cinching it smaller.

The air was thick. Or maybe he was just slow. The trees were swaying gently, and every sound—leaves, breath, murmured greetings—felt like it was happening to someone else.

He offered the usual greetings. A handshake to a human. A nod to a wolf. A still smile that looked right, even if it didn’t feel like it belonged to him.

Someone tried to start a conversation—about a stray dispute at the edge of the west territory, something that might need his arbitration. Isaiah caught half of it, then lost the thread halfway through the second sentence. He should really cut this short.

His head was heavy. His vision felt narrow, like the edges were darkening, like someone had put his focus on rails and pulled it in too close.

He clenched his fist once—then twice. Tried to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

His heart was beating wrong again. Not fast. Just fluttery, uneven. Like it couldn’t make up its mind whether to race or stop. The edges of his vision blurred, only the center left, pulling tighter like a noose.

It was ridiculous. He could not stop functioning because he didn't sleep well. An Executioner definitely couldn't.

Rip's presence at his back anchored him. When Rip stopped, so did Isaiah. When he turned, so did he. Isaiah wasn't sure if Rip noticed, but he somehow knew when to turn just in time when someone approached, giving him a good heads-up.

He could do this. Just for a bit longer. Then the holidays would take over and he would get a break for a few days. Maybe a whole week. It was important to wrap this up peacefully. The mood was just right, easy, relaxed. The warmth, the spring in the air and his presence, and even wolves could act all civilized.

That's when he noticed Hector. Standing still, alone, looking at him. Directly. Not avoiding. Not trying not to see him or not to be seen.

A chance of pace for sure.

Hector's blond hair sparkled in the light. And amber eyes. He looked like a figure made of gold. It made Isaiah strangely self-conscious about his black suit and hair. Like a gravedigger next to a celebrity.

He had wanted to see him. Until he did.

His chest constricted in that painful, sudden way that almost made him gasp out loud. The blackness threatened to take over his eyes.

He could not do this today.

Isaiah blinked, trying to steady his vision. The brightness made his eyes sting. He forced himself to nod once—to no one in particular—and turned on his heel.

Rip moved without needing a word, falling in beside him like a second shadow.

...

They found a secluded spot near the fence, trees separating them from the gathering. The parking lot was close, though he wasn't sure he could drive.

Isaiah stood with his hands on his knees, not crouching, just bracing. The air stung his lungs, sharp and thin, and his shadow trembled at the edge of his skin. He could feel it pressing, waiting. His heart was fluttering, too fast. Not loud. Just off.

Then footsteps. Familiar weight. Familiar hesitation.

He didn’t look up.

“Are you going already?” Hector asked. The tone was trying to be casual, but there was something more. Tense, tentative. A hand outstretched towards growling teeth.

Isaiah couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe right, let alone pretend he could.

“Zaya.” Softer now. A step closer.

And then: a blur of motion, sharp and low. Rip jumped down from the fence. Isaiah didn't notice when he climbed it until he was back. Standing in front of him for the first time.

Isaiah shook his head, trying to register what that meant. His vision zoned out for a second.

“Slow down,” Rip said. It wasn’t loud. It was flat. A warning, without heat.

Hector blinked. Then his lip curled into a grimace on instinct, eyes blazing. A low growl caught in his throat. So easy to anger, as always.

“Fuck off, squirt. You think you can take me? You are 100 years too early to try,” Hector said, just as low.

“You want the top dog spot?” Rip said. “Take it. All yours.”

But he wasn't moving.

Hector's eye twitched. “I’m his brother,” Hector said. His voice didn’t rise as much as it wanted. It wasn’t a shout. But it landed heavy, like that should be enough. Like that should clear the way.

Rip didn’t flinch. Didn’t bare his teeth or react to the challenge. Just… looked at him. Steady and unmoved.

"So?" Rip said. Not sarcastic. Not smug. Just indifferent. Like the title brother was a badge that didn’t mean much if Isaiah didn’t wear it too.

Hector’s brows drew together.

“I have a right to talk to him. You think I’d hurt him? Just back off.”

Rip’s head tilted, just slightly. "Oh? So it's all about what you want?"

Isaiah had not expected that at all. He didn't have a contingency plan for such a thing. This was out of script. Honestly, it was mind-blowing.

Rip looked back at him to check, gaze asking, but still braced for a fight. Still standing in front of him.

Slowly, Isaiah straightened, one arm braced against the fence. His body was tense as a string, his heart hammering in his ears. He didn't want to have such a reaction to Hector's approach. It broke his heart Hector could hear it.

Rip was right. And if Isaiah didn't stop this soon, he would say more and Isaiah didn't want it spoken out loud.

"I can't do this right now, Hex," he said quietly, without meeting his eyes. Without looking up further than up to his legs. Not at that shine. This was the closest he could get to a plea. "Next time. Promise."

...

The noise of the wolf meet faded behind them—too far to feel like it still concerned them. Isaiah leaned against the side of the low brick wall near the parking area, from the other side of the park.

His car was right in front of him, but he couldn't find the strength to get in yet.

Rip stood a few feet away, just far enough not to crowd him. His hands were in his pockets, trying to look casual and neutral, which no Isaiah didn't believe one bit after that scene. His mind was still catching up.

His nose was prickling and there was pressure building behind his eyes. It made it hard to think.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Isaiah let out a breath through his nose, sharp and uneven. His lungs still burned a little. His shirt stuck to his spine, and the cold air licked at the sweat across his back.

"You didn't have to do that," he said softly, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

Rip shifted his weight. He was facing away. Isaiah slowly realized he was standing guard, keeping the exit from the park in sight. "Didn’t do it for you to be grateful."

"Where did that even come from?" Isaiah said, tone dipped in hysterical amusement.

Rip shrugged. "You looked like you couldn't breathe." He kicked a gravel out of the way. "We could both hear it and he still had the nerve-" he shook his short black hair, looking down. "Sorry."

Isaiah closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. It probably meaning his troublesome annoying heartbeat. "That obvious?"

"No. I was watching closely."

Isaiah let out something close to a laugh, but it caught in his throat. "Since when do you watch me?"

Rip shrugged. "You watch me all the time."

Isaiah looked over. "That’s different."

"Why?"

Isaiah gulped heavily. There was that darkness in his vision again. Was tiredness supposed to feel like this? His chest hurt from restriction, like being crushed under a weight and whenever his heart made that fluttery beat that hurt so much his stomach clenched with it.

He was feeling nauseous, but he had nothing to eat the whole day. It wouldn't be of any help.

Rip bounced on his feet, looking less calm with every passing second. "We should go," he said, glancing at Isaiah uneasily.

If someone caught them, caught him looking like this...this was pretty dangerous.

Isaiah made a move to stand. Rip stepped closer, like pulled in by gravity. "You shouldn't be driving."

There was something so matter-of-fact about Rip's voice. He was not thinking of feelings; he was practical. It made it a little easier to accept.

Isaiah nodded, slumping back down. Like he was just relaxing against the bricks in the sun and not having trouble standing up. "Call Matt to pick us up."

...

"I knew something was off," Matthew grumbled under his nose. He took a taxi to the park so he could drive them back in Isaiah's car.

Isaiah was in the backseat, trying to swallow down the nausea. Little gags were jolting his throat, but he kept pushing against them.

Rip sat beside him in the back, trying not to watch, but his eyes were narrowed and fists clenched. He was too close not to know.

"You just had to go there," Matthew continued. "So classic. Actually, it's getting old at this point."

He leaned his forehead against the window. The sunlight was painful against his eyelids. He was so freaking tired of this day, like a midday deep pulling him under. His skin felt clammy and itchy, like something was crawling up his skin.

The pressure behind his nose was getting worse. The kind of deep sting that prickled up behind the eyes, not down into the throat. He sniffed. Sharp. Too sharp. A flicker of wetness bloomed high in his sinuses, sudden and hot.

He reached up with two fingers and pressed beneath one nostril. Warm. Slippery. He could taste metal at the back of his throat.

The next gag caught him off guard. He leaned over the ground with a sharp retch, with blood-coloured bile slipping out.

"Shit," Rip muttered, undoing his seatbelt to twist closer.

The heaving didn't exactly help, the blood flowing now instead of dripping. He reached his arm over to Rip. "H-help me out of that."

Rip obeyed, wrestling him out of the suit jacket. The blood was basically a stream, too strong for such small openings.

Isaiah gagged, another thin string of stomach acid. Rip braced against his shoulder to coax him back. The blood was running down his upper lip and chin and dripping onto his white shirt.

The vomiting wasn't easing the nausea at all. He felt so sick he thought he was swimming in mud, a painful drum behind his left eye. Breathing felt like dragging air through wet cloth.

The pain in his chest wasn’t sharp. It was deep. Like something buried was swelling outward, pressing against everything else.

"Matt?" Rip's voice sounded far away, though it came right at his ear.

"He shouldn't be bleeding with the meds he's on," Matt said at the front. The car turned abruptly, like he took a turn from one line to the next, where he shouldn't.

"- nearest hospital?"

"...keep him awake."

And then darkness.

#sickfic #whump #emeto #chest pain #hurt/comfort #angst #bromance #my writing #werewolf wip #Isaiah

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mamanamao · 18 days ago

Text

show me, p☆rnstar

Cpt. John Price x Trans Masc P☆ Reader

part 2/?

word count: 1250

tags: nsfw/mdni, dom price/sub reader, self-degradation??? (the author degrades you in text, but honestly, calling out my own filth and kinks, chat), pet names for reader, just down bad for a man you don't even know, filthy thoughts

a/n: genitalia is referred to as cunt/pussy, clit, etc just in case that makes you uncomfy, by the way I never mentioned but reader is in fact over 21, you’re in your last year of college after all. just a short update for now, edging you for the fun of it :)

Your live went well, surprisingly, with quite a lot of donors this time around, but halfway through, you realized that a particular username never appeared once, and looking across the stats and donations on your screen stitched a pout on pretty lips. Of course, you didn’t make it even close to obvious while live, but when the camera cut off, an almost disappointed sigh left your lips. He didn’t show up. He always showed up; why wasn’t he here? He had never missed a stream before, not in the several months he had been subscribed to you. Maybe it’d be just a one-time thing? How pathetic of you- to be so obsessed with just a name. But it happened again and again, twice a week for over a month, and not once did he show up. Christ- did he just walk off the planes of the earth?

This anonymous man is a paying customer, not some love interest in a romcom. A man falls in love with a stripper he thinks loves him back but this time the stripper fell in love with a man who was just there to get his dick wet. It frustrated you to cling onto this perverted idea of him, an idea you don’t even have the face to; your lonely late night pleasures just made it far from worse, as if the only hands you wanted on your naked form were his. What could he give you that no other man could? Hell of a lot of money, sure, but what would getting bent over your counters and bed be like with him. How fast could he make you come, or would he even let you? What if instead he abused your aching clit and plunged his fingers so deep into your needy, sloppy cunt, reaching spots you never could have with your own. Just edging you to the brink of spilling out, but no, he'd never let you cross into the bliss of an orgasm, not until he had his fill. Not until he filled you. The absolute filthy thought of this man made the air feel heavy, just the damn thought but it had turned you on more than any adult film or sex toy ever could. God, you fucking slut, just getting wet at the want, no, need, the need to be fucked by a man who most definitely only watched you for his entertainment and you had no shame. Bloody playing yourself like a guitar.

November, exam season. Regular work and college would be eating you up, meaning it was finally time for a month-long hiatus again, which you announced via a post where you posed in a seductive photo, finger to your lips in a ‘shh’ motion. The caption explaining the upcoming lack of content, but you’ll be back soon with extra material for December. Once the post went live, you decided, for the best, to tuck away your camera and sex toys into a cabinet; focus on exams, pleasure can wait. Keep the cigarettes out though; you’d need them. Outside of all this, you honestly had a simple life, majoring in what you’ve planned on working towards since you were a little one and working at a cafe that was a bit away from campus. A simple life. For the first few days, you followed a premade schedule down to the second, classes, studying, and a late night shift. Nothing came before or after. It did get boring here and then but this was what life was going to be once you dropped the whole pornstar career for the one you spent thousands on- thank you shit scholarship, barely made a dent in your damn tuition cost. What a life.

The ruckus of regulars had slowly died down in the cafe as you began to mop the floor for the night. It had stayed open late for exam season, taking advantage of groggy students who needed the extra caffeine and sweets to crawl through sessions of long textbooks. The only sound available to ease your aching bones was the howl of the snowstorm outside and your playlist blaring through the headphones wrapped around your neck. This was a moment you were swaying in, caressing the mop as if it was your dance partner on a ballroom floor. The world around you felt like it was paused just for you to have this, until, unfortunately, it was disrupted by the jingle of the doorbell and heavy shoes thumping against the freshly mopped floor. Oh, come on, it took forever to get that shining like new. You sighed softly as you paused the music blaring from your headphones.

“We’re closing in 10, so it’s order and leave, pal.”

And as soon as you turned to face whoever had walked through the door, your heart just stopped. A bloody handsome older man stood there in a heavy coat, his hands tucked into his pockets. You felt your hand let go of the mop before snatching it back up, a soft stutter leaving your lips. He stared for a moment, this quick flash in his eyes before he started to walk towards the counter as you did the same. Keep it together, keep your shit together! As you rounded behind the counter, he had already grabbed for his wallet; at least he was ready. Something about him felt familiar, a bit too much. It had to be the stress of a long shift, right? Standing in front of the register, he glances towards the menu before his intense gaze pierces through your skin, making a shiver run down the bone of your spine.

“Coffee, black, medium.”

That voice, it rumbled heavily, a roughness to it, yes, but it lured you in. A soft nod was your only response as you reached for a medium paper cup and pen, hands curling around the edge before looking into his gaze, and as you asked for his name, you swore the wires in your brain were beginning to fry.

“Name's John, sweetheart”

John. And he had to lay the pet name on there. Your knees were already weak as it is; desperation does unexplainable things to your body. In almost messy handwriting, you spelled out his name and went to work on brewing him a new batch of coffee. Having to clean the machine again was a nightmare, but this felt so worth it. Why? Now it was just you, this man, and the ticking of the clock on the wall. Little did you know, with your back towards him, John was staring heavily at your lower back, eyes twitching with recognition as his brows furrowed. Weeks, he had been gone for weeks with no chance of being able to watch his pretty little thing and by some fucking chance the cafe he walked into at 12:50 AM for just a quick drink had just what he craved. You were none the wiser.

a/n: finally an update! trying to make sure the ao3 curse doesn't get to me even if we are on tumblr

#captain john price #john price #trans masc reader #mlm smut #smut #call of duty #cod #captain price #x reader #hot older man

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just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Never Gonna Happen

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 904

Warning: bit of angst, pretty on par with episodes

A/N: Saw these photos and gifs, wanted to see what I could do with them. Enjoy!

—

The SUV hadn’t stopped when Hotchner jumped out of the vehicle, immediately sprinting towards the other agents running.

“Hotch!” Morgan yelled out as he chased after him. “Hotch stop!”

The agents turned the corner into an open lot, Hotchner and Morgan immediately behind them. One of the agents tackled him, taking him down hard onto the pavement.

Hotchner drew his weapon. “Move!” He yelled at the agent. They rolled off the unsub and Hotchner's foot was immediately on the man’s throat, gun aimed at his face.

“Hotch!” Morgan yelled again as he came up behind him. “Stop! We need him,” he grabbed Hotchner’s arm. “We need him…alive. You know that.”

Hotchner looked over his shoulder at Morgan. “Fine. Watch him. He needs at least four men on him at all times. We can’t fuck this up. Y/N needs us to not fuck this up.”

Walking back to the other SUVs that were rolling up, Rossi got out of the passenger side of one, waiving Hotchner over to him.

“You look like hell. We got him. Get yourself together, Aaron. We got him.”

Hotchner gave him a nod as he walked past him to another car.

“And shave,” Rossi yelled after him.

Hotchner had just finished wiping off his face with a towel when he saw Emily’s name on his caller ID.

“Tell me he didn’t get away.”

“He’s in the wind,” Emily paused. “We have a lead bu-“

Hotchner hung up. He threw on a shirt, grabbed his vest, and left his apartment. He caught a look of himself in his mirror in his front hallway. The man he saw was the one he knew he needed to be. Focused. Disciplined. Methodical, so Y/N could survive this. She deserved his best.

Rolling up to the command center he got out of the car and crossed to where the team was standing.

“That’s the unit chief we know,” Rossi clasped his hand on his shoulder. “You ready?”

“I have to be.” Hotchner crossed his arms, looking at the SWAT team leader. “Explain yourself.”

“I know we fucked up, you don’t need to remind me. He had three men posing as guards. They released him once we gave them temporary custody of him while we changed over our men.”

“Reid, review the tapes. Emily and Rossi, get Garcia to review all traffic cameras in the area and get a description from the agents. Morgan…you’re with me.”

Morgan followed him as he walked towards the SUV. “You need to focus.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Hotchner spun on his heels. “You think I don’t know that every moment I was held up getting here, he was holding her?”

“Hey, you were overseas. He knew that. That’s why he timed it like this. You know that. He wants you hurting. He’s done that. Now make him pay for it.”

“You drive.” Hotchner tossed Morgan the keys.

“Garcia,” Emily walked into her office. “Please tell me we have something. We’ve been out all night. We need something so Hotch can calm down for even a minute.”

“I’m trying I swear. There’s just…nothing. They were good. I’m looking at it in every possible angle.”

Emily’s phone rang. “JJ please have news.”

“We have a plan.”

Hotchner tightened his tie, pulled on his blazer, and walked out of his office.

“You sure about this?” Morgan gave him a long look. “You think this will work?”

“He wants to show us what he can do. He wants to push through every boundary possible. What better than the defenses of the FBI headquarters?”

Rossi walked over. “So business as semi-usual. Go to the conference room. Pull up the case. Work it, or appear to work it, like we need a new angle. And Aaron, you’re with me.”

The team moved to the conference room as Rossi and Hotchner headed to his office. Halfway up the stairs the doors to the unit opened.

“Hotchner! You forget I got your bitch? Or do you not care?” Everyone’s eyes took in the sight of him holding you against his body, gun to your head.

Hotchner drew his weapon and moved around the desks. “Let her go.”

“No. You don’t get to order everyone around. Especially me.”

“You’re going to lose.”

“Nah, you are. She means nothing to me, why should I hesitate.”

“Aaron, please.” You locked eyes with him. “I know I’ve let you down, I’ve let you down in so many ways. Just let me go, let me fall out of your life.”

“See,” the unsub sneered. “She wants out. Right?” He pushed the muzzle deeper into your head. “She wants you to drop her.”

“No.” Hotchner paused. “She wants me to drop you….Y/N now!”

You let your body go limp as you slipped out of his grasp. As you fell to the floor Hotchner unloaded his clip into the unsub.

As soon as you heard his body drop, and the gunshots stopped, you looked up.

“I knew you’d understand.”

Hotchner ran over to you, dropping to his knees as he pulled you into his grasp.

“I’ll always understand. I will never stop looking for you. I will always save you.”

“You won’t let me go?” You whispered, hugging him as tightly as possible.

“Never gonna happen, Y/N. I’m never letting you go.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds angst #Aaron Hotchner x reader

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emlan · 10 months ago

Text

Finished DLC!

Here's some Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree ramblings, spoilers under cut.

. DLC catered to me a lot since I'm a Zanzibart cutscene enjoyer who loves map exploration and Vista money shots but I'm kinda HUH-cat.clip when it comes to some new lore bits and in general the world feels divorced from main game even though main game characters and topics are around?

I don't remember how much souls DLC tied into the other story, but I'm using The Old Hunters from BB as base and it really added extra value to its world and characters and there's just nothing new of real interest in SotE from what I can see…

In a vacuum I can only appreciate even more (literal) brother on brother action but Miquella seemingly being deeply obsessed with Radahan is so out of left field??? Granted I'm not an lorester but what I remember as Miq's key things from flavor text when it comes to ties to other people is him being sad about being unable to cure Malenia of her rot and also sad about not being able to grant Godwyn his true death. The only ties to Radahan is by proxy of his sister fighting him? (Was she even fighting him just to bring bro his crush to him? This makes Caelid getting nuked by her even more of a waste.)

It's so out of nowhere that the Epic Prime Version of him comes off as a cheap soyjak pointing bit pandering to Radahan fanboys (pretty sure he's like no1 fav guy for players right), but fanboys will obviously not be happy about him just being a hollow shell again (?) that might not have wanted anything to do with Miquella (?) so I just can't see this as satisfying for ANY kind of player even on a full Gamer Dude to Deranged Fujoshi spectrum? I imagine deep lore enthusiasts also feels a bit… Ambushed.

I'm not against Miquella doing dark unpleasant or just stupid desperate acts since it was already a popular theory that he was a brainwasher type, but the issue for me is that I'm not sure if this Miq/Rad union is "intended" to be read in such a twisted way even when it's the only way I can read it.

Though I guess the fact general consensus going from "wow Mohg is so messed up claiming Miq no matter Miq's consent" to "wow Miq is so messed up claiming Radahan no matter Radahan's* consent" is poetic….?

*I'm writing Radahan here but really it's also a synonym for 'Mohg' considering he's the one getting desecrated the most.

I'm sure I'll end up watching some vid or writeup making pieces fall into place later but I can't believe Miyazaki is handing me visual age gap brother incest and all I can do is force a strained smile in response!!!

Anyway general whining time:

As much as I love filling out up the map I feel there was too much big "empty" areas. Climbing the dragon mountain was the worst presentation of anything I've seen in a FS title, extremely cheap unfinished filler feeling with the spirit jumps instead of at least adding some kinda atmosphere like the open flower/gravestone fields. The Abyss gimmick overstayed it's welcome since it's too miserable checking if you missed a shiny somewhere without your horse, but at least the stealth parts was such a non-issue it might as well not be there.

While I like that you can see several inaccessible areas from where you stand, and I do think it leads to some fun moments when you're taking a random path halfway across the map and ends up on the other side as an a-ha moment, it was a bit frustrating not being able to tell more clearly how to reach sections. Plus I would've died 10000 times from drops if it wasn't the fact Rainbow Stones protected me from making bad choices.

What mindbroke me most was trying to get into the flower field area north east, having an "oh boy, beating this guy will let me reach it for sure!" moment for both Gaius and Sunflower was such [record scratch SFX]. I did figure posing in front of the statue was most likely the entry afterwards but somehow I had missed the gesture needed (most embarrassing DLC moment considering I tend to fine comb pretty well and the gesture pickup is just sitting there out in the open………. why am I even admitting this shameful thing). Watching trees get knocked over from something moving under the water in the church district was really cool and unnerving and then you realize it's just branch dragon number 800……………..

The wicker men has a great design but fighting them was either a boring slog or a frustrating jankfest trying to toss the bombs right. Peeved that you HAVE to use a furnace pot for the sleeping one blocking the ruin puzzle, hefty should've been fine too.

Bosses are too hectic/aggressive for my taste but that's just business as usual for ER so whatever, last boss really is way too punishing compared to other Hard bosses tho, in fact I just watched ending on YT since I'm stuck still on them :V Camera also makes a glorious return as the toughest challenge of them all.

Think my biggest highlights was seeing the bizarre finger/tongue path under the church and the finger mom boss visual itself and the black humor of the miserable living jars stumbling around with the pot on their head. Ansbach is a hot new waifu and it's very precious how such an upstanding man stays all-in loyal to a Deranged Satan (said lovingly) soooo cute you actually get a "Um, so about how Mohg died…👉👈" prompt with him. There was more NPC voice lines than I expected which was fun. St Trina's design was very neat and shoujo manga. Having to sip syrup 4-5 times instead of the classic Third Time's The Charm is a crime however and I missed making the Trina fanboy jealous until it was too late :/

The open world for all of Elden Ring is such an incredible experience that I'm happy I got to play and I had such a good time and I can't imagine any other studios will be able to reach these map heights but I also hope they never make an OW game again because it's too much when you "need" to replay it.

#Elden Ring #shadow of the erdtree #Elden ring spoilers #shadow of the erdtree spoilers #elden ring dlc spoilers #sote spoilers #fromsoftware #text post

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tinydooms · 1 year ago

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The Misadventure of the McCanns, the Princess, and Rick O'Connell: A Bullet Point Story Of AU Proportions, Dastardly Deeds and Shocking Heroism That Will Chill, Thrill, and Surprise You! Part One.

Cairo, January 1924

One morning at the beginning of the year, two visitors from Rick’s past show up at the door of the Zamalek house. Rick is the one who answers the door. He opens it, sees the men on the step, and slams it shut again, locking it for good measure.

“Come on, O’Connell!” hollers the man on the other side, “open up!”

“Go away, Hub!” Rick yells, leaning against the door as if holding it shut, “I’m married now! I have a wife and a brother-in-law who thinks he’s good at cards and I’m halfway through a B.A.! I don’t do dangerous anymore!”

“Oh yeah? Rumor has it you were involved in that weirdness here a few years back!”

“Not willingly!” Rick yells.

“Damn it, Rick, open the goddamn door!”

The noise has alerted Evie, who ambles into the front hall to see her tall, strong, brave husband cowering behind the door. She asks who it is.

“Hub and Garth McCann!” Rick says, which explains exactly nothing. “Guys I knew in the Legion. Crazy motherfu–heroic types. They attract trouble like bees to honey. I told them to go away.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Evie says, reaching past Rick to open the door.

This is so patently unfair that Rick just glowers as his gorgeous, smart, librarian-with-absolutely-no-sense-of-self-preservation wife invites Hub and Garth McCann into their home and offers them coffee and biscuits. He glowers at them as they eat and drink and make small talk with Evie. He glowers when Hub sets his coffee cup down and addresses him.

“I need your help,” he says.

“Absolutely not,” Rick replies.

“Told you so,” says Garth.

“What kind of help?” asks Evie.

The very long and convoluted story that follows boils down to this: there’s this girl (because of course there is) that Hub is madly in love with (why wouldn’t he be?), but she’s promised in marriage to a certain sheik (naturally) and Hub wants to rescue her from the harem and marry her himself (because of course he does). He and Garth have the whole thing worked out: they’ll infiltrate the palace and rescue the princess, and all Rick has to do is pose as a wealthy American tourist on vacation and spirit them all away in his aeroplane to Egypt and safety.

“I haven’t got an aeroplane,” Rick says.

“I’ve got a guy,” Hub says.

“Of course you do,” Rick says.

“Of course we’ll help!” says Evie, because of course she does.

Rick snarls.

“We’re going to die,” he says later, after the McCanns have left. “We’ve been married less than two years and you’re sending me to my death.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Evie replies. She’s already packing him a bag. “You won’t be anywhere near the danger. The whole point of you being there is to be the secret rescuer, not the public one. You’re doing the sneaky bit.” As if there is anything sneaky about kidnapping a princess and fleeing a country.

It isn’t kidnapping, per se, Evie points out. It’s a liberation. No woman should be forced into a loveless marriage, and Hub McCann seems to be a stand-up man. When he’s not getting into brawls, Rick thinks but doesn’t say. He still remembers the state he was in when he met Evie and Jonathan. He sighs. This was supposed to be a short research trip: some papyri Evie needs for her dissertation are housed in the Museum of Antiquities library, and she has a months’ leave to go study them. And now he’s being bullied into another adventure he didn’t ask for. Damn Hub. This girl must be pretty incredible.

(In his heart of hearts, Rick knows that if the situation was reversed and it was Evie they were rescuing, he’d be just as desperate as Hub is, and just as willing to rope in whoever it took to succeed. Hell, he already has.)

“If I die,” he grumbles to Evie, “at least make sure they grant me my B.A. posthumously.”

“I will not,” says Evie, “because you are not going to die.”

So two days later he finds himself stepping off a small passenger ship and going through customs in Saudi Arabia, wearing a very fine linen suit and a pair of short boots: not the ideal outfit for a rescue mission, but he looks dapper as hell, so Rick is willing to let it go. He’s got to meet up with Hub’s guy at the local airfield, to play the part of a rich tourist hiring a small plane to take them around and ‘examine’ potential oil fields. So far, so easy. He gets to the airfield and meets up with the pilot–and it’s Izzy Buttons.

There is mutual swearing on both sides.

See, a long time ago when Rick lived in Morocco and worked for an antiquities dealer, Izzy Buttons used to occasionally transport heavier pieces around in his biplane, mostly from Marrakesh to Casablanca or Agadir. One time they had to sneak out a legally-purchased piece from a bank that had refused to give it up to its purchaser, an affair that included several bribes, two days undercover work, and a belly dancer as a distraction. It was a perfect heist–or would have been if Izzy Buttons had been on time for the pickup. He’d been shot in the ass in the melee and has never forgiven Rick for it.

So there is some antipathy on both sides as they set out to Hub McCann’s girlfriend’s fiance’s palace in an oasis in the middle of the desert. But everything goes well: Rick arrives in the little village surrounding the palace and puts it about that he’s a wealthy American businessman on holiday, wandering about making inane remarks about all and sundry, and pretending he doesn’t speak Arabic. The charade is a success. When the McCanns show up, badly disguised as Bedouin, he ignores them until Garth seeks him out that night to give him the message that the rescue mission will take place the night after next, so be on the plane, and for heaven’s sake, don’t go anywhere near the palace.

Rick has no intention of going anywhere near the palace, and so of course the next day an invitation to visit the grounds is extended to this most illustrious of American oilmen. Rick sighs, and longs for Evie and his B.A. work, and accepts the invitation.

The palace gardens are beautiful, the Sheik very generous and affable in humor. He is to be married, he tells Rick, for the third time, to a beautiful and accomplished young woman. About that, Rick thinks, wondering if the Sheik knows anything about the McCann brothers’ heist happening right under his nose. He suggests that the Sheik examine his lands to see if there is oil under the sand. Maybe untold wealth and riches will make up for the gross insult about to be perpetrated. So, so far so good. It isn’t until evening falls and Rick is wandering in the extensive gardens, casing the joint so to speak, that things take a very sharp left turn.

Someone steps up behind Rick and before he can turn around or shake them off, a handkerchief dosed in chloroform is clamped over his mouth and nose. Son of a bitch, Rick thinks, and passes out.

#my fanfics #bullet point stories #The Mummy #Secondhand Lions #Rick O'Connell #Evelyn Carnahan #Jonathan Carnahan #Hub McCann #Garth McCann #Heroic Types Doing Heroic Things #romance #fix-it fic #found family #friendship #mayhem

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reamnosart · 1 year ago

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So I figured out how to install unity explorer and poke around in the upturned. I haven’t found anything super exciting yet, but I have been trying to gather screenshots of character models as art references, and to possibly update the wiki with more information. I’m not familiar with game programming or programming in general, so im describing things using my very limited understanding of the unity explorer program and my lack of game design knowledge. I did find a couple things I will add to my drawings, though!!

Here’s a couple things I’ve found so far:

-in the challenge room floor you can find remnants of other enemies that were meant to appear. Every enemy type in the game has an option you can toggle on or off using bepinex. The only ones I’ve gotten to work so far are pajama man, ceiling hand, patricia and the chucklers. Options for shrimp and ribcages exist as well, but I didn’t see where they spawned

-also on the challenge floor, the voice speaking to you is not Sobbergritch, but Ik (technically; I can’t remember which voices noises play when the text pops up). Sob’s model isn’t on the floor, but Ik’s is. His face is covered with a black box like Sob’s was before floor 1434.

-I need to revisit this, but in The Morning level, I was only able to spot the horse’s model offscreen, but not the rider. I think the rider might use the same model as the traveler? I want to dig into this further and see if they’re the same

-sobbergritch is purple. Like, really, really purple. He’s nothing more than a skull and some ribs

-Ik’s model is on (almost?) every floor offscreen. He sits there dancing back and forth in front of the blue background, usually just under the first couple rooms on the floor. I was most excited to check this out since you can usually see his hand clip into frame during dialogue sections, and I was curious about his pose. This is also true for the lobby, where there’s an Ik offscreen alongside the Ik hiding behind the counter

-Ik’s head, neck and hand are all smooth and untextured, while the suit and sleeve have a woven texture. This isn’t very interesting until you realize that the woven texture goes allll the way down Ik’s body, and there’s some red poking out underneath. I’m not sure why I assumed the suit would stop halfway down his body, but it does mean I need to make some changes to the Ik puppet!!! I might start drawing him with red socks too. I want to add to his character design so little things like these are very exciting!!

-there used to be chocolate bars in the power plant level

#the upturned #ikabod kee #the upturned ik

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reverend-dog · 1 year ago

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Beltane

“Call me,” read the text.

Colleen’s heart skipped at the sender’s name. Moesha held starring roles in many of her fevered fantasies, but waking life thus far proved too terrifying a stage to act them out. And while their interactions were cordial, Colleen knew she served no more than a bit part in Moesha’s life. How could it be otherwise? Moesha glided through life like divinity come to earth. She set things to smolder wherever she deigned to bestow her presence. And yet she maintained a personable grace that enchanted everybody.

Colleen was… Colleen.

As she tapped the number in her directory, Colleen realized this was the first time for her to receive and make a call to Moesha. What might prompt such an occasion?

“Colleen?” Even distorted by electronics, hearing her own name spoken by that contralto purr twisted Colleen’s chest into sweet, tickling knots. Her ears roared so loud, she almost did not hear Moesha’s next words. “Oh, thank God! I need your help! You remember last Beltane?”

“I remember.” Colleen’s invitation to the festival rested solely on her cinematic skills. One stein of beer got pressed into her hand, but otherwise nobody seemed inclined to extend her participation beyond documentarian. Which, Colleen conceded, kept well within her comfort zone.

“Can you come over?” Moesha begged. “And bring the videos with you? Right now?”

Colleen looked down at her feet, felt their yearning to escape their prisons of leather and hard rubber after a day of stocking shelves. Her shirt clung under her arms and in the small of her back, and her hair, well, that was another level altogether. “Sure,” she answered, and blinked at how good the word felt in her mouth.

“Great!” Relief sang in Moesha’s reply. “You… you know my address? You’ve never been here, have you?”

“I haven’t,” Colleen confirmed, “but I know the address.” Wow, did that sound creepy or what? “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you!” Moesha sighed. “Oh, thank you!”

Moesha’s house perched on a hill in a neighborhood that used to be old money, but retained its grace after the rich families left. Colleen parked her scooter at the curb and hiked up the brick steps to the front door. Before the knocker’s first echo died away, the door swung open.

Colleen had never seen Moesha in such a state. In public, Moesha always presented a portrait of immaculate grooming and wardrobe, even at such informal occasions as beach parties. Yet somehow, even with bed hair, no makeup, and dressed in an oversized t-shirt and tights, she entranced. The only thing that marred the image of disheveled perfection was the rounded lump of her belly.

“Yah,” Moesha acknowledged, as she noted Colleen’s stare at her midsection. “This is what I need your help with. Come on in,” and she stepped back inside with a beckoning hand.

“I don’t….” Colleen stammered as she stumbled across the threshold. “Beltane was only three weeks ago, and you’re -- “ Her mouth refused to voice the idea.

“I know!” Moesha snapped, and pressed a hand to her face. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little freaked out, you know?” She shut the door and led Colleen down a short hall to a salon lit with afternoon sun. “I started feeling it about two weeks ago, but put it off as period swelling.” She made a noise halfway between a snort and a laugh. “Only, I wasn’t due. Then when I came due, nothing, except I’d gained two inches! So I took a test, and, well.” She waved a hand at the swelling. “And now it’s three weeks, and I look three months!”

Colleen’s brow furrowed. “And you think it happened at Beltane?”

“It had to be!” Moesha retorted. “That’s the last time I had sex, and the first hetero in six months!” She collapsed into a chair posed next to a dining table, and crossed her arms over her belly. “There was a guy there,” she recalled, her own brow set in concentration. “I’d never seen him at any of the other parties. There was something about him….” She locked Colleen’s eyes with her own. “I didn’t have that much to drink,” she declared, “and I never do one-night stands.” She looked away. “But somehow --”

Colleen nodded, and began to unpack her backpack. “We’ll find him,” she promised as she drew out a compact flat-screen monitor.

“You…” Moesha paused, and her voice shrank. “You believe me?”

Colleen offered a smile as she extracted more equipment from her bag. “Why would you lie about something like this? And like this? To me?” She set up the monitor and laptop, and plugged a cable between them.

Moesha cocked her head. “What do you mean, to you?”

Colleen shrugged, unable to choke back a tiny, bitter mote. “I mean, why bother?” She focused her eyes on the laptop as she powered it up. “It’s not like anybody cares what I think.”

Silence claimed the room. Colleen noticed when it lasted longer than a few moments, and looked up. Her heart twisted to see tears on Moesha’s cheeks. I’m sorry,” she offered. “I didn’t mean --”

Moesha shook her head, and a sad smile curved her exquisite lips. “We’ve all been such cunts to you, haven’t we? Good old Colleen. First to volunteer, never complains, always ready to help. And we – I treat you like a piece of furniture.” She sucked in a ragged breath, and wiped her cheeks. “Why do you put up with it?”

Colleen scowled, face fixed on the laptop screen. She made a show of searching her archives, though she knew the exact location of the file she needed. “For everybody else,” she mumbled, “so they don’t suspect.”

“Suspect what?”

Colleen drew an exhaled a breath of her own. “Why I do it for you.”

Moesha’s breath caught, and Colleen felt the force of her stare. She heard Moesha move, but kept her eyes locked on the monitor. Hands cupped her face, soft, warm, strong. They twisted her head to one side, and for an instant she smelled Moesha’s breath before her lips mashed against Colleen’s. She felt an instinct to flail, but locked herself in place. She pressed into the kiss, and a thrill jolted through her as she felt Moesha’s tongue brush her lips.

They stayed like that for uncounted moments, and both panted when they sat back in their chairs. “Just so you know,” Moesha announced in husky tones, “that was not hormones. It wasn’t the moment.”

“For me, either,” Colleen whispered back. She cleared her throat and sat up in her chair. “Now,” she resolved, “let’s find your horned god.” She clicked a file icon, and an image filled the larger monitor.

Moesha dragged her chair over next to Colleen’s. She sat off-center, so her hips pressed against Colleen’s. To Colleen, the simple contact sent continual thrills of delight throughout. She forced herself to concentrate on the video.

For awhile they sat, faces intent on the recording. Colleen adjusted the brightness and contrast, so the dim firelit images gained clarity. Celtic rock blared while a massive bonfire blazed in a stone pit. Men and women, some dressed for the occasion but most in normal clothes, laughed, toasted, danced, drank. Couples or small crowds sidled off. Some returned after short intervals, others did not show up again.

“There!” Moesha pointed. “There’s me!” Her finger hovered over the screen. “There’s Mikah, Joan, Lee… there he is!” She leaned forward, brows knit. “Wait… does he… he didn’t have horns!”

Colleen froze the image and magnified it. Grainy and distorted, still unmistakable. “Well,” observed Colleen, “he does here.”

“But he didn’t!” Moesha protested. “I’d had a few, sure. But I’d have remembered something like that!” She turned suspicious eyes to Colleen. “You said we’d find a horned god,” she accused. “How did you know?”

All the dizzying euphoria drained out of Colleen. She shrank in her chair as she met Moesha’s glare. “It was just a joke,” she claimed. “I mean, it was Beltane, and this is – supernatural.”

“It was just a party!” Moesha countered. “Beltane was just an excuse for a summer picnic! It wasn’t a real ceremony!”

“Not to us,” Colleen agreed, “but the tradition goes back centuries. Maybe, to him,” she pointed at the screen, “it still means something. I mean, there are f-fertility aspects to it.”

Moesha sat back in her chair with an explosive sigh. “Great,” she grumbled. “Of all the people partying for Beltane, I get impregnated by a Celtic god.”

“It may not be just you,” Colleen offered. “Horned gods are known for their libido.”

“But why didn’t I see his horns that night?” Moesha pondered.

“Glamour,” Colleen explained. Her voice held unusual authority. “He made people see what he wanted them to see. But glamours don’t work on cameras.”

Moesha turned a glare of fresh suspicion on Colleen. “How do you know that?”

Colleen did not wither this time. “Before I explain,” she said, “there’s something you need to understand.” She inhaled deeply. “If the gestation keeps up at this rate, you’re going to give birth in about six weeks. Your baby will be unusual, with unusual senses, abilities, and needs.” She paused. “You probably won’t be able to abort it, and adopting it out will be a disaster. You’ll need help raising it, from somebody who understands what’s needed.”

Moesha rubbed a hand over her belly. Her face reflected the struggle in her mind, two-plus decades of life up-ended by three weeks of strange but undeniable experience. “You say that,” she murmured, “like you know somebody.”

“I do,” Colleen nodded. She wove her fingers in the air, and chanted a string of unintelligible syllables. Faint streams of light trailed her fingers, to illuminate a small circle with sigils inside. A faint breeze stirred the air, with a slight cinnamon scent. “On the bright side, you probably won’t need to worry about a custody fight. Guys like him are the original deadbeat dads.” The quirk to her mouth as she offered that small comfort faded. “If you want,” she offered, “I’ll take it with me. Raise it as my own.”

Moesha’s stare lasted long enough to make Colleen fidget. She felt naked, under a spotlight, awaiting judgment. When Moesha spoke, her words were too faint for Colleen to hear. “What?” Colleen asked.

“No.” Moesha smiled. She reached one hand out to cup Colleen’s cheek. With the other, she drew Colleen’s hand to rest on her belly. “I want this. I don’t know why, but I do. But only if I can have it with you.”

Colleen searched Moesha’s eyes, and saw only tenderness, openness, and love. She spoke aloud the words she’d rehearsed so many times since her first sight of Moesha. “I love you.”

Moesha’s smile was incandescent. “Forever,” she replied.

#fiction #fantasy #short fiction #short story #surreal #supernatural #writing #creative writing #beltane

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katkitpaddywick · 9 months ago

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🐣, 🤡, 🎬

🐣 Whose fledgling would you rather be?

My first thought was Armand, because he's awful and I love him, but I think he's clingy enough that I'd need to be able to take my own space if we wanted to keep a positive relationship, which is hard when they're your maker. That said, I DO want him blocked out of my head! tbh, probably Madeleine. She's the least fucked up out of all of them from what I've seen, and I think she'd respect my space 😭

🤡 Favourite headcanon of your favourite character.

Not sure where this sits between canon and headcanon (I haven't seen it explicitly mentioned by the show but it feels implicit), but I love all the stuff around Armand being a painter's model and how that shapes his behaviour now - his stillness, the way he always seems to hold himself in some sort of pose or angle unless he's extremely distressed... I haven't seen anyone mention this yet but I'm almost certain his flight/flight response is "freeze" - unless he's forced into action, he always waits such a long time to make sure the chips have settled before he'll do anything, and I think in a weird indirect way that also comes from that same model background.

also daniel has blackout blinds in his room because armand will come in during the day and open his coffin just to stare at him like a creepy fucking cat, and he forgets the sun can still hurt daniel

🎬 Do you have any wild theories for the upcoming season?

i think we see sam DJing at all of lestat's show afterparties and because he's wearing the fucking helmet it doesn't get revealed until halfway through the season. this is grounded in nothing but the fact that i WANT it

#iwtv #chatter #ask

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barbwillbrb · 11 months ago

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Waiting on my car to get fixed, so here is more info-dumping about my tavs Rackal and Clairice, along with the slight AU I’m working with:

- The monastery got destroyed. They had the artifact to prevent it from going boom in their inventory. Clairice saw the shiny and yoinked it. Cue prolonged eye contact.

- Rolan joins the crew in Act 2 post Last Light Inn to find the Nightsong, having been convinced no one good is associated in its acquisition and there has to be something fucking wrong with Lorroakan if that’s the case.

- Per my silly Rolan headcanon post, he learns he’s a sorcerer. Specifically a Wild Magic one—it just turns out when you are exceptionally good at suppressing your emotions/dealing with panic attacks on the regular, you can be pretty good at controlling your surges. Who knew!

- That is until the resident know-it-all-wizard, meaning very well, decides to dump that info on him without much precedence. Rolan can only take so many life-altering changes in a week, and sets off a metaphorical bomb in camp that may have burned down two tents (causing Minthara to switch up her hairstyle in the aftermath), turned Scratch blue, and polymorphed Rackal into a sheep.

- The Ketheric Thorm/Myrkul fight poses a moral conflict for Rackal, as he very much understands why Ketheric succumbed to Shar and isn’t sure whether or not he would do the same if the opportunity had presented itself at the wrong time. He is propositioned with the opportunity to bring Meirin back and switch sides, but ultimately chooses not to. I have not decided yet if Ketheric lives in my AU, so that’s still up in the air.

- Clairice’s major turning point is Last Light Inn. During the bulk of Act 1, she isn’t really grasping the scope of the trouble they’re in (although tbh it’s just a coping strategy she’s barely aware of; think blind, “it is what is is and we can’t change it!” type optimism/recklessness). Deep down, I think she really believes that they’ll find some cure in time and that the tadpole thing is really a lot smaller in scope (like okay, there are people popping up with these things according to Halsin/Nettie, but it surely can’t be that many, right? Maybe it just seems like a lot because the Grove is so isolated [don’t ask her what a reasonable number of tadpole infections is]? This has got to be just some weird shit, right?). But then suddenly they’re in the Underdark and all these Twat Souls are here apparently kidnapping genius gnomes who can build bombs, and now there are fucking Gods getting involved?! And then they’re crossing into the Shadow-Cursed Lands and see all the dead tieflings and nothing is okay oh dear god no what was the fucking POINT why do this hero nonsense?! I think what actually makes her kinda snap out of it/get her head back on is 1) Raphael and Mol (something about a devil going after a desperate kid in the middle of a battle torn refuge camp just puts everything into perspective and switches her from “eh, he’s just kinda silly” to “i needed him dead yesterday”) and 2) the assault on the Inn. From there on, she goes from “we are so so fucked” to “GET FUCKED.”

- Without a singular doubt, Clairice hates Raphael. I think they have a pretty interesting dynamic from Act 1-LLI, and even after she sets herself against him she knows to play the long game. Getting into the House of Hope is less about the hammer for her and more about getting Mol’s contract/causing as many problems as possible.

- Clairice and Minthara get together halfway through Act 3, sometime shortly after Clairice’s rescue from Orin.

- Rackal and Rolan also get together in Act 3, and to everyone’s fucking horror they’re worse than Clairice and any of her liaisons.

- Rackal goes to Avernus with Wyll and Karlach, with the trio returning a year later when her heart’s fixed. He keeps in contact with both Rolan and Clairice through sending stones, and returns to Rolan when he’s back.

- Clairice meanwhile is off helping Minthara deal with her bullshit down in Menzoberranzan. She’s causing chaos and having tons of fun.

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #my tavs #my ocs #tav: rackal #tav: clairice

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enchantingjacarandas · 2 years ago

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Clumsy

Pairing: Lee Know | Minho / Han | Han Jisung

Tags: High School AU, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Accident Prone Jisung

Other Sites to Read on: Ao3 or Wattpad

Words: 3,759

A/N: I hope you enjoy the photos. I was losing my mind on finding pictures that fit the story while also making an aesthetically appealing collage.

Scissors made the only noise in the room, as the students continued working hard. Jeongin and Jisung were staying after class to help their math teacher decorate and prepare materials for her room. She had just gotten halfway through the multitude of stacked tests on her desk.

“Okay guys, I’m gonna run to the restroom real quick, I’ll be back in a little bit.” She proceeded to swiftly exit the room.

Jisung turned to Jeongin. “Do you really think she’ll give us extra credit for helping her?”

“I sure hope so,” Jeongin sighed, “I haven’t gotten a one hundred on any math tests this year, so I kinda need it.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly at his failure.

“True you definitely do need it,” Jisung joked.

Jeongin clicked his tongue and went back to cutting out the laminated papers. Jisung placed down his finished cutouts. Having nothing else to do, Jisung’s mind started to wander. He recently had his eyes on someone he saw Seungmin talking to in the hallway. Jisung was pretty sure his name was Minho, and Minho appeared to be close to Seungmin. The sight of Minho laughing at something Seungmin said replayed in his head.

Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Hey! Don’t just stare off into space!”

Jisung blinked away his thoughts. “Oh sorry Innie, I didn’t even realize.”

Jeongin slightly shook his head at the nickname. “Staple this border she wanted on the wall.” Jeongin pointed towards the wall the teacher spoke about earlier.

Jisung grabbed the border saying, “This thing?” He then glanced up at the wall. “But you’re taller. Why don’t you do it?”

“It's your punishment for zoning out,” Jeongin narrowed his eyes.

Jisung knew he was mad so decided not to argue more. “Fine.” Looking around for a way to reach the top part of the wall Jisung said, “Hmmmm I guess I can use this chair.”

Jeongin looked at the chair in question. “It looks a little unstable, are you sure? You know how accident prone you are.”

Jisung stared at the chair once again. “It will be fine.” He got up on the chair, slowly standing up. “Look, I’m already on it.” He pulled a superhero pose on the chair in question, in order to further prove his point.

Jeongin sighed, “I guess”.

Minho was pissed, how could the teacher sign him up for something so stupid? He stormed through the school hallways heading for the underclassmen wing. Finally finding her classroom, he abruptly opened the door getting ready to yell at the teacher. Instead, he only saw two underclassmen.

A startled Jisung screamed as he fell from the chair to the floor, landing on his butt. He angrily thought, “who the hell barges in here like-'' but his thoughts were cut off when he looked in the doorway seeing Minho. He just stood there in the doorway, and Jisung couldn’t figure out how to look away. He studied him making sure not to forget a single detail of Minho. The guy he had been desperately trying to get a better view of through his memories.

Minho was alarmed at the scene in front of him. He moved forward to help the fallen boy, stopping when the boy’s head tilted up to look at him. All of his thoughts vanished as his eyes locked onto Jisung’s. His anger dissipated. Minho was pulled back to reality when Jeongin cleared his throat.

He moved to help Jisung up while apologizing. “I shouldn’t have been so aggressive-” He dragged out the last word at the sight before him. Jisung had quickly scrambled to get up off the floor as Minho got closer. Minho was confused by the strong reaction. Had he really scared this boy that much? Fearing that that might be the case, Minho decided it was maybe time for him to leave.

“I just came here to talk to the teacher, but I’ll go wait outside for her.” Minho gave a slight nod to the underclassmen as he left the room.

Jisung thought to himself, “His even more handsome close up”.

Jeongin rolled his eyes. “I know what that look means.”

Jisung tried to rebut saying, “Well, it’s just nice to have someone who seems warm. Instead of you always being annoyed and cold with me.” He stuck his tongue out at Jeongin.

Jeongin smirked, “If you think I can be cold you should see Minho”.

“I’m telling you, he definitely was looking at you.” Chan said, smiling at Jisung. Jisung was walking in between Changbin and Chan as they headed to their next classes.

“As much as I would like to believe that, in times like this we must be realistic.” Jisung had stated with a sad frown. He truly did want to believe it, he just simply couldn’t.

Every time Jisung spotted Minho it’s not like he’d give Minho much of a chance to convince him otherwise. He mainly spent his time running away from Minho. He was way too nervous of doing the wrong thing. So, rather than doing something wrong, his solution was to just run away from the situation entirely. It wasn’t the best way to go about things, but it seemed like the best way to avoid getting hurt for Jisung.

“You know he is in mine and Chan’s grade level.” Changbin turned to Jisung. “I could always put in a good word for you.” Changbin raised his eyebrows up and down suggestively while getting closer to Jisung.

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare do anything!”

Chan being the mediator he was, he decided to try to make a compromise for both sides. “I have several classes with him, if you ever want to know anything just ask.” Chan leaned closer to Jisung. Being in between the two boys Jisung started getting squished.

Jisung smiled. “Okay I’ll let you know.” It felt nice to know his friends only wanted the best for him.

Jisung had been walking his whole life, and yet he somehow failed to succeed in walking just then. He was attempting to put his back foot forward when, because of his friends almost crushing him, his back foot hooked on his other foot. Making him fall forward when his legs had become one.

Changbin laughed at his friend toppling over. For it was quite amusing how sudden and fast Jisung had made contact with the floor. Suddenly, Chan cut him off seeing that the fall had been in front of the very man they were discussing earlier.

Jisung looked up at the man. As he registered Minho was in front of him his eyes soon grew wide. Jisung fumed inside his head. “Why does this happen every time?”

Minho attempted to start a conversation. “Umm hey,” Minho awkwardly gave a smile trying to appear less scary.

“Hey,” Jisung softly spoke, before quickly sprinting down the hall.

The group left behind could faintly hear a teacher yell. “No running in the halls!”

Minho stood still in place. He tried not to let himself get too down, acknowledging the progress made. “Well at least he said a word to you.” A small smile spread across his face at that thought. Even if it was just microscopic progress, they were still moving forward.

The group stood there a few more seconds processing the situation, before Chan cleared his throat. “Well Minho, you wanna walk to our next class together?”

Minho, still looking in the direction where Jisung disappeared, slowly replied, “yes”.

After they had walked to class and sat in their normal seats Minho decided to ask the question that was burning on his mind. “So who was that guy?”

Chan was puzzled for a moment, then it hit him. “You mean the guy that fell for you?” Chan mentally kicked himself at his slip up. “I mean, the guy that fell in front of you.”

Minho tilted his head. “Yeah, him…”

Chan gave a nervous chuckle, “That’s just Jisung”.

Inquisitiveness quickly infected Minho. “Are you guys close?”

“Yeah, me and Changbin hang out with him quite often. He helps us with producing music.” Chan paused. “You normally aren’t too interested in people, unless…” He trailed off making the last word seem more like a question.

“I mean he does seem quite interesting,” Minho then glanced away as he finished his statement. “and cute.” Chan gave a suggestive look. This was too good.

Minho decided to tell Chan what he was really worried about. “He always seems to run away when I’m around though. I think he might think I’m scary.”

Chan could’ve said the real reason why Jisung always runs, but he decided to just tip toe around the truth.“I think he might be a little intimidated, but you tend to have that effect on people.” Chan hoped to lighten the mood by saying the last part in a joking manner.

Minho let out his frustrations with a sigh. “I know.”

Chan put on a teasing smile. “Oooh you know?”

“Don’t start that.” Minho hoped that he had the wrong idea and Chan was just talking about something else. Still Chan continued.

Leaning closer to Minho at said, “We know”.

Minho rolled his eyes.

“Lee Know,” Chan said, while his arm went outwards towards Minho, and his hands shaking like jazz hands.

“Do you really have to bring that old rap up? This is why I don’t hang out with you and Changbin anymore.”

Chan put his hand over his heart and pretended to be hurt. “Cold, but fare. In all seriousness, if you’re worried about coming across as scary, maybe you should stop using words like that.” Minho thought about Chan’s advice, maybe he did need to choose better language.

“You came!” Felix hugged Minho. “I’m so excited!”

Minho accepted the hug and chucked at Felix’s enthusiasm. “Hey, I would never miss your birthday party, come on!”

Felix pulled away from the hug and looked at Minho giving a slight frown. “Still I heard that you’ve been under the weather.”

“huh?”

Felix explained himself, while being a little confused as to why Minho didn’t know what he was talking about. “Changbin said you caught some sort of disease, and something about not taking his advice for a cure.”

Minho closed his eyes out of frustration. “It’s just a weird joke we have.” Minho tried to give a convincing smile. Thinking about how to get revenge, he asked Felix a seemingly innocent question. “Speaking of your boyfriend, where is he exactly?”

“Oh he's already here along with a few others, we are just waiting for Hyunjin.” Felix motioned towards the living room.

Minho smiled, handing him the bag in his hand. “Here is your gift as well.”

Felix accepted the gift and held it close. “Hyung! You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I couldn’t not get you anything for your birthday.”

Felix smiled big as he spoke. “Still I really appreciate this gift. I'll go put it with the others, see you later.” He waved as left the room. Minho was happy his gift was being appreciated, but didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

“Bye” Minho waved back. Then when Felix turned around he cracked his knuckles. He was ready to greet Changbin with an evil grin plastered on his face. Entering the living room Minho glared at Changbin while he spoke through his teeth. “Why did you tell Felix I have a disease?”

Changbin’s face lit up as he laughed saying, “You do! You are love sick”.

“And why is that Felix’s concern?”

Changbin decided to clear up Minho’s worries. “Listen, it accidentally slipped out. I had to try to cover it up.” He then leaned closer to Minho hoping to prevent anyone from overhearing. “Also you normally don’t take long, letting people know how you feel. I thought you would already have it all figured out by now.”

Minho clicked his tongue. “Well, I haven’t gotten alone time with him yet.” In fact he hadn’t gotten any time with Jisung. Just the occasional bump in the hall or a quick wave. Jisung normally sprinted in the other direction before, much progress could be made. Minho instead got to know Jisung through little observations, times when Jisung wasn’t aware of his presence. Most of it made Minho more lonely. He seemed to talk so freely to others, while with Minho they were moving at a snail's pace, if that.

Changbin consulted him, patting his shoulder. “Are you gonna do anything today then?”

“Today?”

“Don’t you know Jisung is here, at this party?” He greeted Felix with a smile as he entered the room with Hyunjin. “Him and Felix are good friends.”

Minho blinked at the new information. Seeing his boyfriend was now free, Changbin headed towards him. Hyunjin acknowledged Chan with a nod and started to quietly talk about some sort of surprise for Felix.

Jisung was talking with Jeongin when he noticed Minho.

Panic spread through him as he whispered yelled at Jeongin. “Shit! Why didn’t you tell me Minho would be here! I’ve got to figure out how to avoid him.”

Jeongin raised his eyebrows. “Why is that?”

“Because, I always do something embarrassing in front of him. Remember when I fell off the chair.” Jisung was bouncing his leg out of nervousness.

Jeongin smiled at the memory of his friend getting startled. “Yeah, but it was kinda funny seeing you all panicked and flustered.” He poked Jisung’s side trying to get the man to loosen up. Jisung narrowed his eyes at Jeongin’s lame attempts to ease his pain. “Listen Huyng, it’s probably not as bad as you think.”

Jisung glanced up once again at the boy they were talking about. He froze upon seeing Minho’s eyes lock directly onto his. Jisung decided to try to hide behind Jeongin. Knowing it was pointless to resist, Jeongin let him hide.

Minho, seeing that Jisung was still avoiding him, decided maybe he should just give him space. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Seungmin pulled him away from his thoughts.

“I heard that someone's got a crush.” Minho sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. If Seungmin knew that meant he had been super obvious.

“Oh. That means I’m right.” Seungmin looked around the room. “Alright, where is he? Let’s have a conversation with him.” Minho giggled, he knew Seungmin would never actually cross the line.

Jisung saw how close Minho and Seungmin were. His mind wondered if the two of them had something going on. Had he been delusional this whole time? He had known that the two boys were always close, but Minho was smiling while also acting somewhat embarrassed. It looked like the same way Jisung felt when he saw Minho, yet Minho wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at Seungmin.

Jisung’s attention was soon grabbed by Hyunjin as he gripped his shoulder. “Alright, I set everything up. Changbin is currently distracting him. When Seungmin hits the lights, you come in with the cake.”

At the mention of Seungmin, Jisung decided to glance up where Minho used to be. Not seeing either guy he looked around a bit more. Spotting Minho talking to Chan, he felt relief wash over himself.

Hyunjin nudged him, “Hey Seungmin is by the light switch, so hurry up and go.”

Jisung quickly disappeared from the room heading for the kitchen. When the lights went out and the living room was dark, he entered. Jisung beamed as he carried the candle lit cake towards Felix. The light flickered all around the group as everyone huddled close.

Minho scanned everyone wondering if anyone else saw a problem with this. The fact that all his interactions with Jisung resulted in the boy toppling over, he started to worry. Seeing no one around him was on alert he decided to just brush it off. He shook off the thoughts, as he put himself back in the moment.

After everyone sang happy birthday to Felix. He closed his eyes and he blew out the candles making a wish. Seungmin went towards the lights, turning them back on. Changbin cupped Felix’s face in his hands and leaned in to kiss him.

“Yuck!” Hyunjin pulled out his classic disturbed face at the PDA in front of him. He tried to back away from the romantic situation. When he ended up accidentally bumping into Jeongin. Who was not expecting to get hit with anything, completely fell over heading straight for Jisung. Causing Jisung to think of a quick action in order to save the cake. He was too fast with his movements and the cake quickly left his hands and went to the air as he toppled over.

The cake, flying up in the air and had everyone entranced wondering where it would land. It started heading straight for Minho. Possibly out of shock or just pure lack of care he stayed completely still. He just simply closed his eyes as the cake landed straight on his face. The cake then crumbled the rest of it sliding to his shoulders and the floor around him. Minho’s face was covered in frosting and chunks of cake.

His hands went to his eyes, as he wiped off the gunk so he could open them. Gazing around towards the rest of the group it seemed like most of them were waiting for him to react. Minho was not the type to make a big deal out of an accident.

He tried to quelch their concerns. “No need to panic, it's just a cake.”

A small pout appeared on Felix’s lips as he stared at the cake. It’s unlikely that anyone walking into the room would call it a cake though, they would likely just call it a mess. Seeing the pout on his boyfriend’s face, Changbin quickly pulled him into a hug.

Changbin patted Felix’s head as he tried to comfort him. “It will be fine, it's only a cake I will get you a better one.”

As they continued to hug, Hyunjin suggested an alternative. “Let’s go all out for ice cream!” Jeongin lit up, enthusiastically nodding at the idea.

Seungmin gestured towards the mess. “But first Minho should get cleaned up.”

Chan took the lead of clean up duty. “Let’s also clean up the floor, I’ll go get towels from the kitchen.”

Jisung’s face slowly turned more and more red, staring in shock at Minho covered in the mess he made. “Minho, I'm so sorry!” Minho took a few seconds to process the situation. He just stood there frozen. When Jisung touched his face with a napkin Minho unfroze.

He calmly spoke. “Don’t worry, I’ll go get cleaned up in the bathroom.” Then abruptly disappeared towards the restroom.

Changbin saw the perfect set up. “Jisung, you should help him clean up.”

Jisung crunched the napkin in his hand. Would it really be okay to follow Minho? Would it just be weird if he helped? Although, he did make the mess in the first place. Jisung’s eyes panned around the room hoping to find an answer. Chan entered the room and filling in the blanks he nodded at Jisung. He was assured that the right thing was to follow Minho.

He stood outside of the bathroom, took a deep breath and then opened the door. At the sight before him his breath spilled back out into the open. Minho was without a shirt on. The cake was still covering his face, but that only drew more attention to his exposed upper body. Compared to his face in the mirror his back was so spotless. It looked so clean, smooth, and inviting.

Minho, seeing Jisung through the mirror, questioned his intentions. “Are you here to help?” Minho put his attention back to the mirror pulling cake out of his hair.

Jisung lightly shook his head to get rid of the nasty thoughts. “Yeah,” he grabbed the hand towel sitting on the edge of the sink counter. “Here, lean over the sink and I’ll help you.”

Minho softly smiled as Jisung wet the rag and pieces of cake fell into the sink. Maybe Jisung wasn’t scared of him. Minho looked at Jisung’s eye as they forced on getting the cake off his face. Even if this moment was temporary, Minho felt lucky for just being a part of it. Jisung was also in bliss, but tried to focus on the task in front of him. He wondered if he should go slow with cleaning Minho’s face, that way this moment would last just a little bit longer.

Minho decided to speak up in hopes a conversation would make Jisung take longer. He scanned around the room and saw his shirt on the counter. “Do you think you could ask Seungmin to get me an extra shirt when you're done here?”

Jisung sank a little, “Yeah.” he paused then asked the burning question on his mind. “Are you two together?”

“Ew no,” Minho made a face like he had just eaten the sourest lemon on planet earth.

“Ah that’s good.” Jisung couldn’t hide his smile at the news. He looked up, seeing Minho’s blank face he attempted to remedy the situation. “I mean…” In the end Jisung couldn’t figure out how to save himself. The words only served to grow Minho’s confidence. They were alone together so, now was as good of a time as any.

“Listen Jisung, I have something important to tell you.” Minho bit his lip. No matter how many times someone asks out someone they really like, it never gets easier. “I was wondering if after tonight’s party you’d wanna hang out. Just the two of us. Like a date or something?”

Jisung’s lit up, smiling at Minho. “I’d love that!” He then looked down as he confessed what had been bothering him. “If I’m being honest, I thought I was utterly embarrassing myself in front of you, cause I’m such a clutz.”

Minho laughed at the honesty, just another thing to love. “I thought it was really cute.” Minho smiled, remembering how adorable and flustered Jisung would be when he fell. Thinking more Minho tilted his head. “Although, is that why you ran away every time? I thought you were scared of me or something.”

Jisung sheepishly smiled. “Well, I was kind of scared.” Jisung couldn’t look at Minho anymore as he said the next words. “But it’s because I really like you.”

Minho smiled, he hoped that this dork would stay in his life forever. “I really like you too.”

➤ Masterlist ❀ Ao3 ❀ Wattpad

A/N: It seems like minsung has won once again. Thank you for everyone who voted in the poll I really appreciate the help. Going to end up posting them in order from most votes to least votes. Thank you so much for reading and supporting me!

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fairytaleriots · 1 year ago

Text

Repressing emotions, being ironic...the family business - Chapter 1

Summary:

Dave wants to find his Bro, Rose wants to return to her normal live as a college student. Instead they get involved in some rituals, find themselves and a family and maybe save the world. The last part might pose a problem. or Dean Winchester wishes he had what Dave Strider has

ao3 link

Chapters: 2

Act 1 Chapter 1

„On recent developments: Dave’s skills in shooting, hand-to-hand combat and knives is improving faster, since he’s actually going doing with the set training regiment without complaining. Despite that Rose still wins against him in a brawl. She just doesn’t hesitate.“ – /home/personal/twins/training_observations_11.odt , Bro Strider’s computer files

Your name is Rose Lalonde and you have the life you always wanted. You have left the past behind you, started studying psychology at your first choice university, your apartment is small but enough and you have accumulated a small group of friends that you can depend on and that make you laugh occasionally. It’s nice. It’s normal. If only your subject of study didn’t regularly remind you that the past isn’t left behind that easily. To the point where sometimes it comes crashing through your living room window in the middle of the night.

You watch Jessica lock her car twice, first when you get out of the car and then again just a few steps later. She turns back as if she isn’t sure whether or not she has already done this and repeats it, just to be sure. She always does this, you note mentally. Just an innocent habit? Or maybe a prior bad experience? You want to dig deeper, crawl in and find the roots of it, but it’s late and right now you need to go to bed, because there is class tomorrow, so instead you file it away for later and smile at Jessica.

“Thank you for the ride. It is appreciated”

Jessica gives you s slight smile back: “Oh, any time, really. Come on, I’ll bring you to your door.”

That might have been flirting. Or another sign of anxiety. You add it to your file while making inconsequential chatter on your way to the door. You’re still halfway in thought when Jessica says her goodbyes.

You’re no longer in thought when you see the entrance floor of your apartment. You haven’t really gotten around to decorating here – or anywhere else in the apartment. You’ve been meaning to put up some pictures on the wall, to make it feel more like a home, for a while now. You just haven’t gotten around to it yet. The relative emptiness of the room makes the small shimmer of light coming though the slit of the slightly open living room door even more noticeable. Your hands go to the stiletto knives hidden in your boots. You hadn’t managed to make yourself get rid of them. After all, you might have wanted to leave that life behind you, but that didn’t make you unaware of what’s out there. Silently you sneak towards the door and open it, knife in each hand, ready to jump.

You see glass splinters scattered on the floor and over most of your furniture. A cold night’s wind blows through the jagged remains of what was once your living room window. You see your brother standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets.

“Sup.”, he says. “Sorry to just barge in like that, but you know how it is. Not that I don’t totally respect your space and shit, hell, I respect it more than an anxious teenage boy leaving room for Jesus during his first dance at prom. Hands all sweaty and he hopes nob-” You don’t lower your knives and give him a look that clearly conveys ‘Get on with it’. He swallows and, with a lot of practiced calm, he says: “Bro’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

You take the tea bag out of your cup while watching Dave crawl around on the ground with a dustpan. “Surely this could have easily been avoided and my poor window might have been spared.”, you point out, when he gives out an annoyed sigh.

“I was going to! I’m a merciful burglar, I do nothing but spare windows all day long. I looked at your apartment and thought ‘No windows will be harmed in this breaking and entering’. It’s not my fault your window resisted, at that point a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do and in this case it’s taking a big stone and shattering that window into its tiny, resisting pieces. You have to show the window who’s boss, ya know. Good job in securing it though, maybe account for big stones next time.”

He puts the rest of the glass in the bin and sits across from you. When you gesture slightly, he takes the cup of tea you had readied for him.

“I will remember that. Did at no point in this process occur to you that maybe the reason the window was secured is that I did not want somebody to break into my room or was the need to show the window ‘who’s boss’ simply to great?”

Dave lets out a snort and takes a sip of his tea. He immediately makes a face as if it’s the worst thing he’s ever tasted and then takes another sip.

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?”

“Have you considered waiting at the door? Or, god forbid, call?”

“Would you have let me in?”

You look down instead of answering. You would have, probably. You can’t imagine turning Dave away, especially now. But, with how the two of you split, you can understand why he would assume otherwise and you can’t bring yourself to correct him. It might give him hope that things are gonna be like before you left hunting behind and they can’t be.

“I presume you want me to abandon my studies and help you find Bro then?”, you ask instead.

Dave gives you a look, like he noticed your change of topic, before he answers. You’re usually better at getting away with things like this.

“Well, yeah. It sounds kinda shitty, when you say it like that. But I… he didn’t say where he was going and, if whatever he found actually got him, I might need some back up. Not that that’s likely, Bro’s made of harder stuff. He probably just forgot to check back in, you know how he is.”

You do know. And you know how Dave is, too. You can hear the over-the-top confidence in his voice that betrays his anxiety. You know that Bro would not want him to be here and here he is anyway.

“Ill come. I’ll be able to catch up on most of my classes as long as I’m back in time for my exams. And I will be back for my exams.” You leave him no room for argument. He gives you a small smile, as if the look you’re giving him right now hasn’t made several of your professors shit their pants.

“ No shit. I wouldn’t and couldn’t stop you from being a giant fucking nerd.” “Then let us bounce.”

Your first stop is one of Bro’s contacts, a seer. Since Bro had left no hint of his current whereabouts or the job he had taken behind, Dave had thought that this might be the way to get a lead. Now you are walking into maybe the most tacky occult shop you have ever seen. Listen, you get committing to an aesthetic for a bit but maybe that aesthetic should include less knock-off dream catchers. Have a bit of integrity.

The seer is expecting you and you don’t know if Dave called ahead or if she’s simply good at her job. She must be, otherwise Bro wouldn’t have bothered with her. You bet he liked the dream catchers.

She gives you a blinding smile and says in a calming voice: “Hello, hello, sit.” She gestures to two seats heaped over with colorful pillows in front of the table she’s sitting behind.

“My name is Cassia and I am so overjoyed to be your spiritual guide today and this meeting is surely bound to be fortuitous.”

When Dave and you give her identical deadpan stares, she flips her long hair and the smile turns into a smirk. You are 90% sure that Cassia is not her actual name.

“My, my, you both really take after Bro, don’t you? Always right down to business.”

Dave flinches the slightest bit and you think she notices. She really is good then.

“That would be sensible. We really don’t know if this is time-sensitive or how far we might need to travel. Expedience would be appreciated.”, you start, when it doesn’t seem like Dave is gonna take the lead.

She starts rummaging around her drawers and pulls out an assortment of crystals and symbols embroidered into cloth without giving either of you much attention anymore. Not the right move either because you can practically feel Dave starting to vibrate next to you, thanks to the silence, before it bursts out of him: “Where do you get your info from anyway? Has to have a source, doesn’t it? Do you trade something for it or is it like a present, like does Santa show up and hand you a convenient little package full of other peoples issues. ‘Merry Christmas, this dude is cheating on his wife, Uncle Jason has gotten into some drama again and this is the place where the lost family member of these to fucked off to. Please use at your discretion.’” Dave’s eyebrows are furrowed in clear suspicion. Your family possesses remarkable eyebrow skills.

Cassia looks at him as if he’s a cat that has just thrown up on your bed while you were trying to carry it away as fast as possible.

“Some of us are just blessed with more insight than others.”, she says in a measured tone.

“And if your question is whether or not this means a hunter like you needs to kill me, might I remind you that I have worked with your guardian, who is undoubtedly a hunter through and through, for quite some time and he has not seen the need to do so?”

Dave’s look doesn’t change, but, when he doesn’t say anything else, she continues: “Shall we begin then?”

From an ornate box that has been decorated with paintings of clouds, she takes out a stack of cards and starts shuffling them. She handles them with ease and it’s quite mesmerizing to watch, cards flying through the air while still never seeming to leave her hands, faster than you can quite follow with your eyes, even though you try. Then, out of nowhere, her hands seem to catch on something invisible, breaking her rhythm, and a card falls from the deck and lands on the table. You see the image of the High Priestess before everything turns black.

Or not black. It is more...nothing. And then, all at once,the nothing becomes everything and it feels like too much and you want to scream except you are also everything, so everything screams. Suddenly the everything unravels, pieces falling off like petals, and it zeros in until you’re left with a scene of a man in a motel.

You have never seen the old-fashioned furnishing before and yet it feels incredibly familiar. It takes you a moment to become you again and you recognize the man as Bro. Glasses, hat, popped collar and seemingly unharmed.

You’d nearly forgotten how long it has been since you last saw him and you get the sudden urge to get out of here, to leave and go back to your studies. At the same time you have the bone-deep realization how satisfying it would be to just snap these fucking glasses into pieces.

He’s checking in and the man behind the front desk is giving him a key. This must already have happened a while ago. You mentally jot down the name, Bonnybridge Inn. You feel something like approval at the back of your head and then this last piece of everything falls away as well.

This seems to not have been part of the plan because Cassia seems both shocked and very determined to get rid of you when you wake up. With a last look to Dave and a murmured “You should be more concerned about that than the sources of my visions.” she practically shoves both of you out of her door.

“She didn’t even tell us anything.”, Dave says confused. “What the fuck just happened?”

You think of ‘Bonnybridge Inn’. You think of the overwhelming sensation of more than you could ever handle. You think of the presence in the back of your head and the satisfaction you felt at the image of snapping Bro’s shades in half. “Get in the car. I’ll fill you in on the way.”, you say out loud.

Bro had left the Chevrolet Silverado with Dave before going on this hunt. It had surprised you that Bro would leave his semi-ironic pick-up truck behind but apparently this had been established as a thing whenever Dave and Bro split up to go on separate hunts since you left. One could mistake it for sentimentality. You’re sure that Dave does.

After a quick google search you find your destination to be Chicago, at least 2 days travel from where the two of you are right now.

Dave rummages through his pile of cassette tapes and puts something on that not only have you never heard of, your barely sure its a genre and it’s definitely not old enough to have actually been released on a cassette tape. You look at the cassette case that reads ‘Meaty Fist Glassward’ and for a moment you consider making a comment about how this band has been gaining some traction, just to see if you can piss him off, but his face is blank in a way that reminds you of nothing good.

“So you could get started with the filling in now.”, he says, voice perfectly calm.

Part of you feels protective of the vision in some way, but the bigger part wants to make him see what you have seen, so you tell him the whole thing.

“We shouldn't trust that shit! Why did you get the vision, not the actual seer?”

“Well I hardly think we have another choice and it’d be foolish not to follow this up. And maybe I’m just better than her at her job.”, you say with a tone that may be slightly too smug.

Dave shoots you a look, except you can’t see his eyes and he doesn’t turn his face from the road so it ends up more like a disapproving grimace.

“Shouldn’t you be more unhappy? You were the one that wanted a ‘normal’ life and now you’re getting weird visions from some weird all-powerful hentai tentacle-monster.”

“There were no tentacles involved.”

“And I bet you’re real sad about that.”

He’s correct of course. About how you should be a lot madder at the situation. This is something that doesn’t fit in your plan and you hate it when things don’t fit in your plan. But something about it feels so right.

#homestuck #dave strider #rose lalonde #spn au #fanfic #riot writes #strilonde twins #posting the revised version of this first chapter in the hopes that it will bring motivation to keep writing #all of this fic is outlined and the first third is written #i promise

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