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letarasstuff · 5 years ago

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Normal People don't know their IQ

(A/N): Inspired by me, who recently discovered normal people don’t know their IQ, while I was tested two or three times already...

Summary: A certain someone is the only way to get the UnSub. But there’s also something different that makes her special.

Warnings: Angst (fluffy end, I swear), language, mentions of rape and torture, mention of dead people, the usual CM stuff I guess Wordcount: 2.0k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________________

“Garcia, I need you to look into high school teachers, who are suspended or fired for inappropriate behavior towards students and live in the area of the kidnappings”, Hotch orders in a stern voice. But you can’t blame him, after all there are currently six dead teenage girls and one missing. One can only hope and work as fast as possible to get her back to her parents alive.

The team is working a case in Sacramento, California. Teenage girls get abducted on their way home from school, are held for exactly a week and are killed by a simple cut to their throat. The torture they have to endure beforehand isn’t as simple. The last two also show signs of rape.

The dumbing sites are different parks all over the city. The placing happens overnight only to have the girls found the next morning by a clueless jogger or stroller.

“Let’s go over the profile again, I feel like we are missing something”, Rossi commands. His gut feeling tells him only that much, he just has to find out what it is.

“It’s a white male in his mid thirties to late forties. He blends in, so he has to be or has been a teacher. Someone who looks like they belong into a school isn’t suspicious”, Spencer counts the facts.

“The victims all look similar, probably resembling an ex-wife or girlfriend”, Morgan adds. Before he can get into the depth of the torture a phone rings.

“My lovely crime fighters, I got an address. Charles Collins. philosophy and history. Got suspended for suggestive talk towards his female students. He is also said to stare at them and certain body parts for way too long and way too obvious. Gross. Annnd that- wait”

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asks after a moment of silence, which is unusual for the ever bubbly tech analyst.

“You got your profile wrong. Collins doesn’t take these girls because of an ex flame.”

The team looks at each other in confusion. Garcia always stresses how she isn’t a profiler and can’t judge over people, because she only wants to see the good in them. How is she able to tell that the profile is off?

“Shoot baby girl, we don’t have much time left”, Derek urges her. He wants nothing more than to have this SOB finally behind bars. The whole team wants that.

“He has a daughter. Technically it’s not his daughter, it’s someone else’s, but he is her foster father. Go and please save both girls!”

Penelope doesn’t have to say it twice. After a brief thank you and goodbye the team is on their way to the given address. As soons as they get there, everyone notices the absence of a car in the driveway. Hotch sends Spencer, Emily and Derek through the back door, the rest goes in from the front.

“FBI! OPEN UP!”

It’s needless to say that nobody opens up. There is no other way than kicking the doors down.

After entering the house and clearing the first floor, Rossi points towards the stairs that leads to the first story. There are only two rooms. A bathroom right hand and a closed door left hand.

Morgan counts quietly down before also kicking this door down and screaming “FBI!” But he seemingly talks with air, because there is no one to be found. Once again the team swarms out to look for evidence or clues.

As Spencer looks through the room they cleared last, he sees various things that make him smile. Several bookshelves are flooded with all kinds of genres, authors and covers. At first he can’t make out in which way they are sorted. But a closer look makes him realize that they are sorted by the author’s birth year. The doctor is kind of impressed, because that means the person knows when they are born in order to find a certain book. He likes the idea, it is a nice little challenge.

While he investigates further a sound makes him stop. He sends a text to Emily and waits for her. When she enters the room Spencer gestures to her to keep it quiet. Then he points to the bed.

They lower themselves down to the floor at the same time on each side of it. A girl, no older than 14 years, lays there shivering in angst. With big doe eyes she looks at Spencer and whispers:

“Please don’t hurt me.”

A while later the team is back at the station with the girl sitting in one of the interrogation rooms. The temperature is already set down, though Hotch feels really bad for it. Still there is another girl out there waiting to be safed.

“Baby girl, what can you give us on her?” Morgan sets his phone in the middle of the table and switches the speaker on.

“Our little girl’s name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), fourteen years old. Parents were deemed to be unable to look after her since they are both heavy drug addicts and didn’t even register her crying for two hours straight. Since the age of six months she bounces through the system with nobody wanting to keep her longer than two years. They claim she is too smart for them and want somebody to look after her, who can challenge her intellectually.

“Collins took her in one and a half years ago. He got her signed up in several activities after school, like chess and academic decathlon. As of right now she is a junior with an opportunity to graduate next year. Her teachers describe her as incredibly bright with a complicated way of thinking.”

“Complicated way of thinking? Her intelligence was neglected for years, so she gave herself her own challenges. I found her books sorted by the birth year of the authors. She found ways of making things more difficult for herself, that’s why she fabricated strange ways of thinking. This is often found in children with high intelligence, who are not boosted enough by their environment”, Spencer explains, getting more and more furious.

His colleagues feel that this is a sensitive subject for their resident genius. JJ comfortably puts a hand on his shoulder, making the tense go away.

“Emily and Dave, I want both of you to interrogate her. We need to know where he hides the girls. JJ, try to hold the press off for a bit longer. Morgan, Reid, I want you to watch and look for tells or anything else”, Aaron orders.

Everyone works on their given task immediately.

You don’t need to be a profiler to see that (Y/N) is scared out of her mind. She has her feet on her chair and her head lies on her knees. When the two agents enter, she tries to at least fake some kind of composer. But she fails miserably at it.

“Hello (Y/N), may I call you that?” Emily begins in a soft voice. The teenager nods shyly. “Good, (Y/N). My name is Emily Prentiss and this is David Rossi. We are agents from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. Do you know why you are here?” The teenager shakes her head.

“Ok, let’s cut the chase”, David's voice booms through the small room. “You know exactly why you are here. From what we saw in your room you are an incredibly smart girl. How high is your IQ? 130? 135?”

“147 a-actually”, she nervously corrects the agent, never meeting his eye. The team notices this fairly quickly.

“Even better, normal people don’t know their IQ. So you know what your forster father does. You saw the news, you read the papers, you heard your classmates talk. In addition to that, the girls look alarmingly similar to you. And all of the sudden Charles is more often out than usual. So do us a favor and come clear.” Then he pulls out a picture from a manila folder on the table. Emily tries to intervene.

“Rossi, don’t. She is not the UnSub. (Y/N) is just unfortunate to be at the wrong place.” “She might as well be another UnSub if she doesn’t do anything to help us. Do you know how long you are going to jail for helping hi-”

“I don’t know anything. I- of course I saw what is h-happening. A-and I connected the dots a long time a-ago. You know, Charles lost his job and that’s a stressor. T-then Child Service was investigating him, because of the suspension’s reasons. I-I couldn’t do anything. I had no evidence, the police wouldn’t believe me. I asked him once wh-what he thinks about, you know, what’s happening. He slapped me and told me to not talk about it again. I’m so sorry, I wanna help. The only thing that comes into my mind is an old cabin he once mentioned when I first arrived at his. B-but I don’t know if it helps you. P-please, I don’t want to go to jail or juvenile, I-” Then (Y/N) breaks down into tears.

Emily is in an instant by her side trying to calm her down, while Hotch gives the information to Garcia. As soon as she finds the location, JJ takes a seat next to (Y/N) and the rest of the team flies out.

“You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, Sweetheart. My colleagues will find him and he will be tried and convicted. He will never be a threat to you again”, the blonde tries to comfort her.

“Whenever I leave an abusive home, there will be another one that’s exactly the same. The only difference with Charles was that he seemed to understand me. He helped me. There’s nobody who is willing to do what he did for me”, she admits sadly.

It breaks JJ’s heart, because her words are true. Even though he is a killer, Collins did help her. But she is also determined to show the young girl that he isn’t the only one who can do that. That there are more people out there, who are kind and as helpful if not more.

Not long after this the team brings the man into the station, Morgan guiding him with a deadbolt-like grip.

Rossi spots (Y/N) in a break room with a hot drink in her hands. While making his way over there, Spencer follows him. He wants to talk with her as well.

“(Y/N) I’m sincerely sorry if I hurt you earlier. I didn’t intend to scare you, we just had to act quickly and you were the only source of information available. I also wanted to tell you, that your achievements are astonishing and I guarantee you a bright future, maybe even at the FBI”, he winks at the end of his last sentence.

“I understand, Agent Rossi. But doesn’t everybody know their IQ? I assumed everybody gets at least tested once in their life in some way”, she asks with surprise in her voice.

At that the older man is speechless. Of all things she could accuse him of legitimately, (Y/N) goes with the most innocent question.

“Actually, not everybody gets tested. A reliable test has to be done by a psychologist and most people don’t go to one. Furthermore there has to be a valid reason to do one, that’s why a great part of the population doesn’t know their IQ”, intervenes Spencer. He has to infodump, since the last time was over half an hour ago.

“But you also have to differentiate between the several kinds of intelligence, because intelligence is way more than being good at math. There…”

Rossi stopped listening to the excited interaction between the two geniuses. Instead he watches their body languages and facial expressions. He hasn’t seen both of them more at calm than they are now.

After all there might be a way for (Y/N) to get a little Happy End.

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sodadrabbles · 4 years ago

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Littleboo for the soul!! I have yet ANOTHER littleboo request in my askbox and will be posting the third installment tomorrow, as I'll be on a very longdrive tomorrow! For now, please hold the line with some Littleboo bakes a cake with Beeduo.

Paring: Ranboo x sibling!Reader (gender-neutral!)

Rating: Fluffy with a side of chaotic

Summary: Littleboo bakes a cake with Beeduo! It's messy, as are most things with those two.

"(Y/N), wait, be careful-!"

You let out a small screech as you drop the cup of milk you were holding, the white liquid spilling onto the floor. You hear a laugh from the laptop across the kitchen as your older brother rushes to grab a towel. "Did they just spill milk everywhere?"

You stick your tongue out at the computer, though Tubbo can only see you from the stream camera. The face makes Tubbo cackle even more, and you prepare to toss the now empty measuring cup at the laptop before your older brother stops you.

For a subgoal, like many things he does, Ranboo decided to do a baking stream with you. Your goal was to have some decent banana nut muffins. To say it was chaotic was a heavy understatement, as there was now a light blanket of flour coating every horizontal surface in the kitchen, as well as in both yours and your brother's hair. Not to mention the failed mini cinnamon challenge you decided to attempt left a cloud-shaped spot of cinnamon on the counter, and a lecture from your brother.

You were currently trying to gather all the wet ingredients- And failing miserably. Ranboo had trusted you to get milk while he mashed the bananas, but you tried to be smart and carry a full measuring cup of milk from the fridge to the bowl on the counter. With you and your shaky hands, that plan did not work out well. Tubbo was breathlessly laughing at you and Ranboo was chuckling as well. You smacked your empty measuring cup against his shoulder, making him laugh harder.

“It’s not funny Ranboo!” You huff and cross your arms, puffing your cheeks out in a pout. This only makes Ranboo laugh more. He tosses the now wet towel you and you snatch it out of the air, sticking your tongue out at him, though chat can’t see it beyond your mask. For privacy’s sake, both you and your brother wear matching masks- And while he has the signature red and green sunglasses, you got a pair of equally shitty purple shades. Tubbo had mentioned at the start of stream that you truly looked like ‘a littler version of Ranboo’.

After more bickering between the three of you, you managed to get your wet ingredients thoroughly mixed. Now was time for the stand mixer, which chat has lovingly named ‘Whir Sir’. Because it whirs. You stood on a small step stool, while Ranboo stood beside you normally. You were to scrape in the dry ingredients while Ranboo steadily upped the speed of the mixer. You held the bowl poised, ready to shake out the dry ingredients…

When it all falls out of the bowl, in a giant puff of powder.

You wheeze and turn your head away, waiting for the cloud to disappear. When you open your eyes, your vision has gone white from the powder on your glasses. The mixer bowl seems to have caught everything that didn’t puff into the air. When you glance at your older brother, he’s waving his hand around to try and clear the cloud. He coughs a bit, and you can hear Tubbo once again cackling at you. In the moment you can’t help but giggle. You were having so much fun despite the mess you were making.

When the dust finally settles you notice you and your brother both look like ghosts- his brown hair now a paranormal grey and his face looking about three shades paler. You hear Tubbo make a fake scream of fear, shouting “It killed them! The muffins killed them! This is just like Skephalo fanfiction!”

Ranboo squawks in laughter as he starts dusting himself off, saying that Tubbo’s comparison is ‘very accurate.’ You decide to ask him what Skephalo is later. You jump down from your step stool and try to dust off your own face and shoulders, coughing when you accidentally swipe flour into your nose like a fool. Ranboo used a spatula to mix the ingredients a bit, and turned the stand mixer to a very slow pace, its groaning whir echoing off the walls.

Getting the muffin mix into the pan was a challenge. Deciding to do it the old-fashioned way, the tins were filled all unevenly and there were drops of mix everywhere. While they baked, you and Ranboo talked with Tubbo about if you would be coming to the UK- Chat had been asking ever since you and Tubbo started appearing together on Ranboo’s streams more often. It felt like your own little podcast- Answering chat questions with your two co-hosts.

The muffins were dry and disfigured from how uneven the tins were, and the nuts all sank to the bottom. They were burned in some places and had air pockets, and the bananas you used were too underripe. And yet, as you munched into your third muffin of the day, a wild smile stretched across your face, overjoyed with all the fun you had with your older brother and his best friend.

#ranboo x reader #ranboo x you #ranboo x y/n #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #request #anon #dsmp x reader

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english8muffin · 4 years ago

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Cozy winter

Summary: going to the market, being cheeky in the parking lot and a warm cuddly morning sprinkled with some funny-business

Warning: Cute banter, smut (NSFW), fluff

Word count: Around 5300 words!

I want to open this with one of my favorite quotes ever, so if you allow me ;)

“Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.” -Kurt Vonnegut

“We need muffins.”

“We don’t NEED muffins, what we need are some fresh fruit and vegetables, ” Henry butts in. You frown and look up at him, “Oh whatever, Hen. You eat your greens, beans, potatoes and tomatoes, while I get fat by munching on some sweet, sweet, delicious chocolate muffins.”

He sends you a smirk from across the aisle. It was always fun to do mundane things, like going to get coffee together or grocery shopping, when he was home from filming. The last year you went to university it was very hard to be away from him for such a long time, especially when you still lived in Europe. You would fly over to England once in a blue moon, when Henry was in London and your schedule would allow it. Other times your relationship existed out of phone and video calls. It was a rough period, if you have to be honest. But It made the two of you closer and your bond stronger. It’s true what they say, absence does make the heart grow fonder.

You let Henry know you were going to get the ingredients for the muffins and start pushing the shopping cart in the direction of the baking supplies. As you walk back to the fresh produce section, you get distracted. So many colorful packaging was just screaming your name…

“What the- lovey! I thought you were going to get your muffin ingredients,” Henry cackles and almost doubles over seeing the now full shopping cart.

It took you a second to answer, a bit too focused on his beautiful face and the smile lines that appeared when he laughed. You quickly try to defend yourself, so he doesn’t think you have no self-control, even though, you know your eyes were bigger than your stomach.

“No! I did get them, they’re just underneath the other bags,” you trail off, eyes drifting to the floor. You sigh, “I just saw this aisle with all the snacks. These magnificent snacks. And, Hen, I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life! And, Hen-Henry! Henry, listen! Stop laughing at me! It was a moment of weakness! You can’t judge me! You don’t even know how they taste, I promise you, you will understand once you take a bite of everything!”

Henry wipes away a small tear at the corner of his eye and kisses the top of your head. You stroll around the aisles, trying to work through the rest of your grocery list, but suddenly you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hen,” you say, trying to get his attention. He gives you a hum in return, letting you know he heard you, “why on god’s green earth does my grocery list say ‘sex’?” You tilt your head up to his face, seeing a bashful grin.

You shake your head, clicking your tongue disapprovingly, “it isn’t even on top of the list! You put your oatmeal protein shake before sex, fuck, you even put curry before sex, you really need to get your priorities straight!”

After getting some more stuff, like pak choi, steak, tofu and the ingredients for Henry’s beloved curry you always make him, you walk to the register.

The petite Asian lady gives you a smile and takes a little peak at Henry, who was too busy looking at the various Chinese cough drops that are displayed in front of the counter. Her brows rise behind her thick glasses, “哇，大帅哥。你很幸运啊。” (Wow, big handsome man. You are very lucky, ah.) She says, turning back to you and winking. You can’t help but chuckle. Grinning you send her an ‘I know’-look.

Hearing your laugh, Henry looks over his shoulder with a questioning look. But you just smile and shake your head.

You two quickly get everything in the reusable shopping bags you brought with you. It was getting late and more people were getting off of work and wanted to do some last-minute grocery shopping. Henry takes both of the flower printed bags and the two of you walk to the car. It was getting colder, your breath turning into puffs of smoke. You look up at the sky glooming over you. They promised snow tonight.

Seeing Henry load the bags in the trunk, his ass proudly sticking out in the air, you give it a pinch. You just couldn’t resist. It was just there, so you better make use of the situation.

Feeling your hand touch his behind, Henry turns around, an unamused look on his face.

“Excuse me, miss. But that is mine,” he says, really playing up his posh accent. “I sure hope you disinfected those filthy little paws of yours.” He cutely scrunches his nose, doing a once over and trying so hard to keep himself from smiling, but failing miserably. He turns back around and arranges the bags in the booth so they won’t tip over.

There is a moment of silence, just the noise from cars driving up and off the parking. From the corner his eye Henry sees the stare you give him but ignores it with a small smirk.

“You know,” you begin with a cheeky undertone, making him curious, “I bet I could kick your ass,” you grin, looking at him and trying to gauge his reaction.

“What was that, doll?”

“You heard me, big lad!”

“Oh really?” He asks and looks at you, towering over you like a brick wall. His eyes glimmering with mischief. Yeah, no, this was NOT a good idea.

You squirm a little and a small nervous giggle leaves your lips.

“Yes, I can. Watch m-AHHHH! HENRY!” You squeal as he lifts you and throws you over his shoulder, fully forgetting you are in public. “Let me down, you caveman!” You laugh, slapping his left ass cheek. But he ignores your plea and just slaps your ass in return.

Wiggling a little, you challenge him, “Beat me up! Come on, do it!”

He turns his head and playfully bites the exposed skin by your hip, making you shriek like a little kid.

Henry lets out a loud belly laugh and puts you back on your feet. As soon as the tips of your Dr. Martens touch the pavement, you get pushed against the car. Trapping you between the icy cold black metal and his warm body. His arm goes around your waist and pulls you closer to his front.

“I love you.” The words are hushed but you hear them loud and clear, making a shiver go down your spine. The both of you look at each other, completely enamored and grinning like idiots. Noses and the apples of your cheeks rosy, bitten from the cold.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. His hand glides inside your coat and underneath the thick knitted jumper you finished to other day. He just needed to feel you. You lean up a little and gently push your lips to his, adoring the familiar warmth that fell over you whenever you’d kiss. Before you can come in for a second smooch, he frowns at you.

“Thought you were going to beat my ass?” He mocks, trying to imitate your accent.

Lightly tapping your finger against your chin, you pretend to be in thought.

“Well, this is much more fun.”

“Hmm, agreed,” he grins, already eyeing your red swollen lips and tilting his head towards yours.

You hear heavy footsteps coming closer, the wooden floorboards slightly creaking under the weight. It was getting dark outside, the overhead lights in the kitchen casting a homey hue down on the oak countertops. Your ‘cooking playlist’ was filling the room with some gentle tunes. You also had a ‘dancing in the kitchen playlist’ but that one was mostly used in the mornings. You hum along to the melody when stirring in the stew you were preparing for the evening, rocking your hips side to side. The stew was softly bubbling away, spreading an amazing aroma around the house.

The footsteps stop behind you. A moment later two big, sweater wrapped arms envelop around you, delicately caressing you. Henry lovingly pulls your loose braid to the side and places his head onto your shoulder, trying to get a peak at what was in front of you on the stove.

“What smells so good in here?” Just then Henry’s stomach makes a loud grumbling noise from the mouthwatering smell going on in the kitchen, you chuckle.

He had been gaming before this, you could hear the tiredness in his voice, it was a bit lower and more hoarse than normal. Whenever he was tired like this, he’d just turn into your big cuddly bear, you loved it.

Dinner was almost done. You made one of the dishes your grandma used to make for you when you were younger. You won’t lie, it was pretty difficult at first to decipher the little recipe she send you in the post, but now you knew it by heart.

“Cantonese style braised beef stew with white radish, bean curd sheets and a side of rice,” you inform him and brush your hand over his, that was placed on your stomach. Hearing that, he has to make sure he’s not drooling.

“And for dessert…” You nod your head toward the piping hot apple crumble pie currently cooling on the kitchen island. “We still have some vanilla ice cream if you want to have that with your pie. I know you want to be healthy, but I just really wanted to make a pie and this one does have filling,” you ramble, joking on the last part about the filling. He probably thought you were pestering him with his diet that most likely didn’t allow him to eat it.

You wince a bit, feeling him tense against you. “You don’t have to eat it, my love, promise!”

“No petal, you’re just… you’re just so perfect,” Henry admits, pressing a kiss just below the strap of the pistachio green apron you were wearing, nuzzling his nose in your tousled hair.

It was a gloomy Saturday morning in London. If your alarm hadn’t gone off, you wouldn’t have known it was morning already.

Yesterday after dinner, the two of you cuddled up on the sofa, under a warm blanket with Kal snuggled up on your lap. His head resting in your lap, while his tail occasionally slapped Henry in the face, making you burst out laughing and Henry almost choke on the fur. The akita would fondly press his snout deeper against you, really loving the head scratches he was receiving. Both you and Henry were fully satisfied with the tasty dinner you had paired with a glass of wine and were now cheekily flirting with each other while watching a detective movie, of which you missed the plot because you were, well, differently occupied…

Now the bedroom held a calm, soft aura, a dim light streaming in through the linen curtains. You let out a little whimper, not wanting to leave the bubble you are in and stretch out your limbs. A bit sore from sleeping in a weird angle, amongst other things. Behind you, you hear a small sound of protest and before you know it, you are engulfed by a strong arm. Henry hides his face in the side of your neck, keeping his eyes closed, groaning, clearly displeased with the fact it was morning already.

You smile, this was your favorite kind of morning. Warm and cozy in bed, cuddling with your boyfriend. You turn around, careful to not let any cold air under the duvet, your arm going around the large form beside you and curling your fingers in the mess of curly hair. Henry moaned, burying his face lower, between your breasts. Now fully content and still a bit dazed by sleep, he lets out the most awful snore. Even though he sounded like a drowning goat when he snored, you couldn’t do anything other than coo and gently scratch your fingers on his scalp, lovingly gazing at the man beside you.

“Are we going to be lazy couch potatoes today?” You chuckle, placing a kiss on his forehead, wild curls tickling your nose as you do so. Your voice was still a little raspy, but Kal apparently still heard you, and pushed open the door to come snuggle in bed with his favorite humans.

“What time is it?” Henry groans.

“Around 8.”

“We can be busy bees if you want,” Henry whispered against the swell of your breast, peppering delicate kisses on the bare skin. “Or better yet, busy bunnies.”

Kal was now situated on the end of the bed, head on his paws while the serenity of the room made him doze off. His dad on the other hand was now slowly waking up, as his hand crept lower and lower over your body. You giggled and pushed his hand away.

“There is a child present ,” you motion towards a sleeping Kal, who lays stretched out on the feathery duvet, already heading off to dreamland looking content as ever. Henry lifts his head, peering at his buddy and snorts, “he’s seen much worse, haven’t you bear?” But he doesn’t get acknowledged.

Laying his head back, he reaches up to push your hair out of your face before grabbing your cheek and pulling you down for a kiss. He places three kisses on your swollen lips, lightly sucking on the bottom one.

“May-,” you try to say something, but he just pushes his mouth harder against yours. Quickly taking the opportunity to stop you from making excuses. A hoarse chuckle rumbles from his chest, as he wraps you in his arms.

“Stop talking, woman, and kiss me back.” You let out a small moan and grip the curls you were playing with moments ago. He deepens the kiss slightly, tongue invading your mouth, surprising you. A subdued hum escapes your mouth, resulting in him grabbing the back of your neck, as the other rests on your hip. The kiss gets deeper and more passionate as the minutes go by. Getting a bit overwhelmed you pull back slowly, softy panting.

“Hmm, so sweet, darling,” he says smugly, earning a little smack to the chest as a bright blush covers your cheeks. Like it wasn’t already hard enough to resist him and stay in the warm bed all morning, he does this. Henry rolls your naked body over so you’re straddling him, a large hand wraps itself around your hair. He tugs, not too hard though, so he has more access to shower open mouthed kisses on your neck and chest. Leaving you a breathless mess on top of him. His hands trail from the top of your back to your rear, squeezing your cheeks before giving them a fast slap, making you take in a breath.

From all the shuffling, little snickers and kissing noises, Kal woke up and groaned, irritated that his humans couldn’t just hanky-panky somewhere else. With a last disapproving look, he jumps off the bed, landing with a thump. From the sound of paws hitting the wooden floor and toddling down the stairs, you look over your shoulder, duvet falling down so you sat there fully naked, much to Henry’s delight.

Then you felt it. It was normal for Henry to get hard in the morning. To be honest, he would be a bit worried if his cock wasn’t hard first thing when waking up.

Involuntarily you grind down, drawing a heavy moan from deep in his chest. Holding intense eye contact with him, you start humping over his bare front, mewling like a kitten in heat. It was embarrassing how he had you wrapped around his finger. A cheeky smile formed on his face, “look who came around.” Your body was practically begging for sex.

Pouting, you keep on moving your hips in a tantalizing slow rhythm, scratching at his hairy chest. Making sure you kept your eyes on his, he licked his three middle fingers and a second later you feel him reaching between your thighs, wiping his fingers down your slit. Tensing up a little, you try to hold back a grunt at the sensation.

“Oh darling,” he started, his voice going an octave lower, “what a mess you’ve made.”

He pulls back and observes your reaction when he pops his finger in his mouth.

“Wet and sweet, like always.”

“You are so nasty,” you whisper in total awe at what he manages to do to your body. He snickers and you quickly grab his hand, pushing it back between your thighs, “I didn’t tell you to stop, though.”

Your jaw goes slack, the moment you feel his thick fingers moving in and out of you. He was hitting just the right spot, making you groan and throw your head back. He felt like he couldn’t hold back anymore, he quickly flips you over so he’s on top of you, fully trapping you underneath his body and smashes his mouth on yours. Everything was happening so fast that you couldn’t pay attention to every incredible thing he was making you feel. Taking his cock in hand, he rubs his shaft against you, up and down, pressing it so you could feel the length. You look up at him, veins bulging in his neck, eyes dark, face already becoming flushed. God, he was so sexy. Grabbing your legs, he pushes your knees back so you were completely spread open and at his mercy.

He curses under his breath and lines himself up with you sticky center. Stifling your moans and pants, by pressing his lips to yours, when he slowly sinks his thick cock inside.

“Oh my god,” you whine, feeling him stretching your walls apart, pushing himself deeper and deeper.

“Y’feel so warm and tight, my love. M’so hard it hurts.” Henry whines against your lips, lacing his fingers in between yours. He trails kisses in your neck and under your ear, trying to get as close to you as possible. He loved feeling your body against his. Your walls were so plushy and wet for his cock, he wanted to stay buried in you forever.

“M’gonna make you feel so good, darling,” he whispers in your ear. You whine softly, getting worked up, “please.”

He smirked, obviously liking your plea.

Instead of giving you a nice, hard pounding, Henry wanted to go slow. It was still very early in the morning, the both of you still barely awake and he wanted to savor this moment with you.

“Oh, Hen-,” you pant softly, loving every bit of it. As he pushes deeper into you, you can feel his entire weight pressing down against you. The weight comforted you in a sense, like others would with a weighted blanket. He prolonged his strokes, making sure that when he slid out you could feel every centimeter of him, but then slid back in quickly.

“Fuck.” He grumbles into your neck, “feels so good, love,” he praises, nibbling on the skin under your ear, grabbing a handful of your hair pulling it back. You move you hands from his grasp and push them up his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“So good,” you moan out to him, feeling his cock nudge at the extremely sensitive spot deep inside your core. He lifts his head to look at you, seeing your mouth formed into the letter ‘o’, head tilted back into the cloud-like pillow and eyes screwed shut. A string of desperate moans falls from your lips.

This was what he loved, seeing his love, his girl react to the way he was pleasuring her. Just looking at you in this state made his orgasm coil up in the pit of his tummy. He never would have dreamed that another person could give him this feeling, the feeling of utter bliss when you were together. The unconditional love he felt for you was indescribable.

Henry continues to thrust into you and attaches his lips to yours, feeling you squeeze around him. You manage to spread your legs even wider and wrap them securely around his slim waist, digging your heels just above the globes of his perfectly sculpted ass.

He was aiming his stokes into the deepest part of you and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release.

“Fuck,” you whimper out to him, digging your nails into the skin of his back. He knew you were about to cum. You let out another loud moan.

“Come on, petal. Cum f’me,” he pants, trying to coax you. Hearing the almost desperate tone in his voice, combined with the sound of him slapping his hips to yours and the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you was becoming overwhelming.

“Oh my god!” A loud moan ripples through you, the feeling of your release coming near.

“Almost, my love,” he moans, speeding up the pace of his thrust. He inhales sharply, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulls you up, quickly pounding into you. Completely losing control, trying to get deeper as if that was possible and lets his forehead rest against yours. With one last push of his hips, you get to your breaking point and cum, screaming. Henry feels your walls clamp around him and let’s go, fully satisfied. The noise he made was an orgasm on its own. He keeps himself against you when he lets go inside of you. You could feel Henry’s cum filling you as you slowly come down from your high. You feel his cum dripping out of you, almost proud of what you made him do.

He is about to roll off of you to cuddle up beside you, but you stop him by tightening your legs around him. “Please stay like this,” you whisper, your brain still a bit muddled by the amazing orgasm you just had seconds ago. He smiles down at you.

“Don’t be a silly goose,” he kisses your nose, “I would crush you,” Henry says endeared with a cheeky grin and pulls you into his side. You feel warm and safe. You yawn, blinking away when your eyes become watery.

“I can’t move,” biting your bottom lip, you snuggle closer to him, “and my throat hurts like hell.”

Henry lowers his hand to your ass and gives it a firm squeeze, “I’m not surprised. Oh doll, the sounds you were making,” he bites his bottom lip, closing his eyes.

You laugh and roll your eyes. Henry nipped at your neck, making you erupt into a fit giggles. He chuckles, leaving a kiss on the spot he had just bitten.

Henry trails his hands up and down your back. You closed your eyes and tangle your leg in between his, really liking the feeling. His chest was heavenly and just being in his arms felt amazing. He almost lulled you back to sleep the moment he began to run his fingers through your hair.

“That good, huh? Almost fucked you back to sleep,” he chuckles.

“It was alright, I guess,” you tease him. He raises his eyebrows, eyes twinkling with joy.

“How would you rate the experience?”

Tilting your head to look up at him, “Hmm, ten I guess.”

He looked very pleased with that.

“Out of twenty,” you finish.

“OUT OF TWENTY?” He sobered up, staring at your face with a shocked expression.

You snicker, climbing into his lap, “No, honey, I was just joking, I’m sorry.” A big pout forming on your face, making you look oh so innocent.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to put you up on all fours and take you like that, don’t tempt me,” he says, shaking his head. Wiggling your brows you grin and kiss the dimple on his chin.

“As much as I would enjoy that, I think Kal has to go potty and we have to eat.”

After some hushed pillow talk and hoarse giggles between the silky sheets, you two decide to move downstairs and start making some fresh coffee. When you lift your body out of the bed, a light throbbing shoots between your legs. You almost fall back into the mattress, making Henry roar with laughter. You end up getting a piggy back ride down the stairs, only wearing a v-neck shirt from Henry that fell just below the curve of your ass and showed plenty of cleavage. Your lilac panties were fully on display and your almost black hair looked like a lion’s main on top of your head, but you didn’t care.

The both of you were still in that bubbly, fulfilled state of mind, looking like two drugged out kids, wearing blissful smiles. When you got to the kitchen, Kal bounded around the corner, coming from the sitting area, his tail wildly sweeping through the air. Eyes sparkling with happiness when he saw his parents finally had left the bed.

“早上，宝宝” (morning, baby) You greet him, still on Henry’s back. Kal gives you a high “woof” as to say good morning back. After living with Henry and Kal for around eight months now, the akita started to pick up on a few Chinese phrases. He even decided the pet name ‘宝宝’ (bao bao), which means baby or darling, was only to be applied on him and nobody else.

Every time you would video call with your Chinese speaking friends, and they talked about or to their children, Kal would cheerfully patter over, thinking they were cooing at him instead of the small infant in the background. But you thought it was the sweetest thing ever, he was your little fur baby after all.

“I’m going to make us some omelets, is that alright with you, darling,” Henry asked, already opening the fridge and looking for the carton of eggs.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you call out to him. You give Kal his breakfast and receive many, wet kisses in return. Shuffling back over to your boyfriend, you lean against the dark green counter with its wooden countertops, and look at him carefully chopping up some bell peppers and onion, only wearing his joggers and a tank top. You were a lucky girl, and you knew it. Henry sends you a grin and winks before turning back to cutting the vegetables.

You begin to brew some fresh coffee for Henry, and put on the kettle for your morning tea. While he was finishing up breakfast, you start to read the newspaper to him. He absolutely adored it when you’d read to him, due to your accent becoming more noticeable. Kal came over to you, stuffing his wet nose against the hand you held out to him. “You’re such a good boy, Kal. Yes, you are,” you tell him in a baby voice, “you’re my little angel aren’t you? 我的小天使”

You clean the table, after eating your breakfast and get ready for the day. Henry was already out to go on a walk with Kal. It did indeed snow last night and everything outside was hidden underneath a thin sheet of white snow, so you made sure Henry was wrapped up in a thick scarf you made him and a black beanie. After giving you a kiss as if he was off to fight in a war, he and Kal happily walked through the front door, into the freezing cold. Him whistling and Kal buzzing with excitement.

Brushing your teeth and doing your makeup, you dance through the bathroom, in a good mood. You grab your phone that was propped up against the mirror, planning to put on the podcast you had been enjoying lately. You freeze seeing all the notifications, not having heard your phone due to it being on ‘quiet’. You swallow.

Oh shit.

There you were, plastered on the internet for everyone to see and laugh at. You and Henry making out on the parking lot of the Chinese supermarket. Was he going to be angry with you? It was your fault for teasing him after all. Oh no no no…

‘Henry Cavill and girlfriend were spotted having a steamy make out session outside local grocery store’

The headline read, making your face as red as a tomato. Trying to fight against it, you couldn’t hold yourself from reading the next paragraph.

Being in the middle of winter, doesn’t stop these two lovebirds from having a heated make out session in a parking lot!

Yesterday early in the evening, Witcher-superstar Henry Cavill was spotted with (to some) much younger girlfriend, designer, Y/N Y/L/N. The two have recently confirmed their relationship with an Instagram post from Cavill, showing a candid of Y/N, with the short caption ‘My sunshine enjoying the sun shine’. Last month Vogue came out with a video featuring Y/L/N in which Cavill and his dog Kal made an appearance, making fans go wild. It seems like the two really are living the life and we are excited to see more of them together!

Want to know more about the stars? Subscribe to STAR NEWS!

This was it. You could already hear your sweet grandma, praying to the ancestors to forgive you for your sins, lighting all the incense she could find. You were a disgrace to the family now. It wasn’t that you were ashamed or felt bad about doing it, hell, everybody in the position would gladly sit on Henry’s shoulders and stick their tongue down his throat. You were just disappointed you got caught.

From downstairs you hear the door close with a loud thump and the pitter-patter from Kal’s nails on the hardwood floor, letting you know your two boys were back home. You nervously descend the flight of stairs, holding your head low and tightly clutching your phone in hand.

“Hey, lovey! you really missed something, Kal and I could practically ice skate over the walking trails, it was so much fun!” Henry says enthusiastically as he hears you wander into the living room. You ignore him and plop down on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes.

A frown makes its way onto his face.

“What are you sorry for, sweet girl?” His eyes hold a concerned look, not understanding what you were talking about. You huff out a breath and hand him your phone so he could see the article.

A roaring laugh sounds through the open space, making your head shoot up. “Yeah, I saw it this morning when I went and checked my Instagram,” he chuckles, face still rosy from going outside.

“We really gave the paparazzi a field day, didn’t we?” He continues.

“Your ass looks great in this pic, though. Look,” pointing to the one were he had you lifted over his shoulder, but softens his voice when he sees how tense you were.

“Aw, doll, loosen up, I’m not mad or anything, if that’s what you think. I’m rather pleased now that everybody can see how happy we are and how much joy you bring me,” he lets you know nonchalantly, pressing a smooch to your forehead and starts to march towards the kitchen.

“You want another cuppa, lovey?”

And just like that, you were back in your good mood, perplexed at how well he took all of this.

Don’t be a silent reader! Show some love by reblogging and commenting, did it make you laugh, scream, smile? Let me know, it would make my day!

Much love, Nahmi xxx

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honeyhenry · 4 years ago

Text

Sweet as Pie

With some much needed time off, and excitement crisp in the air, you had flown over to Jersey with your husband Henry for Christmas to stay with his family, and they had been delighted to have you both back on his homeland. You settled in to Henry’s old room, unpacking all of the gifts you had brought for his family. You knew his nieces and nephews were going to love you even more when they saw what would be lying for them under the grand Christmas tree in the living room. Secretly, you were their favourite - not that they’d ever tell their poor Uncle Henry.

The large home is tidy, but scattered with family members in every room, all feeling at home in the place where Henry and his brothers grew up. You’d been able to catch up with the relatives you didn’t often see, and promise to spend some quality time together over the holidays.

It was so sweet to watch all the children’s faces light up on Christmas morning. You were glad that you and Henry could be spared an extra few moments in bed, being the only childless couple in the house. Yet moments later, Kal had leapt onto the bed - much to Henry’s annoyance; “down Kal, careful now” - as soon as he had heard the pattering of his small friends’ feet out in the hallways. And what Kal wanted, you usually gave him.

Which is why, at 6.45am, Kal dragged you and in turn, dragged Henry down to the living room where the rest of the family sat, with the kids lit up like the Christmas tree that their plethora of presents laid under, grinning to their bleary eyed parents who’d barely had a wink of sleep on the cold winter morning.

“You’d think after 6 years it gets easier” you’d heard someone murmur, and so you’d decided to put the kettle on for those poor souls. Luckily for you, 45 minutes later, you’re able to snuggle back into bed with Henry, warming your feet on his legs to annoy him. You kiss the offended pout right off his face, before feeling his beefy arms wrap around your waist. It’s the last thing you had recalled, as you dozed off in his arms only seconds later, feeling his fingertips rub against your hip softly.

------

The kitchen was bustling with about 10 bodies all completing their various tasks; cooking, washing, baking, roasting, timing and tasting. Well, you had kicked your husband out of the kitchen for sneaking a taste of your dessert before it was ready, chastising him out of the door.

“You can either help properly or go and play with your siblings” you had bargained while he’d grinned, leaning against the doorframe. He raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down like you were a pastry he was keen to ravish himself; “But who is going to compliment the chef?”

With that, you’d folded your arms across your chest, blushing at his words. The cheek of that man was not lost on you, and it still got you every single time.

And you loved him for it.

------

The meal was a total success. A wonderful soup starter, followed by a small appetiser, and then the most magnificent turkey. Feeding over 20 people - now probably closer to 30 if you were to include the children who were growing up so quickly in front of your eyes - had proven to be difficult, but it was a challenge the family had clearly tackled before.

You had been so excited to prepare the desserts, and present your dish. However, halfway through the day, somewhere between the main course, watching your nephews with their new toys, and the dessert course of the delicious homemade Christmas feast, you’d fallen asleep on the sofa completely tuckered out. Your legs rested on Henry’s lap as he’d covered you with a hand-knitted blanket that he’d once slept with as a boy. Henry’s mother speaks up, careful not to wake you. She has a gleam in her eye, not that you or even Henry notice, too wrapped up in your own cozy sleepy bubble together by the fire.

“Dessert can wait” his mother says to the gaggle of children and adults swarming the living room, “go out and get some fresh air.”

She turns to the children, specifically. “Do not disturb your Aunt, okay?”

------

Your cheeks are warm as the fire heats the living room, and after a particularly competitive game of rugby with his brothers, nieces, and nephews, Henry quietly checks on you. He had left the room earlier when you had shifted your legs slightly, taking the opportunity to get some fresh air himself. It had indeed been a long day. His brothers had questioned your tiredness briefly, making sure you were well. With the knowledge that you were simply sleepy, they had begun to joke that you obviously just couldn’t keep up with the rest of the Cavills - despite having married into the family for 2 years and been around for the holidays for 4. Henry had promised them that you were fine - that you still weren’t used to the long trip back to the island for the holidays.

Not exactly a fib, he’d thought.

Kal was laid beside you, loyal as ever, watching out for anyone who may disturb your rest, sending a rumbling growl towards anyone who approached. Except Henry.

While checking on you now to make sure you were still comfortable and resting well, he smiled, taking a picture of you wrapped up cosily by the fire, at peace in his childhood home, completely at rest and ease with him and his closest relatives. Petting Kal softly, he thanks him for looking after his mama so well.

“So?”

His mother, he hears. She’s alone for once as there was no one rushing to check for updates on food, no enquiries about the house, or any funny stories woven into a ten minute tale from her grandchildren. She’s alone, with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised.

Henry stands up straight. There’s nothing that can wipe the tremendously cheesy grin off of his face. He can’t even speak. Even after dessert had finished, you were the one who would be doing all the talking, the telling, the explaining.

“Mum-”

“Henry. She’s not ill. and i know you’re sensible enough to not be up the whole night with your wife...at least under my roof. So…?”

He looks over at your peaceful form, and then scratches his neck, blushing at being caught out, but also ecstatic that he can finally say something about it.

“She’s eleven weeks. We’re expecting a baby next summer”

With that, his mother almost leaps with joy over to her son, who she hugs closely despite the obvious height barrier.

“Oh i knew it, I knew it! I’m so happy for you Henry, for you both. I thought, ‘She normally loves that bread for starter’, hm? Oh my boy! A father!”

With her proclamation, Henry finds that he has tears in his eyes as he holds his Mother close, finally glad that it’s not just a little secret between the two of you - well, the two of you and Kal, who had already been a stellar protector and big brother.

“We had planned to tell everyone after dessert…we’ve known for nearly 2 months and it’s been killing me that I couldn’t say. We’ve had to be so careful-“

“Henry?” he hears your quiet voice from across the room, as Kal’s collar jingles. He turns to see you sitting up from your nap with Kal booping his nose at your stomach. You’re scratching at his head, thanking him for being such a wonderful boy, while looking up at the two Cavills.

It takes less than a second for you to realise what is happening in front of you. Your jaw drops and louder than your previous call, you exclaim, “Henry you told her?”

“She worked it out! Practically forced it out of me.” he grins, holding his hands up as his Mother pretends to smack his arm.

You stand, watching not to step on Kal or any stray Legos that your nephews have left strewn across the floor, and walk over to hug her. She’s been so caring and kind since you’ve joined the family all those years ago, and you know that she will be an incredible Grandma to your little one.

Breaking apart from the hug, you find Henry pulling you to him carefully, letting you melt into his side. Kissing your forehead he asks, for your ears only, “Good sleep? No pains? Sickness?” He has a small crease of worry between his brows and you always do your best to soften that small tense area with regular updates and sweet kisses.

“Yeah i’m okay honey” you reassure him, patting your stomach, “this ones growing up a storm in there”.

And they really are. Henry’s mother cannot believe she’s seeing it, and mostly can’t believe she missed it. You’re already showing, but a large loose sweater -probably one of Henry’s old ones that has since become yours - over your dress, has hidden a sizeable roundness to your stomach that you were excited to finally show.

“How did I miss this!” Your mother-in-law gasps, causing you to grin, and Henry’s chest to puff with utter pride and excitement.

“I know it’s bordering on having too much to eat, but we’ve been hiding it for a couple weeks now. Doctor thinks that baby’s gonna be big. Just like their daddy.” You explain, giving your stomach another gentle rub, surprised to find Henry’s hand there on it already.

If you’d thought Kal was protective, Henry was another thing altogether.

He’s still grinning as you kiss him, before you pull away to speak more to his mother about all the details, especially when you’ll be coming over to Jersey again. Kai follows you closely, making sure you’re staying safe. He’s known that there’s something up with his mama, there has been for weeks, especially with the way his master looks after you now.

Henry, deciding to be sneaky while the two women in his life are currently distracted chatting, takes another taste of the dessert you made, now set out on the kitchen. The worst part is, he thinks he’s got away with it.

He realises he doesn’t the second you smack his hand from the dessert.

“Strike two Mr Cavill! Step away from the pie.”

“And if I don’t?” he raises an eyebrow, watching your reactions as you hold a butter knife in your hand trying to look at least vaguely threatening - failing miserably. “Maybe i’ll strike out tonight, hm?” he continues with that wonderfully mischievous glint in his eye, taking cautious steps towards you. “You look even sweeter than your pie with this little bump here. Maybe I’ll have a taste later after all.”

Henry’s mother had not been right in her assumptions, for under her roof, you and Henry were not sensible at all.

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

please let me know what u think! i am v nervous to post but excited!!!

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill writing #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry fic #cavillry #henry cavill fluff

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acatnamedpusheen · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I have mark tuan arranged marriage au? Where they hate each other at first, but then fall in love? Thanks!

Hello and thank you for requesting! I've never written or read any arranged marriage au fics, so writing this one was an awesome challenge! Hope I met your expectations ^^

Mark X Reader (arranged marriage AU)

Genre: Angst, with a tiny bit of fluff at the end

Words: 1820

When your father had announced that you'd be marrying the son of the famous Tuan family, your heart had sunk. It was inevitable that there'd be an arranged marriage in order for the two families to merge and grow their business. Part of you was still hoping that maybe until you were of age, your father would have changed his mind and you'd be free to marry someone you truly loved, but such thing never happened.

The first date was more or less torture. Both you and Mark were obviously forced into it, so you sat at the table barely even looking at each other as you waited for your food.

"I never wanted any of this, just so you know. So don't expect me to be all wifey with you." it seemed right that you explain yourself early in this 'relationship'.

"Like you haven't already made it obvious enough for a blind person to notice. I couldn't care less, it's not you who I want to marry anyway." he scoffed while leaning back on his chair.

"Glad that we got that cleared out then." you crossed your arms in front of your chest and avoided his sharp gaze, praying that the food would finally arrive so you could eat and just leave already. Although you hated him, his words gave you a strange feeling of rejection. Were you really thinking that he'd like you? The atmosphere in the fancy restaurant his father had recommended, suddenly got too dense, almost suffocating.

Averting your eyes, you tried to focus on anything but Mark in an attempt to get away from all the tension. There were many other couples that unlike you, were enjoying dinner together and it only made you feel more miserable as you watched them.

Once the plates full of food were set on the table, you focused on eating, prolonging the silence that had fallen between you both.

"When's the ceremony?" Mark asked out of the blue, before munching on a piece of steak.

"Someone's eager. I thought you didn't want to marry me, what changed?" you raised your brow as you asked this ironic question.

"Nothing changed, I just want to prepare mentally. It's already too much having to sit here with you, imagine doing that all dressed up in front of our families." he sneered at you.

"Thank you for the complement." you smiled mockingly "Anyways, I think it's sometime next week. They've been preparing for this for quite a while now, so there aren't many things left to take care of." a pessimistic tone was evident in your voice, as you kept picking at your pasta.

Indeed the wedding ceremony took place after 5 days from that dinner date and Mark was right all along: it was even worse. It was unbearable having to stand next to him until the priest had finally announced you husband and wife and then actually kiss him in front of all those people who were simply watching their business plans coming to life.

The rest of the night felt equally depressing as you had to go through dancing and cutting the cake together with Mark. You sensed how hostile he was towards you even though he was pretending, just like you, that this was a normal wedding, an act of pure love between two people.

"Don't even let the thought of you and me sleeping on the same bed cross your mind." you warned him upon entering your shared apartment in Hanam, the wedding gift of yours and his parents.

"Easy princess, I don't bite. But I do agree with us sleeping separately." he loosened his tie as he spun around to face you.

"Perfect, you can have the bed. I'm perfectly fine with this couch, it looks pretty comfortable." you patted its back cushion.

"A gentleman would never let the lady sleep on the couch, but we're past such formalities I believe." he took off his tie and toyed a little with it as he continued "I'll let that pass, though we should cut down on the insults over time, don't you think? It's going to get too toxic being around each other soon if we continue like this." so far you hadn't witnessed him being this sincere.

"You do have a point I guess." you didn't want to seem like you were accepting him all of a sudden.

"We will have to live together, but separately at the same time. Only pretending for the sake of our families when needed." he was being dead serious and surprisingly you couldn't agree more.

"And that means that we can see other people, right?" you asked expectantly while plopping down on the couch, Mark was standing on your left, both still in your wedding clothes.

"Technically yes, but practically no. One wrong move and it would be all over the papers. We wouldn't want a scandal in our lives on top of all that now, would we?" it was as if he knew that you'd ask such thing, he had the answer ready.

Without wanting to openly admit that he was right yet again, you rolled your eyes and sighed. You were in for a long ride.

And it was long, or so it seemed to you, or so it would seem to anyone who's marriage had failed. Well, yours was never successful to begin with. Being forced to live under the same roof with a person you didn't love was like being imprisoned. A dark, cold cell that existed solely for you. No one could see it, therefore no one could free you either.

That's how the honeymoon went by for the most part. Your father had arranged a two-week trip to Jeju Island, the most famous destination amongst newlyweds. You and Mark tried to avoid each other as much as possible by doing different activities, but during those few times that you happened to be together, you felt this strange flutter inside you. 'Nonsense' you'd thought at first, yet found yourself staring at Mark when he was looking elsewhere. Only then did you finally had the chance to really study him, his eyes, his sharp cheeks, his lips, god why did his lips suddenly seem so soft? And then it hit you, you had fallen for him and as much as you were surprised to have realised that, you'd be even more surprised to know that Mark was catching feelings for you too. He would often simply stare at you when you were leaning on the balcony railing to let your mind run aimlessly on the waves of the sea. Weather it was day or night, he couldn't tear his eyes away from your characteristics under the bright sunlight or the silver moonlight and he imagined himself stroking your hair that was blown by the light coast breeze.

It was impossible to stay mad at him anymore, you were only being gruff when facing him because you didn't want a sudden change in behavior to indicate how you felt. He shouldn't know that. He shouldn't know that you were ready for a new start, he shouldn't know your desire to find out about the man you're married to. Why? Because you were afraid of rejection, of humiliating yourself, over the idea that he too had changed and didn't hate you. Since Mark was on the same page, meaning he wasn't going to confess his feelings any time soon, your current state could be perfectly described as trigicomic.

But fate always has an ace up her sleeve, as some things are just bound to happen no matter how impossible that may seem.

On the last day of your honeymoon you and Mark got into a fight that had you shouting at each other.

"Y/N, I thought we'd made it clear how we're not going to be seeing other people." he came up to you, while you were reading on the bed.

"What was that for?" you shot him a questioning look.

"Y/N, I saw you the other day flirting with that guy at the beach, come on don't play dumb." he was getting annoyed yet stood still at the door frame of the bedroom. You opened your mouth to try and form an answer but he was quick to continue before you had the chance. "If you continue acting like that, next time you'll have to face your father instead of me and I'm pretty sure he won't be any lenient with you, given that his daughter will have the company and the whole merging plan at stake." why was he being so mean to you all of a sudden?

"Hey! I didn't ask to be watched or lectured by you and as much as I know I am allowed to talk to people around me. Nothing happened, we just talked and I was able to forget the misery of being stuck with you, for some time." you let your book down forcefully and walked up to him.

"Well you should try telling that to the press next time, when they will be taking pictures to expose both our families." he fired back at you.

"And why do you care so much? You were the one who said you wanted to marry someone else that night on our first date. I'm sure you're dying to have her in your arms right now" your blood was boiling and your eyes were shooting daggers.

"I should let you know that we no longer keep in touch." he seemed to barely soften.

"Go on, get back together with her. Why can't you just leave me alone?" anger was flowing through your veins.

"Because I love you damn it!" he shouted almost before you had finished your sentence, making your eyes widen in surprise.

"You what?" your voice was above a whisper now, not believing what you had heard a few seconds ago.

"I love you Y/N. I fell for you during those two weeks and I can't hate you anymore. I would really like to get to know you, but I understand if you don't feel the same way." he was a lot more calm as he locked eyes with you. Too startled to process what was happening you didn't respond immediately.

"I too have feelings for you Mark. Feelings that I can't deny or hide any longer. I want us to make a new start." you told him with all the sincerity you had in you.

Then, as if being pulled closer by some invisible force, you both leaned in hesitantly until your lips touched. It was soft at first but quickly got heated as Mark held the side of your jaw and your hands found their place on his neck.

This kiss carried all the pent up tension, all the longing. It was your first kiss after the one you were forced to share at the altar, it was your first true kiss.

#got7 #got7creators #got7 fanfiction #mark tuan #got7 mark #mark imagines #mark angst #mark fluff #got7 scenarios #got7 angst #got7 fluff #arranged marriage au #kpop fanfiction #kpop writings

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misssophiachase · 5 years ago

Note

Prompt: Caroline and klaus as rival lawyers

Thanks anon, this is inspired! Hope you like it : )

Bad Reputation

California Superior Court, Beverly Hills CA - Tuesday, 11 July

“Objection, Your Honor! Opposing Counsel is badgering the witness.”

“Since when did asking a perfectly normal question constitute badgering?” She could feel his blue eyes boring into her, almost like he was trying to remember her naked.

Ass.

“Overruled, Ms Forbes,” the judge replied, not before casting an unimpressed glance in the defense attorney’s direction. “But if I was you, I’d stop talking back, Mr Mikaelson.”

“Apologies, Your Honor,” he said, sending her his signature smirk. “It won’t happen again.”

Ass.

Caroline Forbes thrived on competition which was why she was known as one of the best defamation lawyers in California. Celebrities far and wide flocked to Caroline for her services and winning track record.

Unfortunately, she could see her unblemished run slipping away and it was all thanks to him.

LA Times Offices, El Segundo, CA - Friday 9 April (3 months earlier)

Caroline consulted her appearance in the reflection of the elevator, straightening her black, suit jacket as the floor numbers ascended.

The opposing counsel in her current case had requested a pre-trial meeting. As much as she loved the adversarial thrill of the courtroom, she wasn’t going to complain if the Los Angeles Times decided to write a big, fat cheque to her client.

Skylar Lopez was a well known Hollywood actress who’d suffered significant financial loss after the Los Angeles Times ran an article asserting she was unprofessional and difficult on set. Caroline had her fair share of questionable clients but she knew Skylar had been unfairly treated.

Caroline had dealt with the Times on a number of occasions and was confident she’d walk out of the meeting triumphant.

Until the tables were turned.

Walking towards the boardroom, Caroline was already imagining what would transpire. They’d offer a settlement that was too low but would ultimately meet her client’s demand.

She was just that good. However, upon entering the room, everything changed when she saw him.

His back was turned but, after all these years, she couldn’t mistake those broad shoulders even housed in a grey, suit jacket. Those dark, blonde curls were still slightly unruly like she remembered and she could still recall just how good it felt combing her fingers through them.

Caroline liked to be in control and suddenly she felt like she was in freefall. He turned to face her, almost like he could sense her anxiety.

Between the slight stubble and crimson lips, Caroline knew she was in trouble. The guy could also wear a suit and it should have been illegal given how well it moulded to his toned physique.

“Hello, love.” It was a greeting she knew all too well and immediately transported her back in time to college.

“What are you doing here?” Caroline hoped it didn’t sound as shaky as it felt.

“Is this how you greet all your opposing counsels?” With his left eyebrow cocked, Caroline was trying to pretend it didn’t look sexy.

“You are not my opposing counsel.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” he replied, sliding a manila folder towards her. “I’m acting for the defense.”

“But how? I thought you were in DC acting for all those questionable politicians.” It came out before she could stop it.

Yes, maybe she’d followed him over the years since law school graduation but this wasn’t the way she saw their reunion going.

“Sounds like someone has been stalking me.”

“You wish,” she growled, placing her briefcase on the table and consulting the folder he’d provided. “And, as a lawyer, I’m well aware of the fact that stalking is an illegal offence in all fifty states.” She couldn’t miss the way his left dimple made an unwelcome appearance at that point.

“Fine. I guess you could say I felt like a change and, between you and me, those DC winters are a real killer without someone to keep you warm.”

Ass.

“Why don’t I believe you, Mikaelson?”

“I suppose that’s your problem, not mine, Forbes.” Their gazes lingered, Caroline attempting to look away but failing miserably.

Ass.

“My client is willing to offer a generous settlement,” he said, breaking their trance and handing her another piece of paper, his hand grazing hers teasingly in the process.

“I’ll bet,” she shot back, finally regaining her composure. She looked at the page and was immediately insulted by the supposedly ‘generous’ offer. “This is a joke, right?”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?”

“This is insulting and you can pass that onto your client,” she offered. “Unless you’d like to meet my client’s demands here and now and save us all some time and money.”

“That’s the final offer, take it or leave it,” he uttered, his jaw clenched. Caroline knew enough of Klaus to realise he meant it.

“Right, so, if we’re finished here, I suppose I’ll see you at trial?”

“Yes you will,” he promised. “You know during all those mock trials at Harvard, I always hoped that we’d meet up again and settle this for good.”

Caroline stilled, knowing just how those mock trials ended after dark. In her dorm room between the sheets, all the pent up energy leading to one hell of a crescendo.

“Unlike those mock trials when I was young and naive, I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“That’s a real shame, love.”

Ass.

“See you in court.” She left, albeit on shaky legs, before the creeping blush threatened to reveal itself and her true feelings.

She loved the idiot but she didn’t want him to know that. Ever.

Honor Bar, Beverly Hills CA - Monday 27 July (2 weeks later)

Turns out Caroline’s fears were premature and unfounded.

She won the case, like many before it, and Skylar received full damages from the Los Angeles Times for defamation.

Instead of gloating over her unexpected win, she was currently drowning her sorrows in vodka. Or maybe it was her coping mechanism to block out the fun they could be having in a bed further uptown.

“I was a little upset you didn’t invite me to the party.” She turned, knowing that familiar voice all too well.

“Do you have a tracking device on me or something?”

“Your personal assistant thought I should know your whereabouts to provide the final paperwork,” he said, gesturing to the barwoman for a drink. Caroline couldn’t miss the flutter of her eyelashes knowing the effect he had on women.

She hated that she felt it too.

“Of course she did,” she growled, knowing he’d sweet talked Lexi too. “You’re such an ass.” Caroline was proud of the fact she finally verbalised it after all these months of control.

“Says the defamation warrior,” he whistled, taking a sip of his drink. He’d shed his suit since their last meeting and she couldn’t miss just how good he looked in that navy henley and jeans. It was almost like they’d gone back in time to Boston.

“It’s true and, quite frankly, you deserved it.”

“Last time I checked you left me, sweetheart.”

“We were both heading in different directions after graduation and excuse me if your reputation didn’t fill me with much confidence.”

“Wow,” he murmured, his gaze downcast. “I’ve followed your career too and what you’ve done is nothing short of phenomenal, not that I was expecting any less given your intelligence, dogged determination and ambition. But it seems as if you’ve not learned the biggest lesson.”

“And what exactly is that?”

“Not to judge a book by its cover,” he responded sincerely, his eyes now aligned with hers. “I love you, always have, but it seemed like what we had didn’t mean enough for you to try.”

“Well then, you’re mistaken,” Caroline replied gruffly, turning to face him. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since college.”

“You better hope I don’t report you to the police for all of that stalking, love.”

“Just shut up and kiss me, Mikaelson,” she insisted, grabbing handfuls of his shirt and pulling him closer.

His lips felt familiar, like nothing had changed and Caroline didn’t mind that one bit. He promised to beat her in court next time and she relished in the impending challenge.

It was what they did after all.

#klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline #thanks anon #misssophiachase

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coindraws · 5 years ago

Text

bruh

Sorry for being so negative these last few weeks (if anyone reads my tags it shows…) but idk, this is my blog, so I do what I want. Anyway, this is just a very long vent post and I’ll put it under a cut anyway if anybody wants to read it.

Okay, so I moved to France almost exactly four weeks ago and ever since then it’s been nothing but problems. I chose this bachelor degree very well knowing that I’d move to another country and that’s also what I wanted! Which is great, I always wanted to spend some time of my university experience in a foreign country and especially in France if there was a possibility to do so.

Since I’m the very first German to join this programme, I’m kind of the guinea pig for everything but I knew that beforehand as well. I think I’m more of a guinea pig for the German side, though since for my university in Germany it’s their first time offering a programme like this. To quickly explain, you start in your home country and then move to the foreign country for a while until you return and then receive your diploma of two universities. Sounds neat and all if things actually worked but they don’t really as it turns out…

Anyway, I thought everything would’ve been cleared up - or at least most of the things - before my arrival but that wasn’t the case. I got zero information on how this whole system works here and it’s very different than in Germany + there’s the obvious language barrier that I have. That’s not surprising, most things get solved within the first two weeks or so but the person who’s supposed to be my contact person is known for not answering very fast and sorting things out and that’s basically what my first four weeks have been so far; trying to navigate everything in a foreign country, a foreign language and solving organizational things which for some reason are left to myself.

Basically, I get told that people are going to do it for me and talk to others to get things going but then they just don’t and I’m faced with not knowing what to do since I won’t receive any answers to my mails. (Also when somebody tells you that you’re able to visit them on a certain day of the week for 15 minutes it’s kind of saying a lot on how much time they have for you… Nevermind that I don’t even have time on that day but in their defense I forgot to mention that, since that conversation only lasted 5 minutes)

Getting registered at the uni here was enough of a hassle but it finally worked. Then when I thought I had my courses there’s still another problem left and since the system in France isn’t as flexible as in Germany that just creates more problems the more time goes on. So in summary, week one to three of September were spent trying to figure out my schedule + my registration and while I thought I’d finally be done with that, there’s still one thing missing and it’s currently my fourth week here.

I was prepared to face problems like the language barrier, a different university system, being on my own because I’m the only German here but I wasn’t prepared to deal with organizational stuff on my own because nobody’s really helping me. My biggest help so far have been my fellow students and my tutor but even those don’t really know how to properly help me most of the time and I’ve never heard back from my contact person about my schedule here. I understand that professors are busy and all but lending a helping hand when a new student arrives would be nice. Again, they mentioned that if I don’t hear back from them it’s usually a good sign and if I didn’t hear back until a certain day, it’d be fine but it was hard telling that to the people who handled my registration.

The problem that's left now is about an essay I have to write and I was told I should do it in the course from year three which isn’t possible anymore as I found out today. The prof can’t let me do this in his course because I’d be too much, which is understandable since he already had to reject others weeks ago and it’d be really rude to the other students if he accepted an essay from somebody who’s three weeks late. The prof who’s my contact person here told me two weeks ago that I should send him my schedule and he’d talk to his colleagues and sort things out because I couldn’t register in the first week of September before courses started since there were problems with my registration.

If I had had the information beforehand on how to do my schedule and had received my password earlier, this problem wouldn’t exist. But since nobody prepared me for that and told me, I’m now sitting here still trying to somehow solve this weeks after the semester here started and it sucks to be the one trying to do that when it isn’t really my task. Right when I thought that everything was solved, I’m faced with yet another problem and the stress just keeps going and hasn’t stopped ever since I moved here. And while I’d understand that there were so many problems with a new programme, I’m less understanding if there was a previous programme just like this one but with another different city in Germany. Same contact person here but it seems like they’re doing it for the very first time and that shouldn’t be the case at all. I’ve also learnt (and experienced for that matter) that other profs aren’t very fond of him and know what it’s like to try and sort things out but I’m not involved in that beef and yet I still kind of am without wanting to.

As I mentioned before, it only gets harder as time goes on and to be frank, I’m sick of it. I don’t know when I’ll reach the end of rope but I’m always telling myself if I absolutely can’t take it anymore I’ll return to Germany or just take a break for a year before I try again. I’m not sure if this is even a possibility but it’s driving me nuts and I don’t even think about enjoying my time here. It’s been nothing but a struggle and if I had to summarize September so far, it’s basically been a hardcore “try not to cry once a week challenge” which I’m failing miserably at this point. It’s so frustrating for me to sort all of this out while I can’t even use my native language and I’m not that familiar with the system here to begin with.

It got to the point that I can’t even have a normal conversation with a prof about organizational stuff without my voice cracking and me just wanting to start crying on the spot because I’m so frustrated and stressed. If anybody asks me on how things are, I really have to hold back as well. Sometimes I sit in the lectures and my thoughts drift off to all these unsolved problems and I have a hard time keeping my composure. Thankfully everybody here has to wear a mask at all times, so that at least can hide it somewhere but I wouldn’t be surprised if I just left a lecture because I was feeling like shit.

I’ve told my parents about my problems and today my Dad asked me if he should still order the book that I asked him to because even he was unsure if I’d continue this or not. And while I told him yes, that’s also just a testimony on how bad things are right now. It’s also cool that my contact person told me that everybody who organizes this programme is concerned about a person’s well-being and their mental health but I’m far from feeling well. I was prepared for a lot of things, as well as feeling somewhat lonely which I surprisingly don’t but I wasn’t prepared for all this organizational bullshit and not really having anybody here that can help me with it.

tl;dr I’m so tired and exhausted of everything and even if I still want to at least try and get this bachelor degree, I don’t know for how long I’ll continue trying if things aren’t solved soon.

#laber net #sorry this is really long and I don't expect anybody to read it anyway #one day I'll eventually return to art #uni

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hookedonapirate · 5 years ago

Note

Daddy!kink prompt: I know it’s different than the verse a bit, but what if they didn’t know the other was into that kink? And one day one of them lets it slip? Maybe? I think it could be fun/you’re ridiculously talented and I know you could do it. Thanks!!!!

Oh Daddy Prompts

Summary: Office AU. Killian is Emma's boss, and after a Freudian slip of the tongue, very inappropriate office etiquette ensues ;)

A/N: This one-shot is not related to the original Oh Daddy verse, per request, and so this is a fresh setting entirely. I hope you don’t mind this is not an established relationship, Nonnie. If you’d prefer, I can totally write one where they are in a relationship.

I also paired this with another prompt from someone who sent their Oh daddy prompts via gifs. But I've only included one in this part and the rest of the gifs will be in another one-shot, probably used together if I can swing it.

Thank you @itsfabianadocarmo for the delicious banner above!

prompt gif 1

Other Oh Daddy Prompts: 1. You’re being an awfully bad girl l 2. Daddy, can you pass the potatoes? l 3. Better than coffee l 4. Caught In a solo act l 5. Naughty School Girl l 6. Busted l 7. Bless Me, Father I 8. Tell Me When to Grab the Cupcake I 9. Proving a Point

Rated: Explicit

Talk Dirty to Me

Emma has it bad for her boss. She’s been working at his firm for about a year now and has yet to gather the courage to admit her feelings for him. Instead, she keeps telling herself they should remain friendly but professional, and every day, she carries this huge lie on her shoulders, and every day, either he goes into her office to chat with her, or she goes to his, telling herself they’re just good friends and nothing more. She’ll sit on the edge of his desk and they’ll talk about whatever—work, the weather, and anything that comes up naturally in conversation. She’d like to think he feels the same for her—if the way his eyes light up when she enters his office or the smiles he graces her with are any indications. He also has this adorable habit of scratching behind his ear when he’s nervous, and yep he does that when he’s with her.

But if he feels the same way about her, then why hasn’t he said anything or asked her out? Is it because he wants to keep things professional? He’s her boss after all, and if he were seeing any of his other employees, she’d think it was creepy and wrong and unfair (and yes, she'd be insanely jealous), but somehow she doesn’t find it wrong to fantasize about him every night fucking her on his desk or in his chair. She’s not sure if his feelings are mutual, but she’s sure he would’ve said something if he really heard her and Ruby talking about him in the break room a few weeks ago while they were eating lunch from the cafe down the street.

Emma regrets the day she admitted to her foul-mouthed friend she has feelings for their boss because while Emma tries to forget (but miserably fails every single time) Ruby constantly reminds her.

“You know, Emma, I don’t understand why you don’t just march into Killian’s office, ride him in his chair like he belongs to you, and make him your Daddy.”

Emma also regrets the time she told Ruby about one of her fantasies which entailed Emma calling him Daddy as he fucked her.

“Hello, ladies,” Killian greeted cheerfully as he entered the break room and headed to the refrigerator.

Fuck.

Emma’s cheeks were on fucking fire, and as soon as Killian turned his back to open the fridge, she shot Ruby a scowl so deadly, she was surprised her friend didn’t burst into flames. Ruby just covered her mouth trying to choke down a laugh.

Thankfully, Killian said nothing and nuked up some leftovers he’d brought to work and left to eat in his office.

To this day, Emma still has no idea whether Killian overhead Ruby talking about him. If he did, he never said anything about it.

Emma’s busy running some insurance quotes for a potential client when she hears a tap on the door frame. She stops typing to look up at Killian as he stands in the doorway.

“Morning, Killian,” she greets, flashing a slight smile.

“Good morning, love. May I come in?”

Oh God, that smooth British accent, that silky voice always does things to her. She clenches her thighs together under her desk. “Yeah, of course.”

He offers a shy grin and walks over to her desk. “If you get a moment today, can you step into my office?”

Emma gulps. Something tells her he’s not inviting her into his office to shoot the breeze like they normally do. No, this sounds a bit more serious than that. She clears the frog from her throat. “Yeah, sure.”

“Great, I’ll see you then,” he says before turning around and leaving her office.

Well, that was disappointing. He didn't even start up a casual conversation like he usually does. And did he seriously just wink at her? What the hell is going on? Is he finally saying something about how Ruby spoke of him? Are they getting written up, or worse, are they getting fired?

But that was weeks ago.

Emma feels sick to her stomach and pales as she tries to continue with her tasks without constantly wondering what he wants to speak with her about. But she can’t stop worrying. So as soon as she finishes the mountain of work on her desk, she gets up and goes to Killian’s office, which is around the corner. The atmosphere is either very hectic at the end of the day, with people calling and requesting quotes or endorsements at the last minute, or quiet and laid back, and today it’s the latter. Jones Insurance Agency isn’t very big, but because it was just remodeled six months ago and in a prime location downtown, it does pretty well for a small insurance firm in an insignificant town like Storybrrooke.

Emma takes a deep breath, her hands shaking and her heart racing as she knocks on Killian’s door.

“Come in.”

Emma steps in and shuts the door behind her. Killian’s office has an enormous picture window with a stunning view of the sea, and she always loves gazing out the window on a sunny day or in the evening when the sun is setting. But truthfully, she loves gazing at the owner of said view, who is currently dressed down, with his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked with the top three buttons undone, exposing some chest hair, and his tie loose around his neck.

“Hi, love,” Killian says sweetly as he drags a hand through his unruly hair before gathering some papers from his desk. “I wanted to go over these reports for tomorrow’s meeting.”

Emma sighs in relief, her heartbeat slowing a little as she rounds the desk and looks over his shoulder so she can see the papers he’s referring to.

“You can have a seat if you want, love,” he says, looking up at her.

“No, that’s okay, I’ve been sitting all day,” she laughs. “I’m good where I’m at.” In more ways than one. Even though it’s the end of the day, she can still smell his intoxicating cologne. He smells amazing.

“I won’t be here tomorrow morning, so I need you to lead the sales meeting tomorrow if you don’t mind of course.”

“Yes, I can do that,” she says with a smile.

“Brilliant,” he says appreciatively and goes over the usual topics covered in their meetings, like what their best experience with a client was that week and what was the worst. They always share stories and challenges and ways they can overcome certain challenges. Their jobs aren’t the most exciting—Killian is a Life Insurance agent and the owner of the firm and she’s a home insurance agent—but she has a feeling sex between them would be fantastic.

She changes her mind and takes her usual seat at the edge of his desk because she’s wearing heels and they’re killing her feet. He doesn’t seem to mind though as he discusses sales numbers and quarterly goals and other things she needs to know to lead the meeting tomorrow but honestly, she can’t focus on a word he’s saying because he’s so close to her and she’s watching those soft, sensual lips move as he speaks, watches the way his wet, sinful tongue sweeps across those lips as he flips to the next page.

She’s imagining all the things he can do to her with that tongue, imagines how good it would feel between her thighs. Emma crosses her legs, feeling herself growing wet at the thought and tries to shake away those sinful thoughts. She really shouldn’t be thinking about her boss in this way, but she can’t help it. She wants to ride him in his chair and fuck him until he cums. She wants to call him Daddy and tell him to fuck her until she can’t walk straight.

“These are some sticky areas, so we must focus on ways we can improve and hit our numbers for the month. I want our sales to be a hundred and ten percent.”

Emma’s mind is too far in the gutter at this point because it’s the end of the day, she’s tired and apparently she’s a giddy school girl all over again. “Oh Daddy, please talk dirty to me some more,” Emma giggles. She’s not sure why she says it; at first, she thinks she only imagined it, but the way Killian lifts his head and the way his pupils dilate, she realizes her mistake. And she called him Daddy!

Oh fuck.

She gasps, her eyes wide with horror. She’s definitely getting fired. She wishes she could crawl into a hole right now and be buried with her humiliation.

As she opens her mouth to apologize and give her resignation, Killian cocks a brow, a slight smirk hinting on his lips. “You better watch it, love, or Daddy will have to bend you over his desk and spank you,” he teases back.

Emma’s heartbeat shoots through the roof, her mouth parted as she gazes into those piercing blue eyes. So he’s in a playful mood today? Okay, that’s good. She can definitely work with this. Pressing her palms into the desk, she leans in closer to him and murmurs, “How do you know I don’t like being spanked?”

Killian’s mouth opens, his tongue flicking against the inside of his cheek. God, he’s sexy when he does that. Her panties are fucking soaked.

“I had a feeling what Ruby said that day in the break room was true,” he says cockily, tilting his head.

Emma’s brows climb her forehead, pure shock washing over her. “You heard that?”

He nods. “Aye.”

Her stomach drops. “I’m sorry about that. Ruby has no filter.”

Killian chuckles, breaking through Emma’s walls of embarrassment. The sound eases her nerves a bit. “I’m not mad about Ruby’s comments, more like intrigued actually.”

“What?” On one hand, Emma’s completely relieved he didn’t fire her or Ruby even though he overheard their conversation, but on the other hand, it’s still embarrassing having her boss overhear a private conversation she had with Ruby, especially since it involved him.

“I’m attracted to you, Emma, if you couldn’t already tell,” he admits sheepishly, his eyes locked with hers as he scratches behind his ear.

“Oh...” Emma’s not sure how to respond that. After all this time he felt as she did? She’d wanted to believe it was true but didn’t know if it were all in her head or if she had gauged the situation correctly. “I, um—”

“I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, Emma, but if you want to—”

“Oh I want to,” Emma blurts out, cutting him off.

“Thank Gods.” Killian throws the papers on the desk and reaches over, slides his hands into her hair and tugs her to him, his lips crashing against hers so suddenly and roughly, she’d fall over if he weren’t holding her so securely. Her fingers assault his hair, tugging fistfuls of dark locks in her hands. She climbs him like a tree and straddles his lap, grinding into him, feeling how hard he already is through his navy blue slacks. It’s so fucking hot, Emma works her hips faster into him, wanting so much more, her heels sliding off her feet and onto the floor with two clunks.

“If you wanted me, you just had to say so, baby,” he growls against her lips, his breath completely wrecked and ragged.

“Killian...” she whispers as her fingers untangle from his hair so she can work on unbuttoning his dress shirt. “I’ve had so many dreams about this, Daddy.” Emma’s fingers are trembling but moving quickly as she desperately undoes the last few buttons and presses a trail of kisses down his chest through his feather-soft chest hair he always hides underneath his shirt.

Killian groans and she peels her mouth away from him so he can lift her silk blouse over her head and toss it to the floor, revealing her black-laced bra.

“Me too, baby.” He kisses down her neck and cups her breasts in his hands. “Every time I see you, I wonder how good your cunt would feel around my cock.”

Emma moans as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her to him and kissing the tops of her breasts, his lips brushing over the soft fabric. She combs her hands through his hair and pays no mind when her bra straps fall from her shoulders, too focused on how warm and decadent Killian's lips and mouth feel as he marks her skin.

“I always think about you fucking me, Daddy.” She tilts her head back as he kisses the valley of her breasts, burying his face there, the dark scruff on his chin scratching her smooth skin. God, he feels good right there, just worshipping her breasts like he's never seen a pair of boobs before. And she's still wearing a bra.

“Bloody hell, that’s the best thing I’ve heard in my entire life,” he groans and unclasps her bra. “You should write poetry, love.”

Emma laughs through her lust-fueled fog, her cheeks warm with blush as he pulls off her bra and adds it to the pile on the floor.

His eyes darken with lust as he drinks in her bare breasts, pink nipples tightening under his hungry gaze. “You’re so perfect and beautiful,” he whispers against her skin before taking a hard nipple in his soft, warm mouth.

She moans, pressing herself into him as he sucks and nips and licks her breasts and nipples to his heart’s content, telling her how good she tastes and how good she feels in his hands. Emma shudders and closes her eyes, relishing the treatment. She loves being in his hands. His hands make her feel like a freaking goddess.

When he releases her nipples, he captures her mouth with his and she rolls her hips into him, wanting his cock inside her. Bad. But her skirt is impeding their activities so she raises her hips inviting him to push the offending fabric above her waist. He does so quickly and moves her panties aside, feeling how incredibly soaked she is.

He groans and mutters a slew of dirty curses as he slides his fingers inside her slit. “Gods... you’re so fucking wet for me. If only you knew all the things I want to do to you, baby girl.”

“Next time, Daddy,” she rasps, unzipping his pants and pulling out his manhood, trying not to think too much about what her words imply.

She whimpers as his thick, rock hard cock aches in her hand. He feels so fucking good in her palm; she can only imagine how incredible he’ll feel inside her.

“Aye,” he agrees with a throaty groan while she’s stroking him and rubbing the head of his dick against her wet folds. His eyes roll back into his head and he has to force his trembling hands to retrieve his wallet from the desk drawer.

After he finds a condom, Emma rolls it over his pulsating cock, loving how every ridge of him feels in her palm.

“You still want to do this?” He asks, searching her eyes for approval.

She smirks, not a trace of doubt in her eyes. “A hundred and ten percent.”

He chuckles and wraps his hands around her hips.

She clutches onto his shoulders, sinking slowly onto his cock, watching Killian’s face contort in pleasure as she becomes wonderfully seated in his lap. He fills her up so perfectly.

Tightening her grip on his shoulders, she lifts her hips up and down, up and down, up and down, falling into a steady rhythm. She can’t believe after all this time, she’s making love to her boss, in his office of all places. With all her colleagues outside the door. With the window big and wide, looking out over the sea. She wonders if anyone can hear them.

“Bloody fuck, Emma...” Killian breathes as he peers down, watching as his cock slides in and out of her slick pussy.

“You feel so good, Daddy,” she rasps, barely keeping herself together.

“Not as good as you do, love. Your pussy is so tight and perfect. Even better than I imagined.”

“Fuck.” Moving one of her hands to his hair, she tugs his head back slightly so she can kiss him while she rides his cock, her nipples rubbing against his chest hair. She swallows the delicious groan he offers when their tongues connect so perfectly, she knows she won’t last much longer. “I’m close, Daddy,” she moans against his lips.

“Come, baby girl. I wanna feel you squeeze my cock.”

“Oh my God.” Her entire body spasms as her orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, her walls clamping around him. “Oh, Daddy,” she cries out as quietly as she can.

He holds her tight as his own orgasm rips through his entire body. He groans and sinks his teeth into her shoulder as he cums. After a few more thrusts, they still, and Emma slumps into him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, his heart pounding against hers.

“That was amazing,” she mumbles against his skin.

“You’re so fucking incredible.”

Emma lifts her head, still trying to gather her wits and steady her breathing. His cheeks are all rose-colored and so incredibly adorable. “Just to be clear, this won’t affect my next permanence review, right? I want to do well, but not because I’m riding you in your office.”

He furrows his brows, regarding her with a serious expression. “Of course, not. That would be bad form, love. But you’re already my best agent so this won’t change a thing. You have my word.”

She flashes a weak smile. “Good.”

“So, you want there to be a next time?” He asks with a hopeful glint in his eyes, bringing up her earlier statement.

She doesn’t answer him with words at first, but she’s hoping the smirk and the slow, tender kiss she offers him says it all. Before she peels herself off his lap, she whispers in his ear, just in case he didn’t get the message. “Oh Daddy, there will definitely be a next time.”

Tagging some lovelies who have shown interest in the sneak peek or previous Oh Daddy on-shots. Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed:

@itsfabianadocarmo @onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @artistic-writer @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @ilovemesomekillianjones @captainswan-shipper88 @cluttermind @hallway5 @swanlovato @xsajx @jamif @biefaless @kday426 @hails-paige @asiamarie5 @qualitycoffeethings @mikeythegeek @idristardis @have-a-little-faith

#cs ff #captain swan #cs smut #oh daddy prompts

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bigtimetired · 5 years ago

Text

Red ‘n Blue

another one-shot in a wider au- in which robin and superboy meet for the first time (set near the beginning of reign of the supermen, in this au not long after damian wayne meets his father)

Sunday 5th November 1989

[Palisades Avenue, Metropolis, DE]

Tim’s never been in Metropolis in person before, which is far from ideal.

Obviously, he’s looked at maps and pictures- he’s not an idiot- and he’s fairly confident that he could navigate the main streets. There are plenty of signs on the ground after all.

Unfortunately, Tim is neither on a main street nor on the ground.

He’s on a cold and miserable rooftop, somewhere rather far from where he stowed the bike he shouldn’t be riding between cities- between states- after dark, but hey, that’s just life.

It had been a spur of the moment idea, coming to Metropolis- an idea Tim had had (purely coincidentally) after a phone call from Bruce, reminding him that patrol tonight was cancelled.

(Tim hadn’t heard anything to suggest that he was there but had been fairly fucking certain that Damian had been smirking somewhere nearby.)

(Tim had also very carefully not thought about how this was the third time Bruce had either cancelled on him or brushed him off since his son had come to America. He had also very carefully ignored the burning feeling in his chest at the thought- such things didn’t bear further investigation.)

It had been a spur of the moment decision which Tim might be starting to regret, just a little bit.

One would have thought that there would be plenty of crime to stop here, considering what had happened to Superman a few weeks back. (Rest in peace, Big Blue.)

One would have been wrong though, because Metropolis has been cool and quiet and melancholic so far, and altogether very lacking in the crime department. That’s good obviously- great even- but if Tim doesn’t find an outlet soon he’s going to start fucking screaming.

He’s just a tiny bit on edge, recently.

He wonders why.

Tim makes the leap to another rooftop, peers down over the side with disinterest- a darkened movie theatre, shutters drawn, and doors locked. Just like every other building around here seems to be.

(Would Gotham do the same for Batman?)

“Nice costume, dumbass,” says a nearby voice, and Tim whirls, heart thumping and staff in hand.

There’s a boy- only about his own age- floating (actually floating) by the edge of the roof, arms crossed and face unimpressed.

Tim’s eyes skitter around, desperately trying to find some inspiration for a plan. His gaze catches on the bright insignia just visible under the boy’s leather jacket.

Tim blinks. Surely this isn’t…

“Superboy?”

The boy huffs, annoyed. “No, I’m the new Superman.”

Tim eyes the boy’s messy hair and very young face and snorts rather rudely.

Normally he would feel bad- Robin has faced similar disbelief in the past- but Tim hasn’t been in the best of moods lately.

“Sure thing, man. Whatever you say,” says Tim, and the boy’s face twists.

“Yeah, and who the fuck are you?”, he spits, and Tim scoffs, feeling like an absolute asshole and enjoying it.

(And if he’d much rather direct all this vitriol at a certain assassin-in-training rather than a complete stranger, then that’s no one’s business but his own.)

“Robin,” says Tim, as if it’s perfectly obvious.

“Uh-huh,” says Not-Superboy. “Don’t you have a gargoyle to be standing on or something?”

“Don’t you have kittens to be saving from trees or something?”

Not-Superboy floats closer, mouth opening in response.

And then there’s an explosion from down the street.

Tim stumbles badly, is saved from tipping off the roof by Not-Superboy himself, who looks more than slightly dazed.

“Thanks,” says Tim quickly, before taking off towards the smoking crater which used to be a building.

Finally, finally, something to do, to investigate, to-

After a moment Tim realises that he seems to have acquired a shadow.

He slants a hard look at Not-Superboy, who takes this as an opportunity to grab his arm and yank him to a halt.

“What the fuck man?”

Hot, simmering, rage is starting to build in Tim’s chest.

Not-Superboy frowns at him. “What are you doing?”

“My job? What’s it look like?”, Tim snaps, and Not-Superboy rolls his eyes in response.

“No, you’re gonna stay here, out of the way.”

“And why’s that?”

“‘cause you’re just a kid?”

Oh hell no.

“Oh yeah?”, Tim’s ears are burning, and he finds himself stretching up- because the bastard’s still floating like a complete dick- into Not-Superboy’s personal space. “You’re pretty fresh-faced yourself, bud.”

Not-Superboy throws his hands out from himself in frustration. “Yeah, but I’ve got superpowers. You’re just a civilian with a stick and a cape.”

Tim would very much like to smash said stick into someone’s face right now.

It’s at this point that the cause of the explosion decides to make itself known; a huge, spider-like, machine of gleaming silver trundles its way out of the wreckage and into the street, headed towards what Tim thinks is the city centre.

Not-Superboy lets out a harsh breath. “Fine. I don’t have time for this- if you get yourself killed, that’s on you.”

He shoots off after the machine, and leaves Tim standing there, fuming.

A civilian with a stick and a cape.

That’s a fucking challenge right there, in Tim’s book.

He unholsters his grapple gun and zips ahead of the metal spider-thing, mind already whirring with plans and ideas.

If he creates a blockade up here, that’ll hopefully limit collateral damage and buy him more time to shut this thing down before it gets to somewhere slightly livelier.

Tim squints at the scene behind him- the silver thing is still making its way towards him, seemingly undeterred by the colourful shape floating alongside and hammering dents into it.

Tim rolls his eyes, before snapping back into professionalism.

Assess the situation, Robin.

It’s got spidery leg things, that’s for sure, but the machine is actually trundling along on thick caterpillar treads, which gives Tim an idea.

Out of his belt he pulls the largest and hottest flares he owns, and chucks them at two faded patches of road, roughly around where the treads will run over them in several moments’ time.

Hopefully, the tar should start to melt around there and stick to the treads for a few minutes until Tim can stop this thing permanently.

Tim jumps from the roof, swings himself onto the back of the spider with his grapple and a well-placed girder, and starts poking around for a weak spot.

A vent, an escape hatch, any gap in the armour.

Tim narrows his eyes at a tiny space next to a panel of some sort and unceremoniously wedges the end of his staff into it.

Levering a panel that doesn’t want to move is easier said than done- even more so when one is on the back of a trundling monstrosity and in danger of being flung into the street at the next sharp turn.

Tim glances up and catches Not-Superboy’s eye, who has stopped whatever it was he was trying to accomplish and is instead staring at Tim in askance.

Tim jerkily beckons him closer with his chin, not letting go of his bo staff for a second.

Not-Superboy drifts over and yanks the cover up with relative ease- that fucking show-off- and Tim slams the end of the staff into the revealed circuitry over and over until it sparks.

It’s inelegant, but it generally works.

Some of the spidery legs rise up and twist around on themselves in an admittedly very impressive display of dexterity before one of them shudders violently and pierces the shell of the machine with a horrible scraping sound.

The vehicle judders then- once again Tim nearly falls and has to be steadied by the floating dumbass- and slows its steady trundle forward.

Tim glances around and realises that they’ve driven over his melted asphalt and mentally pats himself on the back.

Not-Superboy has landed at long last and is currently stomping on the shell with one foot. Tim wants to ask him what the fuck he’s doing, but it becomes obvious as soon as one stomp makes a slightly different sound than the others.

He’s found another weakness.

This panel is also ripped off with sickening ease, though this time Not-Superboy goes, “Ha!” and reaches in.

Finally showing some sort of effort- see how it feels motherfucker? – Not-Superboy uses both hands and starts levitating again to pull out a full-grown, wriggling, man dressed in various shades of grey and not in the least bit pleased about the current state of affairs.

The man breaks free and takes a swing at Not-Superboy who dodges it, and Tim decides to delegate that particular task to him and instead focus on turning off the whatever-the-fuck’s engine, as the whatever-the-fuck is still slowly inching forward and may or may not have some form of explosive on board.

Tim drops down through the hatch and into the cabin. There are a whole load of monitors and wires and stupidly complicated-looking panels in here, so Tim takes a nice, deep, breath and compares it all to the most complex machine he can think of- the Batcomputer.

Tim knows how to turn the Batcomputer off- he pictures it in is head, the flickering lights, the hum and whirring of machine parts, the button sequence required to switch it all on and off.

And then he slices as many wires as he can with the side of a Batarang until all the lights go out and the ground stops shaking.

Never fails, that one.

Tim clambers up on the ladder back to the top and peeks his head out strategically.

Not-Superboy is still struggling with the man, taking a glancing blow to the arm and being knocked back surprisingly far.

Tim decides to not be an asshole about this and creeps up on the pair.

He kicks out the man’s legs and Not-Superboy takes advantage and socks him in the jaw with an audible cracking noise.

The man crumples, out cold.

For a moment, neither of them say anything, just catching their breath.

Then Tim says, “Do you wanna call the cops?”

“…yeah,” Not-Superboy decides. He hesitates then, “Do you have, I dunno, zip ties or something?”

Tim nods.

“Cool- back in a sec.”

Tim watches Not-Superboy dip down to ground-level, making a beeline for the nearest phone-booth.

Tim rolls the man over with some difficulty and cuffs him like Bruce taught him to. He predicts then and there that Bruce will have called him by midday tomorrow about this whole thing and a part of him lights up with a savage kind of pride.

Not-Superboy is back then, staring up from the ground with an unreadable expression.

Tim raises an eyebrow and nudges the man’s unconscious form with his boot. (Lightly, because he isn’t a complete ass and is feeling a great deal more vindicated than earlier, for some unknowable reason.)

“You gonna help me with this or not?”

Not-Superboy’s face crinkles. “Huh?”

“We’re not leaving him on top of this thing, dumbass,” says Tim, with significantly less venom in his voice than earlier.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Not-Superboy blinks, and Tim rolls his eyes, dragging the man to the edge by the armpits.

Not-Superboy takes him then and Tim hops down to the ground, surveying the scene. He decides that this is a victory for Robin on the collateral damage front and awards himself bonus points for managing it on someone else’s turf.

There are already police sirens in the distance, and Tim blinks.

“Huh. That was quick.”

“There’s a precinct a couple of blocks over,” says Not-Superboy matter-of-factly.

“Ah.”

Tim grabs his grapple again and decides that the top of the movie theatre looks promising.

“Wh-where are you going?”

Tim shrugs, cocks his head slightly. “I dunno how you do it over here, but back home we don’t tend to stick around for the cops too often. Vigilantism, and all.”

“Oh.” Not-Superboy seems to consider this for a moment. “Alright, I guess.”

Tim salutes him and zips up to the rooftops again.

He makes it all of ten seconds before a voice calls after him, “Wait a sec!”

Tim obligingly waits a sec and is only kinda exasperated to see Not-Superboy floating up to him. (Again.)

Not-Superboy rubs the back of his neck and doesn’t quite look at Tim when he says, “Thanks, I guess. I mean, I had it covered, but it was nice of you to stick around, so, uh, thanks.”

Tim nods, not quite willing to unbend yet.

“Am I still just a civilian with a stick and a cape?”

Not-Superboy winces. “Yeah-uh, that was maybe kinda shitty of me and, uh, I guess I was wrong. So sorry about that.”

It’s definitely not the best apology in the world, but Tim’ll take it.

He shrugs. “It’s okay- I was kinda a dick earlier, so we’re even.”

“Cool.”

“Where’re you going now?”, asks Not-Superboy.

Tim rolls his shoulders. “Home, I guess. Just gotta find my bike first.”

“Bike?”

“Yeah? I mean, I hardly walked here from Gotham, did I?”

“Guess not.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Not-Superboy glances around furtively.

“Is he here?”

Tim blinks. “Is who- oh, you mean Batman?”

Not-Superboy nods.

“No,” says Tim, and he decides not to elaborate on that.

“Alright,” Not-Superboy’s shoulders relax a little. “Where’s your bike?”

“In the alley next to some diner back that way,” Tim gestures vaguely behind them.

“Lou’s?”

Tim squints, tries to remember. “…maybe?”

“Oh my god.”

Not-Superboy’s rolling his eyes but his tone is light, so Tim doesn’t feel too offended. He drifts back a few feet, gestures that Tim should follow him.

“C’mon- I don’t think Gotham will ever forgive me if I leave Robin stranded over here.”

Tim snorts but follows anyway.

Tim’s bike is stowed neatly in the alley next to Mary-Anne’s diner, as it turns out. Not-Superboy stares at it for a few moments, eyes starry.

Tim grins. “Her name’s Redbird.”

“She’s gorgeous,” says Not-Superboy, sounding as if he means it.

Tim nods. “Yeah, she is.”

“You know your way back, right?”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Dude.”

Not-Superboy grins, honest and open. “Just checking, man.”

Tim swings his leg over Redbird, settles down and brings the engine to life.

He looks at Not-Superboy, who looks much friendlier than he did earlier.

“Thanks again,” says Tim, meaning it. “This was fun.”

Not-Superboy shrugs, but he’s still smiling. “Yeah, it was a lil bit. See you around?”

Tim nods. “See ya.”

He shoots off into the night then, feeling much lighter than he did on the trip in.

(He gets to school by lunchtime the next day, waves a forged doctor’s note at the necessary people and doodles in the margins of his notes until the final bell.

Bruce is either busy or getting old- he doesn’t call the house phone until 6pm. Tim lets it go to voicemail, grins a little as he listens to it over dinner, despite himself.

Bruce is disgusted, Tim is benched until the weekend, and somehow he’s not quite as upset as he thought he would be.

Funny, that.)

#dc #tim drake #kon-el #conner kent #robin #superboy #timkon #if you want #one-shot #first meetings #dgs #i can't write action scenes

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wildmoonflower · 5 years ago

Text

Run For Your Love

Summary: Who would have thought that a morning run can bring You something else than just a strong urge to die or kill Your friends? You didn't expect to meet the love of Your life, that’s for sure.

A/N: This is my short addition for @kitkatd7 challenge with prompt 'Please don't make me.' Congratulation on the beautiful milestone and thank You for extending the dead-line. :) Hope You all enjoy the reading. Pairing: StevexReader Warning: none, maybe some light swearing Word count: 2749

First golden rays of sun lit up the pink sky, foretelling a sunny beautiful day. Warm breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees, their pure green colour clear indication of late spring. Despite the early hour, the park in New York already bustled with life and sounds. Pet owners chatting while their furry friends run around, more than often disturbing the peace of readers, spread on the blankets or the concentration of artist, trying to catch the beauty of the morning on the canvas and papers. Stony paths were busy with life too as runners were having their morning run, loners and couples alike.

One particular pair of runners stood out more than others. With the speed higher than some sleepy eyes could notice and movements more fluid and swift than humanly possible, it was given that two super-soldiers stood out like a sore thumb. There was a time when Bucky hated when Steve forced him to go run with him out in the open, not in the closed space of the gym with the special treadmills Tony created for their super-human speed.

"You have to get used to normal society, Buck," Steve gave him a pity smile,"show them your calm, domestic side, not only the new Avenger." Bucky understood, he really did, but it didn't mean he had to like it, nor enjoy it. So he forced himself out of the bed every morning for his sake and honestly, it was worth it seeing Steve's relieved face mixed with pride.

After running at almost full speed for an hour, finally both super-soldiers were slightly out of breath, finding their spot under the tree that casted a huge shadow, giving the shelter from the sun to several more people, including a young girl reading a medical book, an elderly man in great shape who was currently in a weird yoga pose that looked as if he broke his back and two young men who clearly finished their run too, their breath quick and short, faces red and sweaty. They were waiting for somebody, Bucky could easily tell from their bodies slightly turned to side so they could see the paved path, his sensitive ears catching something like 'slow, angry, won't go with us ever again'.

"Buck? You listening?" Flinching, Bucky looked up to Steve. He knew Bucky still hasn't lost his habit of scanning the area and people around, looking for any indication of danger, escape routes and possible weapons. But this time, Steve couldn't bring himself to say anything as he always did the same, his super senses and brain analyzing and planning, a habit he rarely tried to stop. "Sam said he can go run with us tomorrow when he comes back from the mission." "He tries too hard to keep up." Bucky grumbled but in the end, he was glad. Tower tended to be quite intense when Tony and Buck were in the same room and without Sam's constant shouting and attempts to distract Bucky, his tension grew.

"You say that but who was running backwards right next to him last time, nice and slow just to piss him off?" Steve jabbed at Bucky, laughing at his friend who doubled over and proceeded to almost slip up, sending both into another fit of laughter, succesfully ending their run as both men slid down in the shadow of a big oak tree, revelling in the comfortable buzz of life around them. Not that either of them needed the rest. It was Sam's idea, his way of lifting spirit after a bad day, night or a bad mission. Bucky had to chuckle just how much Sam-like it was, surrounding himself with life and hustle of humans.

Their peaceful silence was short-lived when huffing puffing woman suddenly stopped next to the spot where they sat, collapsing right in front of them. Before any of them could even overcome the shock, hard breathing woman raised her fist and smacked Steve in his shin, the anger and frustration clear in her voice. "Thank you for waiting for me, you two pricks!" Unknown girl hid her face in the crook of her elbow, breathy voice muted: "You promised you won't leave me behind if I will go on a run with you. And you disappeared. After. Five. Minutes!" Each of her last words were ended with a smack in Steve's shin, who was now forcing back the smile while Bucky was already trembling, his left hand pressing against his ribs.

"Uhmm, Ma'am?" Steve cleared his throat as it constricted at the sight of her eyes shooting open, burying in his soul. In his head, tens of colour combination swirled around, trying to copy the beautiful colour he was seeing but Steve knew- he knew that no matter how much practice he has in drawing, neither him nor any artist would ever be able to catch the true beauty of mysterious woman's eyes. Little, barely noticeable crow's feet in the corner of her eyes from laughing and at looking at the sun, much more prominent spark, a sign of keen mind and undeniably, Steve's breath did hitched a little at their warmth. Simply, everything about her eyes pulled Steve in, even a small mole on her right eyelid tempted Steve to kiss it. "Oh my God." Woman whispered, still lying down on the soft grass, "oh my God, you are not my two idiots!"

´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´ The moment Y'N's alarm rang in the morning, at the time when the bed just looked and felt the best, she just knew this day will test her very being. First test was Martin and Jake knocking on her doors, dressed for their run, brimming with energy that Y/N usually felt maybe two hours after waking up. Instead of normal breakfast of toast with bacon and eggs, a small bowl of hummus and banana has been thrusted in sleepy hands as Jake run to the closet, trying to find the good work-out outfit, horrified of obvious lack of presentable clothes, finding only clothes for work and clothes for sleeping while Martin ushered Y/N to bathroom, instructing her to do the morning hygiene.

Y/N still couldn't wrap her brain why did she accept their offer to morning run. She always hated running, her whole life she avoided running, of course, except the P.E. classes. She was what people called a person with two left feet. Clumsy. Inept. Running was dangerous, running was...personal Hell. So why did she suddenly accepted Martin's offer? She didn't know. It was probably the sad expression of her favourite neighbor when she refused at first, maybe the pleading eyes of his boyfriend.

With the reasons still unknown, an hour later she found herself on her knees, panting like a dog, sweating and even without a mirror, Y/N knew her face resembled a tomato juice. Kneeling in front of two men she didn't know like an idiot, after smacking their legs, like an idiot, while her real two idiot friends were in her peripherals, slapping their knees like retarded seals.

"I-I am sorve!" Y/N's face couldn't be more red as she bit her tongue. At that point, dark haired man looked like he suffered a stroke, one hand pressing deeply in his side while other arm, oddly shining in the morning sun covered his face, whole body shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. It was the other guy that officially took Y/N's last breath away as she locked eyes with most gorgeous blue she has ever seen, softest blue that seemed to burn a hole inside of her now shame-ridden soul. Handsome young face almost couldn't belong to these eyes, to these old, sad, wise eyes.

Lost in the sea of blue, Y/N didn't notice Martin and Jake approach, her focus snapping when latter crouched beside her, still wiping the tears from his eyes. "Are you okay, Y/N?" Jake handed Y/N a water bottle, turning to Steve when she just opened her mouth just to close it again, like a fish out of the water, staring at Steve and then finally looking down, shaking her head. "We're sorry, man. We underestimated her dislike for running, didn't thought it would break her." "It's okay," Steve shook the outstretched hands one by one, holding Y/N's unconsciously little longer,"I'm Steve. Nice to meet you."

"I'm James." Bucky, finally catching his breath nodded his head and looked at Y/N, eyebrow raised:"Correct me if I'm wrong but aren't you the girl that girl who was pushed into the duck pond last week, by some big dog playing fetch?" Round of laughter passed as Y/N nodded her head and sighed. "Week before that I slipped on a puddle and took down a running lady."

While Y/N's face was slowly gaining it's normal colour, she watched Steve in the corner of her eye. Now that they were standing, she could see that man was standing tall, unlike his friend who was, despite being almost same height, slightly hunched over, as if trying to be less noticeable or appear less threatening. "Y/N?" Y/N flinched as a hand appeared in front of her face, snapping her out of her bubble. "I have to go back, this took longer than I thought. Are you staying with Jake for another lap or what?" Martin asked, puffing out air at Y/N's horrified expression.

"Please don't make me." Slight tremble in her voice expressed the horror of that thought, ignoring the fake offended gasp of her friend. She could swear she saw a bling of disappointment in Steve's eyes.

"Same goes for us, Stevie." Bucky patted Steve on the back, his eyes shifting between his best friend and Y/N, who were both trying very hard to steal a glance at each other while failing miserably. "I quess we will be seeing you tomorrow?" Satisfied with hums of agreement, Bucky thrown his arm around Steve's shoulder, clicking his tongue. "Punk, You've got it bad!" "....Yeah."

´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´ "You've got to talk to him more." "Maybe invite him to that nice new coffee shop that opened nearby!" "Or just smile at him, dude looked smitten already." "Or pretend to trip and fall in his big, muscular arms like a damsel." "With the way she looked at Steve yesterday, she will not have to pretend to trip, her knees will give out by themselves!"

These were the words Jake and Martin barged in Y/N's flat with, once again with much more energy than should be be allowed in the morning. Not giving her a chance to think of reply, she was already in her running clothes, shirt a size smaller and not even hers, hugging her curves more.

"In what universe do you guys think I could possibly flirt or make a move on a hot guy?" Y/N pushed out of herself, trying her hardest to keep her breathing slow. 'Inhale with nose, hold, exhale with mouth.' That was her mantra as she ran, her friends jogging beside her with ease. Temperature was lower than yesterday, something Y/N really appreciated as cool breeze stroke her skin. Not that it helped that much when she remembered the way she acted yesterday, heat striking her face as she recalled the number of times Steve caught her staring at him. Deep in her thoughts, she didn't notice the conniving smiles Jake and Martin exchanged.

Three slips and lots of internal cursing later, a huge oak tree appeared in the distance, the sight causing Y/N's stomach to churn with both excitement and jitters, the butterflies multiplying as she spotted two familiar figures standing next to the tree while third man was sat down, obviously trying to catch his breath, raising a middle finger at Bucky in an instance. Closer they got, the more could Y/N see, realising she knew the third person, a warning sign deep in her head started to flash. A thought bounced in her head, evading her grasp, missing that one piece that would complete the puzzle. Before she could finish the thought, they were few meters away from Steve, Bucky and Sam.

"Y/N?" Sam asked, carefully standing up, his eyes full of surprise. "You know each other?" Bucky asked incredulously while Steve's attention was jumping around from Sam to Y/N. "Yeah," Y/N nodded weakly,"umm, Jake, Martin, this is Sam. Sam helped my brother when he came back from Iraq TOD." "That's right, man was lucky to have his sister with him all the time." Sam smiled at Y/N, noticing a slight furrow on Steve's face and Bucky's smirk, putting two and two together. "What did you two do to make her get up from bad at this hour. If I remember correctly, Y/N here is not a morning person." "We have our ways." Jake said with angelic smile, jabbing Martin in the side as he muttered:"Even more reasons."

Weekend has many advantages. One of the main is one do not have to hurry. Being a regular weekdays 9-5 workers, Jake, Martin and Y/N made a habit of having a coffee at nearby coffee shop. For Steve, Bucky and Sam, work depended on the bad guys. They never knew when their phones will ring with an order. They just took any free moment to enjoy life. Running, having a chat Buck, train at the Tower with other Avengers, help cook or order a lunch and dinner and end the day with a movie in the main living room.

That is how Steve's free days usually went. At the end of it, he felt as relaxed as he could, trying his hardest to push the mantle of Captain away just for a day but at times, the tightness in his body let out at the evening at best. So now, at the time when the sun just showed up, he was surprised to find himself completely relaxed, sitting beneath the tree's shade, conversing and laughing with his friends and three people he met just yesterday.

His body was relaxed but his mind was buzzing as every nerve in his body was reacting to a woman sitting beside him. Soft breeze ruffled through her hair now and then, his sensitive nose picking the fresh smell of mint shampoo and her natural scent that came out after her body calmed down from the run. He couldn't help but admire the way Y/N talked, quiet at most times but peep in with quirky comments. Steve knew this feeling. It was more than just interest. Just like with Peggy, he couldn't think straight when she looked at him with her Y/E/C eyes, words coming out of his mouth either too polite or chopped in weird sentences.

He wanted to know more. About her. Y/N Y/L/N. He wanted to know more about her likes and dislikes, about her brother she so lovingly talked about, about her relationship with her two neighbors she called 'her idiots' in most loving way. Steve wanted to know what songs she sings when she has a good mood. He wanted to know it all. The good and the bad.

"Wow. It's late again." Martin checked his phone, throwing a side-eye at his boyfriend. "Do you guys have any plans for later?" He turned to Steve,"You free around 12? How about you, Y/N? You know, after shower." Martin baraged his questions at them while Jake, Bucky and Sam stood up, smirking at the panic and confusion of their friends.

"I'm free?" Y/N looked at Steve, her heart hammering as she noticed him looking at her with a smile. "Yeah, me too." Their attention snapped back at the beaming man clapping his hand together.

"Great! Good. There is a reservation under my name Whitaker. You two enjoy the lunch! See you guys tomorrow!" A round of 'byes' filled the air as everyone run in different direction, leaving Y/N and Steve stumped in shock, still sitting on the grass.

Y/N jumped on the spot as Steve crackled up, pressing both hands on his ribs. Now he understood why Bucky had that gleeful smirk when he returned from his evening walk.

"I should have known something was off." Steve sighed and looked at Y/N, whose face returned to pink shade. "Can I invite you to a lunch totally planned by our friends?" He was worried, this is not how he would invite a girl out. So when Y/N smiled and took his hand, Steve felt the nervousness and excitement shot right up. He will have a chance to know all the good and bad. "You totally can."

THE END

#kits250challenge #avengersxreader #Avengers #steve rogers x reader #writing challenge

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funkymbtifiction · 5 years ago

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Hi guys! I I'm an ENXP and I was looking for some advice about knowing myself better. I saw the mods are ENPs and maybe you guys could help me. I recently noticed a pattern regarding my own actions that is basically ruining my life. I seem to rely too much on my Ne, specially about my future and my career. I'm ruled by a need of pursuing anything that catches my attention in a determined moment. I obsess over it for a while and then move on. I've changed my major 4 times now. Every activity I do is temporary. And if I don't find something I can obsess over I get depressed and bored. Anyways, I think this has led me to not trust myself anymore, since I can't commit to anything because I lose interest in everything and I'm always looking for new possibilities. I have reached a point where I can't allow myself to pursue everything I want and I have to make decisions and commit. But I'm too scared to become trapped and take responsibility for my own decisions. I think this would be easier if I knew myself better, but I don't think I know who I am besides my own random interests, which is weird I guess. How can I develop my own Fi? Or Ti? How do you guys deal with your dominant Ne? How do you commit to things? I'm 23 by the way. Shouldn't I have developed some Fi or Ti or something by now? I turned to mbti because I wanted to gain a better understanding of myself but holy shit this is hard. I could only recognize my dominant Ne. All this self analysis seems useless if I don't really know myself, I realized I'm not self aware at all. So anyways, as fellows Ne doms how did you guys developed your auxiliary functions? Any advice will be amazing! Thank you guys for everything you do here!

The first thing you need to do is recognize is you are an Enneagram 7 and all of this is ‘normal’ for them in lower health levels. To overcome this, you have to ‘grow up’ as a 7 and stop allowing fear of commitment or quick loss of focus from dominating your life. You have control over yourself, you are not utterly helpless to your whims (said the Fi user who has a moral tone of ‘you make your own choices and messes and you have to get out of them’ ;).

7s have to learn to be open to the scary idea of commitment to reap the dividends of hard work.

Read the 7 profile and see how allowing yourself to ‘run away’ from commitment (which includes not finishing or devoting yourself to any project) can hinder your life. Once you recognize WHAT you are doing, and WHY you are doing it, you can develop the power to STOP YOURSELF from doing it, or from allowing ‘excuses’ or fear to run you away from good things.

ENTP Mod. : Charity is right. Here is also where the judging functions come into play. With Fi, you can eventually weed out that which you aren't personally passionate about/ those goals which don't align with your personal values. With Ti, you can see a chain reaction of the patterns in your life, and determine the most effective path to help yourself using logic to streamline your processes, make it more elegant.

Slow the hell down. Force yourself to stop running toward the future and live right now. Repeat the mantra of ‘right now is all that matters today’ a 100 times an hour if you have to. Be present. Be invested. Bring yourself into ‘now.’

My co-mod is a 7w6 ENTP who suffers from a lot of the same issues; I will nudge her to offer her two cents to this post, in regards as to what she is currently doing about it. Basically, she had to talk herself into getting a permanent job rather than talking herself out of it. Once she got into it, she realized it didn’t suck as much as she feared. Her brain is her own worst enemy.

I had to talk myself into this job. I gave myself lots of reasons why I would love it. It might sound a little unrealistic going in with pre set expectations but at least you will not go in blind. Making a pros cons list is always a good idea. It helps to sift through your multiple ideas, and narrow down the ones which can really work. Test out the feasibility of your ideas, opportunities before hand. Talk to people, do your research. Just remember that things will never be as bad or boring as you think them to be. This is a cliche but something which helps me in the mornings when I know I have boring work to do is "Get up, dress up, show up. Never give up." Also it helps to live from day to day. Don't worry too far into the future, you never know what variables might upset your plans.

Work-wise, a 7 needs to travel, get the ‘high’ of meeting new people, and not to be involved in sheer detail-driven grunt work. They need challenges to work toward and obstacles to overcome. Pick a career that offers you all of that. If you do not, you will have a string of 6 months at ___ jobs that do not look good on your resume. Find a career in something that you feel passionate about, that offers some kind of mental stimulation.

ENTP 7 co-mod is an attorney who loves to find ways to ‘get around things’ in the law.

ENTP Mod. note: Always try to remember the root of your passion when you feel like defecting from one option to another. If you must leave, leverage what you have learned in one place and how you can dress that up to make your hopping about look good. That's what I did, and it worked for me. Some of the reasons I love my job are the constant intellectual stimulation, creative aspects of it, my love for criminology pays off, meeting interesting people. Sure there are sucky days when you have to deal with the bureaucratic demons. But that won't be every day. Unless your role requires you to do something like it. In which case I would suggest that you avoid picking up detail heavy, low Si or adherence related work which will make you feel miserable and frustrated. Try to pick something that plays to your strengths, improve your weaknesses. Compete with nobody but yourself. Every day you are better than you were, yesterday. Even with a little effort. It is important to not give up. It is so hard for 7s but we have the gift of rationalizing. So instead of using it as a mechanism to justify dropping things, use it to tell yourself why you should stick around. You as a 7 can make most things fun. So find little tricks and ways to make the work day fun. Whether it is achieving small, impactful targets or making games out of small, low stakes things. Also, having money and being able to live nicely is fun. Nobody is gonna pay you if they think that their money will be wasted on training you if your pattern is just leaving jobs. It took me a long time to develop this perspective but I am glad I did.

I (ENFP 6w5 sp/so) chose a career in magazine editing, because it gives me time to do what I actually love, which is write novels. I’m afraid I can’t give you advice from my own life that would work for you, because a 6w5 sp/so is far more focused and driven to finish their projects than a 7w6, which means I push through ‘the boring, tedious bits’ of projects regardless of how ‘excited’ I am. It’s not fun to edit a book 7 times, but I still do it. I force myself to show up to work, to sit there for 3 or 4 hours, and commit to X amount of words, pages, etc.

Do you think it’s “fun” for me always to keep this queue stocked, or to type up characters at the end of a long day because the queue is low? Or go back and update old profiles and move them from this blog onto wordpress? No. I hate it sometimes. It’s boring as hell. But I committed to it, I will see it through, even though looking into my “to update” folder makes me want to scream. I tackle huge projects one step at a time. I’m disciplined but I can procrastinate at work, rather than doing whatever needs doing.

Which really is the bottom line. You want to finish things? Just do them. Force yourself to show up and do the work, even if it’s “boring.” Most of life isn’t fun. Paying the bills isn’t fun. You do boring stuff to make a living, so you can have the money to do fun things. If you do not learn to do it, whether or not it is fun, you will wind up ‘stuck at home this month, because I have no money.’

That frustrates a 7 even more than being bored at work.

Accept that your fear of commitment is a fear-driven lie.

You are not going to get trapped by committing to something or someone. Head types massively over-think things and allow fear – in the 7’s case of “missing out” on better things – to dominate their life. Admit it’s fear. Admit that allowing fear to ruin your entire life is stupid. Then do something against the fear. Do the thing fear tells you not to: commit and work at it. Fight the urge every day to leave. Stick it out, and prove you ‘can’ to yourself.

Middle functions. You’re in college so you should be seeing either some Ti analyzing or Te “buckle down and set goals and get this schoolwork finished by the deadline” kicking in. Are you more inclined to self-doubt and beat yourself up like a young FiTe user after ‘failing’ to organize your time efficiently or to make excuses and blame external circumstances like a young TiFe user?

My Fi has always been strongly evident, though I didn’t know what it was at the time. Things that set off a NOPE response in me vs. the ‘rest of everything, which I don’t care about.’ The intense sensitivity as a child. The compassion for other people and especially for small animals. The understanding of emotional dynamics and how people ‘feel.’ The constant angst between caring too much about people’s feelings and being low Te blunt or rude when I’m having an off day. The ‘going away from everyone’ to deal with my feelings in private. I have always fiercely, Fi-ishly known what I like and do not like, and have no ability to ‘tolerate’ things that I do not like. Once, I didn’t like half the people seated at my table at a public event, so I shut down completely and did not say a word to anyone at the table for two hours. My Fe friend also hated them, but smiled and charmed them all. Lucky girl. She can fake her feelings. I can’t.

- ENFP Mod

#enneagram #enneagram 7 #enfp #entp #mbti #7w6 #entp mod

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warriorangel4god · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul

Summary:

What if Maul had never killed Qui-Gon Jinn in battle, but rather fled the fight to hide in shame of his failure, fearful that Darth Sidious would kill him upon discovering his incompetence in fulfilling his mission? And what if he sought out the Jedi Order as the war reaches it climax, revealing his master's secrets and the ways of the Sith?

Darth Maul is allowed to stay at the temple, to redeem himself, to find out what kind of person he is as the war comes to an end and the galaxy tries to heal.

Obi-Wan is there to help guide the way. “Careful, stare any harder and you might injure yourself.” Maul would have jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice if he hadn’t already detected the other’s Force presence earlier, having been too absorbed by his… current observations to say anything beforehand. He was much too occupied with staring at Obi-Wan Kenobi from afar, a yearning expression on his face. He would have preferred his dedicated time to watching Kenobi not be interrupted, but he supposes that’s too much to ask. The zabrak kept his eyes glued on the short ginger, drinking in his appearance one last time before turning to his unfortunate companion. “What would you know,” he scoffed, “How about you do us both a favor and mind your own business?”

Quinlan laughed boisterously in response, clapping a hand down on his shorter companion’s shoulder. Maul stiffened uncomfortably, lips curling downwards into a frown. “What, can’t handle a bit of teasing, Maul?” The grimace that graced Maul’s face only seemed to egg the other man on, humored by his reaction. Maul sneered and pushed the Jedi’s hand off his shoulder, shoving a finger into Quinlan’s chest pointedly. “Knock it off, Vos,” He growled lowly, “Or else I’ll do it for you.” Quinlan raised his hands in mock surrender, a small grin still on his face, which only seemed to enrage Maul further. “Alright, alright, relax, I catch your drift,” Quinlan laughed, unmoved by his trivial threat. Thoroughly irritated, Maul turned his back on the fallen Jedi and rested his head in his hands, leaning against the balcony railings to continue studying the object of his affections. He examined with much intent as Obi-Wan conversed passionately with his previous padawan, Anakin, making rather dramatic hand motions every now and again. Maul was enraptured by the gentle way he’d tap Anakin’s arm, as if checking that the boy was still giving him his full attention, elegance behind each of his mannerisms. The way his ginger hair shone in the sun, an auburn glow, a rebel strand of hair falling against his face. The way Obi-Wan’s mouth would twitch upward into a smile, how his eyebrows would furrow in disagreement, and how his nose would crinkle at inappropriate comments all deeply intrigued the former Sith. So engrossed again, Maul barely noticed the tense silence that had passed between him and Quinlan. He convinced himself that, perhaps, if he simply pretended that Vos no longer existed, the man would actually disappear. But of course, Quinlan had to break the peace with more prodding comments. “Maul…” He spoke quietly, now leaning against the railing beside him, “Why don’t you just go talk to him? Believe it or not, he actually likes you. I’m sure he’d be welcome to—” Maul slapped a hand over Quinlan’s mouth, arm shaking minutely, Quinlan’s unwelcome intrusion obviously hitting a nerve. “You keep your insolent mouth shut, Vos. You have no idea what you’re fucking talking about,” Maul hissed lowly, leaning in close, murder written all over his face. Quinlan ripped his hand from his mouth, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. He gave Maul a withering look, challenging him, “Oh yeah? And just what do I not understand, Sith?” Maul growled, his anger and rage threatening to boil over in seconds. He was seething from what would otherwise be a relatively normal conversation were he anyone else. But Maul was not anyone else. Maul laughed in his face, a sharp and irritated sound. “Like me? Nobody here likes me, Vos. My existence here is merely tolerated,” He snapped, eyes burning brightly, “I came crawling to the Jedi, defeated, pathetic, accepted only because it would be against your miserable Jedi ways to do otherwise. So don’t get it twisted. Continue to try and manipulate me and fill my head with lies and I might just kill you without a drop of remorse.”The look on Quinlan’s face made Maul’s stomach twist uncomfortably. It was a look of worry, shame, pity. Maul could hardly stand it, head practically snapping as he turned his gaze anywhere but at Quinlan, feeling sick the longer he looked at him like that. He felt his insides burn with humiliation, or perhaps even anger, loathing himself and the situation he’d placed himself in. “Maul.” No response. Quinlan sighed, voice softening, “I’m not manipulating you, I’m telling you the truth. I’m sorry you’re too fucked in the head to believe me, but I wouldn’t lie to you.” Maul shuffled a step further from him, looking for a way to escape from the current conversation. “Listen, you think I don’t know? You think I don’t get it? I’m screwed up too, Maul, trying to put back together the pieces of my life and find myself again,” He continued. Feeling a spark of anger flare as Maul continued to ignore him, Quinlan snatched him by the wrist, “Would you just listen—!” Maul punched him square in the face. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME, VOS!” The Jedi grit his teeth, now glaring at Maul as if to incinerate him on the spot, a dribble of blood running down his freshly busted lip. “What’s your fucking problem, huh? I’m trying to help you, stop acting like a youngling,” He snarled loudly, shoving Maul roughly, the zabrak smacking into the wall. Maul grunted, “Help me?! You’re a joke, Vos.” Quinlan shouted in outrage at the jab, clenching his fist in preparation for a good swing. Quinlan began to circle Maul like a predator waiting to catch its prey, getting up close and personal in Maul’s face, the Force growing dark around the two. Neither made a move against the other, waiting to see who would strike first. Before their violent shouting match could evolve into an actual fight—both already wound up and easily capable of brutally maiming the other—Obi-Wan and Anakin stepped in, separating the two with quick efficiency, Anakin holding Quinlan back while Obi-Wan pulled Maul away gently, an easy hand firmly grasping his shoulder as he steered the Sith into the gardens. Both master and former padawan had been engrossed in intense discourse beforehand, deliberating over how to handle the logistics of one of Obi-Wan’s upcoming missions. In a few days, he would be shipped off to a planet near the Outer Rim, Obi-Wan’s skills needed to negotiate with an estranged Separatist leader who had accepted the end of the war poorly and thus refused to settle the matter peacefully. Most of the other leaders had come around rather quickly after the war ceased, or otherwise fought against them uselessly, unable to put up much of a struggle with the droid factories now shut down and leaving them with a severe shortage of armed defenses. The Republic’s current target planet, Ku’Daiya, was known for its dangers. It was a breeding ground for criminals, underground slavery, drug rings and much more. Ku’Daiya was also known for its strong propaganda against the Jedi. Obi-Wan was dead-set on going alone, while Anakin had other ideas. He insisted his master allow him to come along, to keep him safe and assist in the politics, no matter how he loathed it, even though his services were going to be needed elsewhere during the time Obi-Wan would be gone to Ku’Daiya. They had heavily debated the topic for days. Unfortunately, they had been pulled from their discussion at the sound of Maul’s initial outburst, alarmed by the sudden and volatile behavior from one of their more mentally unstable members of the temple. Obi-Wan was quick to abandon the argument and rush over to settle the issue, growing weary in how these occurrences continued to increase in recent time. This would be the fourth time in a month that Obi-Wan would have to remove Maul from a disagreement. And of course it had to be Quinlan Vos of all people, the fool. In recent time, the fallen Jedi had taken to trying to mentor Maul with little success, managing to trigger Maul or otherwise upset him without fail. It was like the blind leading the blind; Quinlan was almost as equally disturbed as Maul was. He was most definitely not helping Maul’s healing process. Obi-Wan sighed to himself, trying to shake away all thoughts of Quinlan. He needed to focus on the here and now, with Maul, not with Quinlan. He was sure that Anakin had the situation covered on that end. The redhead gave Maul’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before gracefully dropping to the ground and situating himself into a meditative position, turning to look up at Maul, the Dathomirian sporting an apprehensive expression. The Jedi raised an eyebrow at him, to which Maul only huffed in response before dropping down close beside him, their knees knocking together comfortably. The zabrak had grown considerably quiet, a tell that something was wrong. “Care to tell me what happened back there?” Obi-Wan nudged carefully. Maul plucked a blade of grass in thought, but said little more. The Sith frowned, scratching at one of his horns, a nervous tic. Obi-Wan gulped uncomfortably, feeling a bit unsure. It was always difficult to wrestle Maul’s thoughts out of him, the Sith hellbent on keeping his own feelings and emotions behind careful lock and key. “How about we meditate on it?” He tried, offering his hand to Maul with a smile on his face. Maul looked down at his open hand with minor trepidation, as if it would strike him, before gingerly taking Obi-Wan’s hand into his own. “Is that your solution to everything, Kenobi?” Maul jested. Obi-Wan snorted light-heartedly at that, briefly reminded of Anakin’s own severe hatred of the practice. It was only a matter of time until Maul also began to notice how Obi-Wan turned to meditation for practically any and all problems he encountered in life. Even now, he couldn’t escape the teasing. “No, dearheart, it’s not,” He answered, a white lie, “But it’s what you need right now, I think. Come: Breathe with me. Release your feelings into the Force.” Obi-Wan breathed in deep through his nose and closed his eyes. While the Force was usually a comforting presence to him, ebbing and flowing around him gently, he could sense the turmoil rolling off of Maul in waves, dark and heavy. It was a choking, suffocating feeling that left him uneasy. Obi-Wan gently reached out to him through their shaky, newly-forming bond, attempting to sooth the Sith Lord. He could feel Maul’s shields rising in response. His eyes snapped open and he turned to voice his displeasure at Maul’s withdrawal, but was cut short when he noticed Qui-Gon approaching with haste. Reluctantly, the two pulled their hands away from each other, Maul’s hands now resting in his own lap. Obi-Wan looked up at his former master with minor interest. “Master Qui-Gon, how can we help you? Care to join us for our meditation?” Obi-Wan asked. Of course, he didn’t want Qui-Gon to join them currently as it stands, considering Maul’s current behavior. He figured he should remain courteous anyway. “Not today, padawan mine,” He replied, “The Council is in need of you urgently. Maul, as well.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in confusion and turned to Maul, who was now also looking up, attention piqued at the mention of his own name. He brushed off the ‘padawan’ comment, not caring enough to correct him. Even after all these years, Qui-Gon never seemed to drop the habit of calling him by his old rank. “What for? Has something happened?” Obi-Wan stood to his feet hurriedly, his Sith companion once again hesitant before following suit. He seemed anxious. “Does this have something to do with me? I’ve upset your precious Council,” Maul said with self-assurance, a growl leaving his throat, “Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with Kenobi. Leave him out of this.” Obi-Wan put a hand on Maul’s shoulder, rushing to speak on his behalf. Maul’s testy mood was starting to grate on him. He prayed to the Force that Qui-Gon wouldn’t be put off by his passive aggressive behavior. Luckily, Qui-Gon only smiled in response. “Dear boy, it is nothing of the sort. You jump to conclusions.” “Conclusions? Well, if it isn’t something I’ve done, why else would the Council wish to see me?” Obi-Wan’s grip tightened slightly, a warning for Maul to compose himself. The Sith’s reaction was almost instantaneous. Maul shut his mouth quickly, standing stock-still, body language so passive it seemed unnatural. Strange. Obi-Wan’s own worry for Maul was becoming too much for him. Too bad there was nothing he could do about the situation until they got this council meeting over with. Afterwards, he could have a real conversation with Maul about what was going on with him. “Lead the way, Master,” Obi-Wan piped up, eager to move on. Qui-Gon seemed placated enough, regarding the two with a curious look, but didn’t utter another word and led them to the Council Chambers. Darth Maul was not looking forward to this. At all.

#darth maul #obimaul #obiwan #obi wan kenobi #obiwan kenobi #obi-wan #obi-wan kenobi #maul #obimaul fanfiction #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 link #idk what i should tag #fanfic #star wars fanfic

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

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FIC: Side Effects ch.5 (baon)

Summary: Edge has had time to think while he’s convalescencing, but the real struggle is not going out of his mind. Lucky him, Stretch is there to help.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Collars

CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge was weary of television.

He didn’t mind it in general as entertainment. He watched it often enough curled up with Stretch in the evenings and occasionally let it play in the background as he did chores. Like anything, it was perfectly acceptable, within reason.

That was before television became his main source of entertainment.

Sitting more or less trapped on their sofa by the weaknesses of his own body, his casted foot still settled into its pillow nest, his options were frustratingly limited. He was thoroughly sick of news that he couldn’t really affect, frustrated at watching cooking shows demonstrating recipes that he couldn’t currently experiment with and likely wouldn’t have the time once he returned to a full day’s work.

(and he could barely stand the kitchen right now, still spattered with faded red paint that couldn’t be completely scrubbed away, his sanctuary tainted by the memory of kneeling on the floor with his unconscious brother in his arms)

What he wanted was a sense of normalcy. He wanted back into his carefully created routines, their designated route interrupted only by Stretch barreling into them and often through them with his cheery enthusiasm for the new.

He wanted to be back at work, confidently handling the Embassy’s affairs rather than being forced to trust it was being appropriately managed without him.

That was all bad enough, but being forced to email the director of his YMCA program that he wouldn’t be available for this week, possibly the next, was a straw very close to breaking his back along with his leg. He already gave his group less attention than he had in the past, taking on fewer duties as he spent more time with Stretch.

Something was going to have to change and he was still coming up with a decision on what.

The door opening interrupted his thoughts and Edge glanced up with shameful eagerness, his ready greeting dying on his lips as Stretch stalked in wearing an entirely different outfit than he’d left in that morning. Well, he had been grumbling about boredom, hadn’t he. He could hardly complain when the Universe chose to dump a mystery into his lap. “What happened to you?”

Stretch glared at him, the tint of orange to his gaze both a warning and an intrigue. “bruno happened to me. you’re gonna have to send someone else next time you need a special order. look at me!”

Yes, yes, Edge was definitely looking and what he saw was only a confirmation of what he already knew: Bruno was an excellent tailor.

How and why could wait, for now Edge only wanted to appreciate the view. Stretch’s new khaki trousers were fitted, the snug line falling neatly from hip to ankle and far more appealing than the track pants he normally wore. His button-up shirt hugged his ribcage, emphasizing his slimness, and exchanged his usual bright orange with a deeper shade pinstriped with brown. Even though it was untucked, instead of messy it only seemed casual, particularly with the hint of white t-shirt peeking through the opened collar, teasing at a normal concealed collarbone. His jacket was unbuttoned, acting as a frame for the scenery. Even his shoes were different, loafers instead of untied sneakers. All in all, it gave Stretch’s lanky frame an air of compact litheness that was overwhelmingly appealing.

Edge honestly didn’t care how Stretch dressed, his love for him wasn’t conditional on his fashion sense. That certainly didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a feast when one was laid out for him.

Saliva welled in his mouth and Edge swallowed hard, ignoring the huskiness in his voice as he asked, “I take it Bruno convinced you to try on something new?”

“convinced me?” Stretch scoffed. “more like strong-armed, bribed, and blackmailed! it was either this or take the bus naked. i didn’t even have a sheet this time.”

Curiouser and curiouser. “Why would you be naked?”

“that would be because bruno stole my clothes.”

A beat passed. “I’m sorry, he what?”

“he stole them!” Stretch snarled. Sparks of fiery orange magic spangled from his fingertips and Edge struggled to keep his expression placid despite how utterly delectable Stretch looked in his temper. One broken leg was enough. “look, i don’t want to relive the experience, i’m gonna go change.”

Edge was quite sure he didn’t say anything. He was positive his expression didn’t so much as flicker, no indication whatsoever of how much he desperately wanted to protest.

But Stretch stopped halfway to the stairs, his sockets narrowing. “you want me to leave this on.”

“I’m sorry?” Edge tried for confusion, already knowing he was failing and miserably at that.

“you like it!” Stretch said accusingly.

There was a distinct possibility that his answer was going to dictate the course of the evening. Edge chose his words with the care of a one trying to decide which wire to cut on a particularly volatile bomb. “I always like you, no matter what you’re wearing...but you did already endure his tactics. It might be worth wearing a little longer, if only to see if it’s truly comfortable.”

That pointed gaze sharpened, eye lights once merely tinged orange brightening like a flame. Edge was reminded of a nature documentary, a warning that looking away from a lion might invite an attack.

Suddenly, one side of Stretch’s mouth quirked up in a languid smile, his tongue gliding briefly across his teeth. “you like it.”

That easy drawl sent a tantalizing shiver up Edge’s spine. “I do,” he confessed.

His risk proved worth it as Stretch almost prowled over to him, that rare gracefulness usually only seen when he was dancing and enhanced by those clothes as he said, husky low, “baby love, if you want me to play dress up, you only ever have to ask.”

He settled into Edge’s lap, winding long arms around him. Edge hissed through his teeth at the teasing wriggle, catching his hips to still him. Uselessly, Stretch’s smirk widened, his sockets hooded as he leaned in to brush their mouths together, pulling back before Edge could deepen it.

“oohh, what’s that i feel?” Stretch crooned. That squirm bordered on cruel, his tailbone grinding into Edge’s shorts. “i’m thinking you actually want to play undress, dontcha?”

Words escaped him. Edge was never as clever at verbal sparring as his husband was, anyway. All he could manage was a low growl, reverberating in his chest as he cupped Stretch’s chin in a rough hand, holding him still as he leaned in to take that perfectly mocking mouth.

A knock at the door stopped him a bare inch away, close enough for their breath to meet.

Stretch groaned, his head drooped. “seriously?”

“Ignore it,” Edge suggested breathlessly. He caught hold of Stretch’s hips in both hands, raising his own slightly as he lightly ground Stretch’s pelvis down against him. A low gasp came as his first answer but his second was disappointment as Stretch squirmed away, sliding to his feet.

“wow, really? who are you and what did you do with my husband,” Stretch said dryly. “sorry, babe, we ain’t hanging from the chandeliers yet.”

Edge could only watch the sway of Stretch’s hips sadly as they walked away from him, shifting his own in a vain attempt to stifle the heat settling there. His desire cooled considerably as Stretch’s voice floated from the opened door.

“hey, sans.” Stretch held an equal measure of surprise and wariness. Not entirely untoward, Sans wasn’t one to simply stop by for a visit. Whenever Sans showed up, he tended to bring along a gift of ulterior motives.

“heya, stretch,” Sans said, easily. “edge home?”

As if he didn’t already know.

Stretch snorted. “not by choice, come on in.” He held open the door and Sans strolled in, pausing to kick off his shoes at the door before Edge could loudly remind him. Stretch’s sockets widened, his gaze catching somewhere around the height of Sans’s chest. “hey, nice bling! getting some new decorations for the old place, huh?”

To Edge’s surprise, Sans’s eye lights slid towards him, almost warily. “thanks.”

Then he turned Edge’s direction and he was forced to catch his breath.

Sans was wearing a betrothal collar.

Collars served many purposes in Underfell, blatantly identifiable and allowing for little leeway when their warnings were ignored.

They were used to quantify familial relationships, status; a collar acted as a declaration. When Edge was Captain of the Snowdin guard, Red wore his collar, a statement of warning that any aggression directed at Red would be met and returned tenfold by not only Edge, but every guard in his command. Not that it had been entirely necessary, issues of HP aside, Red was more than capable of handling himself, but the statement was important.

A betrothal collar, in Red’s colors no less. Now this was an interesting development.

He did not mistake the wariness in Sans’s expression, the caution as he shuffled closer. Edge was years away from Underfell, but he doubted he would ever forget proper etiquette, not after having Red ramming it into his skull for most of his lifetime. In this case, the correct response was to ignore it. “What can I do for you?”

He didn’t think he imagined the slight tension easing in Sans’s shoulders. It was very nearly insulting; what was it he was expecting Edge to do? Challenge him to a duel? Demand to know Sans’s intentions towards his older brother’s virtue? Because that was a barn door long since opened and whatever horses left inside to run away were likely escaping into a different idiom.

Certainly Sans had issues of his own, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t appropriate for Red. Frankly, it was probably the only way a person would be appropriate for him. What Sans could give his brother was what Edge always wanted for him: a companion to keep him from being alone.

From seemingly nowhere, Sans pulled out a thick folder, offering it to Edge. “red asked me to give you this.”

“how is red doing, anyway?” Stretch shut the door, hands that were feeling for his hoodie pocket grudgingly sliding down to his trouser pockets instead.

“eh, you know red,” Sans said and there was a certain weariness in his grin that Edge understood all too well. “hangover won’t keep him down. between him and paps, i’m kinda hoping they both keep away from any whiskey behavior.”

To his credit, Stretch only nodded, offering no indication of the scene in their kitchen last night. “yeah, maybe they’ll let you call the shots for a while.”

“that’d sure lift my spirits.”

Edge only took the folder wordlessly, ignoring their version of coded speak. He was already aware Red was well. Alongside a reassuring message from Sans, he’d gotten a text from his brother in the wee hours of nothing more than a picture of a traffic light, shining green. Red indulging his sense of humor was nearly as reassuring as any message, as was this folder. Edge knew without looking what it was, flipping it open to the first page to see his brother’s incident report, written by hand in an obscure language from the Underground, the same one he forced Edge to learn as a child. “Did you read this?”

Sans scratched at the back of one leg with a sock-covered foot. “you asking if i did or if i can? cause the answer is yes.”

At his other side, Stretch leaned over his shoulder, peering down. “is that written in wingdings? holy shit, i haven’t seen that in years!”

Edge didn’t have a single qualm in flipping it closed to shield it from Stretch’s gaze. “i’m sorry, love, it’s a security briefing.”

That scowl said the state of his evening was teetering into dangerous territory again and Edge wondered sourly if he had Red to thank for it. He wouldn’t put it past him to send Sans over at right this moment simply to amuse himself.

“is it about the california?” Stretch asked, coolly. “cause, red said he’d let me know what happened.”

“he didn’t forget, either, honey bun. he did promise.” Sans plucked another report out of the air, holding it out in offering. “i won’t lie, it’s a little redacted, but he said you deserved to know what happened.”

“thanks,” Stretch said, the tightness around his mouth easing. Protest rose to Edge’s mouth as Stretch took the slimmer folder that Sans offered, left unspoken. If Red thought Stretch needed to know, then he would and nothing Edge said would change a damned thing. Especially if there were promises involved. “and don’t you start calling me that, it’s bad enough when the gremlin does.”

Sans shrugged. “can’t promise, but i’ll try. red kinda rubs off on ya, ya know?”

“yeah, no, i don’t wanna hear about you rubbing off. that why you’ve got the new accessory?”

Sans only tapped the folder with one finger. “don’t think i need to tell you that’s top secret. don’t get red into any shit blabbing, okay? not even your therapist, pretty.”

“yeah, yeah, i got it, no twitter announcements...wait, did you just call me pretty?” Stretch’s head jerked up indignantly, mouth dropping open in his outrage.

Very carefully, Edge didn’t react; he knew a distraction when he heard one.

Sans’s grin widened. “dressed like that, yeah. better’n honey bun. see you later, alligator.”

He didn’t wait for the return sentiment of the crocodile, wandering over to slide his feet into his shoes before shortcutting out.

Stretch only set aside his folder, muttering beneath his breath about gremlins and their cohorts. It turned back into a smile quickly enough as he turned to Edge, his voice a throaty purr as he said, “speaking of pretty things, think we were in the middle of something, pretty.”

And oh, it was tempting. But there was something Edge needed to do first and that report was a pointed reminder. He held up a hand as Stretch leaned in, halting him, “Wait. I’ve been thinking today. We need to talk.”

Stretch reared back, all that seduction collapsing into a lopsided smile, “welp, no good thing ever started with that. what are you cooking up and can’t it sit on a back burner for a while?”

Much as he mourned to see that desire dwindle away, Edge shook his head. “It’s important.”

Stretch’s smile wavered, fading. To Edge’s shocked horror, tears rose in the corner of his sockets and Stretch promptly came up with the very last thing Edge expected him to ever blurt out, desperately, “please don’t leave me!”

Edge only looked at him in flabbergasted surprise, watching as those tears spilled over, falling droplets dampening that new shirt. “What? Of course I’m not, why would you even think…we’re married! I promised you forever, I still have some time to give it!"

“well, don't start off with ‘we need to talk!’” Stretch snapped. “everyone knows what that means!” The flow of those tears didn’t ease and Edge took hold of him by the shoulders, giving him a gentle shake.

“I am not everyone. And nothing means more to me than you, do you understand me? Not my job, not any security reports, not even my damned kitchen. You. All right?” He couldn’t say his brother, but that was all right. Stretch would never ask for it. He pulled Stretch into a hard embrace, holding him tightly as if his arms could force away the tremor running through his husband. His husband. His.

Stretch nodded, his chin digging into Edge’s shoulder as he sniffled. “sorry, babe. i just...sorry. i know all that, i just panicked. so what…?”

“What I wanted to tell you was I scheduled a meeting with Asgore to be taken off the security roster permanently.” Stretch shifted in his arms and Edge let him go, allowing him to draw back to meet Edge’s gaze. Gently, he cupped Stretch’s face in his gloved hands, smoothing his thumbs over those angular cheekbones, wiping away dampness. “Truth be told, I should have done it a long time ago. You were right, I can’t handle being on two teams and the Embassy needs to train more Monsters to take care of security.”

“so...no more trips without me?” Stretch asked slowly.

Edge hesitated. “Love, I want to be able to promise you that, I do. But--”

“no, don’t.” Slim fingers settled over his mouth, silencing him. “it’s okay, babe. i get it.”

“Do you?” Edge couldn’t help asking. Listening to Stretch begging him not to leave had left him shaken. He couldn’t doubt Edge’s love for him, he couldn’t--

A warm mouth replaced those fingers, gently coaxing and Edge couldn’t help sighing into that soft touch. Stretch’s hand dropped to his, drawing it up, settling it over his sternum where his soul pulsed softly, its warmth seeping through.

“yeah, i do,” Stretch murmured, “wanna let me prove it?”

Some hours later, Edge was more than convinced of not only his husband’s belief in his love, but also that his new wardrobe was even better when tossed carelessly to the floor.

They were still on the sofa, Stretch sprawled out sleeping across his chest while Edge drowsily stroked the delicate place where his ribs attached to his spine when his phone caught his eye, sitting innocently on the coffee table. Reaching out, he could barely touch it with his fingertips, dragging it closer until he could pick it up.

The contact he wanted to message was the second on his list.

congratulations on your liability

For long moments there was no reply and Edge started to set his phone aside, debating on whether he wanted to sleep or persuade Stretch to wake up again when his phone lit up with an incoming message.

just jealous cause mine is in a collar

It was followed by a complicated array of punctuation that formed a picture of a middle finger.

Edge held back his smile, having no doubt that Red would be able to see it if he didn’t, and offered a middle finger of his own to whatever hidden cameras were surely in their living room. If his brother was perverse enough to be watching, that was, and there was a thought to haunt his nightmares.

His brother’s little dig wasn’t true and even if it was, Stretch’s comfort zone was the important thing. He could respect Red clinging to Underfell’s ways when it came to Sans. He didn’t need the same.

He didn’t.

Gently, he slipped a knuckle beneath Stretch’s chin, lifting it enough to steal a sleepy kiss that slowly warmed, deepening. Without looking, he tossed his phone onto the coffee table to join the unused television remotes. Tonight, he was hoping for a different kind of entertainment.

-finis-

@constantly-tired-reader made art of Stretch in his new duds! Look at him in all his sulky glory!!

#spicyhoney #kustard #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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xgreenminded · 4 years ago

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Hello everyone! I like you to meet Neisha Kate Alcalde Peig. She is from the Province of Abra, she is 20 years old and currently my classmate at the University. I have known her since the week I transferred in the University. Sometimes we hang out after our class, we go to restaurants that she knows and she put me into places that I haven’t yet see and introduce it to me. She loves reading books (specifically novel, fantasy, fiction). During this pandemic she did a lot of stuffs like visiting places she never been visit before (within their province). She considers hiking as her hobby because sometimes staying at their home would make as a prisoner. Since 4th grade, she joined softball team in their school and then she was in 6th grade she was chosen to be one of the players that will represent their school to compete in the Provincial Athletic meet that even made her push through the Regional athletic meet, until she got into a tragic experience which led her to quit playing. Unexpectedly, while they were practicing for the regional meet, she got into an accident, where he forearms was tremendously fractured and her wrist was dislocated. She was hospitalized and underwent surgery for the metal plate replacement. That was during her senior year in the University of the Cordilleras. She enjoyed eating foods and watching movies, but she doesn’t like talking about other people’s lives and her one major failure in life is that she wasn’t able to pursue her dream to be a national softball player. She knows she was that close to achieve her dream but she realizes that single mistake made her dream shattered. She said that her Highschool life become memorable because she went to different schools which made her who she was today. And she is handling this phrase “Nothing is impossible if you have goals in life” to keep her on-road to achieve her goals. Her only thing she can say/advice to you is ‘you may make wrong choices; you may go through miserable situations keep in that everything that is here on earth is not permanent. Failure, pain and agony all of this will change into positive vibes. Her motivation in life is “what I have been through is enough to motivate me to do more, to push my limits in order to achieve and accomplish the goals I want and to give my son a better future.”

She is the kind of person who is beautiful (Morena), hyper, amazing person and enjoyable to be with. Having experience being with her is something that you would never regret of having knowing her. Sometimes she has this attitude that she doesn’t want to have any companion, maybe she just needs to have what we call “me time”. She is a very talented person, aside from being an athlete she can also dance and can make you smile in your sad moments. She is like all other normal human being, who sometimes got into miserable situations, even though she is a jolly and nice person. But with her strong characteristic, she wouldn’t give up easily and she always know what to do with it.

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Kyle B. Anno, was born in 2001, now 19 years old and lived in Aurora province. He is one of my classmates in online journalism at the University, who I just recently know him by means of conducting investigations and I got chance to know his background. I came to know that he is fun of hiking, trekking, doing adventures like finding and discover new places. He likes doing things that he hasn’t yet done; he likes to do more life experiencing as something he would never forget about. Kyle, is a kind of person who love different sports, he got me surprised by the different kinds sports which he participated since when he is still a kid. He was able to learn how to swim at the age of 8, in his Highschool year, he was able try a new sport which is chess and had the chance to participate many tournaments fortunately.

Having a time to bond with our friends and family is something that we would value. He and his friends, when they have the chance to get together, they always play table tennis as their kind of bond and to showcase their new adopted techniques, they always challenge each one another to know who is really the best among them. His main sport is baseball, he started this sport since he was 6th grader up to until 11th grade. Just like the other sports he was able to play and which he gone through many tournaments; he also participated many tournaments in baseball. After then, he just recently switches his sport in lawn tennis that which it just caught his attention, it is like he got into love at first sight. Like other individuals, we all have regrets and dislikes in life. Kyle doesn’t want people who don’t know where to place their pride, it does make him somewhat uneasy when he encountered people with this kind of attitude. His regret in life is that, he didn’t study well when he was in Highschool and Senior high. What he had done in his Highschool year might hinder him to go to college and it might affect his dreams in life. But luckily, he was able to overcome it and tried to improve his self and prove to his parents that he is not that kind of person right now. In his Highschool life, he was able to interact with different students in their school and was able to build good relationship with them which turned to become his friends, sometimes they don’t follow the rules, they just do things what they want, either good or bad as long as they are happy about it.

His philosophy in life is that “be aesthetic eve by per se also” and his advises for each and every one of us is that “do what satisfy you, but don’t play beyond boundaries”. He is trying to say that, we do anything that can make us happy individually, but we should know our limit. He motivates his self by this “by thinking what I may reward for myself and my family also is enough for motivation”. He has many races; Ilocano, igorot, Chinese and ilongot, which means he can speak different languages and dialect. Kyle is like all other individuals, who has his own story to tell. Who also failed at something, but tried to stand up again and continue his journey in achieving his dreams. Who also experienced ups and downs in life.

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