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atonalginger · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday

I have many plates spinning but also if I show too much more of what's on each plate I'll have nothing new 🤣😅 but I do have something today. It's with Varala and Lann and takes place during Act 2 of the game, just after Leper's Smile. So spoilers for main mission dialog (mainly what Lann says) in the storybook section.

snippet below the cut because of spoilers and to save space on everyone's dash.

I'm generally tagging the Coemancer crew and anyone else who sees this and might have a WIP they'd like to share.

Lann’s words in the huddle outside of Leper’s smile echoed through Varala’s head as she pushed through the camp for the command tent, “I’ve eaten so many bugs in my life, it’s only fair to give them a chance at revenge. I’m a dead man walking already, a life such as mine is worthless.” His words had been soaked in fear and yet an eagerness chimed near the end, Varala more than capable of filling in the unspoken sentiment: “Sacrifice me.”

His words had gutted her and it took everything she had in that huddle to not let it show. She was the Knight Commander, after all, the one so many lives depended on in that moment. It was bad enough that Irabeth and Regill had already placed their heads on the chopping blocks with no more reasoning than ‘we’re soldiers it’s our duty to die’ but for Lann to stand there and declare himself worthless, it was a knife to the heart.

She had emotionally withdrawn from everyone after that huddle, putting her energy into the coming race into the cavern to find the source of the vescavor swarm. Several noted it immediately with Amanita quietly checking in with Varala, searching for any way she could ease the burden. Ulbrig had assured her loudly that her decision was the right one because it was the decision she made and not to doubt herself.

It was Woljif, to Varala’s surprise, that had picked up the true reason for her silence. The usually loud-mouthed trickster stalked up to Lann and hissed something into his hear that caused her handsome one-horned half-lizard man to blanch. Then the young tiefling strolled away, draping his arm over Varala’s shoulder as he came to walk with her toward the edge of the road toward the cavern, “I got your back, chief.”

“What did you say to him,” she had whispered, glancing over at the proud thief.

“Pointed out he was being an idiot,” Woljif shrugged, “and maybe suggested he’s blind.”

“Woljif!”

“Facts are facts, chief,” Woljif then withdrew his arm and hustled forward to join Siya for the trek into the canyon.

Since they returned to the main camp everyone had given her space, likely on Ulbrig’s counsel. Varala had heard him tell Irabeth and Anevia about their harrowing finds in the cave within the canyon and how their Chief, like the warriors, needed rest now more than ever. No couriers catching her with scroll cases and letters, none of the companions calling after her, just a clear line to her private space.

Varala pushed the tent flap out of the way and stepped inside to find Lann leaned over the war table, staring at the map pinned to the thick wood top with paper weights, boxes of map pawns, and empty candle holders. A rush of emotions hit her at the sight, the flesh side of his face down turned in a deep frown. She wanted to comfort his sadness and slap him all at once. To hold him, remind him of how special he was to her and rant and shout what he’d said. In the end she opted to try something unfamiliar to her and didn’t say a word, leaving everything unspoken as she walked calmly to her private quarters to dump all her gear and peel her grime soaked clothes off while thinking about a much needed bath.

“Varala,” Lann called after her, “we need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to a liar,” she snapped back before she could catch herself. So much for leaving it lay.

“Liar?” He sounded shocked, “when? When did I lie to you?”

A twist of the knife, have you already forgotten? Were you not being serious? “What lie he asks,” she hooked her quiver onto the rack and dropped her bag on the floor in front of her trunk, “It was only a week ago you stood in here with big promises and you don’t even remember.”

“I never lied,” his voice grew closer, the beads that hung in the makeshift doorway tinkling as he passed through them, “what happened today was bigger than—

“How are you supposed to keep that promise if you’re dead?” Varala bit as she snapped her attention to him, “how am I supposed to believe you mean it when you talk about yourself like that?” her hand shot out toward the wall of the tent. In the direction of Leper’s Smile, “all of you offering yourselves to the demons like little sacrificial lambs ready for slaughter.”

He stared back, one gold lizard eye, one warm brown half-elf eye, both full of fear. No walls or defenses this time, his fear was front and center, staring back at her radiant anger. His mouth opened to speak but he blinked and closed it again, turning so his scaled side faced her as his eyes squeezed shut.

“You said you wanted to protect me. You stood there and said the thought of me getting hurt made your insides feel like ice. You promised me right here in this very spot that you’d do everything in your power to keep me safe. Were those just words to find yourself in my bed again?”

“No,” he said firmly, “I meant every word.”

“Lann, look at me,” she stepped closer and grabbed his cloth sleeve, “look me in the eye and tell me the truth.”

His lizard eye opened, the glassy sheen of tears now present. He slowly turned to face her, revealing the tear stain down his flesh cheek. His voice quavered, “I meant every word.”

She could feel her own tears bearing down on the dam, “Did it ever cross your mind what it would make me feel to hear you nominate yourself? To hear you call yourself a dead man walking? Worthless?”

He blinked, another tear falling from his eyes, “It’s true. The others are more important to the march. They will be more needed.”

“Says who?” Varala’s voice cracked, “You told me back in Kenabres you wanted to do something that made your shorter life mean something. Did you…” she stopped, trying to stay calm enough to stay coherent as the tears flowed freely from her eyes, “do you really think dying back there would have done that? Is that all you want, a martyr’s death?”

“I…”he looked to the floor, his eyes fixed to the pattern of the rug, “I wanted to prove my worth. Whether through successfully leading the distraction or death.”

“To who? Prove yourself to who?” She leaned closer.

Lann closed his eyes again and took a long slow breath. With his scaled hand he motioned to her and then past her toward the camp.

#wip wednesday #atonalginger writes #atonalainger art #lann the mongrel #pathfinder wotr #knight commander Varala #wotr spoilers #mainly act 2 spoilers #heavily work in progress

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yume-tsuki · 1 year

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Constantin's pain comes to an end long post with lots of story :) After months the search for the kiddnapped children finally come to an end. When Lancelot flew across the giant cave he noticed small holles, only big enough for kids or fairies to climb in. When he followed them he arrived in smaller caves. He already had seen that some of the kids were used to carry wagons with rocks inside and it seemed that they also worked inside the smaller caves. Relieved he told them that they will safe them. >>But the bad man told us if something happened he can drown us ! He will flood this cave.<< Loh told him. Lancelot nodded, they had to change the plan. But when he looked around he saw smaller tubes for fresh air. He told them to stay inside and escape through this tubes if water comes in. >>I'll come with some holy knights and safe you. When outside is racket stay here, put rocks inside the entrence.<< >>I'll tell the others! I can say it to them with my mole friend!<< Loh yelled suddenly. After that she explained that she could talk to animals; Lance was in a hurry to get back to the others but she stopped him a last time. >>Constantine is wounded, he is in a cell all alone.<< Lance nodded. >>I'll tell his father!<<

After that Lancelot went back to his friends. Together they entered the cave ones more to encounter this man. Together they managed to defeat him, and his men. But he had already activated the dam to lead water into the cave. >>We will bring the kids outside! Search for your son. Loh meened he is at a cell down there!<< Lancelot yelled to the already worried sick prince. Young Constantine layed on the side when water entered through a small hole on the door. >>HELP<< he screamed all alone til he saw a hand stretching through the hole >>I'm here son, I'll safe you! Stay calm breath in and swimm to the other side of the room!<< his fathers voice was heared while he comforts his son as good as possible. When Tristan crushed the door water filled the room in seconds, he grabbed his boy and with one of Percy's golems he escaped this wet hell. After they escaped and he healed his smaller wounds he looked under the bandage on his head. Shocked afte seeing what had happened to the boy. >>How could he...<< >>Tristan, Loh wants to have a talk with you.<< >>What is it!?<< he yelled desperedat, hoping to heal his son's lost eye. >>That bad man took Constantines eye, but I helped it heal....<< Tristan wasn't sure what to say he was angry, but he couldn't scream at Perci's child. It wasn't her fault.

>>Constantine was very cool back then. He told this evil man to free us, even when he hit him or woulndn't gave him food for days. He did that just for us, because we were so scared after he had killed Gal.<< >>He killed Lancelot's son?<< Tristan was shoked, till he remembered when the boy came out of the cave with his father Lance before they explained the plan. >>Yes, they did.<< Constantine woke up >>He managed to steal a sword and encountered the slaver. He was so brave and cool, like you and grandpa are... But...but this man killed him...in seconds. Everyone were so scared and thought they would die in that cave as well....I wanted to be as cool as Galahad was.... B-but I could't<< >>You know what? I thought you were cool, and everyone else thought that, too.<< Loh comforted his friend. >>You were our only hope back then.<< >>Loh, come here. Let them have some space will you?<< Percy interrupted, noticing that Tristan would need a bit more time. >>Ok! See you!<< she waved following his father going back to the other children and holy knights. Constantine looked up to his father who's gaze followed Percy till he dissapeared behind some trees. >> Father? Am I ugly in your eyes?<< Tristan was shoked about his sons words. >>No! ...How could I? ...What make you think that? << >>You looked so scared at me first, and angry and shoked....like all the others did. Loh was the only one who hadn't looked at me like that... he comforted me all the time. He searched for herbs and bandaged my eye, he even told me good night stories...<< >>I'm sorry son, it was never my intention.... I love you no matter how you look like. I was just so shoked and angry what this man did to you.<< And I'm happy that the will never do that again! He thought for a moment before he comforted his son a bit more. >>We'll now go back to your mommy. She can't wait to to have you back too, my heart<< he whispered tenderly.

________ sry was to bored to write a big fighting scene;(still to exhausted from my small cold I guess; also my english writing skilll is much worse than usual ~~) may I draw some scene with Galahad and Lance getting out of the cave~~ and may I do some scene's with the fight Percy is so difficult to draw as an adult @ .@ everytime he looks different but i just want him a bit bigger and cool looking... In near future i have to put all the parts on a single post XDDD

#four knights of the apocalypse #mokushiroku no yonkishi #seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai #4koa tristan #4koa isolde #lancelot 4koa #4koa percival #oc

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sarandipitywrites · 11 months

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week 3 of spooky stories, enjoy! cw for implied past domestic abuse

I have always been here. If there is a world beyond these thin walls, this quiet cul-de-sac, I care not to know it.

You come from the outside, like the others. You come with your big white van and your little lime-green car. You tear open my blinds, fill my dark rooms with dazzling, disorienting light. Men in crisp uniforms carry in the furniture while you unload brown cardboard boxes. They don't relax. They keep their eyes open, jump at every creak and draft.

They are clever — cleverer, it seems, than you.

Most people bring their own furniture into my house, but not you. You bring new things into an old space, tarnish my wooden floors with the plastic cover from your mattress. You fill my emptiness with screwed-together particle board.

You think you are making a new life here.

You are but a footnote in this house's history.

I am patient. I watch, and I wait.

When the crisp-shirted men are leaving, I slam the door between them. The one still inside panics, until you show him that I have not locked the door.

You find it funny. An old house doing old house things, you tell the man.

He laughs and agrees, but the fear does not leave his eyes.

I give you one night's rest. It is a courtesy I extend to every intruder. It is the only courtesy I offer.

Because this is my house, and you are not welcome here.

You've been able to explain it. That has been my problem. Slamming doors, chilling drafts. The problems of an old house. Even when your wardrobe fell, you remarked that the floorboards must be crooked. Another task on your interminable list.

Not today.

A death is a messy thing. Inconvenient. I didn't always know this. It hadn't occurred to me by the time the man in the three-piece suit moved in. Nor when I hurled his own saber through his chest. I gave it not a thought until his family came. Until they started piling the kindling at my feet.

A haunted house, people will abide. But a demon house?

I can't kill you. I need a more delicate touch than that.

It takes hours — hours of watching, waiting — before you move from your seat at the table. I have been holding it up through sheer will. I am nothing if not patient.

The moment you are out of its shadow, I let go.

It is heavier than I anticipated.

The chandelier caves in the center of your cheap dining table, smashes your coffee mug. Its beads of crystal droplets scatter like rain, splinter into shards of light.

The single lightbulb that survived the crash flickers, dims, and dies.

You cry out. I think I have you, now. But then you creep towards the wreckage, examine the hole I've torn in the ceiling. Finally, you speak.

"You're right," you say to the empty room. "That thing was pretty outdated."

This is impossible. You are impossible. I don't even knock the dustpan from your hands when you begin to sweep up the debris.

What would be the point?

"I didn't just buy this house because it was cheap." You don't look up as you speak. You just keep sweeping up the mess I've made. "I know how you scare everyone away. An exorcist called me, the first night I was here. Do you remember? They said they'd give me a special rate and everything."

That would have been a waste, although I can't deny that exorcists are particularly fun to torment.

"But that's not what I want. This was your house first, right?"

It was. It is.

The beams ease from my shoulders. The floor softens beneath my feet.

This house is mine. Others have bought it, lived in it. But it has always been mine.

No one else has ever understood that.

"I'd like to stay here, as long as you'll have me. I don't mind a roommate who's a little scary."

The broom's bristles swish across the floor.

Perhaps I will not mind you, either.

I am harder to live with than you are.

You are quiet — so quiet, sometimes, that I think you must have left while I was neither here nor there. But then I find you, curled up in your armchair, reading.

You tell me things — how you can't fall asleep without a light on, how you used to love long walks in the rain. I can't share such secrets with you. All I can do is rattle my shutters and draw long, wailing gusts through the chimney. I can't tell you how I can't stand the smell of onions; I can only steal them from your cutting board and throw them at the walls.

You've stopped buying onions. I can't tell you that I appreciate it.

Until the day you come back with the cards.

You lay them on the table. They're for people who can't or don't speak, you tell me. They're hard to move — they're larger than playing cards, but still small and thin — but it's easier if you spread them out on the table first. It's easier if I just have to push the ones I want out of place.

I push the card for 'thank you,' and you smile.

We have projects, now.

The house is in disrepair. You spend many nights on your computer, looking up videos on how to fix it — the broken baseboards, the light that dims when you turn on the dishwasher, the shower knob with a centimeter's space between freezing and scalding. I think I cannot be helpful — I only slam doors, I do not re-hang them — but you find a way. You bring paint chips back home, and I help pick the color for the living room. I'm too clumsy to help you paint, but I can hold the paint can at the perfect height for you.

The house brightens and breathes new life.

Until you come back with the spackle for the new bathroom tiles. You greet me with a smile, but your skin is pale. Your hands shake.

I have seen that look many times, on many faces. For the first time, I want it to stop.

I spread my cards on the table and you, dutifully, follow.

"You upset?" Two cards.

"No! No, I'm..." You look down at my cards and bite your lip. "Okay, yeah, I am. It's not a big deal. Just... ran into someone I'd rather not." Then you tell me you're fine, even though your smile is dull and cracked, and tell me you want to finish the tiling today.

So we do.

When you're quiet at dinner, staring into your uneaten pasta, I steal the oranges from the fruit bowl and juggle them over your head.

You laugh, and call me a menace.

I notice the gun you bring home the next day, buried in your shopping bag under the wine and the birthday cake Oreos. I don't say anything, and neither do you.

We read before bed. I never told you that I can't read the tiny print, not like the large, colorful word cards, but you seem to know anyway. You always read out loud. You'll read anything (as long as the dog doesn't die at the end), but you like romantic comedies best. I like them best, too. I like the sound of your laughter, your strangled giggles and snorts as you try to push through, try to keep reading so that I'm not left in the dark.

Tonight, your voice starts strong but fades. You try to keep going, in jolts and murmurs, until your words give way to deep, steady breathing. The book falls to your chest, your head to the side.

It was a long day. Reading in bed was probably not your best idea.

I move your book to the bedside table — I have gotten better at moving such delicate things — and take the reading glasses from your face. You rolled over and crushed them, once, and we couldn't read for days, so I am careful as I set them atop our book. I shut the light and I wait. I used to go the Other Place at night, when the house fell quiet. I prefer to stay here, now. I prefer to breathe with you.

Outside, a car rumbles down the road. This is not strange; cars get lost, and use our street to find themselves.

But this car parks.

Its door slams.

And I wonder.

Through the pane, I see him leaning against the car. He pushes away, staggers towards the house.

By the third pound on the door, you are awake. You slip out of the bed and tiptoe to the window, peer through the curtain.

Your heart stutters, stops, starts again.

He starts to yell. He calls a name — your name — through the door. He knows you're here. He's found out where you've gone.

He's sorry. Things will never be that way again.

Come home, he says.

Come home.

Tears well in your eyes, crystalline terror. You don't want to go with him, you whisper to the air, to me. You don't want anything to do with him, ever again.

My frame and boards rattle and shudder. He's kicking the door now. He is no longer pleading. He'll have you, even if he has to drag you home. He'll have you, even if he has to burn this whole fucking house down.

The door is old and splintered. The paint has chipped away under his loafer.

We haven't replaced it yet. It will not hold.

I pull the gun from beneath the bed — I wish I could have pretended with you forever — and I press it into your hand. You choke on a sob, but you nod.

The sole of his shoe bursts through the door, beneath the handle. Soft leather, scuffed and torn and ruined. His hand follows, sleeve snagging on splintered wood as he fumbles for the handle.

I open the drawers and I gather it all — forks and knives, skewers and pokers, the fire extinguisher and the bent chandelier you never took to the junk yard, but not the books. You love the books.

I gather them all. They swirl in the living room, a cyclone of sharpness and rage.

The handle turns.

The door creaks open.

This is what I was meant for.

This is our house, and he is not welcome here.

#writeblr #my writing #short story #halloween #ghost #haunted house #creative writing #fiction #home is where the haunt is

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filet-o-feelings · 2 years

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Fic Origin Story

tagged by @stereopticons @smallumbrella369 and @jesuisici33

What was your first fandom (reading and/or writing)?

I'm fairly certain the first fics I read were Hanson (I remember a fic specifically with a lot of Phil Collins references???), and the first fandom I wrote for and made friends in was Good Charlotte. I have thankfully since moved on from RPF. The first non-RPF fandom I read fic for was Sherlock, briefly, but I didn't write anything.

What was the first story you ever wrote (even if it was never posted) and what made you decide to write it?

Uhh I don't remember and I don't want to dig through my livejournal accounts (I started new LJs constantly lol) trying to find it, but it was probably a GC Billy/Benji. I'm guessing my reason for writing it was that I wanted to make the pretty band boys kiss. The first fic I specifically remember was for The Used/Mest crossover about Quinn mysteriously showing up in town with no memory after waking up in a cave(???) and it was my first serious attempt at a chapter fic and I never finished it and that still haunts me.

What’s a piece of advice you would give to your younger fic-writing self?

Just keep writing!

What’s an early fandom interaction that stuck with you (be it a nice comment, a friend you made, a fic that got a lot of feedback etc.)?

Wayyyy back in the LJ days, I made so many friends, including a few I've met in real life and am still friends with. The comments were (and continue to be!) always so fun and encouraging.

More recently, because I feel like Schitt's Creek is the first fandom I've really immersed myself in, I think just how immediately I was accepted into the fandom despite being very late to the party. Specifically, I remember @stereopticons always including me in ask games from the start and offering to beta when I was new and had no idea what I was doing and crying out for help in tumblr. Also @treluna4 yelling with me about my fic when I was feverishly writing Further North and desperately needed to yell about it. But honestly, every kudos and comment made (and makes!) me so happy and made me want to keep writing. I will never stop screaming about how amazing and welcoming this fandom is on the whole.

Post a sentence or two from one of your older fics, and a sentence or two from a newer one (if you want).

Okay I found one of my old LJ accounts and actually came across the aforementioned amnesia fic, so here's a bit from that:

“Yeah I’m sure, and you’re not an inconvenience. Like I said before, don’t worry. We’ll talk in the morning.” Matt said sternly, making sure the blonde knew that he wasn’t in the way. He didn’t want to create any more worries for him, he surely had enough on his mind. Ironic that forgetting just about everything on one’s mind will only create seemingly more on the mind. Erased memories become worry and fear and millions of thoughts racing to fill up the empty space. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” Matt added before leaving his room and closing the door behind him.

As for something newer, from Everything's Too Cold... But You're So Hot:

They round a corner and the man, after quickly checking over his shoulder, pulls him down an alley before pressing him against a wall and covering Patrick’s mouth with a hand adorned with several wide, silver rings. Patrick thinks briefly that the combination of warm skin and cool metal has no right to feel this nice against his mouth, but then the man’s face is tucked into his neck and his mouth is inches away from his ear and Patrick can’t help but shiver when the hot breath reaches his skin and he registers the words moments after they’ve been spoken: “My name is David and I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Please, trust me.”

Too tired to tag. If you haven't been tagged and want to do this, please do!

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cavefilllingcorporation · 2 months

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A disgusting job not done

“So, why did you call me down here?” Jake Adams asked.

He had been called down here specifically that day, as he was told that his shift would be different that day. He knew this a week in advance, but he didn’t know why. Across from him, who had just gotten off the elevator, was his boss, the head chef of the main cafeteria for the Family Harbor Space Cave.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Adams, it is not going to be very good for you today. Please understand, you are one of my best workers, but…”

The man sighed, as he decided not to finish his sentence and instead walked over down the hall, motioning Jake to follow him.

“You see, usually this job is meant for those who… screwed up, in a sense. Breaking the plates, getting customers’ orders wrong, you get the point. However, every worker is required to undergo this at least once every quarter, so I figured doing this early would be better. Ah, here we are.”

Eventually, the pair made their way to what appeared to be a storage room for hazmat suits.

“Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Yes, follow me.”

As the group entered the room, Jake quickly noticed that the room seemed to be subdivided. The majority of the room was filled with your traditional hazmat suits, but the back wall contained what appeared to be suits that were different. They were less bulky and more form fitting. His boss then directed him to put on the suit, and he did likewise. As they were putting them on, his boss called out to him:

“You aren’t wearing anything you particularly care for, yes?”

“Yep, per your orders… oh wait, I think I know what this is, isn’t it…”

This was because as he was putting on the sleeves of the suit, he noticed that there was another entrance to the hazmat suit facility… except it wasn’t really an entrance from the outside, but rather led deeper in. Now he understood the horrendous job he was meant to undertake…

As he was finished, he looked back to his boss, who instructed him to put on his mask. Upon doing so, he was overloaded with the overwhelming scent of orange creamsicle.

“It’s better than the alternative, trust me.”

Jake then realized that he was hearing the voice from inside his suit. It did sound like it was coming from his boss’s direction, but it distinctly sounded like it came from a communications device. He then joined his boss to enter the airlock that separated the hazmat storage from… that room.

As soon as they were finished, his senses, already overwhelmed with the scent of orange ice cream, were hit again with the stench of rot. The kind that came from compost.

“Welcome to compost duty! It’s not a fun job, trust me, but you need to know at least what you may expect your job to do before.”

The room was almost cylindrical in shape, with a small C-shaped section cut where the entrance was. That entrance cavity held the platform that they stood on, as well as some controls. Below the platform lay the pit of decay, constantly churning its filth with motors spinning the junk in different sections, and with gysers of waste spewing forth, brought on by air cannons built into the floor. The weird thing was that the base had its own set of lower walls that were separate from the other walls. As he looked closer, he realized that part of the walls also had its own gap, and he could barely make out the gist of a… giant bucket? This composter ring was a giant bucket that had backups built in for some reason.

“The compost rings. Or buckets, whatever you like to call them. You can see that there are more than just one. When one gets too full, we go ahead and switch them out. There’s 7 in total, one for each day of the week, but we usually don’t use more than two. Normally I would go ahead and have them completely sealed off, but I had the seal partially open so that you can see the rest. Anyways, go to that control panel and turn it all the way off.”

Jake then found his way to said control panel and managed to complete the task. It helped that the panel was apparently in training mode, great for his situation. After being congratulated, he then asked his boss a question:

“So, what exactly am I supposed to do for this job?”

“Well, first you head over to the booth, and wait until something goes wrong. Most of the time, it’s a clogged pipe, or a turbine is stuck, and such and such. Sometimes, you can deal with the situation with some of the extended poles, but most of the time, you’re going to have to get your hands dirty. Head down and wade through the trash, get a jetpack to unclog a pipe…”

“Why do we have to sit around though? Why can’t automatic systems deal with this, or just call people when needed?”

“Because automatic systems can’t handle every type of compost from across the universe, and this systems gets in trouble too much to not have somebody constantly on standby. Look, I get it. It’s not a fun job, and were another job available, I would give you it, but you have to at least understand this as a possibility. Again, normally somebody more deserving of this job would it, like somebody who seriously screwed up or somebody under criminal conduct, but there was nobody here, so you’re stuck for now. Look on the bright side, with your clean record, this should be the only time you have this job.”

Jake wasn’t the type to complain, though he could really understand that his boss hated the idea of giving him this job. That was when he noticed one of the pipes seemed to be clogged. As he and his boss watched, some sort of green mass slowly oozed out. Eventually, enough of the mass had come out for it to break off from the rest of the mass and drop down to the chamber with a squelch.

“What was that?” Jake asked, as more of the junk seemed to come from the pipe.

“Moss… and an industrial amount. Are they-”

Before the boss had time to finish his sentence, the rest of the moss flew out as air was pushed through. This was only done however to allow for a torrent of leaves to blow through the pipe and start filling the camber. The leaves came down like a jet stream of water, and no matter how long it went, the leaves kept coming and coming.

“Ok, now I’m confused. How the heck do you get this many leaves from a Space Cave?”

His boss didn’t have the same confusion though. Instead, he had a sense of pride and joy, as he turned to Jake.

“Well, I do know the answer, but it’s better to show you. How would you like to get out of here?”

#evil fiction corporation #fiction #short story #short fiction

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ro-written · 1 year

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The Dance Studio Fiasco - C.Soobin

Tags/Warnings: Tsundere!Soobin, Sickeningly cute, VAGUE E2L, College!AU, Forced Proximity, reader gets a tiny injury and it draws blood

Word count: 0.9k

“A word from you…and I will set you on fire, Choi Soobin.”

The man - boy more like it - stood smirking as you worked at getting the door open. The two of you had somehow managed to get trapped in the smallest dance studio in the gym. No windows, just two mirrors, and not enough space for you to be as far away from him as possible.

And with 5 minutes till the gym closes, you had no hope.

“With what matches, mm?” His head cocked to the side as the stupid dimples came out in his cheeks. Your instructors always fell for those dimples. Made him into an angel. I knew better than that though.

“I don’t know Choi, get creative. Or is that possible for you, with the B minus you got in our last choreography practical?” You bit back, standing up. His eyes lit up with fury, as you simply smiled sardonically. It hit him particularly hard, you knew that. Ever the perfectionist.

“You know, we wouldn’t even be in this position if you had left the door open!” He stepped closer, towering over you in what you could only assume to be an intimidation tactic.

It was slightly working, but you would never admit that to yourself.

“You do realize that these doors aren’t supposed to lock us IN, but keep people OUT?” Eyes narrowed, arms crossed, you refused to step back or back down. He stared you down, and something about his intense glare made your face warm. Before your entire face was on fire, you shook your head and turned to walk around the room, finding any possible sign of an exit.

Feeling along the wall absentmindedly, you suddenly ran your hand across something sharp. A jolt of pain flashed through your body as you let out a sharp gasp and quickly brought the palm back to your body.

“Shit.” The cut started to fill with a crimson color.

“What happened?” Soobin came over from where he was pulling at the door handle. His eyebrow quirked as he saw you holding your palm. He actually seems to be somewhat concerned. Funny.

“Stupid fucking nail sticking out of the wall. It cut me.” He suddenly grabbed your wrist and brought your hand close to his face. Something about where he was holding the joint started to tingle. Probably from the blood…

“I have a first aid kit in my bag. Come here.” He gently pulled your arm over to where his belongings lay. You were still in shock by the sudden shift in his behavior to shake your wrist loose, so you allowed him to continue.

Pulling out the kit, he turned towards you.

“Sit.”

“I don’t answer to you, Choi. I’m not your dog.” You sneered. Yes, he was trying to take care of you, but what if there was some ulterior motive?

“Are you serious right now?” He stared with a blank expression as if reading your mind. When he realized you weren’t going to simply sit because he told you to, he huffed out a breath and sat down himself. He then stared up at you expectantly, the kit sitting in his lap. He had a tight lip smile with his eyes narrowed, dimples peeking through again.

You caved and awkwardly managed to sit down without getting your blood on the floor.

“Thank you.” He grabbed your wrist again, staring at the injury and figuring out what he needed to do. “You need to be more careful. Surprised you haven’t broken something so far.”

Even though you registered them, his words weren’t what you were focused on. You weren’t even thinking about a snarky line to come back.

You were, unfortunately, focused on the way your knees were brushing his. Every time he shifted, he pressed more into you. His hand gripped your wrist in a firm yet gentle way, to not hurt you but make sure your hand moved how he wanted. His breath fanned across your hand as he blew to cool the irritation. His eyelashes fluttered against his skin. He sucked in his lips, dimples showing yet again. But for some reason, it didn’t irritate you this time as they usually did.

“I need to wipe it with an alcohol wipe, okay? It’s gonna burn.” He looked up at you to find you gazing intensely at him. It took him aback, a sharp breath sucked in.

“Sorry,” you blinked fast, looking back down at your palm. “Yeah that’s…I’m fine, that’ll be fine. I don’t mind.” Stupid. You stumbled on your words, tossing everything that came to mind out. He nodded curtly. Grabbing out a wipe, he ripped the package and hesitated before wiping. He then moved to gently wipe at the cut, and a hiss came out of you.

“I’m sorry.” Your eyes widened and whipped up to look at him. That was the first time he’s ever apologized to me. Ever. In an unsarcastic way. This all felt too confusing, your head dizzy from his reactions.

“S–....Soobin?” He looked up as he stopped moving his hand. “Why are you doing this?”

His eyebrow twitched. He looked down at something, but it seemed like he wasn’t actually looking at it. Moreso, he was in his head.

“I…” He started, his eyes coming back up to look at you. Something in them was new. Some emotion you had never seen before from him and that you couldn’t place. His mouth was opened slightly, and the shape of his lips was something you had never noticed until now. How the ends were slightly curved upwards, almost like a bunny’s.

But suddenly, his face shifted, and he huffed out a laugh. But there was only a slight bit of amusement behind it.

“I just don’t want you bleeding all over the room.”

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#txt fic #txt #tomorrow by together #choi soobin #tubatu #soobin #choi soobin fic #choi soobin x reader #soobin fanfic #tomorrow by together fic #enemies to lovers??????#vague #soobin x reader #choi soobin fluff #soobin fic

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biisexualemma · 3 years

Text

boys ain't shit. oscar diaz

word count: 2.2k

warnings: swearing, lots of just angst and angry feminist energy and if this doesn't align with your beliefs, feel free to leave!

requested: 'Hey!! First I want to say that you are an amazing writer so talented! So I was wondering if I could request and imagine with spookyxreader and she overhears Oscar speaking about her or something like maybe she is to clingy or anything you think will fit and then she sort of starts to leave him alone does t opposite of what she heard he doesn't like drifts a little he sees the change questions her and she tells him why- and so angst to fluff If you hate please disregard And thanks anyway ❤️'

a/n: thank you for this lovely request, i only apologise that it took me so long to write! but i'm also glad it did because i kept re-writing this over and over again and it never came out right, but i really love this version! i changed it slightly from the request lol i was listening to 'your power' by billie eilish on a loop while writing this and a lot of anger and preaching came out-- oop-- but also not mad about it. i really like this and hope you do too! enjoy 🤍

on my block masterlist / main masterlist

anger bubbled in your chest but your cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment. your stomach lurched, a mixture of emotions swirling through you. you were angry at him for being such an asshole, but mostly you were embarrassed that you'd found yourself in this position and hurt that he would think to treat you like this. he was an asshole, he always had been, you knew it before you started dating but, somehow, he still managed to worm his way in. mainly because when you were alone he was careful, and sweet, and kind. he cared about you, he told you any chance he got, and you believed him. you were always convinced he meant everything he said, which is why this stung all the more.

"nah, it ain't even like that— she's everywhere man, how you s'posed to shake a hyna like that?" their laughter rang through your ears as you stood, feet frozen in place, out of sight to them. "shit's ridiculous. she's always on top of me."

"man— if i had a hyna that fine on top o' me all the time—"

"the things i'd do—"

you shook your head, blocking out their vulgar comments and trying to rid of oscar's shrewd laughter filling your ears. you were sick to your stomach hearing him talk about you like that, to hear him encouraging his friends crude jokes about you.

you couldn't stop yourself as the small scoff left your lips, catching one of the boys' attention. sad eyes, his smile faltering when he spotted you tucked around the side of the house, listening to every word. "shit," you heard him mumble, nudging oscar whose back was facing you.

oscar always had a thing about keeping up his reputation, which you understood, to some extent, but this had nothing to do with that. this was his friends, talking about you as if you were an object to satisfy their needs. and he was encouraging them. this was you they were talking about, when he claimed to love you.

this wasn't a side to oscar you ever wanted to see, or believe existed. you knew how his friends could be, but to hear him condoning the shit coming out of his friends mouths, made you feel unbelievably uncomfortable.

not to even mention that he was being downright mean, and sleazy in talking about you. you could feel your anger growing the longer you stood there. oscar glanced over his shoulder, his face falling when his eyes met yours. your hands clenched into fists, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

you shook your head, finally knocked out of your state of shock, turning and stomping away from the group of santos. your breathing grew heavier, sweat dripping off you as the sweltering heat started to get to you. you were so angry you could cry. you trusted oscar with everything, it took you a long time to get to that point, and this is how he treated you.

you could hear his muffled calls from behind you getting louder as you continued to march away from the house. you yanked your wrist away when you felt his hand latch onto you, and carried on your walk home.

he sped up, jogging so he stopped dead in front of you, holding out his hands when you tried to manoeuvre around him. "i don't wanna talk to you right now," you spoke calmly, trying again to move past him, his hands latching onto your shoulders to keep you still.

"just— hang on will you—"

you shook your head repeatedly. "no—"

"i don't know what you heard but—" his grip tightened when you tried to wriggle free.

"no," you repeated harsher.

"y/n— c'mon— that was nothing—"

"oscar," you raised your voice, cutting off his ramblings. his eyes never left your face, his eyebrows unknitting when your frown deepened. he scrunched his eyes shut for a second, frustrated he'd upset you. he was annoyed with himself for being so stupid. "no," you repeated once more. his hands slowly released their grip on you, letting you walk passed him. you heard his curse under his breath, walking away from him.

you felt your lip quiver, a lump now growing in your throat as your anger turned into heartache. you weren't sure you wanted to forgive him. but, for now at least, you were going to give him exactly what he wanted. space.

hours later and you were stood in the middle of a crowded party, your teeth clenched around the rim of a red solo cup, biting nervously. you hadn't wanted to come, you would much rather have been at home with a pint of ice cream. but your friend convinced you that getting out of the house tonight would be better for you than wasting away your life thinking about boys and eating ice cream. so far, you weren't so sure she was right.

you'd lost count the amount of times you'd heard loosen up and, you should smile more, thrown at you tonight. you weren't in the right headspace to be surrounded by people who were drunk out of their mind, constantly telling you to cheer up. you wanted to shout out to the entire party, fuck off, so everyone would know to just leave you alone.

so when you spotted his familiar face across the room, having just entered the party, you almost lost it. "no," you muttered to yourself. "not happening," you shook your head. he had been exactly what you came here to get away from. you let out frustrated sigh, shoving your cup into your friends hand and pushing yourself out of the crowd of people.

you hoped to god that oscar hadn't spotted you. you could not hash this out with him right now, that pint of ice cream in your freezer at home was calling your name, and you were ready to claim it.

"fuck me," you felt a hand graze the small of your back. you shivered away from the unwanted touch, turning with a deep-set frown on your face, towards the stranger who'd touched you. "you're hot when you're angry like that—"

"i'm also a fucking psycho when i'm angry so back off," you spat harshly, pushing away the hand he held lingering on your skin. "and don't touch me again," the man backed up, his hands held up in front of him. you huffed, continuing to the exit.

you wrapped your arms around yourself as the cool night air hit your bare skin. you'd left your jacket inside, turning to retrieve it, you saw oscar walking right at you. deciding it wasn't worth the effort, you left, you'd rather freeze than have a conversation with him right now.

"i know you hate me," you heard him call from behind you, his pace quickening as he tried to catch up with you. "but you can't walk home by yourself."

you ignored him, hastening your walk so you didn't have to do this with him. you knew he was right, you knew how incautious you were being walking home late at night alone. but you also desperately wanted nothing to do with him right now.

"ma," you shook your head, trying not to lose it on him in the middle of the street. "c'mon—"

"no— you c'mon oscar," you halted your stride, not able to ignore him any longer. you might as well get it out of your system if he was going to keep persisting. "i have had it with men today. i never wanted to have to include you in that."

he ducked his head, a crease forming between his eyebrows you noticed now you'd stopped to look over him. his eyes rolled, letting out a heavy sigh he'd clearly been holding in for a while.

"c'mon," he tilted his gaze away from yours for a second, trying not to cave under your stare. "you know what the santos are like— it's not my job to keep 'em in check."

"it is when it's me they're talking about," you gritted your teeth, looking at him in disbelief. you'd expected that this was how the conversation was going to go down. which is exactly why you tried to avoid it, you simply didn't have the energy to stand here and explain basic human decency to him. "not to mention— it is literally your job. you run the santos."

"it's not that simple," he ran his hand over his face, taking a small step closer to you. his eyes meeting with yours, begging you not to run off again as he held out a cautious hand towards you. "they didn't mean anythin' by what they said— you think if they did i'd let them 'in an inch of you?"

"you're perpetuating a violent cycle of sexism and objectification by letting your friends talk about any girl like that," you felt your throat tighten, tears had, at some point, welled in your eyes. "and that's not even mentioning what you said about me."

he closed his eyes for a second, his hand dropping back to his side. he turned away from you for a moment, releasing a deep breath he'd been holding. "i didn't mean it," he shook his head, swinging round to face you again. his brown eyes, that you'd always been a sucker for, were literally boring into you. if you hadn't been so angry you would've done anything for him. "i wasn't thinking and i never thought you'd ever hear—"

"that makes it ok then?" you frowned, eyes narrowing at him. "god knows what else you've said about me when i haven't been around to hear it," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep up your appearance despite the tears threatening to fall.

"s'not what i meant," he threw is arms up in frustration. he had, in all honesty, been talking without thinking about what he was saying. he was tired and stressed about how stretched out his time was at the moment. he was taking on more and more work, and therefore, more and more stress and he wasn't dealing with it well. he clenched his jaw when you sniffled, wiping under your nose with the back of your hand. his eyelids drooped. "nena.."

"i just, don't get it," you let out a shaky breath, holding out your hands to stop him moving any closer to you. "if i was being too much, all you had to do was say."

his chest tightened hearing you talk about yourself like that. he shook his head, trying again to reach out to you but you only stepped further away. "you're not too much," he spoke quieter this time. oscar loved you, more than he'd ever loved a girl before, that much was true. he might be bad at showing it sometimes, maybe he let his frustration get the better of him a lot, and maybe he didn't simply tell you enough how much you meant to him. but he loved you, much more than you were aware of.

"then why would you say it?" your voice was soft, breaking when you spoke again. exhaustion was starting to get the better of the both of you. you didn't want to fight with him, you just couldn't get his words out of your head. why would he say it if he didn't mean it?

"it's not you," he reiterated, his lips pursed. he used his forefinger and thumb to unknit the crease between his brows. "it's everything else. with cesar fucking around, shit with the prophets, cuchillos— and then you," he ducked his head, pressing the palm of his hand into his forehead. "i don't know how to manage everything and make time for you."

"why didn't you just tell me?" your features softened, eyes watching him move under your stare. "it's what i'm here for."

he scrunched up his nose, shrugging. "i don't want you involved in santos business," you understood more than you did five minutes ago, but you were still holding yourself back.

"i'm already involved, oscar, it's too late for that," this caught his attention, his brown eyes focused on yours again. you weakened a little. "but if you would just talk to me instead of keeping everything to yourself, maybe we wouldn't be in this situation right now."

he nodded faintly, almost uncertain of where you were taking this conversation. last thing he wanted was to lose you because of something so stupid on his end. he reached out, you letting him come close enough now so he could take hold of your hands in his. he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, tugging you closer.

"you know, i love you," you mumbled now he was only inches away from you. "i don't wanna do this again so talk to me, please."

he nodded again, giving your hand another squeeze of reassurance. "i'll try," the way his brown eyes stuck to you made you believe he meant what he said. "i'll do better. promise. i'll keep the santos in check, too. you don't need to worry."

you sunk into his chest, letting him engulf you in a tight hug. you released a shaky breath of relief. his arms wrapped around you, your face squashed against his chest and your arms tightened around his torso. "love you, too, by the way," he mumbled, his mouth pressed into your head of hair. "so much."

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cannibalthoughts · 2 years

Text

We get a good look at Bruno’s room in canon—but do we really? There’s no furniture anywhere, and the giant hand pointing up the stairs implies that townsfolk came through when seeking prophecies, so how likely is it that Bruno kept his bed directly in their path?

(This is not meant to disparage anyone else’s headcanons. I love the diversity of ideas of everyone trying to figure out where this poor man slept.)

As I mentioned in my post about my design for Pepa’s room, each of the gift bedrooms we see relates to both the owner’s gift and identity, and I’ve additionally been giving each of the triplets sensory themes. Bruno already has associations with sight, sand, and stone, and I took the tower motif and tried to build in ideas about visibility/invisibility and optical illusions, physical manifestations of layers and secrets.

Far above him, a distant focal point, stretched the open sky. Maybe. It didn’t actually match the weather outside, or the weather inside, unless Pepa was in his room. Prophecies made within his tower didn’t darken the skies beyond it. Otherwise, this sky remained clear no matter what happened, yet the constellations matched the ones he and his hermanas looked at while lying on Casita’s roof. Was it a replica of the sky, or a window, somehow peeking beyond the clouds? Whenever he had asked, Casita didn’t know, and that only gave him more questions about how the miracle worked.

Most of the central cavern shone in the midday sun, warm for now, though it would cool quickly when the angle of the light changed and the shadows returned. Rough brown stones broke up sightlines, helping funnel focus to the bottom of the vertiginous loops of stairs.

SU FUTURO ESPERA. The sign pointing up towards his vision cave had reminded Bruno of foam fingers at fútbol games ever since it first rose from the dunes, but since nobody else knew about those he supposed that it looked more ominous. Like the hand of some timeless titan, reaching out of the earth.

However other people felt about it, it did its job. Anyone from town who came to the creepy tower behind the creepy scowling door of the creepy prophet knew exactly where to go, and left the rest of his room alone.

Bruno walked to the left, behind a rock that rose twice as tall as him, and into the hidden tunnel that bored beneath the stairs, invisible from anywhere in the room except directly in front of it. It curved counterclockwise, following the line of the steps, a dark, square edged box of carved rock until it opened into his bedroom.

(As they learn to see, chapter 7)

Bruno’s tower comes in two parts.

First: the main, obvious area, taking up most of the massive space, devoted to both his role in the Encanto/duty as a Madrigal, and to his ominous reputation. Even here, there are hints of his true goofy personality, but they’re easily misinterpreted as threatening, because the way Bruno thinks isn’t the way most people around him think. It opens into a view of something mysterious and untouchable, while also hiding the effects of Bruno’s deliberate prophecies.

Directly across the room, half hidden by the curve of the wall, was the door to his bathroom. A few paces away from the wall, a handful of broad steps, sandstone like the ones to his vision cave, led down to the sunken sleeping area, except for right beside the entryway and by the bathroom door where twin wooden staircases instead led up to his study.

Whatever forces controlled the sand, they continued while his door was dark and Casita couldn’t access the tower, because his room didn’t have anywhere near this much when he had snuck back in to collect some of his belongings.

Now, the sand trailed through the tunnel, ankle deep, and piled against his furniture as if wind had pushed it into drifts. It edged up against the bottom drawers of his dresser and filled the space beneath the bed...

Second: the smaller hidden area with his bedroom, study, and bathroom. His needs and hobbies, things that could both humanize him and make him vulnerable, are visible only to his family members who already know to look, and hidden from everyone who only comes seeking the future. After he entered the walls, sand from the main chamber flooded the room, his reputation in town and the burden of his gift slowly seeping into his family’s private view of him.

More private visions, he stored in boxes in the secret cellar beneath his bedroom, accessible only through a trapdoor hidden beneath his rug and his bed. Some were gruesome, locked away as much so that he didn’t need to look at them as to hide them from prying eyes. But others? ... Spoilers too big to share but too precious to destroy.

But, there is a third area known only to Bruno and Casita: a small cellar below a trapdoor beneath his bed, where he stores the prophecy tablets he doesn’t want anyone to know about. Some are so happy that he doesn’t want to spoil the surprise, but others are physical manifestations of traumas that he doesn’t want to burden his family with, or acknowledge himself. Secrets hidden within secrets and assumptions.

#encanto #encanto meta #bruno madrigal #as they learn to see #please accept my shameless plug for my fic I wrote this all out for #me 🤝 Bruno: making our metaphors as literal as possible

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solarwonux · 3 years

Text

84. “I can tell you’re stressed, let me fix that.”

roomate!junkook x f!reader

genre: smut

w.c: 3.2k

warnings: smut, fwb, Jungkook and his tattoos, tattooartist!jungkook, dom!jungkook if you squint, spiting, cum eating, oral sex (m receiving), a brief mention of voyeurism, briefly edited, also Jungkook is kind off fluffy, this couple is weird af y’all.

note: hello, Idk what I did but I’ve done it lol. This is also a drabble that will eventually be part of a bigger story that I have half outlines lol, so I hope you enjoy this preview. I hope you like it please let me know your thoughts. Enjoy.xx

MASTERLIST || PROMPTS

Fourth time’s the charm.

Jungkook thought as he made his way to the front door of the tattoo shop. He pulled on the handle rather harshly making sure it was closed. Last week he had forgotten to lock the door, resulting in a drunk stranger walking in demanding a tattoo. Thankfully, the stranger’s intrusion triggered the security alarm, waking Jungkook in a fright. He ran down the steps of his apartment - the one located above the shop, half naked, carrying the bat you and him kept by the front door, his heart pounding against his chest.

To say the least he was terrified. Scared that something would happen to the expensive tattooing equipment. Scared that Yoongi would fire him and therefore kick him out of the apartment, scared of something happening to you. His nerves subsided when he found the drunk stranger, passed out on the couch in the waiting room.

The equipment, his job and you were all safe.

Ever since then he had made it his mission, even writing it down on a highlighter yellow sticky note as a reminder; to check not once but four times if the front door was locked.

Jungkook sighed, giving the door one last pull, making it rattle against the locks, before deeming it locked. A fifth time wouldn’t hurt.

He turns around, walking past the waiting room and the reception desk. He does one last look over, mumbling underneath his breath, checking to see if he had done everything he needed to do on his to-do list before turning off the lights. Quickly, he pushed aside the colorful paint splattered curtain that hid the front door to his apartment to the general public. He pressed in the code, waiting for the lock to click, going over the appointments or lack there off he had the following day.

As of late, Jungkook, Yoongi, Jimin and Hoseok hadn’t had many clients come into the shop or request an appointment via instagram. He blames the rival shop that opened a few blocks away, and their stupid flash event, where they tattooed people for free. Of course they weren’t intricate pieces, small basic ones that you would pick out from the generic tattoo binder. But it still caused a dent in their clientele.

That night you came home after work to find the four tattooists, on the couch, shooting glares at the shop door, with a large bottle of whisky in between them, and their man-size ego down in the slumps. The solution was simple, at least it was in your head.

“Hold an event like theirs, maybe shirtless. I’ve only seen Jungkook’s abs because he loves walking around the apartment half naked but I’m sure you guys have a promising pair.” You suggested with a shrug, earning groans and complaints from the four artists on the couch.

Yoongi stood up first, holding a hand out as an attempt to regain his balance from the sudden movement. “I’m not degrading myself or my art for clients. I’m also not giving away my talent for free.” He slurred, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction, “and my abs are better than Kooks.”

“Alright, it was just a suggestion.” You held your hands up in defeat, taking a step back. “I’m going to bed, enjoy your pity party.” You smiled at them before making your way to the front door and disappearing.

In hindsight, maybe you were right. Except for the half naked part, that’s dangerous and goes against all tattoo etiquette. But maybe holding a flash event and offering tattoo’s half off was not a bad idea. It would surely bring back their clients and make way for new ones. He would have to bring it up to his coworkers tonight when they came over.

Jungkook sighed, stopping at the top of the stairs facing the final door that led to his living room. He could hear the loud poppy music you were playing behind the door. Living with you wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be when Yoongi first offered you the vacant room. You were clean, organized and relatively respectful of personal space, but he hated your music. It was generic and just way too bouncy and happy, it was a good thing you gave a great head, if not he would’ve begged Yoongi to kick you out long ago. Before he got attached.

He wasn’t a dick he just thought with his dick ninety nine percent of the time and right now it was very much needing a stress release. Jungkook punched in the final code and opened his front door, revealing you in nothing but a tight pair of leggings and a sports bra, sweat droplets running down your body as you followed along with the exercise video on youtube. You looked very much like you would look after the two of you finished fucking and it made his cock stir in his jeans.

“Did you lock the door?” You said in between breaths, squatting down, finishing your last rep of squats. Jungkook bit his bottom lip, nodding in response. His hands were down by his sides, itching to squeeze your ass, to pull you against him and take you on the couch. It wouldn’t be out of pocket either. He knew you would give in the second he gave you that lust filled look of his. The one that was desperate and needy and practically begging for your touch.

You stopped pausing the video and turned to look at him, hands on your hips, chest heaving in a poor attempt to catch your breath. Jungkook knew he was fucked. “Are you sure you locked the door?”

“Yes I checked five times tonight, have you had dinner?” He blinked rapidly, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jeans hiding his hardening cock as best as he could.

“An hour ago.” You reassured, unpausing the workout video and positioning yourself in downward dog.

Jungkook looked up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths following your haggard ones and counted to ten. He couldn’t take it anymore; he needed you. Needed your mouth around him until he was painting the back of your throat white. Counting to ten once wasn’t enough to calm him down. It wasn’t until he was halfway through his third recount that he felt your arms circle around his waist, a faint kiss left underneath his earlobe, that he knew he was done for.

“I can tell you’re stressed, let me fix that.” You whisper leaving opening mouthed kisses down his neck tonguing the spot between his clavicle and neck. Jungkook’s eyes opened wide, his lips parting in an inaudible sigh.

“Fuck baby please.” He caved, taking your head in his hands and pushing you away before leaning down and capturing your lips with his, in a wet, messy and needy kiss. He didn’t care that your lips were salty due to the sweat, they felt like heaven against his.

You moaned into the kiss feeling the wet muscle of his tongue swiping against your bottom lip asking for access, in which you so rightfully gave him. His hand left your cheek and traveled down your neck until it was groping your boob through your thin sports bra. You pulled away to catch your breath for a few seconds, whimpering as his palm worked against your hardened nipple diligently before kissing him again, teeth clattering against one another.

He pulled away pushing your sports bra up releasing your boobs, his index fingers and thumbs pinching your nipples and pulling on them gently. “Jungkook, w-what do you want?” You moan, closing your eyes as he rolled your nipples between his sweaty palms. Not only did Jungkook love touching your ass, he also loved playing with your boobs, claiming they were the best pair of boobs he had ever seen in his entire twenty six years of life.

“Get on your knees baby girl, want to see your lips wrapped around me.” He mumbles against the crown of your head while he continues to knead at your boobs.

You nod kissing the outline of the tattoo that was peeking against the neck of his white t-shirt. You send him a wink. A deep hum leaves his lips as you slowly kissed your way down his clothed chest, until you were face to face with his jean cladded bulge. You looked beautiful, your eyes glossy with need and your mouth watering as you couldn’t wait for the weight of his cock against your tongue.

He puts his hand on the back of your head and pushes your face against his jeans, he was so hard he could feel himself pulsing with need. It didn’t help that your fingers were walking up his thighs at an agonizing pace, while your mouth was now kissing him through the fabric, satisfied hums leaving your lips. “You’re so fucking hard Kook.” You pull away finally unbuttoning his jeans, your fingers brushing against him while you unzip his pants slowly.

“You’re such a tease baby girl, almost makes me think that you want to get punished tonight.” He tilts his head, pushing his hips into your hands as you palmed him over his boxers, while your other hand pushes his jeans down, leaving him in only his t-shirt and black boxers.

You look up at him smirking, leaning in to kiss the tattoo decorating his thigh. You had gotten off on it many times before, it was your favorite pastime when you were needy and bored. “Maybe I do, take your shirt off.” You demanded, biting down on his skin making him jump.

He grabs your face, squishing your cheeks making you face him, “Be careful I’m not feeling very nice today.” The sinister look behind his eyes makes you shudder, “open your mouth,” You smile, parting your lips sticking your tongue out before Jungkook leans over, a glob of spit hitting your tongue making you moan in delight. “What do you say?” His grip on your cheeks is hard.

“Thank you sir.” You mewl, hooking your thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, wasting no time in freeing him. His cock was pretty, you had once told him that and it made him double over in laughter. No one had ever called his cock beautiful. Maybe big but never beautiful but you were a character and he should’ve expected a comment like that from you.

“Good girl, now go on, this is all you’re getting tonight so you better enjoy it.” He wraps his hand around himself, spitting down onto his length using it to lube himself up before guiding it to your slightly parted lips. He knew you loved to watch him touch himself, sometimes if you weren’t home and he was needy he would sit on the couch fucking his hand knowing you would walk at any minute and help him finish the job. Or sit in front of him on the coffee table, legs spread wide touching yourself, moaning his name like his fingers were inside of you instead of yours. If Yoongi knew the dirty escapades that happened behind the walls of the apartment above his tattoo shop he would never step foot inside again. Thankfully he didn’t know, yet.

You stick your tongue out and lick his head, rolling your nipples against the palm of your hands. The sight was award winning and Jungkook wanted to so badly get his camera out and capture the moment. To add to your shared collection. “So fucking sexy baby girl, always so good for me.” He tapped the head of his cock against your tongue before you close your lips around him, running your tongue underneath the head of his cock.

Jungkook’s hand came behind your head, guiding you further down his cock sending a thrum of arousal up his spine. You hollow out your cheeks looking up at him with watering eyes. He moans, gripping your ponytail, giving you an experimental thrust making you gag around him. It sounded like the beginning of a beautiful melody, not the ones that belonged to your shitty pop music but the one that would keep you up at night lost in thought.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” He thrusts again, while you tug on the hem of his shirt. “Want to see me, look at my tattoos while I fuck your mouth?” He grunts, quickly discarding his shirt once he hears the needy moan that escapes your cock filled mouth. He knew his tattoos were your ultimate turn on. The reason you had gotten on your knees before him the first time after living together for a full year. He couldn’t say no, not when the only thought running through his mind was the stain your red lipstick would leave behind on his cock.

Calm him a douchebag or compare him to a hormonal filled teenager, he didn’t care. He was a man after all. One that hadn’t had sex in two years after his last girlfriend cheated on him with his brother.

Frankly, he needed an ego boost and you were there to give it to him, so he caved.

You pull off of him breathing heavily, a thread of saliva connects your lips to the head of your cock as you try to catch your breath. The sight was anything but underwhelming and enough to make him cum, but Jungkook hated his cum going to waste. He was healthy and young and it should go to good use.

“I-I want you to use my mouth, please.” You croak before dragging your tongue up and down his shaft. “Want you to cum in my mouth sir.” Mumbling, you tease his head with the tip of your tongue making him groan.

“Such a dirty mouth, it's a good thing I’m making good use out of it.” He says, a cocky smirk evident on his face. You nod happily, humming with please as you take him into your mouth again, sinking further, hollowing your cheeks moaning around him as you watch his face scrunch up in pleasure. His abs contract as he tries to control himself, at least until you give him the go ahead. And you do with a slight tap of your fingers against his thighs.

He growls, thrusting his hips into your mouth, guiding your head up and down, gagging around him. His cock feels hot and heavy against your tongue, making both of you moan simultaneously. “Always letting me use you, what would our friends say if they walked in. You know I invited them over for drinks, right?”

You whimper around him, closing your eyes at the thought of getting caught with him, balls deep down your throat. You hated that he had caught onto your slight voyeurism kink as it was only a matter of time where he threw all tattoo etiquette he knew and lived by out on the window and fucked you in his workshop, with only a thin curtain separating you and the rest of the shop.

His thrusts get more desperate. His orgasm was approaching quickly as he twitched inside of your mouth. You dig your nails into his thighs, creating crescent moons as you feel your lungs start to give out. He mutters a low fuck followed by a quick apology before he pulls away. You gasp resting your hand against your chest, your eyes are filled with tears, bubbles of saliva painting your chin. Jungkook swears he’s never seen a sight as beautiful as this one and once again he’s cursing himself for not giving himself enough time to grab his camera.

“Can you go more or do you need a break?” He whispers, eyes filled with concern while he caresses your cheek with his thumb.

You shake your head, “Just give me time to regain my breath.” With a soft smile you leave a chaste kiss against the tattoo decorating his hip. It was part of a bigger piece, one that adorned the entire right side of his body, but nevertheless for some odd reason it was your favorite one.

Jungkook nods, wrapping his hand around himself, muffled curses escaping his beautiful lips. “I’m so close, baby girl, just let me cum on your face.” He all but begs, gripping his cock tightly and thrusting his hips into his hand.

You pout, a sound of protest leaves your swollen lips making Jungkook roll his eyes. “You can blow me again later, open your mouth baby.” He tucks his lips in between his lips, hips casting into his hand desperately. The pool between your legs grows, overflowing as you watch the mesmerizing sight in front of you. God, he was so fucking sexy.

You open your mouth sticking your tongue. Jungkook throws his head back moaning your name in a sweet incantation, ropes of cum hitting your tongue and cheeks, while you moan along with him.

Jungkook opens his eyes, riding out his orgasm, painting your chin watching as you drag your tongue into your mouth swallowing his salty substance, humming in satisfaction. “J-Jungkook.” The needy way you say his name makes his cock twitch and he has to keep himself from getting hard again.

“You look so pretty baby girl, so fucked out and pretty, only for me.” He whispers, collecting the cum that was dripping down your chin with his thumb before bringing it up your lips, coating them. “So filthy too, thank you baby.” He leans down, running his tongue against your cheek collecting his cum before kissing you slowly and sensually, pushing his tongue inside of your mouth, coating the inside with his cum.

Jungkook hates his cum going to waste. You whimper, snaking your arms around his neck pulling him closer, sucking on his tongue. He grins against your lips and moves away, chuckling as you continue to chase his lips with yours. “I need you Kookie.” You sigh, a pout forming on your swollen lips. “Please just fuck me, use me. I don’t care anymore.” You let out a sob, your pussy throbbing begging to be touched.

He helps you up, circling his arms around your waist, nosing your hair as he sighs. He wants to give him, lead you to the couch, but the guys were going to be here at any minute and he couldn’t have time to please you the way he wanted to.

“Let’s go shower, I promise the second the guys leave I’ll eat you out like a starved man.” He suggests, leaving a light kiss against your forehead. He didn’t feel as stressed as he was earlier, but that’s all thanks to you and how easy it was for him to get lost in your world.

“Is that a promise?” You tilt your head curiously, toying with the hair resting against the back of his neck.

“I always keep promises, baby girl.”

#kpopscape #kdiarynet #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years

Text

Comfy

Karl Heisenberg x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: injury, cussing

Author’s Note: I hope you like this babes! Karl my beloved omg, slight re8 spoilers

Requested: by anon, Ooooo requests? Maybe? Idk it says open so I shall ✨request✨. M’kay, so I’m thinking that Karl has a gf that likes soft things (blankets, sweaters, pillows, pjs, that kind of stuff) and small enclosed spaces, so Karl makes a small-ish room for her to put all of her stuff in and cuddle up to for when she’s cold/wants to relax. Like she has a switch and a tv and wifi- it’s like a soft man cave but for her and Karl. Anyway, Ethan is looking for baby and comes across her room and tries to hide in it, not knowing she’s IN there and asleep. He gets in there, notices the blankets and pillows and accidentally steps on her ankle, which HURT and makes her scream. Karl hears said scream and comes barrelling over in protective bf mode to beat Ethan up. It’s up to you whether gf goes “oi don’t be mean he’s looking for his baby” or not

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“I just think that it couldn’t be that hard for you to make a small place, hidden away.” Your voice didn’t carry far in the small room but it didn’t have to. You had a blanket over you as you sat up at the edge of the bed. Karl was walking back and forth around the room as he grabbed things to start his day. “You’re very good with your hands,” you said pleasantly. He pointed at you.

“You’re right about that.”

“Come on Karl. Just a small place. You can use it too if you want to run away for a minute.” He stopped in front of you, the first time he had stopped in a couple of minutes. You looked up at him and he looked down at you, caressing your cheek. He took a deep breath.

“I will see what I can do.” You grabbed his hand and slid it to your lips, kissing his palm.

“You’re the best.”

“I know.” He paused. “Say it again.”

“You’re the best Karl.” He leaned down and gave you a kiss before backing away to the door.

“You better believe it.”

===

You didn’t bring up your small place for a couple of days, just in case he really didn’t want to do it. You just figured that you could have a small room in the factory that no one but the two of you knew existed so you could finally have some privacy. You could fill it with soft things, blankets, pillows, all of that. And entertainment as well of course.

But he didn’t bring it up and you didn’t want to push it. He had a lot to do during his days and you didn’t want to add more stress.

You were sitting behind him, arms around his waist as he massaged your hands gingerly. You had your cheek pressed flat against his back as you both breathed, telling each other about your days.

“I made it.”

“Huh?”

“I made the room.” You backed up, pulling away from him. He had to turn because he wanted to know what your expression was. He was very pleased to find an overjoyed look.

“You aren’t messing with me are you?”

“No. Maybe. No, I’m not. I finished it earlier today, do you want to see it?” He had a goofy look on his face, like you wouldn’t want to see it.

“I would love to see it!”

He grabbed your arm and dragged you out of bed. You were allowed to walk around the factory but it still left you dizzy after walking around too long. Karl had given you a map and you had been around enough to know where you were going but there was still so much going on.

Fortunately Karl didn’t walk far as he led you down a hallway with a dead end.

“Not too far from the room so you won’t get lost,” he said condescendingly. You shoved him but he just smiled his little sarcastic smile at you. He kicked at the wall and a door opened just a little bit. You watched as he moved the very small door open to reveal a small cubby hole of a room. It was tall enough to fit the both of you which was preferred so you could both get in and out. There were blankets inside, along with things to entertain yourself.

You clapped your hands and fell onto the comfy ground, landing on a stuffed animal, pillow and blanket. You grabbed his hand.

“Come here, lay with me.”

“Maybe later kitten, I gotta get back to work,” he told you, leaning against the door frame.

“Well at least shut the door. We don’t want our little secret getting out or else Mother Miranda will find us here as well.” He rolled his eyes and stepped inside, careful not to smush anything with his work boots. You grinned as the door shut behind him. “Five minutes,” you whispered.

He let out an annoyed sigh despite not being annoyed in the slightest.

“Five minutes.”

You pulled him down to lay with you and started to explore the small place that he had built for you.

=====

All Ethan Winters knew at this point was running away from danger. He was always exhausted when the adrenaline wore out and he was sick and tired of having to find hiding spots.

That being said, he was currently looking for a hiding spot to guard him away from the horrors of this factory.

Breath heaving, he stopped running as he came to a hallway with a dead end. He turned around, hearing the horrific sounds of something or someone gaining on him. He put his back against the wall and then fell through it, surprised to land on a pleasant cloud of pillows and blankets. Realizing that this was a room he quickly shut the door with his foot so that no one would be able to find him in here.

He held his gun in his hand and put his back against the wall, looking around feverishly. The rooms were tall but the width was very very small, just enough space for maybe two people if they were really close to each other. Blankets covered the ground, making lumps and lumps of comfort.

Ethans eyes narrowed in confusion. Had he made it outside of the factory? This definitely didn’t look like Heisenbergs doing.

You opened your eyes slowly at someone landing on your feet. Naturally you figured it was Karl so you didn’t even raise your head much as you waited for him to search the blankets to find you. As you woke up from your sleep you heard the unfamiliar breathing of someone you did not recognize.

Your eyes snapped open and your heart started to beat quickly. You stayed still but the person stood up, standing very harshly on your ankle which must have twisted it or something but it hurt like a motherfucker. You yelped and sat up, eyes narrowing in on Ethan Winters, who you recognized from some pictures. He held the gun up to you but didn’t shoot, thank God.

“Hey hey hey!” you yelled, hands up. “I’m unarmed.” He looked terribly confused and didn’t lower his gun at all. You yanked your leg back to you and moved the blankets aside to see that your ankle was twisted in some kind of way. You couldn’t even tell what he had done but his boots were heavy and so was his step.

“Who are you?” he asked, breath not slowing down to an even pace.

“Y/N. You’re Ethan yeah? You stepped on my ankle!” He lowered his gun to your ankle to look and agreed, it did not look good.

“Listen I’m sorry I’m just trying to get out of-”

The door swung open causing you both to jump in surprise.

Karl stood there, big hammer in his hand as he looked between you and Ethan. He quickly surveyed the situation and noticed you holding your ankle. One look and he could tell, Ethan had done something to it.

Ethan raised his gun to Karl, annoyed he hadn’t been able to catch a break.

Karl felt his anger bubble in his chest at the sight of you hurt. He moved forward, grabbing Ethan by the shirt and lifting him in the air.

“You think you can just come into my factory and hurt Y/N of all people?” he sneered, voice deadly. Ethan had always heard a kind of sarcastic tinge to his voice but right now he was deadly serious. It sent a chill down his spine.

You stood up, using the wall to anchor you and gingerly holding your foot up above the ground to not put pressure onto it. You put a hand on Karls arm.

“He didn’t mean to. I’m sure you have plenty of other things to crucify him for but take it out of my room.” Karl didn’t even look over at you. You and Ethan met eyes and he weighed his options on trying to get sympathy out of you. He decided he probably could’t, not with Heisenberg right there.

“I’ll be right back,” Karl muttered. He took Ethan by the shirt and threw him out the door, following close behind. You looked down at the boot prints on your blankets and sighed.

====

Karl wasn’t gone more than 20 minutes and he came rushing back to you. He hated feeling so vulnerable, knowing people had the ability to hurt him so easily through you. He opened the door to your little room and started to panic when he saw you weren’t there.

He turned around, walking swiftly, trying not to act like he was panicked, back to yours and his room. You sat on the bed, some of the blankets from the tiny room on the ground. You had a first aid kit on the bed beside you as you attempted to bandage yourself up. It looked like you were failing.

“Where the hell did you go?” he asked and he meant for it to sound angry but it came out sounding more worried. You gestured to the blanket pile.

“Needed to clean the blankets. And also wrap this ankle up. Where’s Ethan?”

“Taken care of.” He kneeled in front of you and grabbed the wrap from you. He fumbled with the first aid kit. “How do you feel? Broken? Should I cut it off?” You scoffed.

“Maybe you should. It hurts like a motherfucker.”

“Well let’s get it wrapped and see how it does.” You nodded and let his fingers work their magic. When he was done you grabbed his hands.

“Thank you Karl.”

“I’m sorry he found you. I thought I hid it well enough.”

“It was an accident, don’t worry about it.” He nodded and you kissed his forehead with a smile. “Now go wash those blankets. Those are your boot prints, mister.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and laid down on the bed beside you.

“No, but thank you for asking.”

“Pff if you weren’t comfy I would kick you out right this very second.”

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagines #resident evil 8 imagines

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johnsamericano · 3 years

Text

𝓓𝓪𝔂 12:

ℓєє мαяк

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @mrcarbonatedmilk @unknown5tar @whathamelon @ajhdr @curieouscapt @silent-potato @gjheaaa

warnings: baby daddy mark, hidden pregnancy (?, tooth rotting.

“Dude, isn't that y/n?” Mark’s old friend, John, pointed at you.

Yeah, that was most definitely his ex. You were holding a small girl between your arms, helping her reach for a box of lucky charms. You looked just as beautiful as three years ago, even more, he daresay.

“Go talk to her.” His friend elbowed him. “I’ll go get the meat, maybe you can invite her to our barbecue.”

“We haven't seen each other in a while, don't you think it'll be a little too weird?”

“Go for it, I know you're still hung up on her.”

“How...?”

“I heard your last girl complaining about how you called y/n’s name while having sex with her, it was hilarious, to be honest.” Mark punched him in the arm, earning a small groan from the tall man. “But seriously, though, you broke up with her to focus on your career. Now that you have a stable job, what's stopping you from getting her back?”

“I don't know, man...”

“Give it a try, I'll be with the butcher if you need me.” He winked at the Canadian boy, making his way to another aisle.

Mark took a deep breath before his feet finally started moving. You were placing the small girl in the shopping cart’s seat, tickling her tummy while at it.

“Y/n?” Your eyes almost came out of their caves as you heard his voice.

“Mark...” You stared at him with wide eyes, looking back and forth between the little girl and him. “I thought you’d moved back to Canada.”

“I came back a year ago.” He fiddled uncomfortably with the rings adorning his fingers. “I really wanted to contact you, but since things between us were a little complicated when I left...” By complicated he meant breaking your heart and leaving a day after ending things between you.

“It’s really okay, Mark. No hard feelings.” You smiled sweetly at him, your pretty eyes turning into half moons.

“And who’s this little one? Your niece?” He caressed the top of the girl’s head, who wasn’t even aware of his presence, too focused on getting rid of the wrapping around the chocolate you’d just bought her.

“Actually-”

“Mommy, I need help!” Mark froze.

“Oh, sure sweetie.” You tone completely changed when addressing her. “Mark, this is my daughter, EunHee. Say hi, baby.”

“Hi, Mark.” She extended her hand as you tore the wrapping of the chocolate bar open. His surprised expression turned into a big smile, covering her small hand with his significantly bigger one. “Look, mom. His cheeks are just like mine!” She poked Mark’s cheekbones.

You could almost feel a drop of sweat rolling down your forehead.

“Wait, you're right.” The Canadian man pointed out as your daughter smiled at him. “That's crazy.” Thank God Mark was so naive. “So where’s the father of this little bean?”

‘Right in front of me.’ You thought.

“She doesn't...”

“Oh, sorry. It must've been hard raising her on your own.” He reassuringly placed a hand on your arm. “How old is she?”

“Uhm, s-she’s-”

“I’m this old.” EunHee interrupted, showing her three small fingers.

You hoped Mark’s brain capacity wouldn't be enough to connect the dots. But you had to admit, it was pretty obvious.

“Wow, you're so big.” It was heart-warming watching your daughter interact with her father for the first time, even if they didn't know the truth about each other. “So, we're having a barbecue at my place today. There’s always room for someone else, and you can bring EunHee if you’d like. My address is still the same.”

“I’ll think about it.” You handed the chocolate bar back to your daughter, who didn’t even take a second to eat up the whole thing.

“Alright, I guess I’ll see you then, maybe.”

(...)

“Mark’s hitting on a mom!” Yuta mocked him, causing the whole garden to erupt into laughter.

“And what’s wrong with that? She isn’t married.”

“Mark, you literally just met with her again after three years, slow down.” Jaehyun interceded, eyes stuck to his phone.

“Guys, stop messing with Mark. He's always loved y/n, so let him be.” Johnny spoke from the grill, turning around a steak. “Besides, I saw the little girl. She looks a lot like Mark, so I bet no one would be able to tell they're not actually related.”

“How old did you say she was?”

“Three.”

“Okay, don’t be mad at me, but did you ever have sex with her without protection?”

“What are you trying to say, Haechan?” Taeil asked bitterly.

“Just think about it, guys. It makes sense.” While his friends discussed the possibility of him being a dad, Mark’s head was rather busy trying to remember every little detail from the last time he was intimate with you.

But as much as he tried, he couldn't remember having worn a condom. And as far as he knew, you weren't on the pill.

The doorbell cut his string of thoughts, snapping him back into reality.

“I’ll get the door.” He didn't expect you to be behind it, holding your -and possibly his- daughter’s hand tightly. “Oh, hey.”

He seemed uncomfortable, had you made a mistake in accepting his offer?

“Hi, I couldn't find someone to look after this little monster. I hope your friends won't mind.”

“Not at all, they love kids.” He stared intensely at your daughter, finally noticing those similarities Johnny mentioned before. “Come in.”

He guided you all the way to the backyard, everyone greeting you with a big hug.

“Nice to see you again, y/n.” Johnny murmured, patting your back.

“She’s like a little doll!” Jaehyun squeaked excitedly, sitting your daughter on his lap. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“I’m EunHee.” He cooed at her high-pitched voice tone. “Your dimples are pretty.”

“Thank you.”

The boys seemed completely comfortable with your daughter, fighting with Jaehyun, who wouldn't let go of her.

“Can I have a word with you?” Mark came from behind you, making you jolt at his sudden presence.

“Sure.”

He walked you to the kitchen, away from the noisy men outside. He anxiously twisted his hands, trying to find the correct words to demand for the truth.

“What’s wrong?” You asked worriedly, taking a step closer to him.

“Is EunHee mine?” Well, you were definitely not expecting that. You thought that after meeting him at the supermarket, your secret was safe. Apparently, it wasn’t. “By the look on your face, I’m guessing she is.”

He groaned in frustration, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands.

“I’m sorry for keeping it a secret all this years. I won’t force you to step in and take responsibility for her, we can just leave and pretend this never-”

“What are you even talking about? Why wouldn’t I want to take care of my own daughter?” The frown on his face deepened. “Did you know you were pregnant when we broke up?”

Should you tell him the truth?

“I...” He looked at you expectantly.

Of course you should tell him the truth, he deserves it.

“Yes.” His heart dropped, guilt filling every inch of his body. “I didn’t want to hold you back. It would’ve been unfair for me to use that as an excuse to stop you from leaving.”

“So you’re saying I missed three years of my daughter’s childhood because you didn’t want to be selfish?” With every word his voice grew louder, shouting by the end of the sentence and catching the other guests' attention.

“Mark, we should talk about this another day, when we’re alone.” You tried leaving, but his hand clutched your wrist tightly.

“No.” You could admire tears sparkling in his eyes. “I don't want to miss another second of her.”

“Mommy?” Just then, EunHee walked into the kitchen, holding Yuta’s hand. “I heard screaming, are you okay?” Mark nodded at his friend, as if signaling him he could leave.

“Yes, I’m alright, sweetie.” You swung her up in your arms, coming closer to Mark who had the sudden urge to hold his baby. “Are you sure about this? There’s no backing out.” You mouthed, feeling a pinch of relief as he nodded. “Baby, I’d like you to meet someone very special.”

“Who?”

“This is Mark...” She looked at you with her small eyebrows furrowed, she’d already met Mark. “Your dad.”

Mark honestly felt like crying, your daughter smiling excitedly as she urged you to put her down, letting her father hold her close to his chest.

“Mommy said you were lost.” He felt so warm inside.

“I promise not to get lost again, alright?” His lips pressed a kiss into her forehead, already enamored by the cheerful giggles erupting from EunHee.

You observed them with regret. If you'd told Mark you were pregnant before he left, perhaps he wouldn't be on the verge of tears right now, perhaps your daughter wouldn't have had to deal with her classmates’ non-stopping questions about her father.

“Y/n?” Mark called out for you. “C-can we have a family hug?” He moved his hand invitingly, making space for you to join.

You walked into his arms, every negative feeling vanishing as Mark embraced you, both of you trying not to sob.

“What do you want to do now?” He let go of you, using both of his arms to embrace EunHee.

“Make up for the lost time.”

#nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years

Text

All Men Have Limits - VIII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,600+

Warning: Mention of sexual assault

Previously on…

“Going along with this plan seems rather unlike you,” Tim finally pointed out to Bruce.

It was the two younger boys and Bruce sitting in the cave.

“Without her help, we would have never been able to get the evidence we need to take down The Court of Owls,” Bruce sighed as he looked up at the screens.

“Yeah, but like you said before, we never use our own as bait,” Tim countered.

“Y/N knows what she’s doing.”

Tim and Damian shared a look.

“Are you certain things have not gone too personal, father?” Damian finally asked.

The personal question finally forced Bruce to tear his eyes away from the screens and look at his son.

His gaze shifted between Tim and Damian. From their looks alone, Bruce realized that his feelings towards Y/N were not as subtle and secret as he wanted.

But Bruce knew better than to answer Damian.

The boy had never been invested in his father’s personal relationships before. Why did he have to start now? And with Y/N?

“What happens if things go south?” Tim challenged.

But Damian answered for his father. “You know he has a plan B and C, Drake. He always does, even if he doesn’t share it.”

Bruce was not about to have a conversation about his love and sex life with his two youngest sons. So, he thought of something to escape and he thought of it fast.

He stood up quickly and faced them. “Mandatory family dinner. Tonight.”

“What!?” Damian screamed in outrage.

“I don’t want to,” Tim whined like a baby, even though he was very much a young man standing at the ripe age of 19.

“Mandatory,” Bruce repeated solidly before leaving the cave.

Damian and Tim shared a look.

“This is your fault,” Tim accused.

“How is it my fault?”

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut about the sexual tension we’re all choking on in this damn mansion!”

“But you don’t disagree. You’ve noticed it as well.”

“I was a little late to the game, but yes,” Tim admitted.

“She’s not like the other ones,” Damian muttered so quietly that Tim almost missed it.

“No, she’s not,” Tim confirmed.

——————

Bruce was slightly surprised to find Y/N sitting at the outdoor pool, reading a book.

She wasn’t in a bathing suit – just shorts and a t-shirt.

Bruce walked over with his hands in the pocket of his slacks.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think that you’re starting to like it here.”

She looked up from her book with a smirk. “For the record, I still think we should ‘eat the rich.’”

Bruce smirked. “Right. Of course.”

Y/N eyed him. “Did you need something?”

“Are you sure about this?”

Of course he was coming to try and talk her out of the plan once again.

“Bruce, I’m not changing my mind.”

“Figured you would say that.”

Y/N could see his mind racing. It was obvious he hadn’t stopped thinking about everything that could wrong with. Bruce needed control. And even if he was going into an inevitably dangerous situation, he always had multiple plans to get out alive. Y/N’s involvement made it harder for him to do that.

“Careful,” she warned him playfully, “It’s starting to look like you’re worried about me.”

“I am,” he retorted.

Her amusement vanished. “I didn’t think you worried. Or got scared.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought you had realized by now that both of those things happen when you’re involved.”

She didn’t know how to respond that. She really didn’t.

“I also came out here to tell you we’re having a family dinner tonight.” Yes, Dick and Tim were basically living at the manor while they handled this specific case. But it was rare that the whole family ate together. All the boys would come back from patrol at different times. Alfred usually made something and put each of their meals in the oven or fridge for when they got back.

But Bruce made a habit of having mandatory family dinners. They weren’t frequent. And the boys often viewed them as some sort of punishment. But Bruce saw it as a way to remind them all that they were a family. A chaotic and a strange one, but they were still a family.

“It would be nice if you could join us,” Bruce added politely.

Y/N smiled at how obvious it was that he was choosing his words carefully. “It was really hard for you to not me tell what to do, wasn’t it?”

He narrowed his gaze at her from being caught.

She never seemed to miss an opportunity to tease him.

“Yes. I’ll join you.”

Bruce nodded, clearly pleased with her answer.

“Will you miss it?” Bruce surprised her by asking as he looked around at the exterior of the manor, looking almost lost in thought.

“It’s a home,” Y/N sighed. “And even with all the secrets and dark pasts, it’s still filled with happy memories, too. And a family.”

Then she smirked. “Even if it’s a highly dysfunctional one,” she added teasingly.

“Not sure all the boys would agree with you on that.”

“Are you sure about that?” Y/N challenged.

———————

Y/N walked out of her bedroom right as Dick was dragging Damian down the hallway.

“Come on. It’s never as bad as you think it’s gonna be,” Dick tried to tell the boy.

“Why did Todd come? He never comes to family dinner. He doesn’t even see us as his family.”

Dick smirked. “You and I both know that’s not true, no matter how many times he tries to convince everyone – even himself.”

Then both of them noticed Y/N’s presence in the hallway.

“You look pretty,” Dick complimented.

Y/N looked down at her outfit and shrugged. “Figured I could make a bit more of an effort.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Damian huffed before leaving the two of them behind.

Y/N and Dick both laughed lightly at his attitude.

“I’ve never told you how good you are with him,” she thought aloud.

“I don’t know about that…”

Y/N turned to him with an insistent look. “You are. Sometimes I think he listens to you more than Bruce. He looks up to you. I think it’s because…” her words die out.

“What? What you were going to say?”

Y/N still hesitated, but told him anyway. “I think it’s because you’re more available to him…emotionally, I mean.”

“Sometimes I feel like I have to talk to him the same way I do with Bruce. He’s a younger carbon copy of the guy. Just brattier.” Dick sighed. “Deep down, Damian has a good heart and he cares deeply about the people in his life. He’ll just never admit it.”

Y/N nodded.

It did sound like Bruce.

But Y/N never considered Dick would have a similar impact on Bruce that he also had with Damian. She wondered what Bruce would be like today if he had never taken in an orphaned Richard Grayson.

Sometimes Y/N believed Bruce would be completely devoid of any and all emotions if it hadn’t been for an adolescent Dick. His needs and wants as a child had prevented Bruce from turning completely into a callous vigilante with nothing tying him to his own humanity and life.

Y/N was about to continue her walk to the dining room, but Dick softly grabbed her arm.

“Hey, before we walking into the chaos…” Dick cleared his throat. “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay after the other night.” He shifted his weight and looked at the ground. “If I was too forward or I misread something or–”

“Dick?” Y/N interrupted with a smug look.

His head shot up to look at her. “Yeah?”

She had a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Then she moved into Dick’s space, closing the distance between their bodies and did not stop until they could feel each other’s body heat.

Y/N tipped her head as if she was about to kiss him.

But her lips stopped just a centimeter or two from his.

Dick’s eyes turned menacing once he realized she was messing with him.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered seductively, “we’re okay.”

Then she slipped away quickly and started walking away without him.

“That was cruel!” Dick called after her.

But her only response was her laugher from down the hall.

Dick shook his head, but couldn’t stop his smiling.

Maybe it was avoidance or a distraction from the reality of their relationship. But Y/N couldn’t deny that it was also fun.

—

Dinner was in the formal dining room of the manor. This was the first time Y/N had even stepped foot in the room. The fireplace was even lit. Even when Wayne Manor was hardly trying, it reminded Y/N how out of place she was. “If I have to sit through this bullshit, you’re sitting next to me,” Jason said from behind Y/N, making her jump.

To her horror, Jason pulled out a seat at the head of the table. Two at each end and then two chairs in the middle on both sides.

“Oh, I don’t think–” Y/N stuttered out in panic.

“You’re the guest,” Jason cut her off and gently pushed in the chair when he finally got her to sit.

Damian was already sitting to the right, closer to the other head of the table– probably to be closer to his father.

Jason sat down to the left of Y/N. And when Dick finally caught up to her, he didn’t question Y/N sitting at the head and sat to the right of her.

“Perfect. You’re like our future step mom,” Jason declared.

Damian snickered, despite hating to laugh at Jason’s joke.

But Y/N looked horrified. She was about to jump up and take the remaining middle seat on the other side of Jason. But Tim’s timing was absolutely horrendous.

“Please switch spots with me,” Y/N leaned forward and hissed at Dick.

He smirked. “Absolutely not.”

When he saw her obvious panic, he leaned forward as well and whispered, “That’s payback for earlier.”

Y/N glared at him and huffed.

“Oh, I’m so glad I came,” Jason sighed.

Bruce walked into the room with his head held high. “Tim, no phones. You know better.”

Tim sighed in annoyance but slipped his phone into his back pocket.

Dick leaned to Y/N. “Bruce has a strict ‘no electronics’ rule for family dinners. Phones are forbidden.”

Y/N nodded, even though she would never be so rude as to bring a phone to dinner, especially when she was a guest and this was a literal “manor.”

Somehow Jason had pulled a bottle of red wine from nowhere. Or maybe it had been sitting on the table and Y/N had just missed it.

And Jason had already grabbed Y/N’s glass and gave her a heavy pour. “But drinking is highly encouraged,” he added with a crooked smile.

Y/N barely let him finish pouring before she grabbed the wine and chugged.

When she put the glass back down, Bruce was watching her carefully. She at least had enough shame to sink lower in her chair and give him an apologetic look.

But Bruce was amused more than anything.

He’d never brought a woman to a family dinner like this. And though the situation was not that straightforward, it was still causing him a weird amount of anxiety.

“How are your lessons going, Damian?” Bruce broke the tension with the question.

Damian muttered off what sounded like rehearsed and generic statements about his personal studies.

“I didn’t even know he went to school,” Y/N muttered to Dick as Damian and Bruce talked.

“He doesn’t. He’s technically homeschooled,” Jason answered first. “Which is total bullshit seeing as all of us were forced to go to Gotham Academy with all the spoiled brats of the city.”

“As if it mattered, you died before you were forced to graduate from the stupid establishment,” Damian commented darkly.

Jason beamed and laughed lightly at the comment.

But Dick, Tim, and Y/N all froze and looked to Bruce.

They all knew it was a sensitive topic.

Bruce was clearly trying his hardest not to scold them all night. So he just took in a deep, shaky breath.

“Why get your GED or drop out of high school when you can just get murdered?” Jason offered with enthusiasm.

“Jason,” Y/N warned lowly when she saw the pained look on Bruce’s face that he was trying so hard to hide.

Jason’s death still haunted Bruce and riddled him with guilt – despite the miracle of him being resurrected. Y/N probably knew that more than any of the boys. Maybe only Dick really shared that understanding.

“You’re right,” Jason agreed. “Tonight’s not about me. You’re the guest, Y/N. Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the words got caught in her throat when she felt everyone’s eyes on her.

This was not how she imagined tonight going.

But Alfred – her savior – interrupted with the first course of soup and salad.

Everyone was momentarily distracted with the food.

Y/N hoped it stayed that way.

“Who taught you how to hack?” Damian piped up.

Y/N relaxed at that particular question. “No one. I taught myself.”

“Where’s your family?” Tim asked innocently.

Y/N flipped through all the possible lies she could tell, deciding to go with the one that would lead to the least amount of follow-up questions. And it wasn’t a lie at all.

“We’re estranged,” Y/N mumbled without looking up from her food.

“Parents are overrated,” Jason commented with a smirk.

Dick and Bruce glared at him.

However, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with Jason.

Little did she know that Jason could relate to her upbringing far more than anyone else at the table. Their childhood’s were parallel. Ones neither of them deserved.

Tim instantly felt guilty for asking an uncomfortable question without realizing it.

“Y/N is not here to be interrogated,” Bruce warned the table.

“Well, why don’t you tell us about her, B?” Jason answered. “How exactly did you two meet again?”

Bruce narrowed his gaze. He knew what game this was. The more emotion and reaction he showed, the more it would encourage Jason to continue with such antics. “We worked on a case together a couple years ago,” was all Bruce supplied.

“More like she threatened you into working with her,” Dick mumbled as he tried to hide his smirk by licking his lips.

Y/N kicked him under the table.

“So, Y/N, have you always had a thing for older men?” Jason asked.

She gave him a death glare.

“Jason, come on.” Dick cautioned.

“I mean, you of all people should be curious, Dickie.”

Everyone went quiet.

Jason rolled his eyes and looked around the table. “Oh. Are we all pretending there’s not a weird love triangle going on?”

“I didn’t realize my sex life was up for discussion tonight,” Y/N mumbled.

But it wasn’t just sex was it?

“Why don’t we all go around the table and share!?” Jason suggested loudly. “Dick, you first. What’s your number?”

“Jason that is enough.” Bruce grunted.

But Y/N had it with Jason’s pot stirring and she wasn’t going to let Bruce fight her battles for her.

She snapped her head in Jason’s direction. “I hope you don’t have a sex tape laying around, because I will sell that shit to PornHub faster than you can jerk off,” she threatened.

The words slipped out of Y/N’s mouth so quickly that she had momentarily forgotten that a literal child was also sitting at the dinner table.

Her hand slammed over her mouth and her eyes widened in shock.

Jason threw his head back with laughter. This was exactly the chaos he was trying to start.

Her eyes whipped to Damian with horror as she blurted out, “I am so sorry!"

“Please, I know what fornication is,” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m not so innocent. After all, I was conceived from my mother drugging my father and forcing coitus onto him.”

“I also slept with said mother,” Jason chimed in.

Tim made a disgusted gag noise.

Dick rubbed his face in exhaustion. Y/N’s jaw dropped at this new information.

But when she looked to Bruce, he wouldn’t meet her stare, only further proving it was all true.

This was no laughing matter.

Yet the whole family seemed desensitized by the subject.

Y/N was processing that Bruce had gone through such an assault – and by the mother of his only biological son, nonetheless. “Can Jonathan come over soon for a sleepover, father?” Damian suddenly asked.

The subject change was like whiplash on the entire table.

Y/N couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t just move past what she found out like that.

“I don’t see why not,” Bruce answered.

Clearly he was grateful for his son’s short attention span and his inability to read the room and realize he’d said something entirely inappropriate for the situation.

But Y/N could also see the subtle happiness in Bruce’s eyes from his son asking him such a question. And for that split second, this felt like a normal family.

“Who’s Jonathan?” Y/N asked Dick quietly.

She was trying to follow Bruce’s lead and move on.

“Superman’s son,” Dick provided.

“And literally Damian’s only friend,” Jason added.

“I heard that!” Damian shouted.

“I meant you to!”

“Put that knife down, Damian.” Bruce warned. “What have I told you?”

Damian lowered his head in shame. “The knives at the dinner table are for eating, and are not to be used as weapons under any circumstance.”

The table suddenly erupted into various conversations. Tim started talking Wayne Enterprises business with Bruce. Damian and Jason were shooting insults at each other. Alfred brought in another course.

Dick and Y/N shared a moment.

She sighed, realizing that the worst of it was probably over now.

‘Sorry,’ Dick mouthed to her.

‘It’s OK,’ she mouthed back.

The dinner continue with filet mignon, roasted garlic mashed potatoes, mushroom bordelaise, and – thankfully – more wine.

Maybe Jason had helped them all in a way by airing out all their dirty laundry immediately and getting it over with so they could move on.

But as Y/N looked around the table, listening to the boys and Bruce talk, she realized that maybe – just maybe – she didn’t want to leave.

—

Alfred put all the boys to work cleaning the dishes after dinner.

But he refused to allow Y/N to help. Once a guest always a guest.

Alfred handed Y/N a fresh glass of wine and told her to wait in the drawing room and that he’d bring dessert within the hour.

Y/N knew better than to argue with him and did as she was told.

There was a roaring fire in the room, pulling her to it.

“Please don’t take anything Jason said personally,” Bruce said from behind her.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh and shook her head. “He loves to start drama. That’s for fucking sure.”

“He’s constantly trying to get back at me. You weren’t his target. I was. But I apologize that you were caught in the crossfire.”

She turned away from the fireplace to face him.

Her eyes were heartbroken and worried.

“You never told me about…” she hesitated, “about Damian’s mother. I-I had no idea.”

“I try not to speak of it. No matter what happened in the past, Talia is still Damian’s mother.”

“But she still–”

“I’m fine,” Bruce cut her off. “Really, Y/N. I came to terms with it long ago.”

He was irritated, but too preoccupied with comforting Y/N to face the dark truth of how Damian was conceived.

“Well, if you need to ta–”

“I know, Y/N. Thank you.”

Their moment was interrupted by the boys trampling in the drawing room.

Dick had Damian thrown over his shoulder as the boy screamed insults at both Tim and Jason. Clearly Dick was preventing a full-on brawl from errupting.

The bickering and teasing continued but wasn’t anywhere near as awkward or stressful as it was at dinner. Perhaps all the glasses of wine Y/N had were helping with that. She decided to simply sit back and watch the Wayne family.

Eventually it hit Damian’s bed time. Bruce insisted on tucking his son into bed.

Jason took their leave as his cue to leave the manor.

Tim went up to his own room. Except they all knew it wasn’t to sleep, but to get back to work and not stop until he was utterly exhausted.

The drawing room turned relaxing as Dick and Y/N were the only two who remained.

“You survived,” Dick pointed out with a chuckle.

“I did,” Y/N answered with a light laugh.

Dick let a moment pass before he asked, “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your parents?”

She sighed, knowing Dick was going to bring this up at some point.

“Because I don’t tell anyone about them.”

“You told Bruce,” he countered.

Her brow furrowed. “And how do you know that?”

Dick at least looked guilty for answering, “He told me.”

She glared at him. “So is that what you two do now? You talk about me with each other? Swap notes?”

“Course not. But don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical getting mad about it?”

“Hypocritical?” She shot back.

“Yeah, hypocritical. You did a background check on every single member of this family. You know my entire past. You know every woman I’ve been connected to in my life. But the moment I know something about you, it’s not OK?”

“As if you wouldn’t offer that info freely if I asked…”

“That’s exactly my point, Y/N.” Dick sounded exasperated. “I’m trying to get to know you. I’m really trying. But now I know you’ve done it before. So I’m asking you to trust me enough to do it again.”

“It’s not that simple,” Y/N mumbled before walking out of the room.

Dick let out a groan of frustration and rubbed his face.

That definitely could’ve gone better.

But Y/N’s night wasn’t free of the Wayne men yet.

Just before reaching her bedroom door, Bruce crossed her path.

“Hey!” She snapped at him. “My past isn’t something for you to announce to whoever the fuck you want.”

“Y/N, that’s–”

“Save it,” Y/N snapped before he could get a word in. “Whatever broody and cryptic bullshit you’re about to spew…just…save it, k?”

And with that, Y/N slammed her bedroom door shut.

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

Part 9

A/N: I know a lot of people really hate the Talia/Bruce sexual assualt storyline. But that was the version of Damian’s conception that I was most familiar with. I didn’t want to make light of it, because we all know male victims of sexual assault are not taken seriously – and that’s fucked up. But I also didn’t want to linger on it too long since it’s such a disliked plot point

Let me know what you thought of this chapter!!! Pretty, pretty please. 😔

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 8 #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne reader insert #bruce wayne x reader x dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson reader insert #dick Grayson x reader x Bruce Wayne #batfam #batboys #batman x reader #nightwing x reader

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babybluebex · 4 years

Text

of pubs and profs [tom holland smut]

➽ pairing: prof!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 4.7k ➽ summary: you have what you consider the best night of your life, but discover that it was with the worst person possible. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. smut, explicit language, fingering/oral (f recieving), unprotected sex (i am begging yall to wear a condom irl) ➽ a/n: alright so... don’t fool around with your teacher pls. live vicariously thru y/n :)

He seemed so out of place here. For one thing, a bar like this was hardly known for much good happening, and this man exuded good. He seemed fit, even as he sat at the bar, his face sharp, full of angles that would have been glorious to sketch, and he had caramel-amber hair that curled around his ears and the nape of his neck. He wore a dark blue turtleneck and slacks, a watch with a leather band around his left wrist.

“You’re staring.”

I jumped. I had forgotten that I was mid-conversation. “Huh?”

Zendaya scoffed. “You’re staring at that guy,” she said. “Like, staring super hard. Do you know him?”

“No,” I mumbled. “He’s just…” I trailed off for a moment, then attempted to save face by taking a sip of my drink. “I like the look of him. Ya know?”

Zendaya scoffed at me. “I like the look of him too, but you’re on something else here.” There was a pause between the two of us, and Zen’s mouth split into a smile. “Five bucks.”

“For what?” I asked.

“You can’t get his number,” Zen said. “I’ll give you five whole dollars if you get his phone number.”

“You don’t have five dollars,” I said playfully, with narrowed eyes. “You don’t even have two coins to rub together.”

“Right, and who bought your drink?” Zen asked. “C’mon, you need to put yourself out there. Ever since you and Jacob broke up, it’s been nothing but… Sad. Your room’s a cave, Y/N. Will you do this for me?”

I cast a glance at the guy once more, and I sighed. “Why not?” I mumbled under my breath. “But I had better get that fucking money, or I’ll take away your apartment privileges.”

“I pay half of the rent, fuck you,” Zen laughed. “Go. Go!”

“I am!” I giggled, and I slid myself out of the booth. The pub was bustling with nightly business, and I edged my way past a group of girls to find a place at the bar. My plan of attack was to order a drink and strike up a conversation with this guy, and grab his phone number before I left. Lucky for me, there was an empty space next to him, and I leaned against the bar with my forearms.

“Oh, hey, good lookin’!” the bartender, Jake, exclaimed. He was a close friend of mine, hence why I always chose to drink at this particular bar. Our freshman year, he lived in the room across the hall from me, and we frequented each other for screwdrivers (of both varieties) all year. Since then, we continued to grow close. “What’s cooking?”

“Not a lot, Gyllenhaal,” I replied, and our hands met in a quick dap. “Lemme get a rum and Coke.”

“Sure thing,” Jake said. “Gimme two minutes. We’ve got a bachelorette party in the back.”

“No problem,” I replied, and I watched Jake slide to the other side of the bar.

The game was now on. I looked over my shoulder to Zendaya briefly, just for long enough to gauge that she was laughing at me, and I cast her a look before turning back. Then, I looked back over my other shoulder, the one closest to the guy, and I caught sight of a book he had. “What’re you reading there?”

He looked up at me with big brown eyes, and my breath caught in my chest. From far away, he was hot but, up close, he was totally something else. He had strands of ginger in his dark hair, and his fingers closed the book in order to look at the cover, like he himself wasn’t sure of what he was reading. “Chaos Walking,” he answered, and my eyes widened. His voice was gorgeous, pitched low, accented with a London attitude. “My mate told me I’d like it.”

“Don’t think I’ve read that,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “What’s it about?”

“Well,” he began and laughed lightly. “A lot. Basically, though, it follows a boy who lives in a world with no girls, where you can hear others thoughts, and he meets a girl. It’s sci-fi and… I dunno.”

“Is it a good read?” I asked. “You seem like you enjoy it.” The book was battered, the paper cover torn and creased, with the spine broken. It was a book that was well-loved, and I liked how his entire being seemed to reflect the book.

“Oh, I love it,” he said with a smile. “It’s so fun, ya know? The entirety of the story is incredible.” Then, a beat passed, and he added, “I’m Tom.”

“Well, hi,” I said and gave him a warm smile. “I’m Y/N. No offense, but this sorta place doesn’t seem like your vibe.”

Tom gave the front of the book a firm pat. “It’s not,” he said. “I was waiting on a friend but he doesn’t seem like he’ll be joining me tonight.”

“I didn’t think so,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “You seem like a coffee shop kinda guy.”

“You don’t quite seem like the sort to be here either,” Tom told me.

“How do you mean?”

“You don’t belong in a pub like this, I just know it,” Tom told me. “You’d be better suited somewhere else.”

I shrugged. “I usually don’t leave my apartment to drink,” I said. “But I’m friends with the bartender and I visit every so often just to say hi.” A moment passed. “Wait, back up. Where would I be better suited?”

Tom smiled, but it seemed more hesitant than before. “At the risk of being bold,” he started. “My flat.”

“Jesus!” I breathed, and my face went hot.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “That was-- I’m so sorry--”

“No, no!” I said quickly. “No, it’s not a problem, I promise. That was bold, Tom, but I don’t mind it. As a matter of fact, I think you might be right.”

“Glad we agree,” Tom said. “D’you wanna get out of here now?”

“Sure thing,” I said. My skin prickled at the thought of him against me, and I laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Let me get my bag.”

When I approached the booth, Zendaya stuck her tongue at me. “You lost,” she said.

“Did I?” I asked, pulling my bag onto my shoulder. “Or am I going home with him?”

“Shut up,” Zen laughed. “That was quick as hell.”

“That tends to happen,” I shrugged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with Tom.”

“I hate you,” I heard Zen mutter as I turned away from her.

Tom’s apartment--his flat, as he called it--was just a short cab ride from the bar, and I had hardly passed through the front door before his hands were pressing into my waist and his mouth was on mine. In an instant, I had melted into him, and my hands tangled in the bottom of his shirt. His mouth tasted like whiskey, which felt totally in-character for him, and he carefully nipped at my bottom lip.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Tom whispered, and he pushed my hair from my neck in order to brush his lips against my throat. No guys in my past had ever told me that in such clear terms, and my entire body ran hot at his words. A shiver ran down my spine, and he huffed a laugh into my neck. “Do you like when I say that?”

“I just like the way you talk,” I admitted. “Could listen forever.”

“That’s an awfully long time,” Tom told me warmly. His slender fingers inched under my shirt to touch my bare skin, and he slid his hands to lay flat against the small of my back. His kisses lingered on my neck, and the feeling of his soft skin was so lovely. “Let’s start with tonight.”

“I can manage that,” I laughed. “Bed?”

As soon as I was down in his bed, Tom was working my shirt off. His hands were so strong and sure against me, and I had no hesitations in letting him do whatever he pleased. His kisses trailed down to my stomach and chest once they were bare to him, and the feel of his mouth on my hip made me take a fistful of those pretty brown waves of his. He just laughed and continued his pursuit downwards, and he rid me of my jeans and panties before pausing and looking up at me. “Is this alright?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Just… Yeah.”

“Good girl,” Tom whispered, and I swore I died right there. He took my leg in his strong grip and kissed my inner thigh, and he placed the softest kiss to my quivering cunt. I immediately knew that I was in good hands, and I let my body relax and submit to Tom. His shoulders nudged my legs open further as he pressed his warm tongue to my wetness, and I bit back a moan as I tried to keep my legs from closing. I was already shaking, which was honestly embarrassing, but Tom didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to encourage him, because he placed a series of sloppy kisses to my throbbing clit that made me squeal. Then, his mouth went straight to where I was leaking, and an obscene slurping filled the air. Fuck, he was good.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, and his fingers quickly joined his tongue. First one, then two, then his thumb met my clit, and I whimpered. “Oh, fuck, oh my God.”

“No need to call me that,” Tom whispered. His breath was hot against my wet cunt, his voice raspy, and I couldn’t help the fluttering that enveloped his fingers. “Just my name will do for now.”

The combination of his fingers and mouth made my stomach quiver, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long before I came. I had never come just from being eaten out, and my heart raged against my ribcage when I dared to imagine what came next. His thumb moved slowly around my clit, and his mouth replaced it as his fingers moved in me deliciously. His tongue, so skilled and quick, took up his thumb’s previous job, and he took the throbbing bud into his mouth and quickly nipped it with his teeth at the same moment that his fingertips found home inside me.

There was no hope of obscuring my moan. “Fuck!” I yelped, writhing in his grip. “T-Tom, fuck.”

“Do you wanna come?” Tom whispered, looking at me through his eyelashes. “Use your words, my darling, please.”

“Please, please,” I gasped. My head fell back to expose my neck, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My breathing was ragged, and a shock of electricity raced through my whole body when he laughed into my cunt.

“Such a needy girl,” Tom chuckled. “You don’t have to ask. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know.”

He lapped at my wet cunt, tasting me like he had dreamt of this, and my hand went from his hair to his shoulder. His waves and curls fell into his eyes, but he kept at his work, even when I pushed at his shoulder. “Tommy,” I whimpered out helplessly. “I-I’m gonna-- You--”

“My darling,” Tom said. “I want you to come on my tongue. Let me taste you, babygirl. Come for me.”

My bottom lip was bitten nearly raw, and it only became worse when he said that. I nearly tasted blood as he gave my cunt one last kiss, so much more gentle than what he had been doing before, and my hips stuttered as hot pleasure pulsed through every part of me. I grabbed handfuls of his shirt and tugged him close, and he came to lay with his hips between my legs. My vision was blurry with tears as I studied him, oh so close to me now, and I felt a tiny pride at his pink cheeks and glistening lips. That was all me. “Oh, thank you,” I whispered, and he sweetly kissed each of my cheeks. “That was so good.”

“I’m glad,” Tom said. “Secretly, I pride myself in being able to do that.”

“You should be proud of that,” I huffed. “Also… ‘my god’?”

“That was in jest,” Tom began with a light laugh.

“I know,” I said. My hands trailed up his back, hiking his shirt up to his shoulders, and he helped me in tugging it off. He shook his hair out once it passed his head, and I added, “It’s a fitting name, though.”

“Really?” He asked, bracing himself above me. “Am I a god, Y/N?”

“Close to it,” I told him. I noticed the way that my hands were trembling as I went to his belt, and he must have noticed as well, because his hands went to my wrists. His hands fit all the way around my wrists easily. It wasn’t rough or dominating by any means; his hands slid up from my wrists to grasp my hands, fingers interlocking with mine as he pressed my hands down beside my head.

“Take a deep breath, my darling,” Tom told me gently. His thumb made comforting circles on my hand, and my stomach went all fluttery at how serene it was. “You’re shaking so hard. Do we need to stop?”

“No,” I told him. “I’m alright. I promise.”

“Alright,” Tom said. “Let me know if we need to stop.”

I nodded quickly, reaching for a handful of his hair, and I tugged him down to kiss me. I could taste myself on his mouth and, normally, that would have irked me, but with Tom, it only made my thighs tense and warmth spread through my body. My skin rippled at each touch of his fingers, and I let out little mumblings of his name as he kissed my neck and shoulders.

A surge of boldness ran up my spine, and I moved my hands from where he had placed them back down to his belt. As it seemed was the norm, he was two steps ahead of me, because he was already in the process of leaning back and pulling off his pants. The bedroom was cast only in the soft light of the lamp beside the bed, but I still captured every freckle, hair, and ridge on Tom’s firm chest and stomach. He was the definition of the skinny white guy that had good dick. Or, at least, he gave good head. But someone that good at giving head had to be as skilled elsewhere, right?

He was back on me in an instant, kissing my neck and making little marks on my skin as I shoved his pants down his thighs. Tom’s hands captured my legs and drew them around his naked waist, and I gasped aloud when I felt his hard cock brush against my cunt, already throbbing once more. In fear of seeming dumb, I didn’t intentionally look, but I could feel the weight of his cock against my body, and I stuttered, “God, Tommy..”

“That impressive, huh?” Tom laughed.

“Of course,” I remarked. “What, have you never been told you have a big cock before?”

Tom lifted his head from my neck, and I let out a giggle at his blown-wide pupils and red cheeks. “Where the hell have you been all my life?” He asked with a smile. He laughed, and I noticed the way that wrinkles formed right by his eyes with the extremity of his smile. That was adorable as hell. “You’re gorgeous and so funny, and you’re complimenting me like this? You’re perfect.”

“I’ve just been waiting for you, I guess,” I shrugged and ran my hands over his built arms, rock solid like a statue.

“Sorry it took me so long to find you,” Tom smiled. “Traffic was a bitch.”

I laughed, my head falling back onto the pillows, and Tom situated the head of his cock at my folds. At the feel of it, I gasped, and he swallowed my gasp with a kiss. “Let me know if we need to stop,” he reminded me, kissing my chin gently.

“I’m fine,” I told him, even though I was shaking so fiercely. Tom sank himself into me, and the deep rumble of his moan made my back arch up against him. “Fuck, darling,” he mumbled. “Cunt’s so tight… Squeezing the hell outta me.” His fingers dug into my hip, surely leaving bruises to later admire, and he snapped his hips forward so that he was fully in me.

“More,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure what I wanted more of; I just knew that I wanted more of whatever he ended up giving me.

My whole body thrummed with blood and life as he fucked me, pausing to pant into my neck and kiss my mouth. His back was taut with hard muscles and I raked my fingers down to his waist and back up to his hair. A curl had escaped the rest of his hair and bounced against my forehead with each thrust, and Tom and I each huffed out a laugh at it. Silently, I reached up and twisted the perfect curl around my finger, and Tom gave me another eye-wrinkling smile.

“F-Fuck, darling,” Tom muttered, and I could tell by his stuttering that he was close. The rhythm of his hips had slowed, but his grip on my waist and legs was as tight as ever. “So fuckin good for me, God.”

“I’m getting close again, Tommy,” I told him, my voice shaking. I’m sure he already knew, what with the way my chest was hot and my breathing was erratic, but I still wanted to see the look on his face when I said it.

“Oh, me too, my darling,” Tom whispered. His hand fell from its place at my hip and came to rest on my stomach, just above the point where he had himself buried inside me, and his thumb-- that damned thumb of his-- slid down until he was playing with my clit once more. There was an urgency this time, though, his movements quicker and messier. With each thrust, his own belly quivered, and I desperately pulled at his hair. I needed him to come first. I needed to feel him spill himself inside of me. I needed to feel his cum leak out of me, to hear him laugh at the mess we made like I knew he would. I needed so much. I just needed him.

“Tommy,” I whimpered, keening into his touch. “Fuck, Tom--”

His lips crashed into mine, and that was all it took. My legs shook around his waist, and my vision went white-hot for a moment. His thrusts were messy, his waves and curls completely undone and hanging in his eyes, and he watched with a greedy gaze as I writhed under him. I pulled his head down into my neck and he resumed his work of nipping my skin and soothing the sting with his tongue, and I kissed the shell of his ear. “Oh, Tom,” I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear over the sounds of our shared gasps. “Please, for me?”

He pulled himself from me and was spilling in an instant, covering my waist and stomach in his warm cum. He settled himself on his elbows above me once again, and I took care to brush those waves off of his forehead. His hair had gone super curly with the little bit of sweat on his forehead, and I bit the tip of my tongue. “Yeah?” I whispered.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed. “Let me get you a towel. Stay right there.”

“Wasn’t really planning on going anywhere, honestly,” I laughed.

When he returned, he was wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt that hugged his muscled frame. He sat beside me and carefully wiped me clean with the wet corner of a towel, and he placed a sweet kiss on my forehead. “Are you feeling alright?” Tom asked. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Thanks, though.”

“No worries,” Tom told me. “You’re welcome to stay the night, if you’d like. I must warn you, though, that I like to cuddle.”

“I would have expected nothing less,” I told him. I sat up, testing my legs for a moment, and my cheeks went hot. “Umm… I don’t think I can walk.”

Tom’s eyes went big for a moment, and he reached for me with a hesitant hand. “Are you kidding?” He asked.

“My legs are shaking too hard,” I whispered and bit my lip.

“Oh, my darling, I’m so sorry,” Tom told me, his eyebrows pitching up. “I truly didn’t mean to hurt you--”

“You didn’t,” I said quickly. “It’s… This is a good thing. I promise.”

There was a brief exchange that ended with Tom giving me a shirt to sleep in and me promising him that I won’t try to walk until my legs quit shaking. We found each other again once in bed, my head fitting snugly under his chin, and his fingernails lightly scratched up and down my back. The feel of his strong arms around me, holding me in such a protective way, lulled me to sleep.

The night passed under a thin veil of dreams. All too soon, an alarm began to blare, scaring me fully awake in a second. From the darkness, there was a groan of displeasure, and a grunt as the bed squeaked and shifted, and the alarm was turned off with a solid stab of a finger. “Sorry, darling,” Tom whispered. “I forgot I have an early morning today.”

“You’re fine,” I whispered. The lamp turned on, and I was met with Tom, his hair messy and frizzy, his face flushed with good sleep. I stretched my arms above my head, allowing a quick squeal, and I said, “I should probably be heading out soon too. I have an eight AM.”

“Ugh,” Tom groaned. “I hate those.”

“Right,” I agreed. “Who wants to learn at eight in the morning?”

“The poor instructor,” Tom laughed. His voice was lower than before, scratchy as well, and my chest warmed at the sound. He fixed his hair out of his face, and he turned to see me, still wrapped up in his shirt and blankets. “You look cozy.”

“I am,” I said softly. “Wish I could stay for just a little longer.”

“Pursuit of knowledge is an honorable one, though, darling,” Tom told me. “Would you like to shower first?”

“No,” I said. “I have to go by my apartment to get my stuff and change clothes anyway, I’ll just shower there.”

“Alright,” Tom nodded. He reached for me and I met him halfway, brushing my lips to his in a soft kiss, and he gave me a light laugh. “I need to get your phone number. I’d love to do this again.”

“I’d like that too,” I said. I gave him a parting kiss, then worked myself from the bed. I stretched once more, feeling my back pop, and I found my bag by the door to the bedroom. I gave Tom my phone, open to a new contact listing, and he gave a mischievous smile before plugging in his information. “What’s that smile all about?”

At the top of my screen, it read Big Dick Tom.

“Oh, God,” I laughed. “That’s really gone to your head, hasn’t it?”

“You’re the one who told me that,” Tom argued. “And, if someone tells you that you have a big dick, you take that shit to heart.”

“Sure, sure,” I said quickly. “I’ll text you; maybe we can get dinner this weekend?”

Tom gave me a smile that was fit for a king. “Of course, my darling girl.”

Tom ended up sending me home with the shirt I had slept in. It was for some carpentry school in Wales, but it was soft and smelled like Tom, so I didn’t really mind the odd reference. Just before I left, he had swept me up in his arms and kissed me, and he pressed his forehead to mine. “This might be premature,” he whispered. “But do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

Zendaya slapped a five dollar bill in my hand when I entered the apartment. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.

“The best,” I told her. “He’s super sweet and a great time, and he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“You said yes, right?” Zen asked.

“Duh,” I scoffed. “A hot Brit who likes me? I’m not letting that go.”

“Right,” Zen said, and the smile dropped from her face. “Well, while you were off getting dick from your new man, our literature professor dipped.”

“What?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Zen said, spinning her laptop to face me. She had an email pulled up from the head of the department, declaring that our professor, our beloved Dr. Osterfield, would not be teaching the course any longer. Buried in the text of the email, it said the name of the replacement professor: Dr. Holland. “I tried to look this guy up, but he’s not on Rate My Professor or anything.”

“It’s halfway through the fuckin’ semester,” I groaned. “This blows.”

“I just hope this new guy’s easy,” Zen groaned. “I can’t deal with a hard class right now.”

The class was still held in the same room as before, and the general air was worse than a normal eight AM. At least, with Dr. O, he had an infectious energy that woke us all up. Nobody knew what to expect with this new guy. I hoped that, for my sake, he was cool.

The door to the classroom opened, and a man said, “I apologize for the wait. It’s just my luck that I’d be late today…”

My whole body went cold and my heart stopped. Tom. My boyfriend, my fucking Tom stood at the front of the small lecture hall, wearing the jeans and white buttoned shirt that I had helped pick out. “Well, this is a strange thing, isn’t it?” Tom chuckled, clasping his hands together. “I’ll explain, don’t worry. But first, I think maybe an introduction is in order.”

He unwound his bag from his shoulder and opened it for a moment, and a whole new wave of dread washed over me. While he was in the shower, I had written him a quick note and stuck it in his bag. It was nothing more than “thanks, love. hope to see you soon xx”, but a smile split his face wide. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Apparently, my girlfriend left me a little note. Hmm! Anyway, I’m Dr. Holland. Call me that, or Tom, or any variation of the above. I promise you, I’ve heard it all.”

Tom settled himself on the edge of his desk and he fluffed up his hair a bit. It was then that a quiet wave of titters passed through every girl in the hall; a hickey. It was small, but it was there, right under his ear. “I went to school in London, where I’m from, before I got a degree in English literature from Cambridge. Then, I came to the States and managed to get my doctorate in it, and, who’d have guessed it, this is my first teaching job. Go easy on me, huh?.” My little note, written on a sticky note, was clasped in his hand, and I seriously wanted to die right then and there. My professor. I was stupid. Of course the stars had aligned (or misaligned?) to allow this to happen. And just when I thought I found the right guy, too.

“Right,” Tom said. “Let’s look at the attendance, see what we’re working with, and I’ll let you guys fill me in on what Dr. Osterfield was covering.”

The closer he got to my name, the colder my face went. I hated every single moment of it. “And… Y/L/N? Y/N?”

I quietly raised my hand, then managed a meek, “Here.”

His eyes trained on me, and I watched the same recognition flood his eyes. Quickly, though, Dr. Tom Holland averted his gaze back down to his computer, and he said, “There you are, Y/N… Can I see you after class?”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #smut fanfiction #prof!tom #i'm so excited for this yall #u don't get it

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readinginthereadyroom · 3 years

Text

let’s talk about christopher and santa claus for a minute.

because the thing is. that kid is a national treasure and possibly magic. because he has santa’s ear. direct line to christmas miracles.

and the best part is. it’s canon.

but before we get to that. we need to talk about eddie being scared of santa when he was a kid. about the difference in eddie and christopher’s childhoods.

because eddie’s childhood lacked magic. santa wasn’t a right jolly old elf with a red suit and a belly laugh. just a creepy guy with a fake beard who smelled bad. a stranger he was forced to go see. that scared him so much he got sick. twice.

christopher’s childhood tho. filled with magic. when he was little and not feeling well (maybe around one of his surgeries?) and missing eddie. shannon caves. tries to cheer chris up with a giant tree for the backyard. but we didn't have enough ornaments to cover it, so we just loaded it up with lights and ribbon. I got the sleeping bags out, and we laid under it, just staring up at the branches for hours.

which is the most magical thing I’ve ever heard.

so really it’s no surprise that christopher believes in the magic of christmas. the power of santa. miracles and the christmas spirit.

because christopher only asked for one thing that christmas. one very specific gift. not toys. not candy. he just wants his dad. w-when you were gone, I asked santa for you to come back, and you did.

which makes me wonder what time of year it was when eddie’s helicopter was shot down. did he arrive home in time for the holidays? with his wrist in a cast and his arm in a sling and propped up by a cane. wounded but alive. home for the holidays. which is all that would matter to little christopher. that dad’s back. dad’s staying. forever.

and since christopher’s wish came true before. since santa came thru before. why wouldn’t it work again? because christopher’s got his dad. a new life, in a new city, with a new best friend. and everything is perfect. everything except the lack of shannon. christopher misses his mom. so he forgoes toys and candy once again. goes with eddie and buck to see santa. I asked him to find mom. will he?

the answer is yes. because she’s already back. has been for a while. eddie’s just been reluctant to let shannon see christopher. because he’s scared she’ll break his heart if she decided to leave again. because eddie doesn’t believe in magic. and I think that includes happily ever afters.

but christopher believes in magic and wishes. and eddie knows that. and he’ll do everything in his power to keep it that way. cause he loves christopher more than himself. loves that he believes in magic and miracles and santa.

because it allows eddie to believe thru christopher. just for a second. but seconds accumulate. grow. build. into something magical all eddie’s own.

so they get another giant tree. cover it in ribbons and lights. turn the floor into a wrapping paper treasure map for christopher to follow into the front yard. where shannon is waiting. mommy! mommy! I missed you so much. I knew Santa could do it again.

and then so much happens. by the time next christmas rolls around shannon has died and christopher’s survived a tsunami. and eddie has to work thru the holiday. buck too. christmas is ruined.

we don’t see chris talking about santa this year. or to santa. I think that’s probably on purpose. this year is about the absence of christmas spirit. and how that absence radiates out into their lives. chris storming away. giving eddie the silent treatment. buck saying he’s working too.

missing pieces. lack of communication. absent people.

but you cannot convince me that when the holidays go awry. that christopher won’t turn to his old pal santa to fix this particular problem. that he won’t ask for another christmas miracle. that his family can be together for the holidays. christopher and his dad and his buck. it tracks with christopher’s history.

and the thing is. santa comes thru. via buck. who plans a surpise holiday party at the 118. ropes athena and maddie into gathering their friends and family all together. throws the biggest holiday party in the history of the firefam.

and now I’m thinking the s5 holiday episode would be the perfect time for buddie to go canon. buck and eddie have been getting closer since their begins eps. they’ve both grown as people. tried other relationships. neither of which work out. both of which they choose to end.

actually, yes. I am into this. and here’s how it happens:

the sniper and the blackout puts things in perspective. which leads to eddie to breaking up with ana. buck realizes where his priorities are and he breaks up with taylor soon after. that’s when the shoulder bumps and playful banter starts to ramp up. they’ve always been in each other’s space and at each other’s homes. now it’s just more. buck and eddie become buck&eddie.

there’s no big declaration or passionate kiss. 911 doesn’t really do that. what we will get is a buddie hug after a too-close call that lingers a little too long. and eddie doing his sustained eye contact thing. and buck reciprocating with his eye flutter thing. then eddie reaching with his hands. then buck’s blinding smile. then...

END CREDITS. because it’ll hurt so good.

mid-way thru the next ep we’ll get confirmation in the form of carla. she’ll stumble over buck coming out of eddie’s room. there will be a little light teasing. it’s about time interspereced with domestic fluff. they will keep it to themselves for now.

and then eddie’s parents guilt trip him into going to texas for the holidays. buck has a christmas eve shift, but has christmas day off. and plans with maddie, chim, albert, and the hans for jee-yun’s first christmas. plus holiday dinner with athena and bobby’s family. he’s not going to be alone.

doesn’t feel that way tho.

and then there’s a scene at the airport that mirrors the end of s1. only instead of abby leaving it’s eddie and christopher. with buck and eddie both pretending to be okay. neither of them are.

cue eddie in texas. where everything goes wrong. of course it does. helena and ramon keep making jabs about how eddie’s raising christopher. they will never think he’s enough. even worse they don’t treat christopher like an autonomous person. but a consolation prize. a parenthood do-over.

and eddie’s miserable. christopher’s miserable. they both miss buck.

there’s definitely a firefighter santa involved. a lesson about family being who you chose. christopher won’t stop talking about last christmas at the station. about buck.

which is why. when everything comes to a head over christmas eve dinner. eddie makes an executive decision. books a red-eye flight and bundles him and christopher off to the airport.

buck’s out on a call when eddie and christopher arrive. it was only a 2 hr flight but it’s still really late. they both conk out on the sofas. and that’s where buck spots them when the trucks pull into the station. he’s doesn’t go all the way over to them. just watches them from afar. like he’s always done.

until eddie wakes up. sees him watching. reaches his hand out to buck and drags him into their space. physically connects the three of them. kisses his hand. merry christmas buck.

neither buck or eddie notice that chris is also awake. watching them with a mischieveous smile on his face. because christopher believes in magic. the christmas spirit. santa claus. and apparently santa claus believes in christopher because that man has granted each and every one of his wishes.

dad. mom. family. buck.

christopher has been slowly building his own family. via christmas miracles and the help of his good friend santa claus.

outside the window it starts snowing.

and it feels like magic.

#if any of this actually happens in canon #even tangentially #I will lose my danging mind #christopher has set a precedent of asking santa for PARENTS for xmas #eddie then shannon #then eddie and buck (family)#and what's the next step #BUCK #he needs to ask santa for buck #and that's how we get canon buddie #christopher diaz #eddie diaz #shannon diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #buddie #9-1-1 #911 what's queue emergency?#writing in the ready room #petition for christopher begins

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