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k-writer1998 · 4 years

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Take A Chance

Part 1

mafia! hyunjin x hacker! reader

fluff

w.c: 2.2k

a/n: here is part 2 as promised :)

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“I know what it looks like but let me make one thing clear, I’m not with these people.”

From what she was mumbling earlier to herself that much was clear but that meant someone else knew I was coming and informed my mark beforehand. Do we have a mole somewhere? Why is she here though? She recognizes me, was meeting her this afternoon not a coincidence? The more I thought about it the more questions came up. The only thing I was sure of was don’t lower your guard… or your gun, even if my gut is telling me to. Seeing as though I wasn’t going to speak she added on after pulling down her mask.

“Long story short, I’m a hacker. I got a job but I was told I have to do it in person. Now I see why, I was double crossed but then again I didn’t expect much from this broker Seunghyun.”

Silence.

“Look I don’t know who you’re affiliated with but I wanna walk away alive and that requires me to know you won’t shoot. I think we both know who would win in a shootout here.”

She makes a valid point. She holds the gun with hesitation, most likely she’s never killed someone if she’s ever actually shot a gun before. Those observation skills again... makes sense now I know her profession. Our eyes connected again and she lowered her gun, is she dumb?

“Do you really think that’s a smart move?”

“Call it a gut feeling. Plus, since no one came for us yet the only threat right now is that gun.”

I should’ve cut my losses and got rid of her, but why is my conscience weighing against me on this? Chan-hyung won’t be happy this assignment was a bust, it took us forever to locate this base on top of the fact this group works on anonymity so we haven’t identified the boss yet.

“You said you’re a hacker right? How good are you?”

“I mean on a scale of one to ten I would say a solid eight.”

“C’mon you’re coming back with me.”

This was going to be a stretch, a bad decision even, but maybe she can find our target. She said her gut trusts me so maybe she’ll help? Or maybe your trying to make up dumb reasons because you don’t want to kill her. Whatever not like she’s going to willingly-

“Okay.”

She shrugs her shoulders… Does she even know the circumstances she’s in? Or maybe she does cause you’re still pointing your gun at her idiot. I put my gun away before heading out, grabbing her arm in the process and pulled her along. The car ride was silent and there were too many questions that needed answers so trusting my gut this time I decided to just ask.

“Why did you come with me so willingly?”

“You asked about my skills so you weren’t planning on shooting me, maybe I’ll get a job out of this. Plus I wanna catch Seunghyun, our goals are in the same direction and I can’t go back home. The weasel thinks I was basically killed in his client’s place, so it’s best to play dead.”

“Don’t you think you’re being too trusting of me?”

“I blame the fact we got to know each other prior, you had a trustworthy personality… Can I ask where we’re going? Apparently you keep questioning my actions, so I don’t know if I can ask."

"Well you just did but we're going to one of our home bases."

"Surprised we didn't just go back to yours since it's so late."

"... That would be inappropriate given the current situation."

"Inappropriate? You're more innocent than expected."

"I was saying for security purposes where is your head at?" I teased.

First time tonight she reverted to the girl I met this afternoon and deep down I was glad. No more analytical observations, just a girl not sure how to handle conversation. Although it was silent in the car once again there was less tension thankfully. I turned to check on her after a while and she was… asleep. I let out a sigh as I rolled my eyes. I can’t decide whether I think she is smart or naive at this point. Is she always so trusting? How has she survived this long? She was still asleep when we arrived so I nudged her softly. She blinked a few times as her mind remembered her situation before she hurriedly climbed out after me. Once inside there were only three of the members in right now, the biggest imposition being Chan-hyung. I roll my eyes, he’s always trying to use the years of experience etched on his face to scare outsiders. I felt y/n move a bit closer, keeping her eyes darting around the room but always ending back on hyung. We went straight for the lion’s den as I motioned her to take the seat across from hyung’s desk, taking my own seat on the arm of her chair. His eyes looked her up and down in question before turning to me for explanation.

“The target wasn’t there, instead I found her.”

“And you’re sure she isn’t working with them?”

“She was set up by Seunghyun. Was told she had to do an on site hacking job.”

“Seunghyun is the last of the brokers you should ever trust,” hyung said, throwing that comment at y/n before adding, “and she’s trustworthy?”

“Yeah, she wants back at Seunghyun and she’s willing to help for a hiding place for now.”

At this she looked at me cause we never talked about a deal but I mean she does need a place to crash so was I really wrong? Chan-hyung smiles. Thank god, I was getting tired of his tough act. It gives me chills cause it feels like someone is going to get into trouble.

“It’s a deal then. We have a few rooms here for when we pull late nights anyways.”

It’s been a few weeks since then and among the many things I’ve learned about her, y/n has made me question yet again how she has lived this long. After the first night she has basically turned the computer room into her own, rarely leaving even for food. I have yet to see y/n sleep longer than a few hours and if I didn’t check up on her with some food, she would’ve probably lived off of whatever snacks Felix had lying around the room. Aside from me basically becoming her babysitter, she grew close to some of the boys. Felix and Minho-hyung have adopted her as their kin and she’s grown on the other boys, some have even whined to me about how she only really talks to me. I constantly roll my eyes cause that’s not true, if anything it’s cause she's known me longest out of all of them but once Changbin-hyung snitched about that one lunch everyone suddenly knew why. Luckily there wasn’t much time for chatter about feelings since y/n identified some high rankers in that group, one being the boss’s right hand.

After a few days of tracking, y/n and Felix found the main warehouse in which the right hand officer operated from and with the current information Chan-hyung and Minho- hyung devised a plan. It was a long shot but if things went well we could smoke out the leader. We broke into three teams as we moved to location. First was the infiltration team consisting of Seungmin, Changbin-hyung, Jeongin, Jisung, and Chan-hyung. I was to be positioned as sniper support on the building across the street and Felix, y/n, and Minho-hyung would be in a surveillance van down the street to assist remotely, giving new orders if needed. From my perch on the rooftop I counted off how many people they’ll have to go through to reach the main office, which Felix confirmed was the current location of the right hand, and on Chan-hyung’s count they went in. Infiltration went smoothly and we were able to take out most of the members stationed in the factory with little problem. In a matter of minutes the office was breached and the right hand was captured but it felt… wrong. He was too calm and it was too easy, there should’ve been more resistance on their way up.

“You guys…”

I was about to warn them but a chill shot down my spine as the man I had my sights on turned to look at me with a smirk. The next moment I felt a cold barrel on the back of my head and I froze.

“I’m going to need you to hand over your ear piece please,” I begrudgingly threw it behind me before I heard him speak again, “Hello Stray Kids. I would appreciate it if you don’t act rashly, a good friend of yours is with me. It would be a shame if something happened to him.”

Watching through my scope, I could see the others tense up. It was a trap. Hopefully the others in the van are safe… you idiot, you’re the one in danger why are you worrying about others? Just focus on the person behind you!

“You lot really don’t know how to give up, do you? I tried to throw you a few bones but you are a hard crowd to please. Then you started to look into my alias and it was a little too close to home, how did you figure that out anyways?”

Wait a minute that voice sounds familiar... Seunghyun? I’ve only heard him on select occasions but that’s his voice. I can’t believe the boss was hiding right under our nose, it’s smart I give him that. He must’ve found out when y/n started looking into him. Y/n… why does she keep popping into my mind when I’m in a life or death situation? I scoff.

“Excuse me, why are you chuckling to yourself? I believe you’re the hostage, what’s so funny?”

“Because someone’s gut feeling just happens to be scarily right. She said our goals would be in the same direction, who knew they were actually the same?”

I felt the frustrated twitch in his hand as he pressed the gun harder onto the back of my skull. I shouldn’t be provoking him in this situation, what’s wrong with me? Maybe y/n’s recklessness is rubbing off on me. Bang! The pressure disappeared and in an instant I whipped around to see an out of breath y/n still holding her gun up as Seunghyun groaned in pain on the ground. I maneuvered around him and kicked his gun away, keeping my eyes on the scene unfolding before me.

“You bitch… I thought you were dead.”

“And I thought I would be enjoying my favorite show tonight, it seems we’re both disappointed.”

“No wonder they were getting close, they upgraded their hacker.”

He laughed to himself before spitting out blood. By now y/n had moved to stand over Seunghyun, stepping on the shoulder she had shot. The usual hesitation she had was gone and the familiar warmth in her eyes had frozen over.

“No, I think you just got sloppy. You may cover your tracks but the powerful people you work with didn’t. You’re fault really. Of all the hackers you chose to double cross, it just had to be me.”

She turned her attention to me. Her eyes scanned my body, making sure I was more or less unharmed, and smiled when she realized I was in one piece. Seeing her like this was kind of hot and I would almost be scared if I didn’t notice the small tremble in her hand. This wasn’t her and I could tell she no longer wanted to be in that position.

“Do you feel better after getting revenge?”

“No, which is anti-climactic.”

“Then I can take things from here, tell the boys they can clean up and I’ll meet you down there.”

“Awww this is almost cute enough to make me throw up,” Seunghyun’s annoying voice spoke.

Y/n gave a final dig of her heel for that comment before going down, her voice echoing through the stairwell. Once she was gone and out of earshot, I pulled the trigger without hesitation and finished the job. I packed up and went down to meet the others who were already complimenting y/n for her heroics. As I threw the stuff in the back Felix started whining how she no longer had a reason to stick around.

"Hyunjin hurry up and date her already so we can keep her.”

At Chan-hyung’s comment she looked away from me and in the dim light from the van, I could see the tips of her ears turning red. Probably as red as my face felt and most likely the guys caught it too.

"If he won't ask you out, I gladly will," Seungmin added suddenly.

I knew this was going to earn me the teasing of a lifetime, indicated by the ooooh’s they were already making but my brain wasn’t thinking. I pulled her into me, wrapping my arms around her as my voice came out as a low growl.

“Back off she’s mine.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz scenarios #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #my writing

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asterekmess · 4 years

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S3A - E7

So, I’m starting this episode right after finishing the last one, and I’m still kinda riled up from that bullshit. Let’s get to pissing me off and breaking my heart then. Blood/gore mention warnings for this episode.

Exercise your eyes! Read More!

Let’s just jump right in:

Starting right off with forcing myself into putting the tag in. Scott literally just listened to his mother say that giving this woman something to lessen the pain of her injuries could complicate things and make it harder to treat her. This is like an important medical thing. While yes, it’s really upsetting that she would need to keep being in pain, she needs to be able to identify and explain what exactly she’s feeling to the doctor who is going to be arrive really soon (though I have no idea why the nurses aren’t able to get these people set up. That’s what they did with me? I didn’t see a doctor for like an hour, but they didn’t make me sit in the fucking waiting room before dealing with the blood.) Her pain level will have a direct effect on how quickly she’s seen. This moment is meant to show Scott being soft-hearted, but with the doctor only ten minutes away, he could literally be making this woman’s life a whole lot worse by taking away her pain right now. There is a reason why after I was given pain killers for my surgery I wasn’t allowed to be near any heavy objects. Her pain is keeping her from irritating her wound. She could fuck herself up if she stops responding to the signals her body is trying to send her. This is not the right way to make Scott look kind. He looks like an idiot who doesn’t even listen to his nurse mom.

WHo the FUCK would keep driving with a bunch of bugs in the car? She’s not even on the interstate! PULL OVER IDIOT.

I’m actually agreeing with Scott on this one. I have no idea how medically accurate what melissa just did was, but it look pretty damn cool.

WHat the hell is this conversation? First off, Ethan, you made VERY clear in the last episode that you want to bite Danny even after he said no. Even if that was the possession talking, it was based on what YOU wanted. Danny’s not safe with you. Second, what is this bullshit about knowing Lydia is the important one? Important to Stiles and ALlison maybe. Scott literally never talks to Lydia. THIRD how exactly did you guys come up with that idea when you went after them on the FIRST DAY? You sniff him on them? cus’ if so your noses are damaged.

what...what is with this ghost car shit? She was in the middle of the city, more than ten minutes away from the hospital and behind the traffic caused by the ten car pileup. How did the car drive itself ALL THE WAY here?

Ethan. you’re an alpha. you have night vision. You shouldn’t need to ask what the fucking MOTH in the middle of the driver’s seat is.

HI NOAH! I’ll be honest. I missed you. You’re a really good actor and you just make me feel all safe. WHich is weird bc I hate father figures and I hate cops. Linden Ashby is just too good, I guess.

It’s so frustrating watching Deucalion walk around with humans pretending to be blind. Because he is. He is Pretending to be blind. He’s already proved like a dozen times that he can see just fine when he turns on the Alpha eyes. Which doesn’t make SENSE because Deaton said his iris’ were permanently damaged. He doesn’t have two different sets of eyes! And it sucks, bc they put in these little things that it would’ve been awesome to see if they included an actual blind person properly. The casual use of the cane, taking someone’s elbow and the trust that implies, and even this. Having (that looks like ethan’s coat) Ethan explain what’s in front of Deucalion, describing the scene to him.

DEREK YOUR SECURITY SYSTEM SUCKS. HOW DID THEY DO THAT WITHOUT YOU WAKING UP? WITHOUT CORA NOTICING?

Also, Cora, you look amazing, can you please be my friend and can I hug you? I love your shirt.

I HATE THIS BITCH. Fuck you Julia.

uhh....why is an English teacher filling in for a chemistry/geometry teacher? That’s not how substitutes work. Making a joke out of it doesn’t make it make any more sense. SHe shouldn’t be doing that, especially if Harris has been missing for a while.

So your office can keep werewolves out, but not darach? Okay, let me go full conspiracy theorist here. we only know Deaton saw the moths because we see it. He just tells Scott that he’s going to be taken. This is a story that Scott is telling, so he couldn’t know that deaton saw the moths unless deaton told him. Julia is currently teaching a class. Are you seriously saying she doesn’t need to be involved at all in order to do these kidnappings? She can just put them on a timer and let the autmoatic spellwork do the job for her? OR Is deaton lying about being taken, and this is just a test he came up with to force Scott’s “True Alpha”ness to the surface? JUlia clearly had other plans for her sacrifice. I don’t think Deaton was a ‘distraction’ to keep Scott from finding the actual sacrifice. I think it was Deaton using the situation to his advantage.

why does deaton have a canine acupressure chart on his wall? I’ve never seen a vet’s office have that. Does he do alternative medicine for dogs??

BOYD. ISAAC. MY BOYS. I can’t tell you how much I love this. It’s so sneaky and annoying and so pack-ish I just love it so much.

BOYD YOU ARE A GENIUS BOY AND I LOVE YOU.

I swear, like ninety percent of what the ‘adults’ in this show say is ‘go back to school.’ ‘shouldn’t you be in school’ yadda yadda. Like, they want so badly to write the teens as though they never have to go to class, so they just make them constantly skip and ignore that these are fucking teenagers who would never be able to get out of school that easily, and they handwave it with someone occasionally going ‘hmm, weird that they aren’t in school’ and then just ignoring it? Truancy is like a THING that you can get in major trouble for. At least Boyd and Isaac called in sick. You know how you could have avoided all this class bullshit? PUT THE FUCKING SEASON DURING THE SUMMERTIME DUMBASSES.

It just hurts seeing Stiles beg for Scott not to make him tell his dad, and then turn right around and admit that it’s not okay for him to let other people suffer just because it scares him that he might lose his only parent. Like, he walks into that sacrifice with eyes wide fucking open and it hurts.

I’m not talking about these dumb sex scenes anymore. I’m so tired of them.

OKay, can we talk about the fire alarm thing though? It sounds like a jokey kind of thing with Aiden teasing Lydia about wanting to leave during the fire alarm but... Remember how Lydia was haunted by Peter’s burnt corpse? How she can hear the cries of the dead, and how she went wandering into the crumbling remains of the Hale house? There’s every chance that Lydia remembers the fire through Peter’s eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was forever freaked by fire alarms.

Man, Cora and Lydia, together? The sass involved? If I didn’t ship Allydia so hard, I’d totally ship Cora and Lydia.

ONce again, I wanna point out that AIDEN IS A MURDERER. Literally all it would take is someone Explaining to Lydia that he is serial killer and she’d never touch him again.

Cora and Stiles together? I’m loving it. I just, wanna point out that when Scott showed up Cora couldn’t have given less of a shit. But here....Cora doesn’t remotely question Stiles’ authority here. She immediately goes along with it and when he tells her to let go of Cora she does. Even though she has no real reason to. When she asks about the spirit board, it’s a legit question and she doesn’t argue or make fun.

PLus there’s the whole ‘Well do you know any spirits” which straight up just confirms for me that ghosts and shit are real in this universe. I trust the Hales as lore sources and Cora’s matter-of-fact tone is good enough for me.

jesus christ i wanna get deucalion and Peter in a room together and watch them just...monologue random facts and trivia at each other endlessly. “Lacrosse was originally played by Native Americans.” “Do you know what a metronome is?” Guys. come on.

Exasperated Stiles is literally my favorite Stiles. “We’re trying to save lives here for the love of god” “YOU”RE SOMETHING, OKay? JUST put out your Hand” It’s so fucking good.

Someone EXPLAIN TO ME how Scott learned to do fucking gymnastics. WHEN DID HE LEARN THIS? I hate this bullshit “I’m a werewolf, so I can do anything” shit. Especially since it’s LITERALLY just Scott they let do it. Everyone else has to actually do the work to learn it.

So...how exactly does Deucalion know where Deaton is? This literally just supports my theory that Deaton set the whole thing up.

ALSO, since I already have the tag I feel no shame in pointing out that Scott didn’t even HESITATE when he learned Derek was going to die. He immediately asked about Deaton. Yeah yeah, Deaton is a father figure to him, but if that’s an acceptable excuse for Scott to use now, then it should count as an acceptable one when it’s STILES” FATHER BEING THREATENED (but I digress, we’re not there yet.)

How did I never notice that Lydia’s Left handed?

andd.....how did Lydia know that? How did Scott know that? What did Deucalion say that even remotely hints at Danny? Scott doesn’t know about Danny’s paper...what?

Fuck yeah, vengeful Boyd. I dig it.

uh....why couldn’t allison just stand next to Scott in the closet. you know, like she did while he was getting in? Also, why was Allison hiding with him anyway? It’s HER HOUSE and HER BEDROOM.

um....okay, i know that we all like the sterek fics where they have to hide in the closet and one of them pops a boner...but I’mma be real, it’s a lot more uncomfortable when I know she broke up with Scott and they’ve been in there for like ten seconds. Plus there’s the whole knowing that she DEFINITELY has enough room to move away and so does he. *shrug*

Side note: Allison where the fuck do you get these clothes? THey’re both awesome and...kinda weird? Did you buy that dress in france?

okay, i’ll admit it, i do actually kinda like the camera angle through the map, with the blacklight lighting up the symbols (though the symbols flash on and off a little too fast). It’s kinda cool.

uh, how would taking the picture help? You don’t have the blacklight over it? None of the markings are visible anymore

why does Chris keep walking in and out? AND WHY DIDN”T ALLISON DO THAT THE FIRST TIME?

Stiles in plaid and Converse? Yes. Yes. please. That’s so my aesthetic I’m so fucking jealous. He looks COMFY.

This whole interaction is just so fucking weird XD

But like, why would Stiles know to go through Danny’s stuff instead of just asking him why he might’ve been targeted??

HOW WOULD THEY KNOW TO CUT THE POWER? THIS DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. Why does the ALpha pack keep showing up with way more information than they should have? It’s so annoying! It’s one thing if Morrell is feeding them information, but she wouldn’t have KNOWN about this! This was a good plan and there’s NO REASON the Alphas should’ve known what Boyd, Isaac, and Derek were doing! What the fuck?

....god i love Derek’s red eyes.

....god i hate that I know where this is going.

....god i wish he’d just let them tear her apart.

I know that it’s meant to be setting up the cora/stiles thing, but I love that she doesn’t hesitate to touch him, and that when she stops him it’s with a very quiet “stop.” She’s really gentle with him, which is just fucking nice. Werewolves taking care to be gentle with Stiles is like...nice.

Since when did Scott know about the plan with Boyd and Isaac? Since when did Stiles know? Is Boyd seriously texting Cora while Derek and Kali are fighting, or did he text her as soon as the power was cut?

is this the first time we see a werewolf bounce off the mountain ash? I mean, I think so, but we also see Peter in S1 try to get past some. There’s no glowing when he comes into contact with the shield. It’s the same with Isaac and Erica in s2. I mean...I guess they’re just trying to upgrade the ash stuff? I gotta say though, I kinda prefered when there were no special effects. It seemed cooler when literally the only thing making it work was belief and having this totally invisible barrier that Peter couldn’t cross. It was cool.

....i think i’m procrastinating seeing the end of this fight. I’m gonna fucking cry.

Why...why does Isaac turn and yell ‘wait’ to Boyd when he was the one running forward to Julia? I am confusion.

Dude, if Alphas could break through mountain ash barriers then Talia Hale WOULDN”T HAVE DIED. THE HALE PACK WOULDn’T HAVE DIED.

I wanna point out here, that this fight between Derek and Kali makes sense for once. Him losing makes sense. We know that the Alphas are much older than they look, or at least Kali, Deucalion and Ennis were. Aiden and Ethan don’t show up in that flashback. ANyway, Kali’s probably in her thirties or forties. SHe’s much older than Derek and she’s been fighting for a lot longer, not to mention fighting to kill.

Seriously, someone get my boy a quarterstaff to knock her feet away.

I really really don’t understand this stuff. Why is it whenever people (I mean Derek, because it’s literally always Derek) get forced to use their werewolf claws/teeth (because again I cannot believe this is happening more than once) he for some reason can’t just...shift back? Retract his claws and fangs? Derek has amazing control, he should totally have been able to do it. With the venom it made sense, he was paralyzed. But now??

What exactly was the fucking point of having Scott break the mountain ash barrier, just to have the sheriff show up and shoot Deaton down? That was literally useless.

also, Noah is an amazing shot. Hot damn.

ALSO. LIterally all this info about true alphas is being whispered to Scott when he’s all alone? How the fuck am i supposed to trust that deaton even ever said that shit to Scott? He could totally be lying about it.

WHAT KIND OF TOTAL BULLSHIT BACKWARDS ASS PLOTLINE IS THIS? After half the season being about Deucalion attacking Derek and trying to get him into the pack, suddenly “Deucalion isn’t after Derek, he’s after you” WHAT? THat’s the STUPIDEST LAZIEST SHIT I’VE EVER SEEN.

and to end my rant BOYD SHOULD NOT HAVE DIED. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? PETER STUCK HIS ENTIRE HAND THROUGH DEREK”S CHEST IN SEASON 1 WHIL IN HIS ALPHA FORM AND THREW HIM INTO A WALL AND DEREK SURVIVED JUST FINE. WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE???

Final Thoughts: No. No, no, no no, no, and no. The ‘plotline’ of this episode is literally like fifteen things that have nothing to do with each other.

Admittedly, there were a few nice moments. Cora, Lydia, and Stiles was an awesome trio. Boyd, Isaac, and Derek was an awesome trio. The sheriff? Amazing. Melissa? A fucking hero. Danny, a genius saint.

All in all, I’m going to tear this episode to shreds in order to rewrite it. Get fucked, Davis.

#personal #anti-scott mccall #TeenWolf-Rewatch

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 3 years

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Parricide.

Ok, so to go over the plan, we have to get to the top of this satellite tower, and attach the EMP to the top spire. We turn it on, and when it goes off, it’ll cut all power in the city.

Hopefully, when that happens, the auxiliary power of the Yozora mansion will activate, and Monaca will be able to track it’s GP. Sound good?

Yeah, climb a god damn satellite, because that’s SO easy.

Don’t worry. I already got the permission from the city officials.

What did you tell them?

I just told them that Future Foundation were receiving some bad radio signals from the city that were gumming up our machines. We couldn’t locate it, so we’re going to have to temporarily cut all power in the city to get it back online.

I also told him that the Hospitals and other essential structures won’t be affected by the EMP.

Good to hear...

Alright. So, shall we go?

Sure. Leon?

...Yeah...Yeah let’s go...

...

Well...this is awkward...

Shush Yuta, you didn’t need to point that out.

Is it attached yet Leon!?

Ugh, give me a second!

*The gang takes an elevator up to the very top of the radio tower. Leon and Yuta both climb up the spire while the rest watch, as they attach the EMP.

Come on Leon, we don’t have all day you know.

Yeah, maybe actually put some effort in, for once.

Ryoma, seriously, cut it out! You are doing NOTHING to help!

...

Here, let me try.

NGGH! AH! There! Attached!

Good job, now come back.

Huh?

What? What is it?

...

*Komaru suddenly notices something approaching from a distance, rather quickly.

YUTA! LEON! GET DOWN!!!

HUH!?

*Komaru sees that it’s a Rocket Propelled Grenade, and it’s heading straight for them! Her shout comes a little too late, as the RPG hits very close to Yuta and Leon.

AAAAH!!

WAAAH!!

OH NO!

HUGH!

GRGH!

*Makoto runs and catches Leon, softening his fall, and Toko does the same for Yuta.

Ugh...*cough!* Thanks bro...

What in the hell!? Is it Osone?

???: Something like that...

Huh!?

*Everyone looks in up at the spire at the sound of this voice.

I am technically with Madame Osone, but she is not physically here.

I am merely running...let’s say an errand.

*Kirumi hops down from the tower and drops her remote control RPG Launcher.

What...the hell?

Wait, aren’t you-?

I’m sure a few of you know about me, but for those who are still curious, I will politely introduce myself.

I am Branch 12′s Kirumi Tojo, also known as the Ultimate Maid.

Kirumi Tojo?

Kirumi, what are you doing here!?

Wait a second...Impostor said you left the Foundation to take on some extracurricular work...

D-Don’t tell me that the work was-!?

Indeed. Narumi Osone...is my employer.

WHAT!?

Why!? What in Gods name would make you do that!?

It is my duty as a maid to honor my contracts. I signed up for this, and as the present is, it would be rather hard to back out now.

You...Kirumi, are you some kind of idiot!?

Excuse you?

Narumi Osone is holding Akeru Yozora hostage! She’s not-

I KNOW this!

...You...know...?

Then why are you still helping her!? Captain Yozora trusted you! How could you twist the knife on her like this!?

...Akeru Yozora is the only one who is twisting knives!

Figuratively...and very literally...

What? What do you mean?

...

*Kirumi reaches into her pouch and pulls out her phone.

Let me show you something.

*She tosses the phone to Komaru, who catches it and looks. Everyone gathers around her and watches the video currently playing on it.

*pant!* *pant!* *splutter!*

Wait...That’s...

Shinitani Yozora!

Tell me something...how did Future Foundation tell you that Shinitani Yozora died?

Someone broke into her house and killed her. Is that not right?

Keep watching.

*pant!* *pant*

???: WHERE ARE YOU!

Ngh!

*All of a sudden, a figure turns the corner, with death in their eyes.

...! There you are...!

AAAH!

Akeru!? What is she-!?

I don’t like this one bit...

*The footage cuts out for a brief moment and then centers back on Shinitani leaning against the wall, bloody and limping.

Akeru...s-sweetheart...! Please, don’t...don’t kill me...! I’m your dear mother...ain’t I?

You AREN’T my mother! You’re just a sick, twisted demon!

This is only the beginning. When I get out of here, I’m going to find every last person in power, and burn them to the ground. Then, I will be in control of my own empire.

But...you need to die. Regardless of what I want. People who get in my way are going to die, and you’ll be one of them!

N-NOOOO!!

*Akeru kicks and breaks Shinitani’s ribs and then stabs a knife straight through her throat.

...

Well, there you have it...

She...killed her mother...!

How did she...get away with that?

...I...I don’t understand...what was this whole “empire” thing about?

Don’t tell me...she wants to seize control of the city...!? And she killed her mother to stop her getting in her way!?

...No...No, this HAS to be fake!

Say what you will. I’m a perceptive enough woman to tell a real from a fake.

Not only is Akeru Yozora a Parricidal Murderer, she’s a demon of a child who wants to see the world burn.

She is not who you think she is...

Lies! This is all BULLSHIT!

Then don’t force yourself to change your mind...and remain foolishly oblivious.

In the meantime, I’ll be taking this...

*Kirumi leaps up and grabs the EMP.

H-HEY! We need that!

Not anymore you don’t...and if you insist on pursuing this fruitless endeavor.

Then come and take it back.

...

*ZRRT!*

*Toko immediately shocks herself.

Challenge accepted old lady!

...

*Kirumi leaps off the building.

Did...DID SHE JUST JUMP!?

Toko, don’t you dare!

*Genocide Jill gets a run up and falls after her.

//Genocide Jill VS Kirumi Tojo.//

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melancholicumsomnia · 3 years

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[FIC] A Little Miracle In The Volume Part 2

A/N: Here’s the second part of my fic contribution to PEDRO PASCAL APPRECIATION WEEK 2021! Part 2 focuses on the #ppaw2021 theme of the day, Favorite TV show Pedro starred in. Obviously, I still loved Pedro best in The Mandalorian, but his performance as Oberyn Martell in Game of Thrones was absolutely exquisite!

Thank you to @pedrohub for the incentive to write this little fic. To @pedrocentric, here is Part 2!

PREVIOUS PARTS

Part 1

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

A Little Miracle In The Volume

Rory

Part Two

Pedro was limping back to his trailer, struggling against the urge to massage his aching groin. He had just come from the Volume to film a scene with Gina Carano, who plays Cara Dune, and Misty Rosas, who was playing the Ugnaught Kuiil. It was a simple scene actually, requiring their characters to ride through the rugged terrain of Nevarro in order to make their rendezvous with Carl Weather’s Greef Karga. In the pre-vis, they were going to ride blurrgs. In reality, the blurrgs turned out to be mechanical bulls, but with a wider girth.

Brendan and Lateef had seen the dubious looks he was throwing at the machine and they couldn’t help laughing.

“Come on, man!” Lateef said in between wheezes. “There’s nothing to worry about. That thing won’t buck.”

“Hey! You can’t be Mando just by wearing the armor,” Brendan then goaded him. “You must ride the blurrg. Both Lateef and I have done it, so can you.”

Pedro let out a groan and gritted his teeth at that memory. Even his back was starting to ache in sympathy with his groin. “I guess I’m starting to feel my age. I really need to work out more.”

With his trailer looming not so far from him at last, he quickened his pace, wanting that ice pack he had his assistant prepare for him in the fridge.

Before he could reach it, however, Pedro’s eyes were drawn to Werner Herzog’s trailer nearby. The German director was seated in front of his trailer beneath a beach umbrella, the Child on his lap. He was watching something on his iPad, which was propped up on its stand on top of a small table. Pedro heard snickers and he whirled to see the puppeteers Tamara Woodard, Kan, and Trevor with remote controls in their hands, hiding behind the crates.

Deb Chow happened to be passing by and, when she saw the trio, she remarked, “You guys are the worst! You should really stop feeding that old man’s fantasies!”

“We just want to keep him happy,” Kan answered, flicking a knob so that Pedro saw Grogu’s ears go up. Sagely, he added, “We all know the stories about him and Klaus Kinski. We’re not taking any chances.” The others nodded in grim agreement, causing Deb to roll her eyes, mutter “I give up!” under her breath, and march off.

Curiosity getting the better of him in the end, Pedro cautiously approached that imperious figure. “Hi, what are you guys watching?”

Werner glanced briefly back at him and said dryly, “Oh, it’s you.” Going back to the TV show playing on his iPad, he replied, “Since you are playing our stoic bounty hunter, I thought I should explore your previous works. The Child and I were going to watch Narcos, but since it’s about Pablo Escobar, it might be too violent for the little one. So I figured the best option would be your episode in Game of Thrones.”

“Uhm, I don’t think Game of Thrones is also appropriate viewing for a kid that young,” Pedro commented in turn, only to realize what he just said. Wait! I’m talking about a puppet, not a real kid. Oh my God! This delusion is contagious! Grogu looked up then and gave him a sweet smile. But, then again, he’s so cute! Awww!

Werner’s lips pursed in a disapproving pout. “Yes, I know. I was pouring myself some iced tea when that scene of you in the brothel came on. I couldn’t cover the baby’s eyes fast enough, so he was able to catch an eyeful of ample bosoms and buttocks.” He glanced down at the baby sitting on his lap, wagging a finger. “Remember what Grandpa Werner told you. When you see a scene like that, you must never watch, you must never listen.”

Great! Pedro couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes, just as Deb had done. Now, you’re quoting Grizzly Man at him.

At Werner’s remark, Grogu gazed up at Pedro again. There was no mistaking the now lecherous, toothy grin on his little face and the enthusiastic bobbing up and down of his brows.

Scowling, Pedro turned to the mischievous puppeteers. He mouthed out to them, “Guys! What the fuck?”

In reply, the puppeteers gave him thumbs up and wide, conniving smirks.

“I should say though,” Werner then began thoughtfully, “I am very impressed with your performance here. Oberyn Martell, a proud, head-strong, and seductive prince desiring revenge for his poor sister… In other actors, the arrogance would overwhelm their performance, making him a figure to be detested or, worse, a caricature of similar characters in past films. But, no, behind that façade is kindness and gentleness. It’s because of your eyes, I think, and your voice. You’re speaking with a Latino accent in this one. You are from Mexico?”

“No, Chile actually.”

“You have a splendid way of expressing your emotions through tone of voice. Very few actors can do that. Brilliant performance, young man,” Werner gave that reluctant praise. “I can see why they chose you to play the Mandalorian. Even if you are not wearing the armor, you can still carry the character on your voice alone. How old were you when you did this?” “

“Uh, 38, 39, I guess.”

“And how old are you now?”

“I’m 43.” Pedro was not sure where this line of questioning was going.

“And it is only now that Hollywood has taken notice of your talent.” The German director shook his head ruefully. “Hollywood has become too reliant on the so-called ‘star power.’ I dread to think about the other precious little stars who are going unnoticed.”

Pedro was touched by Werner’s words. “It’s okay, sir. I’ve paid my dues, done my share of waiting on tables as a struggling actor. In fact, after working on Game of Thrones, I couldn’t find a single job. It took months before I got a recurring role on another TV show, The Mentalist.”

“Now, you have made it at last.”

“I’m not letting this current success get to my head. I know just how fickle Hollywood can be. To be very honest, I still don’t have that confidence. All this…” He raised his hands to the media campus surrounding them. “…All the work that I’ve been doing in the past few months, it still seems like a dream to me.”

“And that’s a very good attitude to have. Always be true to yourself. Show people who you truly are.” A wry, fond smile formed on Werner’s lips. “I suddenly remembered Klaus Kinski. He had been extremely difficult. He was a man with serious mental health problems. But he never sought to disguise his true self. It made it very hard for people like me, his family, and other people around him. Despite his foul temper, his brutality, it is that frank, straight-in-your-face honesty, I think that’s what I admired most about him.”

Pedro chuckled. “At least, I’m not hot-tempered like Klaus Kinski.”

A towering hulk of a man marched onscreen on the iPad and Werner gasped. “That is no man! That’s a grizzly bear!”

“That’s Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson, one of the world’s strongest men. He played Ser Gregor Clegane, aka ‘The Mountain Who Rides’, in Game of Thrones.”

At that moment, a bright idea suddenly came into Pedro’s head. Should I dare ask him now? He did just praise me after all. Maybe he is already starting to accept me. Okay, I will!

“Uhm, Mr. Herzog?” Pedro began shyly. “Since you liked my past performances and appreciate my worth as an actor, may you please allow me to spend more time with the baby?”

Werner turned to him sharply, his eyes flashing like daggers. “I appreciate your worth as an actor, true. But it absolutely has nothing to do with caring for this baby.”

Pedro was crestfallen. Still, he persisted, “Sir, please. I promise you that I will and can take good care of the baby. My sister Javiera…she often entrusts the care of her kids to me.”

“But they are not your children! You are a bachelor.” Werner looked him straight in the eye. “How could you be a father to this Child when you aren’t one?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, sir, this Child is a puppet.”

“Then how can you commit to playing a father when you cannot immerse yourself in the fantasy?”

“But how can I commit when you’re keeping the Child all to yourself?”

“I have only three episodes to do in this TV show. I want to make the most of this time I have with him. We have just started filming. You have an entire season to bond with him!”

“No, I don’t! I still have to finish my commitments with Wonder Woman 1984. I only have a single episode with the Child this season, so my time here is short!”

Because the two men were arguing heatedly, none of them noticed that the Child was still watching the episode on the iPad. He was staring enrapt as the trial by combat between Oberyn Martell and the Mountain commenced. Many times, Grogu would look closely at Oberyn’s face and then gaze up admiringly at Pedro.

But then, the Mountain struck back with a vicious blow, knocking out Oberyn’s teeth. As the Child watched in growing horror, the Mountain placed his fingers over Oberyn’s eyes and pressed down.

Both Pedro and Werner were shocked when Grogu let out a high-pitched scream, his eyes wide and waving his little arms frantically. A quick glance at the iPad and Pedro realized why Grogu was in a state of mortal terror.

Before Werner could stop him, Pedro scooped the distraught Child up and started rocking him, patting his back. Grogu kept shaking his little head, rubbing his brow over the soft cloth of the cape hanging above Pedro’s collarbone.

“Sssh! Don’t cry, Grogu,” Pedro whispered soothingly in his ear, being careful that Werner did not hear the Child’s name. “It’s just a TV show. As you can see, I’m okay. He never hurt me.” To his relief, his gentle reassurances gradually calmed the Child down.

Still stunned to silence, Werner could only watch with mouth agape as Pedro placed Grogu back on his lap. To his credit, the Child raised his arms to him, wanting more hugs. Despite his longing, Pedro just gave the little one a gentle smile and a pat on the head.

“Stop watching my past works with the Child,” Pedro scolded the German filmmaker. “None of them are appropriate for kids, except for that one Touched By An Angel episode. I wouldn’t even recommend The Great Wall because he might get scared of the Tao Tei monsters.”

Having given the final word, Pedro limped off to his trailer to get that ice pack and some much-needed rest.

Neither man noticed the perplexed group of puppeteers behind them, all of them staring down at their remote controls. Kan even took to giving his controls little shakes.

When their fellow puppeteer Jason Matthews came over, Trevor asked him, “Hey, Jason! Were you controlling the puppet just now?”

“No, I was in a meeting with Dave.”

Tamara interrupted, “Did you install a mic on the kid because we just heard him scream?”

Jason stared back at them. “What mic? You know that any baby noises will be added by the sound guys later.”

Kan gripped a startled Jason’s arms. “We saw the Child move…by itself! And he also screamed, like a real baby!”

Jason grabbed Kan’s hands and slowly lowered them. “Get a grip, will ya? It’s probably just a minor malfunction. Get the puppet from Mr. Herzog and we’ll check it out.”

“But…but…”

“No buts! You shouldn’t have been playing with it to begin with. You AND Mr. Herzog.”

The puppeteers then walked off, leaving his confused crew behind.

“But…but…we did see the Child move by itself!” they argued back feebly.

TO BE CONTINUED

#ppaw2021 #miracle in the volume fic #real person fic #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedrocentric

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lifeinahole27 · 4 years

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CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 8/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (the content warnings matter this time!)

Content Warnings: Please be aware that this chapter discusses professor/student relations in the past, non-consensual pictures in the past, and some present, consensual, loving, and happy sexual relations. Gotta find a balance somehow. (This chapter also nicknamed "The One where Sarah calls out a shitty storyline from FRIENDS.)

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 8: Unearthed

It takes time, but they both manage to get out some of the difficult parts of their pasts. Emma tells Killian snippets of her former relationships, including why she ran from Henry the first time she saw him. Graham’s story is kept brief, Walsh is brushed off as a bad experience. Killian is patient about it, holding her hand and listening closely. She can see the questions forming behind his eyes, but he never pushes for more info than she’s willing to share.

He’s hiding bits of his own past, too. He’s very open about the accident that took his hand, how he grew up in Liam’s shadow but preferred it that way, and his strong passions for fiction and poetry. But when it comes to information about his time in university, she sees the way his shoulders tense. There’s a lack of enthusiasm when he speaks of his master’s studies. She’s seen the picture of him at graduation that sits in his office. She knows there’s more to the story.

They’re watching television one night, background noise as he works on some edits. With the money they got for upgrades, Emma purchased a shiny new laptop, one specifically loaded with the software to digitize the town’s records, and so they work on their own stuff together.

Something on the screen that neither of them are glued to must catch his attention, however. It’s a rerun, something that used to be popular but has now reached syndication and thus plays on every channel when there’s downtime. It’s something Emma’s seen enough times that she knows the general storyline without really even paying attention. It’s the one where a professor starts a relationship with a student.

While she’s mostly tuning it out, it seems Killian is finally tuning in, and she looks up as he lurches for her television remote and hits the power button. His breathing is visibly quicker than it should be. Even when the screen goes dark, there’s a tension around his eyes she has never seen before.

“You okay?” she asks, mostly because she’s not sure he remembers she’s there right now.

He shakes himself a little bit, brushing off the moment for all she can tell, before he turns to her. “Hate this show,” he responds.

“It’s been on for the last hour.”

As he focuses on her face, she can see the moment he sheds whatever was trying to creep up on him. “I was pretty deep in my work. I do apologize, love.” He’s lying, but she’s willing to let it go if it’s something from his past that he doesn’t want to talk about.

“Hey, no worries.” She reaches out, squeezing his bicep once for comfort. “You want coffee? Tea?”

“I’ll get it. What would you like?”

“Surprise me,” she says, knowing that he’ll bring back the hot chocolate he knows she loves.

By the time he returns, the tightness on his face has eased up a bit, but it’s replaced with something she would call contemplation. “Swan, I want to tell you a little piece of my past, but I hope you won’t judge me too hard or let it change the way you feel about me.”

“A little ominous, but okay. Go for it.”

“Back in university, I was involved with one of my professors.”

Emma takes a moment to let it absorb, trying not to flinch or let her facial expressions change at all. It’s his past, and she knows just as well that those moments shouldn’t define the current moment.

“Tell me about it?”

“As you know, Liam convinced me to enroll in university as a way to pull me out of my slump after I lost my hand. He helped find out if I could take my classes online since I wasn’t ready to go out into the world.”

Emma reaches over, closing her fingers over the hook attachment he has on today. It’s become second nature, but sometimes she wants to tell him without words that she accepts him for who he is and this is one of those moments.

“Eventually, I was comfortable going to classes on campus. I was engrossed in all things to do with writing and literature and editing, and knew that’s the direction I wanted to take. And then I met Milah, one of the professors for a professional writing class. And she was just that for a while, and then when I entered into my master’s studies, we sort of…crossed the boundaries when she was helping me with a project.”

“Milah was married, is married, though they are separated. Her husband, some wealthy bastard, agreed that if she was discreet that they could see other people. He wasn’t anticipating that she would take up with a student, former or otherwise.

“What did he do?”

“Threatened to expose the affair to the university. Milah would’ve been fired. I would’ve likely been expelled. He said he would divorce her and cut her off from his wealth. He only agreed to back off when Milah and I split and I filed to finish my master’s online, much as I began the whole journey.”

“Was the money that important to her?” It’s the question that hits; she can tell immediately.

He grimaces before answering. “She liked to pretend it wasn’t. Painted herself as a free spirit that didn’t need wealth. But it didn’t stop her from walking away from me like it meant nothing.”

Without even prodding, Emma can see that the story isn’t done. She adjusts her grip on him and waits for him to continue.

“I almost didn’t finish my degree after that. I started drinking heavily every chance I got. Took Liam a couple weeks to figure out what was going on, pried out what had happened, and then intervened. He’s the only reason I still completed my coursework.”

“He sounds like a good brother.”

“Right pain in the arse, but yes, he is.”

“You really loved her?”

“Aye. She’s the only person outside my own family that I ever professed my love for.” He’s quiet for a moment before meeting her eyes once more. “Have you ever been in love, Swan?”

“Maybe I thought I was, once,” she admits. Mostly, she realizes that the feelings she thought she had for Neal and the ones she told Walsh she had were nothing compared to the way Killian makes her feel. “Thanks for sharing all of this with me.”

“I figured you should know,” he tells her, simple as that.

When Friday rolls around, she’s all set to join her boyfriend and friends in public. Normally, Emma would be one of the first to ditch out on work and get to their usual spot in the bar, but tonight she’s working with Belle to relabel and organize their filing system. Previously, their idea of “orderly” bordered on chaos, and they had trouble keeping track of just about everything. Along with the digital system, they decided to reconfigure the physical records as well.

They’re in the process of fixing the system when Emma’s email account dings, and she glances at it briefly to make sure it’s nothing important before they get back to work.

What she finds, instead, is a message with a link to a website. Normally, she would write this off as a spam account, but there’s no fill-in-the-blank recipient. There’s no lead-up to the message at all. Just the words written below a link: You’ll have to trust me. Type in code 92574. Check Maine.

With a heavy amount of trepidation, Emma clicks the link and follows the instructions. Her brows furrow as she tries to process what she’s looking at, but it appears to be some kind of personal page, with links to the fifty states. Finding Maine in the list, she clicks it, and almost immediately drops her phone as if burned.

“Oh my fucking god,” she mutters, her vision blurring around the edges.

“Emma is - oh! Oh my goodness!” Belle immediately backs away from the glance she’s just stolen at Emma’s unlocked phone on her desk, looking back at Emma with horror and surprise in her eyes. “What…. What is all that?”

“Something I was told was destroyed a long time ago,” Emma says, her voice shaking and her body feeling heavy and weak all at once. “Can you drive stick?” Her phone finally goes dark and auto-locks, and she’s honestly not sure if she can feel her face right now.

“I’ll text Will and let him know we’re on our way.”

-x- December 13: Friday

The last few weeks since Thanksgiving have been some of the best in Killian’s life. While the project of Henry’s novella is speeding up in momentum and racing towards the end, he and Emma have been taking things at their own pace and enjoying every moment together that they can.

It’s getting easier for them to talk about their pasts. From their shared lack of parentage to finally breaking the barrier of previous relationships, he knows they’ve both made great strides. Being able to tell her about Milah and not have her go running for the hills was admittedly a huge relief, and he only hopes that she’ll trust him to open up about anything she’s still holding out.

Normally, when they go out on Fridays, Emma is right by his side when he enters the bar. While Emma is working with Belle, he and Will have gone to the bar early to have their own catch-up until everyone else arrives.

They each spend a fair amount of time grousing about work, about late nights and tired eyes and how much they love their jobs despite their words. And they also spend just as much time talking about the women in their lives. He’s happy to see Will as content as he is. He also knows that, despite the strange and often passive-aggressive friendship between the two of them, Will is happy to see Killian with Emma.

About an hour after they sit down, Will gets a text from Belle saying that the two women are on their way. They each share a look, automatically noticing that something feels off, but unable to tell what. That sensation is amplified by the look on Belle’s face when she arrives with Emma not far behind.

There’s a tightness around her eyes that Killian has never seen the soft-spoken woman have before. Emma is just behind her, with her arms crossed over her chest and a look that he would best describe as being a cross between solemn and murderous. Only his girlfriend could manage that combination of expressions.

“All right, Swan?”

“No. Not all right. Can uh, can we go back to my place?”

“Sure. Let me just -”

“I’ve got the tab. Go on,” Will says, his thick eyebrows drawn together.

The Bug is waiting for them when they get out, still running. Clearly, she hadn’t intended on spending long inside whether he was coming with her or not.

They’re silent on the drive back to her place, and even while they make the trek up to her loft. She’s quiet as she unwraps her scarf and kicks off her boots, all with deliberate and jerky movements.

“I have to kind of process through something,” she says, her voice thick with a myriad of emotions. “I don’t wanna talk. I don’t really want to do anything at all. But will you stay with me?”

“I’m here as long as you’ll have me. Whatever you need,” he tells her, making sure to catch her eyes so she knows he’s being honest.

Wordlessly, she locks the door before she leads him upstairs.

While Killian is normally the one with the carefully crafted routines - which, admittedly, have taken a backseat to finally relaxing and enjoying his time here in Storybrooke - there are certain things that Emma does every morning and every night as far as her own rituals command. He has never seen her go straight to her room without carefully scrubbing her face and teeth and removing her contacts.

Usually, she also takes that time to braid her hair to keep it from tangling too much while she sleeps, but tonight she leaves it hanging free, and he’s surprised when she only shucks off her clothes and pulls on a t-shirt before climbing into her bed.

Following suit, Killian removes his clothes and quickly folds them, leaving them on the cedar chest by the bottom of her bed as he usually does when he stays over before he climbs under the covers. Immediately, Emma is shifting until she’s pressed against him, her ear over his heart and her arm wrapped tightly around his midsection.

“You won’t leave?”

“Only if you tell me to,” he admits, hoping that it’s what she needs to hear. Her grip only tightens, and he decides to stay awake as long as he can to make sure she’s all right.

He must doze off because he wakes again to Emma’s lips pressed against his, her hand sliding into his boxers to stroke him awake. As soon as he’s aware of it, he’s kissing her back, helping her push down his boxers before she hastily rips off her own underwear and finds a condom. This is not how they usually have sex - he recognizes it immediately - but even as he hesitates, he hears her whispers.

“Please - I know, please, I just need…”

He responds by pulling her closer, kissing her as hard as she was kissing him to let her know he’s on board. She slides on top of him, gripping his hand like a lifeline and rocking against him as if it’s her one salvation. He can feel the panic and anger with each move of her hips above him and he just holds on, hopes she can feel the reassurance radiating from him, hopes she feels that he’s an anchor she can trust - that he’ll be with her no matter what this all means.

When they’re both sated, she collapses onto his chest, and to his surprise he feels the quiet sobs wracking through her body a few heartbeats later. She only really cries when she’s angry - she admitted as much to him some time ago when they were trying to decipher the use of pathos in commercials. He wraps his arms around her, running his hand soothingly over the small of her back and whispering anything he thinks may bring her back to him.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, her voice hoarse. “I’m sorry that wasn’t… I basically just used you to fuck away my anger and that’s not…”

“Swan,” he says quietly, releasing his hold on her so he can coax her to look at him. “No apologies necessary, love.”

With hasty swipes, she dries her face. “I’m just so mad right now.”

“Will you tell me what about?”

“Just… give me a couple more minutes,” she says, sliding off of him and climbing off the bed. He hears her footsteps retreating down the stairs and the door to the lavatory close.

He takes a deep breath, pushing himself to sit up, turning on the light beside her bed and grabbing a couple tissues to clean himself up. He slips his boxers back up while he’s at it before sliding between the sheets again.

When she returns to her bedroom, her hair is tied up and her robe is wrapped around her like body armor. She must’ve used the time to scrub the last of her makeup off, as well, and his heart stutters a beat to see her looking so down but still so beautiful. She climbs up, sitting next to him at the head of the bed with her legs crossed at the ankles.

He’s watching her carefully, trying to not pressure her to talk but wishing she would say anything at this point, as the silence is slowly pressing in around them.

“My last ex was the absolute worst,” she finally starts, fingers fiddling with the ties on her robe. “Worse than Neal, obviously. And worse than I ever thought he was when I found him cheating on me the day that Ruth died.”

He’s quiet, understanding that now is not the time for empty condolences for either incident. Instead, he reaches out and places his hand on her knee.

“He was a shitty antiques dealer down in Boston, never wanted to come up here to visit, never wanted to be seen with me, it seemed like. And unfortunately, he kept a lot of mementos from our time together.”

“How so?”

“You know how I told you I burned my uniform a couple years ago?”

He nods in response, tilting his head and wondering just where this could be going. She’d told him the beige monster was uncomfortable and unflattering, saying that any photographic evidence of the uniform in question was destroyed along with it.

“Well, I left a tiny part out,” she admits, looking over at him briefly.

“Nothing you tell me is going to run me off, Swan. I promise.”

With a bracing breath, she nods, focusing back on her hands in her lap. “I used to wear a uniform. Took it down to Boston with me because I was supposed to go straight to work the day I left his place. And he wanted to see it on. We were joking around and having fun.” She stops, grimacing and visibly willing her face to relax a moment later. “I let him take pictures. He had this fancy photo printer so he had physical copies and deleted them after they were done. At least, that’s what he swore he did. Just like everything else, it turns out that was a lie.

“Emma?”

“He has a website. A fucking website with all of us.”

“All of who?”

“Every girl he fucked in the year that he and I were together, according to the site description. He proposed to me, you know, right before we ended things. I was going to say yes but told him to give me some time. Ruth passed away about a week after he asked me and I drove all the way to Boston because I wanted… needed the person that claimed to love me. And he was in the middle of fucking another woman when I walked in the door. I told him to give me the photos before I left while this redhead sat naked on his bed and watched me gather my stuff.”

“And you got the physical ones from him?”

“Yeah, no surprise he lied about those being the only copies. He kept them in the top drawer of his dresser, so now I have to wonder where the rest are kept. The day after Ruth’s funeral, I burned the uniform - with David’s permission and minimal questions asked - and the photos.”

She goes quiet after saying that, not really keen on making eye contact for the moment. Killian takes the opportunity to gather the words he wants to say, trying to find the best order of questions and statements.

“You know that none of this is your fault, right? Nor do I blame you or feel any differently towards you because of your past.”

Emma sniffs at that, a half-hearted attempt at acknowledgement, so Killian leans closer and turns her face to his so he can plant a kiss on her lips.

“I mean it, Emma. This is on that wanker, not you at all.”

Her lips thin out for a second, but ultimately she nods and leans forward to give him another kiss.

“Now, will you tell me about how you found this all out?”

“I got an email while Belle and I were working on our little project. I figured it was spam at first but it just had this link to a website called ‘Banging U.S.A.’ and some instructions for a passcode and a state. When I clicked, there was a whole lot more of me than I expected to see. He must’ve been taking pictures through the whole thing, since not all of them were ones he printed and showed me later.”

“So some taken without your knowledge or consent? How much worse can this guy get?”

“Oh, it still gets worse. I tried not to click on anything else, but I ended up on the newly launched world edition,” she says with quotes around the words. “Without really thinking, I clicked on this little British flag and there was the woman I found him with. She was clearly far more into the photography thing than I was.”

“Bad, but how is that worse?”

“In the first three pictures, you can see one of my t-shirts on the dresser. In the others, it’s gone. Which means he went right back to fucking her as soon as I left his place with my stuff.”

“Definitely worse,” Killain mutters, drawing his hand over his face in disbelief.

“And we all had subtitles. Hers was the Wicked Witch of the West… and my South Pole.”

“Ouch.”

“Mine was Officer Tie-Me-Down and Fuck-Me-Up.”

“Bloody hell, Swan, how much villainy can one man possess?”

“Apparently, his cup runneth over.”

“Clearly.” They fall silent for a moment, until Emma’s head tilts over to rest on his shoulder. “Any idea what you’ll do about it?” he asks after letting her mull for a moment.

“No fucking clue.”

He shifts in order to kiss the top of her head, pulling her closer when she pushes her way under his arm. It’s still hours more before either of them fall asleep again.

-x- December 14: Saturday

When Killian wakes up again, it’s to the sound of Emma’s voice floating up from down below.

“I know, and I’m sorry for bailing without letting you know,” she says. “I had something come up.”

With much effort, Killian hauls himself out of the bed, pulling on his undershirt before making his way downstairs.

“No, it’s kind of why I was calling, though. Do you still have that phone number for James?”

Whatever response David must have for that is lengthy and aggravating, judging by the look on Emma’s face when Killian makes it to the main floor. She looks up and gives him a wan smile, pulling the phone away from her ear long enough to lean up and give him a kiss on the cheek. Dave’s voice is, indeed, squawking out quite the storm from the earpiece, and Killian does nothing more than raise an eyebrow in question before giving her a kiss of his own and moving towards the coffee pot.

“Well, when you calm down about that, give me a call back. I need his number and you’ll agree with me when I tell you why.”

Her phone clatters to the table but she’s already moving towards where Killian is standing against the kitchen counter.

“Good morning,” she says, leaning up and pulling him down to give him a much warmer, much more thorough kiss.

“Same to you. Feeling a little better?”

“More like a fire’s been lit under my ass and I have a plan. I have to swing by my brother’s place to harass him about our other asshole brother. Want me to drop you at home?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I need to head to the office to finish up the last of the preparations and my notes for the party on Friday.”

“No trouble at all. Wanna get breakfast along the way?”

“Food and time with my girlfriend? Only a fool would refuse such blessings.”

When they part ways, he’s amazed at the clear change in mindset she’s gone through in less than twelve hours. Even as she kisses him goodbye, there’s determination burning in her eyes.

-x-

It takes roughly forty minutes of needling David before he finally caves and gives her the phone number James had called from once, on accident, a couple years ago. She’s plugging it into her phone and hitting ‘call’ before she’s even halfway out of David’s workshop, taking the steps two at a time to get to the first floor.

“Don’t hang up,” Emma says as soon as James answers.

“Emma?”

“You mean you actually have my number saved in your phone?”

“I’m sure that’s surprising but yeah, makes it easier to call you if I need to ask for money.”

“Ah, you haven’t changed a bit,” Emma responds, rolling her eyes at his words.

David reaches for the phone when he gets to the kitchen but Emma bats his hand away.

“I’m guessing you’re the one that needs something if you’re calling me.”

“You’re still in Boston, right?”

“And what if I am?”

“You still have that fancy talent at hacking computers and websites?”

“Listen, I haven’t done anything wrong. I stopped doing all that ages ago.”

“I don’t care if you’re a law-abiding citizen,” Emma snaps. “I need someone who doesn’t care about the law.”

“So the wonder twins need my help because I don’t follow the rules?”

“Pretty much. I have an ex that needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Fine. Come down here next Friday and I’ll see what I can do. If you’ll do something for me,” he adds at the very end.

“Like what?”

“We’ll discuss my terms on Friday.”

“I have a party…”

“Oh? You have a party?” His tone is mocking, and Emma swallows back the retort she wants to spit at him.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll be there. David is coming with me. You do the job, I’ll repay you however you want me to, and then I never have to see you again.”

“Sounds good to me,” James singsongs. “I’ll text you the address. See you Friday, little sis.”

“That guy’s the worst,” Emma snaps when the call ends. “How is he your fucking twin?”

David just shrugs. “And this is why I didn’t want you to call him. Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“You have to promise you aren’t going to have a coronary or something, okay?”

“Go for it. I will… do my best.”

She takes a deep breath before she urges him to sit down while she starts to tell him what she’s just found out.

To give him some credit, he doesn’t completely lose it. But he does turn an interesting shade of purple at the news that there’s a website that has pornographic photographs of his sister. Trying to get around those words is possibly the most mortifying thing she’s ever been through, until David opens his mouth when she’s done speaking.

“Has Killian seen this site?”

“God, David. No. And he won’t if I have anything to do with it. I’m not going to show my boyfriend pictures of me fucking another guy,” she screeches, standing and stomping over to their coffeemaker to indulge in more caffeine.

She doesn’t really want to tell James the same news. She doesn’t want to tell him more than she absolutely has to, but she also needs the skillset he picked up from being a generally bad person in order to get this chapter of her life wiped from existence.

Unfortunately, it’s going to mean missing the one thing she was looking forward to since Killian first told her about it.

She stops by his office to see him next, admiring the way he looks when he’s deeply concentrating. She can also see just how much he’s put into decorating his office in the time they’ve been together. She remembers stark walls and an empty desk. Now, his degrees are hanging, along with a few artistic prints of book covers. His desk is similarly fuller, with picture frames and small knick knacks beyond the single one that used to be there.

With one more bracing breath, she prepares to go in. He’s going to understand, because he already knows what’s going on, but she hates to disappoint him.

“Swan?”

She’s knocked from her idle watching by him softly saying her name.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” she says, walking in and shutting the door. She moves around to lean on the edge of his desk right in front of him. “But I have some bad news. I can’t come to the debut on Friday. That’s when my creep-o brother can help me out. I’ll have to be in Boston.”

His face falls, the disappointment clear, but his hand reaches out and brushes along hers. “As much as I’m sad you won’t be with me, I know it’s for a bigger purpose. Is this evil twin in law? Law enforcement?”

Emma’s face freezes, realizing that she never shared with him how she planned on having James help her.

“Okay, long story short? James is really good at being a bad guy.”

To his credit, Killian listens with full attention as she launches into her plan and doesn’t even call her crazy.

“Barring any legal repercussions from this Walsh, I find no fault in this plan.”

“I’m pretty sure with James’ help, I won’t have to worry about him trying to come back at us.” At her reassurances, Killian nods in what she hopes is approval. “Should I let you get back to work?”

Slowly, he eases her off the desk and into his lap. “Maybe in a moment or two?”

It’s a question, leaving the answer in her court.

“I’d be happy if it goes a little longer than a moment,” Emma responds, settling herself fully into his lap and chuckling at the look in his eyes. She pulls her shirt over her head, reaching behind her to unhook her bra.

“I like to think we’re making up for all those times we’ve been interrupted,” Killian says before sucking a nipple into his mouth.

Straight to the point. She’s glad she locked the door when she closed it.

-x-

Chapter 8

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #captain swan ff #csrt #sarah writes ff

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shark-myths · 4 years

Text

@alienfuckeronmain tagged me to deep-search my soul with these questions, and it is the exact distraction I was looking for! no pressure to do this one, pals, but i tag @carbonbased000 @leyley09 @shoeboxofphotographs12 @glitterandrocketfuel @allkindsofplatinumandpercocet @setting-in-a-honeymoon @toorational and anyone i’ve forgotten!

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? does anyone like blue pens? who is this product made for

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? the city, cuz i spent 7 consecutive years very broke in rural areas with homophobia neighbors and having things to do is so thrilling. but i imagine one day retreating into the desert and living far from my nearest neighbors

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? I have learned all the skills I am interested in right now, because learning new things is an a+ quarantine activity. maybe the ability to do physics? i would like to be proficient in physics and i am deeply not

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? Never

5. What was your favourite book as a child? all of them! I have always read like i’m running out of time and often get stressed when i think about how few books i will be able to read in my lifetime. as a child I reread Lord of the Rings and Robin McKinley and the Holly Black Tithe series the most, and i was OBSESSED with those gold-paged books with ribbon bookmarks that were diaries of girls from different historical periods, and i have never been able to read historical fiction since.

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? I hated baths passionately until my chronic pain reached a tipping point, and since then i have learned to really enjoy the long hot soak with a drink and a book. (i didn’t like showers either until very recently. life support tasks felt like a huge waste of time until i got a partner who helped me figure out how to enjoy them)

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? i have always wanted to be one of tolkien’s elves! I want a long life filled with learning languages and reading books and existing in green peaceful spaces, and then i want to be able to die when i am done.

8. Paper or electronic books? I like paper better--I’ve been building a library slowly my whole life--but my kindle has been life-saving during the pandemic when i couldn’t go to the library.

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? right now i’m doing all my work remotely and clothes feel meaningless, but i have a plain black tank top that i feel really comfortable in

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? I don’t like my name at all--it’s Kaylie--because it is so aggressively peppy and feminine. it doesn’t sounds like an adult’s name; it evokes exclamation points and pigtails. i have always wished for a severe, no-nonsense name like joan, or a pretty but to-the-point name like eva.

11. Who is a mentor to you? Leslie Knope

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? I used to fantasize about being a famous writer, and now in my field i do wish i had a name that mattered or was considered esteemed or expert in something in some way. I would love to have a research job where i had paid time to publish! but i don’t want it enough to work on it outside of my capitalist mandatory labor hours, because i don’t have enough time for my loved ones as it is

13. Are you a restless sleeper? lately yes, since my cat died in january i have slept like absolute hell

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? not really, but i am a thoughtful one

15. Which element best represents you? earth

16. Who do you want to be closer to? physically i want to be closer to my long-distance pals like @alienfuckeronmain @newleafover @time-less @immoral-crow @leyley09 (leyna let’s have a movie night when i’m done moving???)

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? pretty much all my friends i used to regularly hang out with, sam who moved to seattle, sam who lives in madison, all the people i listed above

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. I used to play going to work. i’d pack up a backgammon case as a briefcase, grab my stuffed gorilla, and go write in notebooks and move pieces of paper around

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? I am an extremely boring person and all I eat is popcorn and bread

20. What are you most thankful for? having an able body that works to support me and keep me whole, having a partner who makes me feel truly cared for

21. Do you like spicy food? yep!

22. Have you ever met someone famous? once at c2e2 i met george r.r. martin and no one else cared he existed because got wasn’t a show yet, so i awkwardly went up to him and proclaimed my love for his work, and then he trapped me in a long conversation about vampires

23. Do you do you keep a diary or journal? a journal! i have since i was pretty small, they take up a full shelf of a bookcase

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? pen, and i have lots of Special Pens that i only use for a particular purpose or project, because i am a huge raging...

25. What is your star sign? virgo

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? crunchy and without milk

27. What would you want your legacy to be? personally, that I wrote things that meant something to the people who read them; professionally, that i removed barriers to accessing healthcare for trans and gender expansive people

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? see above--I completely adore reading. last book was Sisters of the Vast Black and currently i’m reading The House in the Cerulean Sea and it’s totally charming. I’ve been reading really quality science and nonfiction writing too, please send me your recommendations

29. How do you show someone you love them? I make them breakfast, I tell them so constantly, I send them things in the mail, I bring them small interesting gifts, and I say every nice thought I have about them out loud

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? not especially, but it’s fun to chew on

31. What are you afraid of? surgery

32. What is your favourite scent? smoke from blown-out candles, lavender, laundry detergent my loved ones use

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? whatever they’ve told me to call them? this seems like common courtesy

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I do so much less clinical work and work fewer hours in general, I would run for office so I could influence policy and stop wasting my fucking time on the ground level, I would spend more time writing, I would spend so much more time with my family, I would devote the time to running longer distances again in a way that doesn’t aggravate my busted knee

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? the ocean!

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? oh i would definitely spend that on something stupid and self-indulgent i wanted, like a pete wentz hoodie

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? YES! when i was kid every summer i’d be sent to jesus camp, which thank god because that’s what got me into fanfiction, and it was in the middle of nowhere, wisconsin, and you could see the entire milky way and shooting stars blaze across that thing ALL THE TIME, and it shook me to my foundation every summer and for a time i mistook that feeling for faith in god instead of wonder at the infinite being and possibility that is our generous universe

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? i have none of my own but my partner has a 5 year old, so quite against my intention i have become a parent-adjacent person. i try to teach him about emotional accountability for the effect of his actions on others

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? the next tattoo i want is a big snake crawling up my mostly bare left arm

40. What can you hear now? my laptop fan

41. Where do you feel the safest? when i’m protecting someone else

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? my relationship with my body

43. Of you could travel back to any era, what would it be? i’d really like to be a gentleman of leisure in a jane austen novel

44. What is your most used emoji? the purple heart

45. Describe yourself using one word. earnest

46. What do you regret the most? not going to a 4-year university and having a #college experience. it’s one of my most stinging regrets because it was not a decision i got to make for myself

47. Last movie you saw? what is a movie theater? what does it feel like to be in one? the last movie i watched is charlie’s angels from the early 2000s because that was an unexamined sexual awakening for me--lucy liu being efficient in leather has never left me, efficiency is the single trait i most attracted to--and i wanted my boyfriend to see how bad it is

48. Last tv show you watched? either Kipo and the age of the wonderbeasts or star trek tng!

49. Invent a word and its meaning. instead i will say that i think the most beautiful english word is ache. my favorite way of creating things is transforming and remixing what already exists, which makes writing with words someone else invented the ideal challenge and pastime

(i really loved doing this! it was nice to talk about myself at the end of a workweek. thank you @alienfuckeronmain !)

#tags #about me #a humble shark

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fluffyunicornofdanger · 5 years

Text

Stability

A/N: My dudes, I’m so sorry that I have been kinda MIA. I finally got the Steven Tyler fic out that I had been working on for ages. Well, I’ve been working on this one for a lot longer and it’s finally finished. I hope to get all my current requests done soon. Let’s hope in a timely manner. I just need to get my butt in gear and sit down and write this shit. I also hope to have the second part to songs for any occasion done soon. But, time flies when you’re doing just about anything, so we’ll see. Requests are open and I hope you enjoy. Love you guys!!!

*~~*~~*

Masterlist

Slash x Reader

Summary: Y/n’s parents are like every uptight Christian parents of the 80s. So, thinking Footloose would be the right direction. They want nothing to do with rock music and want to keep their daughter far from it. That is until she starts dating a man in a rock band. Now, Y/n’s afraid that they may never see him the same way she does.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None??? (Slash is referred to by his actual name because Y/n’s parents definitely wouldn’t approve if they had to call him Slash).

Y/n sighed, bored with the conversation that had been going on for what felt like hours even though it had been mere minutes. It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d had to have the conversation - it seemed that every time she’d mention or alluded to rock this conversation would start.

“I’m not saying you can’t date him, Y/n,” her father told her while he flipped through a stack of bills. “All I’m saying is that he isn’t good enough for you. Will he be able to support you once his music career fails? Will he even want to marry you or just discard you once he gets bored?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter, wishing nuclear fall out were an option.

Her mother nodded from her place in front of the stove. “Your father has a point, dear. Stability is key to a happy life and he may not be able to offer you that,” she told her daughter while she stirred the pot in front of her. “So, why waste your time with him if you may never get married?”

Like always, she just shrugged. There was no use in arguing as her parents weren’t going to listen to reason. They were those good Christians that the 80s were known for. And like good Christians of the time, rock music was what the devil listened to and Ronald Reagan was the ideal president. Why not? Y/n didn’t care much for politics, so she never cared to understand what was so great about the president. Rock, on the other hand, was something she cared about but her parents never wanted to hear about.

They had been sucked in on the propaganda about the musical genre that had spread around the neighborhood. Anything of the genre was outlawed in her house, which was alright with her. She was limited when around them and anyone else her parents associated with, but she still had freedom outside of the house. As much as her parents wanted to create a safe enviorment like the pastor in Footloose, it wasn’t going to happen. Whether they liked it or not, she listened to the Devil’s music more than she listened to God’s words.

But what really hurt wasn’t that she couldn’t enjoy herself at home and do as she pleased, it was that anything remotely related to that dreadful music wasn’t good enough for her parents. Y/n didn’t care if they liked the same music she did or called her favorite artists and bands Satanist, what she cared about was that they wouldn’t even given the man she loved a chance.

Y/n groaned, sucking in a deep breath. “Who said I want to get married? And that’s not even close to what I was talking about.”

“Than what were you talking about, dear?” her father asked, hiding behind a newspaper.

“I just wanted to know if Saul could come over for dinner or something like that. You know, so I don’t have to hear any more about how he’s not good enough for me from the two of you when you haven’t even met him.”

“I’ll think about.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing herself off the counter. “You do that, dad, you do that.”

*~~*~~*

Saul rocked on his heels nervously, waiting for the door to open. He had been excited to meet Y/n’s parents, after all, his parents were head over heels in love with her. They wanted to be around her more than him, which stung a little. But, damn, it was better than them hating her. After a few seconds, the door opened, exposing an older woman that Saul assumed to be Y/n’s mother.

Opening the door all the way, the woman smiled, “You must be Saul.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do come it.” She moved out of the way to let him in. “Y/n will be out in a minute. Why don’t we take a seat in the living room.”

It was odd how formal the woman was, but at least she was kind. Her smile didn’t meet her eyes, but how many smiles really did? Y/n didn’t talk about her parents often, but when she did nothing good was said. From what he’d gathered, they were people pleasers and one with the crowd. But, some people were like that, society bred people that way and it took too much strength for some to break away from the crowd.

Stepping into the living, the guitarist glanced over the photos and paintings that dawned the wall. Pictures of Y/n as a small child among her family on vacations, Christmas, and school events. Even if she complained, at least her parents were present. Saul let out a small sigh as he made his way over to the couch, pillows and a blanket strategically placed. He could hear what he thought sounded like a knife hitting a cutting board and feet hitting stairs. Not even a few seconds pasted before Y/n walked into the living room, a huge smile upon her face.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said with a smile, embracing him before looking over his apparel. “And I’m so glad you finally figured out how to dress nicely.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “My mother happened to teach me how to do that, I’ll have you know.”

Y/n glanced behind her to see her mom walk off to the kitchen. Turning to her boyfriend, she let her shoulders relax. Around Saul, she didn’t have to be the good girl her parents wanted her to be. Around him, it seemed that anything and everything was possible. There were no cookie cutters or boxes that she couldn’t think outside of. The world was her’s to conquer with him by her side and she hoped, she prayed to god, that her parents would see that he was more than just some drugged-up rock star.

“She didn’t give you a hard time, did she?”

Saul shook his head, giving her a small smile. “She was actually really polite. You made her out to sound like she tears heads off of children.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. Her mother, tear of heads, not a chance. “She would never do such a thing, not with god watching. And I don’t know why I expected less from her. She’s a saint, I’ll have you know.”

“Then I’m sure my mother will love her. They can discuss saintly things over tea,” he joked, running a hand through his hair, which he through into a neat ponytail.

“My mom doesn’t like tea.”

“Coffee then.”

Before any more could be discussed on what the potential meeting of their mothers, Y/n’s mom poked her head into the room, her presence silencing their conversation.

“Dinner’s ready if you two will head to the table.”

*~~*~~*

With food piled on their plates, everyone was silent. Y/n munched on her green beans, trying to pretend she couldn’t feel the tension that filled the air. Saul seemed unfazed, but Y/n knew better than to believe that. He played cool whether he was internally or not. That was how he went through life. He’s acting skills were amazing whether he knew he possed them or not.

“Y/n tells me your a musician,” her father stated, picking through his salad.

“Yeah, I am,” he confirmed.

Her father shook his head, disappointment written all over it. She knew he was hoping for a different answer. “I hear there isn’t much money in that. Have you considered any other career options?”

Y/n let out a sigh, wishing the world would just swallow her whole. It was no surprise to her that this conversation would come up, but she wished it didn’t matter. The average blue-collar job isn’t for everyone, her father should have known that. Her grandfather was a member of the circus for years. Of course, no one talked about it because it wasn’t an acceptable job in their minds, it still paid the bills.

Placing his silverware on the table, Saul thought for a moment before looking the man in the eye. “Well, I have thought of other career options but I have no passion for them. I know, without a doubt, that music will never be boring to me. Plumbing or accounting or anything else, sure I may make more money doing that, but how long until I get bored? And to be honest, sir, money means nothing to me. It may buy you fancy things, but it really can’t buy happiness, that’s found in the heart.”

Y/n’s father was speechless, but not angry like Y/n and her mother thought he would be. His eyes seemed to light up right before his lips tugged into a smile. “That is a better answer than I gave your father,” he turned to his wife, shaking his head. If only he was smart enough to think of an answer like that.

Y/n couldn’t help but smile with him as she realized that Saul was at least acceptable in her father’s eyes. Her mother, well… she would eventually see the same thing Y/n did. But at least there was no fear of them not approving of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Let me know if you want to be added to the permanent taglist and feedback would be appreciated.)

Permanent Taglist: @rexorangecouny @jennyggggrrr @zestygingergirl @slash-me-up @tommyleeownsme @sheldonsherlocktony @teller258316 @fandomshit6000 @lucyboytom

#slash #slash imagine #slash imagines #slash x reader #Saul Hudson #saul hudson imagine #saul hudson fanfiction #saul hudson imagines #saul hudson x reader #guns n roses #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fanfiction #guns n roses imagines #classic rock #classic rock imagine #classic rock imagines #classic rock fanfiction

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dailyaudiobible · 3 years

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11/23/2020 DAB Transcript

Ezekiel 45:13-46:24, 1 Peter 1:13-2:10, Psalms 119:33-48, Proverbs 28:11

Today is the 23rd day of November welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is great to be here with you today for the next step forward as we continue the journey that we are on that’s taken us from Genesis to Revelation all the way through the Bible this year. And at this point we find ourselves in the Old Testament in the book of Ezekiel and in the New Testament we’re working our way through first Peter. This week we’re reading from the New International Version. Ezekiel chapter 45 verse 13 through 46 verse 24.

Commentary:

Okay. In first Peter today…well in first Peter the letter itself, Peter is working to encourage people that are downtrodden in one way or another. And I feel like in any year that's appropriate and applicable. Of course, we’re all always going through something or another, but this year in particular we've all been going through a lot of things together and have found confusion about things together and have found our fragility together and found out some of the things that we’re…the…the stable things in our lives are shaky and so we feel the ground shifting beneath us. And in times like this, in times where the status quo has been disrupted than we work really hard to reestablish the status quo because that's…that's when we can just go back to sleep in our lives and try to keep moving forward toward the most pleasurable experiences that we can have in life, but with all of our thrashing about when things…when the status quo is interrupted, with all our thrashing about when we can't put things back together the way that we want them to be, we can’t domineer and control everything, well that's kind of the point where what's really going on inside of us gets exposed. That's when the pride comes out, right? That’s when even the hopelessness and the terror and the fear and all the other things that can accompany all of the emotions of the disruption of the status quo can emerge. And then it's what we do with that that’s gonna really matter. And a lot of times we angry, angry spiritually, disrupted spiritually, angry at God, walk away from God, move into rebellion or we’ll hold on tight to God and move through the storm but we can have a tendency to be back and forth. Peter says today and I quote, “you must live as God's obedient children. Don't slip back into your old ways of living to satisfy your own desires. You didn't know any better then, but now you must be holy and everything you do just as God chose you is holy.” On one hand we can look at that and…ahh…just more…more scriptures that can reveal the way that I fall short on a daily basis. And then we can feel sort of the subtle condemnation that even estranges us from God because we’re trying and we’re failing. Or we can look at what Peter’s saying here as an invitation forward. Not that we have to try are very, very best to combat the bad thoughts and things that go on in our head or the actions that we take, but there's an invitation into holiness. God is holy. God has chosen us and grafted us into His family, has placed His Holy Spirit within us to comfort us. The same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead indwells us. This is an invitation to holiness. Holiness is to be set apart to God, to realize that the chaos and the fray, we just don't…I mean we have…let's say we have 100 years to live, well in a century enormous things can trance…be transformed in the world, enormous things can happen, but nowhere near as much as a millennia, a thousand years. And we don't have that span. So, we have the span of life on earth that has been given to us and we live into that as if everything is happening for the first time because it's the first time it’s happening to us. But we are reading a letter that's a couple thousand years old and it's still speaking to us. So, the chaos that is in the world, the kinds of things that are in the world that disrupt us, disrupt our status quo and throw us into dissonance, this isn't new. It's always been going on. And God is inviting us near. We know we can't set ourselves apart unto God all by ourselves by sheer discipline. We will fail. And yet God is inviting us near. If, as the Bible tells us we are partakers of His divine nature than that also means His holiness covers us. You must be holy because I am holy may not be grounds…I mean, they may be grounds for conviction and repentance but it's not there to condemn us. It's there to pull us forward into what's being described. You must be holy because I am holy must be possible then. And this begins when we get our eyes off of everybody else's life, and we get our eyes off the swirl of chaos that could suck us in so easily and we get our eyes on the author and finisher of our faith. And, so let's going to this day considering these things, considering holiness an invitation into the furtherance of our transformation, our sanctification. Holiness will lead us to wholeness and we usually find that we surge forward in these areas when we find ourselves under pressure. We’re not gonna look back on this year in a couple of years and just be hashtag 2020 and it's a throwaway year. This is not a throwaway year. What we’re going to find is that we grew more this year than we anticipated. We learned more. We moved forward. The disruption forced us to stop standing still and to take steps forward. And if our steps forward are toward our Savior than our steps forward are toward holiness and our steps forward are toward wholeness, who we were created to be

Prayer:

Jesus, we invite You into that. We have examples of what that looks like in Your life as captured in the Gospels. We see the essence of what is true and what is holy, and we see it lived out facing opposition. So, You have given us an example of what this looks like. Holy Spirit help us to live into this we pray in the name of Jesus. Amen.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

It’s Friday, November 20th and this is soaring on Eagles wings from Canada. Duane from Wisconsin I just finished listening to your prayer request and oh my heart is so broken for you as you are just shedding tears over your son. He’s now out of jail and he needs a place to stay. And I also know that your other son Nathan has a drug addiction and all the brokenness in your voice as your crying out to God and I am joining you and your family as you pray for these sons of yours. Mighty God in heaven You created them. And You see this Young man now who is out of jail. He has a child that’s going to have a first birthday. I pray God that You would arrest him where he is and help them to see that he needs Jesus. I pray for Duane and his wife in making the decision about should they take them in or should they not. Guide them Father God for wisdom on high and I pray in the name of Jesus that Satan will no longer have a hold over the views boys, that they will be set free to become men of God and serve You, be examples in their community and…and…and for their parents to see where God has taken them from and where He’s taking them to. And, so, I join You in the mighty name of Jesus. I call down heaven for You Duane. Your family, Your sons, deliver them Jesus I pray, and we praise You and thank You in the mighty …

Good morning DAB family this is Mama Bear from Southern California today is November 20th, 2020. I need you all to please keep my brother and his family in your prayers. Today we found out he has stage IV cancer, stomach cancer. And my brother is not a believer. And I’m asking everybody please pray that his heart is softened to the Lord that he accepts Jesus. And I pray for healing for him too. And I pray for his beautiful very young family, three girls all under the age of nine with an amazing young wife. I ask for healing but most of all salvation. He’s very stubborn and hardheaded and we sure could use all the prayer he can get. I thank you so much. God bless you all. And I listen to all of you every day. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Hello DAB family this is Beautiful Heart from New South Wales Australia. I haven’t called in for a little while. Things have been busy, so I guess for everybody. But I’m just ringing because I was asked…would like to ask for some prayer. I am moving house, relocating about four hours north of where I’m currently living and relocation is always fun but I would just love…love prayer around my relocation, that it would go smoothly and just that I would really trust…trust God through this time and through settling in in my new home in my new circumstances. I’m extremely blessed to be able to take my work with me and become a remote employee. So, I don’t need to be looking for a new job and I will be moving a lot closer to family while moving away from some of my other family. So, it is a move tinged with sadness but also joy in what the Lord is planned. And I would just, yeah, just love your prayer family around this entire move. Thank you so much. I look forward to sharing a praise report with you soon. Okay. Thank you. Bye-bye.

Good morning today’s November 20th and I am giving thanks for Duane from Wisconsin. My brother I just heard your call that you called in on the 17th and we so appreciate you for what you’ve done and praying for our children and now I want to let you know that I am praying for your son Nicholas. And I want you to know that you are loved and you are being held in prayer and so is Nicholas for wisdom and discernment for unity for you and your wife as you have to speak to your son and see where he will wind up living, if he has a place to live. God will help you my brother. God is a not a respecter of time. And, so, even though this is being recorded three days after you left your message, I want you to know that I am praying for you. I love you my brother. I thank God for you and for all of you that are praying for our prodigal children. So many of us like His Little Cherry from Canada, we have children. I raised my son in the ways of the Lord he’s a good young man, he…but it’s not being good. I’m praying for the Lord to bring him back, and that’s His promise to us, to instruct your children in the way they should go. So, and for those that are just not seeing anything God is in control. I thank the Lord for our brother Duane from Wisconsin. God bless you and know that I am praying for all of our prodigal children.

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emjee · 4 years

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I saw @harry-leroy do this and decided I wanted to too! Behold, social distancing/stay home order questions:

1. Are you staying home from work/school?

Oh yes, my home state (where I currently am) is under a stay-at-home order, my job in the state where I go to school is remote (although I haven’t been guaranteed I’ll be paid for this week so I’m not working at the moment), and school is remote (I am the kind of person who always avoids online classes because I need the structure of classroom so right now it’s Struggle! At My Bedroom Desk!)

2. If you are staying home who is with you?

My parents, and thank God. We would have been worried sick about each other if we were separated; I think they would have come to get me.

3. Who would be your ideal quarantine mate?

I want to say my best friend but we both love being alone so we’re actually probably better served by just talking on the phone all the time. My parents are pretty good to stay with, so I really can’t complain.

4. Are you a homebody?

I feel like I’ve been preparing my entire life for a government official to tell me I can’t leave my house except for necessary errands.

5. An event you were looking forward to that got cancelled?

So Easter didn’t get canceled, like, it’s still happening and Christ will still be risen and all and that’s very important, but not being able to be in church for Holy Week fucking sucks and I hope it never happens again.

6. What movies have you watched recently?

Ooh, we haven’t watched a lot of movies together as a family yet, but we have watched the 2011 Much Ado with Tennant and Tate, I’ve watched An Ideal Husband and One Man, Two Guvnors and I’m about an hour into the 2018 Hamlet that the Globe just released. So, less movies than filmed theatre, but I think we’re going to rent the 2020 Emma soon.

7. What shows are you watching?

Just finished Schitt’s Creek (sob), which I think was the only thing I was really keeping up with. I should probably finish The Witcher given the amount of fanfiction I’m reading for it.

8. What music are you listening to?

Ooh, okay, so I just discovered The Amazing Devil (guess I have to thank The Witcher for that one because I was like “I need to investigate everything else Joey Batey has ever done) so I’ve had The Horror and the Wild on repeat (I’m listening to it as I type this). Also Johnny Flynn’s albums (so far A Larum and Country Mile, once I feel I really understand both of those I’ll bring Sillion into the mix). The Emma 2020 soundtrack, Six, Great Comet, and everything Hozier. I think that about covers it for the moment.

9. What are you doing for self-care?

I have two weeks left in my graduate degree and I’m not in a program that requires a thesis so at this point, the perfect is the enemy of the done. Chilling out about that has really helped. Besides that, I’m letting myself sleep until I wake up, which has honestly worked wonders.

10. What are you reading?

I’m currently re-reading The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society as a comfort read, and I’m finally going to finish Julian of Norwich’s Revelations of Divine Love for Holy Week.

this was fun, loves! if you want to do it, please please do, and please tag me. (Not tagging anyone specifically because I get that not everyone might want to talk about this subject rn.)

#MG says stuff

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sirenfromthelostcity · 5 years

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The Most Pt. 1

A/N: Okay so this is my first ever John Wick fic! In a nutshell, it’s basically like a mentor X student AU. I don’t know why but i couldn’t get that idea out of my head and i really wanted to write it, so here! It’s called The Most bc it reminds me of the song with the same title from Miley Cryrus’s new EP. I wouldn’t say the fic is inspired by the song, not entirely at least, but idk to me it just vibes with it (if that makes any sense? i feel like once the second part is out it might make more sense?). This fic is intended to have a second part so that shall also be posted shortly as i have another mini John Wick fic i wanna start and i also want to write the second part to my short Spider-Man fic. I’m so excited about this story y’all! I hope you all enjoy it! As always, feedback is always appreciated. Without further ado, enjoy! :))))

Words: 2.7k+

Today marks the fourth and a half year that you’ve been under John Wick’s tutelage. Only six more months left and John will have had completed his marker. Initially, John was rather reluctant to be your instructor but the marker held by your father gave him no other choice but to abide by your father’s request to turn you into a formidable assassin. Who better to teach you than the infamous John Wick himself?

In the beginning of your training journey, John didn’t bother to hide his reluctance in your father’s request. This made things rather difficult until one day you decided to confront him about his behavior. He was in his study, probably searching for a way to get out of having to train you, when you knocked to let your presence be known then proceeded to enter.

“Evening, Mr. Wick, call me crazy, but I’m getting an inkling that you don’t want to train me.”

He scoffed.

“Believe me, I get it. I bet you’d really rather not have me intercepting with your lonesome peace and quiet but the bottom line is that I have to do this too and I have to learn it all to be as good as you. Maybe not exactly as good as you, but good enough to have me not die immediately as that would be, despite your current opinion of me, quite upsetting.”

He silently glared at you for a long minute, still not very much pleased with his current situation, “Why do you want to do this?”

“Want, who said anything about want? You may be bound by a marker, Mr. Wick, but I’m bound by my family to learn and master everything that there is to know about how to thrive in this lifestyle to survive in it.”

The room remained uncomfortably silent for sometime but you still didn’t falter in your stance.

“Before me who did you train with?” he asked.

“Well I was being trained in Krav Maga by Gabriel Avdeyev for some time but he and my family had a falling out and-–”

“I heard,” he sighed. “.... Based on the results of your initial assessment you have a lot to improve on. For starters, the way you initiate your attacks are okay but they will need to be refined or you will be killed. Get some rest. Tomorrow at dawn we will continue your training.”

Despite knowing John couldn’t actually purposely hurt or kill you, he was still very intimidating and the confrontation was rather hard to execute. But, it paid off.

Training with the notorious John Wick also meant living with him and sometimes that involved taking care of each other. Along with being a good fighter and shooter, John also stressed that one needs to know how to properly patch themselves up. He’s given you medical lessons before but to really teach you, one night he decided to not go to his usually doctor for a patch up but to go directly to you instead and see what you’ve retained from your lessons. When that great idea struck him it was in the middle of the night and he gave you quite a fright when he went into your room all bloody. You almost shot him with the gun you had hidden under your pillow if it weren’t for his quick reflexes which actually made you feel really impressed considering he was critically injured.

“Are you serious, John?” you asked, rather irked at being abruptly awoken at three in the morning.

“No, I’m bleeding. Now get up, this is part of your training. Time to see how much you’ve retained from those medical lessons,” he grunted as another pang of pain struck his lower abdomen.

You promptly threw your covers over your body and got out of bed before leading him to the bathroom where the first aid kit was kept. After finding the source of his bleeding you unbuttoned his shirt and got to work. Under the circumstances, seeing John shirtless wasn’t at all awkward. However, ogling his exposed chest was the last thing on you mind considering how he was bleeding an awful lot from his lower abdomen.

“Jesus what did they nick you with? This looks really bad,” you comment as you inspect the wound.

“Broken bottle of champagne. Try to avoid those in the future, they can be pretty tricky to fix.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you proceeded to clean the wound and remove any stray traces of glass, subconsciously taking quick glances at him whenever he winced. “Do you need anything for the pain?”

“Do you happen to have bourbon in any of these cabinets?”

“No, but I wouldn’t really recommend that considering how alcohol consumption can actually thin your blood out and make you bleed more.”

“But it does help with the pain.”

“Mmmmm, I’d still wager more on the pills designed specifically for that.”

John huffed. At this point you’re finally starting to stitch up his wound but his pained grunts make it a little difficult to focus.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“That’s so sad, John,” you paused to briefly glance at him. “Also super broody. We get it, you’re a badass.”

“A bad ass? That seems rude,” he sarcastically replied.

“Oh, my god, you’re actually joking with me for the second time this night. Don’t think I missed that dad joke earlier with the ‘No, I’m bleeding,’” you imitated his gruff voice and lightly laughed. “Good one, John.”

The small smile subconsciously remained on your face for a few seconds longer and John couldn’t help but admire how nicely it adorned your face. You caught him vaguely looking at you but simply assumed blood loss had something to do with the way he was looking at you. He turned away before you could even question your hypothesis.

“Well, we’re all done now. With the abdomen wound at least,” you noticed he’s also bleeding from his head and move to inspect it but his hands reached out and gently grabbed your wrists.

“It’s alright, (Y/N), I can take care of the rest, you’ve done good with the ugliest of them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, John, I’m here now and I’ve got this for you.”

Never one to waste words, John remained silent which you took as a go ahead.

Thankfully the injuries on his head were nothing more than a few small cuts. At least on that night they were. Some nights John would come back with much rougher cuts, clearly showing that whoever he had fought had certainly put up a good fight but not quite good enough to best John Wick. Still, not only did cleaning his injuries provide you with insights to his battles, it helped you both establish a sense of trust between you two.

After that night, rather than go to his usual doctor John began going straight to you for his patch ups. Could he have chosen to start going to you simply because it’s quicker than stopping by The Continental first and then home? Possibly. The reason for him basically appointing you as his patch up doc never really came up but you didn’t really care. By then your affection and attachment to John was beginning to grow so you didn’t mind being the one to help him feel better after a difficult job. Not to mention that tending to his wounds meant having a good excuse to touch him. Not while overstepping your boundaries, of course, but sometimes it was just nice to be able to be able to grab his hands without it being weird. Tending to the cuts on his face was something you always saved for last. It was your chance to really admire his facial features up close while simultaneously healing it. Sometimes you were so gentle with him that he actually managed to doze off and you were able to tell when it happened because he’d look so relaxed and serene. When you had to wake him up, although you didn’t want to but you knew he’d sleep much more comfortably in his bed than in a stiff chair, he’d always apologize for falling asleep which in effect often lead you both to joke about it. However, you swear that you caught him blushing the first few times it happened and when it did it just felt so, human…

You and John have really come a long way in terms of tolerating each other and actually bonding together. You both truly did. Because John is your instructor and you are over a decade younger than him, your relationship with him was purely professional. However, after about two years of training with him, your feelings for him continued to evolve into a much more stronger and different kind of admiration.

Are you in love with The Baba Yaga?

The answer to that would be a very strong perhaps. When you and John were briefed on the deal of the marker, you were supposed to learn about weapons training, fighting forms, assassination techniques, melee weapons training, etc. You were to learn how to become a proficient and deadly assassin, such as John, not about love or anything else that might be considered a weakness.

You hardly ever give yourself the chance to ponder on your feelings for John, much less at the possibility that he could possess the same feelings of affection towards you. It’s not as if you believe that the less you think or talk about it the less real it is, you aren’t that naive. You’ve simply decided long ago that you’re not going to act on your feelings for John. Love or anything remotely close to that is just not in the cards for people like you and John. At least that’s what you keep repeating to yourself.

Still, with your training nearing to an end you’ve been feeling really glum about it. Training with the notorious John Wick hasn’t been easy but living with and falling in love with the real man behind the legend was so foolishly easy. John is an extremely proficient killer, that much is true, but he is also a man. John is a man with dry humor, a latent love for the simpler things in life, a fun penchant for stunt driving and cars, kind and gentle eyes, and, surprisingly but also not really, a man of a very chivalrous nature. Despite the initial turbulence in your mentor-student relationship, you and John inevitably became good friends which really allowed you to see him under a different light. He often took you out to nice dinners claiming that he wanted a change of scenery from an uneventful day or simply because you did very well while training. Either way you enjoyed your outings with him and also simply appreciated being in an entirely different place, not being reminded of the person you’re supposed to become. However whenever you got injured while training to become that person, John would actually help patch you up. Although he’s taught you how to do so yourself, John would claim the medical lessons were mainly for when you are by yourself and have no one to help you and he’d remind you that he’s there with you now. Which is pretty similar to what you’ve told him the first time you helped patch him up now that you think of it. For an assassin who’s extremely well known for his brutal techniques and merciless takedowns, it astounded you to learn that the same man can also be so gentle. You’re not even officially leaving yet but you already know just how badly you’re going to miss John Wick.

In spite of yourself choosing to not focus on a particular set of feelings held for a particular person, today your brain can’t help but do the exact opposite. Today, John decided to focus more on Brazilian Jui-Jitsu. Little to your knowledge, John actually enjoys training you in this fighting form because these techniques allow a weaker or smaller attacker to successfully overpower a stronger opponent by manipulating the human body and redirecting it’s force. Therefore, if you do it right, you could use the opponent's strength against them and take them down. Usually you do very well in this form of martial arts but today John is able to tell you’re not fully there with him. Although John is very good at Brazilian Jui-Jitsu you’re level of skill is practically on par with his as well and you’re current struggle to beat him is alerting him.

Currently, John has you in locked in a rear choke hold on the ground, with one arm wrapped around your neck, his other arm around your free arm, and one leg wrapped around your other arm preventing you from breaking free. You struggle for a few seconds, realizing there’s no use, he’s already one this match, and grunt in frustration. John loosens his grip around you but doesn’t fully release you yet, he brings his lips close to your ear, “What’s wrong?”

The feel of his breath on your skin sends shivers down your spine, yet you quickly and physically swat those thoughts to the side and shake your head, “Right now you have me in a choke hold and I can’t get out of it, John. I don’t know about you but this seems like a pretty big issue for me.”

John instantly releases his grip on you and rises up, he’s about to lend you a hand to get up as well but you’ve already beaten him to that.

“That’s not what I meant, (Y/N). Tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you insist. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“For starters, I’ve been kicking your ass in this all day when I know I’ve taught you better than that. And for another, you just seem very distracted today.”

John is as perceptive as he is deadly, which is why you don’t bother lying to him again and instead insist on continuing to train.

You look down for a second before looking up, making sure to avoid his concerned gaze, “Look, John, do you mind if we just call it in for the day?”

“Something is wrong,” he states.

“John,” you impatiently groan.

“Why won’t you just tell me what the issue is?”

“Because there’s nothing you can do about it!” you snap and instantly regret it, rubbing at your temples. “Okay, I did not mean to say it like that. I’m sorry. I just need to cool off right now, John…”

This time you don’t wait for permission and simply walk away, however, John doesn’t try to stop you either. Not because he doesn’t care, quite the contrary in fact. Concerned and confused, John intently watches you head towards your room. He begins to trail after you but halts in his steps deciding that right now the best option would be to give you your space. Still, John can’t help but wonder about what could possibly be troubling your mind so much and why you refuse to speak of it.

He glances one last time in the direction you previously walked in before heading towards the kitchen and serving himself a shot of bourbon.

“You can’t do anything about it!” your words replay in his mind.

“She’ll tell me when she’s ready,” he mentally tells himself. “We’ll figure it out then.”

John downs two more shots, currently finding it difficult to dwindle his concern and thoughts of you, before taking off in the direction of his room. He encounters the door to your bedroom on his way and halts at the entrance. He balls his hand into a fist and raises it to knock on your door but slowly brings it down and proceeds to head to his room. After finally entering his room, he gives your door one last glance before closing his door and retreating to his room for the remainder of the day.

#john wick #keanu reeves #john wick x reader #mentor x student

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thenamesseven · 5 years

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Plot: Jooheon’s first time with you!

Warnings: Vanilla sex down below :3

Word count: 3.3k

I hope this is more or less what you wanted!

Monsta X’s new comeback was getting closer and closer with each day that passed and that meant Jooheon’s stress was making him more and more grumpy everyday. You tried to understand him, in fact, you couldn’t imagine how stressful must be to do all those performances, to stand the pressure of your new album having to get in the high positions of the rankings and most important, the uncertainty of how fans might react to the new tracks your group was about to release. Since you were a kid, you had always said you would like to be a singer but now that you are dating a really stressed rapper you would rather be something else that wouldn’t get you in the spotlight, in that pressure that haunted your boyfriend and his friends almost everyday.

Currently you were sitting down on his bed, laptop on your thighs as you focused on writing some pages for the book you were trying to publish by the end of the year, sure that could be kind of stressing too but it had nothing to do with the pressure Jooheon was put under whenever comebacks were nearby. He was sitting besides you, papers full of lyrics scattered around the bed and a pencil in his hand as he made some arrangements to his parts, writing down where he should breathe, how he should pronounce some words to be in sync with the base. It was truly fascinating the way he never left any details out and work even harder every single time to improve his rapping skills, to make a perfect performance every single time.

While he rapped besides you, your eyes were stuck in the same paragraph you had been trying to finish for one hour. You had reached a point in your story in which you had to make big decisions but still were a bit insecure about everything, your writing had become slower and slower until you weren’t writing anymore. Truth was, you were too scared of readers not enjoying the decisions you were making for the characters and that was not letting your imagination run wild. Jooheon seemed stuck too, he had been repeating the same line over and over again for almost ten minutes in different ways and he didn’t seem to like how it sounded no matter how many changes he made. Sighing you closed your laptop and placed it on his bedside table, leaning back against his pillow while you took your glasses off.

Noticing your movements, Jooheon moved his eyes away from the paper he was holding in his hands to glance at you, a tired smile on his face “Done for the day?”

“Done for the year” You replied tiredly, kind of frustrated. However when your boyfriend smiled amusedly down at you, you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

Jooheon had the power of cheering people up no matter how sad, angered or tired they were. He is such an energetic yet genuinely nice person that is impossible to not let him engulf you with his affection, to not drown in his silly attempts to steal a smile from you. He was just a huge fluffy ball of happiness who shines so bright that everybody around him ends up brighting too and that was one of the reasons why you love him so much.

“Same” He tossed the paper away, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back next to you “Too bad we’re awful liars and we’ll be back to work in ten minutes” He was right, you two loved your jobs too much to give up and even when there were moments when everything you wanted to do was quit you would keep trying, writing was your passion like music was his.

“Not today though, let’s have a break and watch a movie or something” You proposed looking at him, your mind was blocked and there was no way you would write anything else tonight. You needed a distraction, some time off from your book to advance and as much as Jooheon didn’t want to admit it, he also needed some time away from his raps. “Pretty please?” You asked pouting, giving him puppy eyes.

“I curse the day I taught you how to give somebody puppy eyes” Jooheon sighed defeated, knowing there was no way he could say no to you if you looked at him like that “Fine, let me just put all those papers away and we can watch something” He tossed you the remote control “Thanks God the guys are not around, last thing I want is everybody cramming my bed and not letting us cuddle”

You rolled your eyes smiling, turning on the television “That happened only once, you were locked in the studio and Hyungwon and me were being lazy then you appeared out of nowhere and joined us, Minhyuk wanted to join too and by the time the movie ended everyone was trying to get a spot in your bed” You chuckled remembering that afternoon, Jooheon was kind of sulky but you had lots of fun with the guys “It was fun”

“Oh yeah, it was so fun” Jooheon said with as less enthuthiasm as possible as he picked up the papers from the bed to put them back in their folder.

You glanced at him with a smirk seeing he was still feeling a bit mad about what happened that day “It’s not my fault you’re so needy you can’t share my love and affection”

Jooheon grinned at those words, slowly making his way back in bed with you before he literally launched himself forward to land on top of your body “That’s because you’re mine and I don’t like to share”

Before you could complain about that statement, Jooheon closed the space between the both of you shutting you up with his lips. Since he caught you off guard, it took a few seconds for your brain to process what was really going on and finally kiss him back. Jooheon was smirking against your mouth, teasing you with small yet quick pecks, chuckling whenever you whined when he moved his lips away from yours. The game was over as soon as you gently gripped the front of his shirt and forced him to lean towards you again in order to give him a deep yet passionate kiss.

Jooheon started crawling closer and closer to you, making you lay down on the bed with him hovering over your body. You had your arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him against you while your fingers played with the hair on the back of his head. Feeling your innocent touches Jooheon smiled against your lips, his tongue coming out to tease your lower lip making you groan through the kiss. When Jooheon trapped your lower lip with his teeth, a silly -but to your boyfriend incredibly adorable- giggle escaped your lips making him smile even more.

You weren't playing around tonight though, you and Jooheon had been working next to each for almost two hours with only casual conversation being exchanged between the two of you and now that you had him on you, with his lips against yours there was no way you were letting your boyfriend go.

These moments were tricky for Jooheon since he found out you weren't a virgin like him. Scared of not being good enough or not being able to satisfy you thanks to his inexperience, no matter how many times you told him you didn't care about that kind of stuff, Jooheon still thought that he wasn't enough for you and never allowed your make out sessions to go further. It was a shame, honestly, because you wanted him just as much as he secretly wanted you.

You would never stop trying though and tonight wasn't an exception.

When all the oxygen you had in your lungs was stolen by his kisses you slowly leaned back, breaking the contact between the two of you for a few seconds. Glancing up into Jooheon's eyes you were quick to lean back in, this time against his neck gently pressing your lips against his soft, delicate skin. You felt his muscles tensing up, eyebrows furrowed in concentration to not let out the moan that was threatening to escape. Moving your hands underneath his shirt, you started to caress his back gently with the tip of your fingers, tracing the outlines of his muscles, forcing him to relax under your touch.

You heard him smile, his head gently nudging yours as he left gentle kisses whenever he could while you kept worshipping his neck. Leaving hickeys on it so everybody could see Jooheon belonged to you was a huge temptation but it would get him in trouble, specially when the fans still didn't know about his relationship with you.

"Take this off" You whispered, smiling against his skin as you kept leaving butterfly pecks on his neck.

Jooheon didn't complain, quickly leaning back momentarily to take off his shirt and threw it far away from the both of you. You weren't allowed to go back to his neck though, your boyfriend dove in, burying his face into the crook of your neck before his lips started working. He loved the way your skin tasted, it was addicting, hypnotizing and it drove him nuts. What he didn't know was that his kisses were as addicting for you as well, specially that moment when the tip of his tongue caressed the weak sensitive spot behind your ear.

God, you loved that so much.

The quiet moan that left your lips made Jooheon blush and even when some guys might think blushing in such moments was embarrassing you found it extremely adorable.

"Mhmm Jooheon~" You hummed, tilting your head to give him more space, hands going down his chest, feeling for some brief seconds his fast heart beat. "Take this off"

Quietly he grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up gently, tossing it in the same direction as his. Jooheon stopped himself, taking a few seconds to admire your semi naked figure underneath him. It wasn't the first time he saw you like this but he always stopped to watch you, eating you up with his hungry eyes.

"Fuck baby" He groaned, leaning back down, his lips continuing their trip towards your shoulder and down your chest.

A gasp exited your lips when his reached the hem of your bra, only kissing the swell of your breasts, you wanted more and was hoping Jooheon would notice it. He looked up at you tense, almost scared.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked innocently, making you smile.

"No, it just felt really good" You replied shrugging, running your fingers through his hair gently "Want me to take it off?"

"Do you want to?" Jooheon asked.

"Only if you're comfortable with it"

With a nod Jooheon gave you the green light to get rid of your uncomfortable black bra. Sighing relieved, you reached back and unclipped it, adding another piece of cloth to the little pile Jooheon and you were making on the floor of his room. One of his hand came up slowly, giving you enough time to say something in case you were uncomfortable with what you were doing but no words came out from your lips and when his big hands covered your breasts, you had to bit your lower lip already feeling like moaning.

The view of his hands on you was such a turn on.

You weren't the only one feeling a little horny, when Jooheon lowered his body to get closer to you, the evident tent in his pants came in contact with your crotch, making you bite your lower lip even harder this time. You needed him, you wanted him but you also wanted Jooheon to enjoy and explore as much as he could, you two weren't in a rush.

"Can I?" His voice brought you back to the present, your eyes down on his hands gripping the hem of your shorts. Quietly, you nodded, raising your hips so he could take then off.

When you did that, you unconsciously pressed yourself harder against the bulge in his pants, stealing a moan from a really turned on Jooheon. Giggling you glanced up at him, just to see him all flustered and shy with your shorts still in his hands.

"Take off yours too, it's not fair if Im almost naked and you're not" You said pouting just messing with him

He nodded quickly, believing your words and truly thinking you were upset. He stood up from the bed so fast that Jooheon almost fell, feet trapped in his jeans as he pulled them down, getting out of them smiling when you smiled too.

"Come here" You mumbled reaching out, grabbing his hand and gently pulling him back onto the bed.

Jooheon looked like a lost and abandoned puppy, not even knowing what to do with his own hands when you straddled him as soon as he sat down. This is the furthest the two of you had gotten and you knew that if you wanted to keep going, you would have to take control of the situation.

When you sat on his lap you looked down at him, his muscles calming down as soon as his eyes landed on the sweet and soft smile that was pulling up the corners of your lips. He quietly wrapped his arms around your waist, sighing with relief as soon as your lips found their way against his. Jooheon's free hand came up to cup one of your cheeks, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin as the two of you made out once again.

Being like that with him felt so extremely right, with your naked chest against his and his big rough hands splayed on your back it felt as if his body was made for yours. As if every curve fit against his perfectly.

Your mind considered the possibility of letting him discover what oral sex was but you kind of knew it would probably be too much for him so you tried something else. Placing your arms around his neck, you gently rested your forehead against his before swaying your hips forward against his.

Jooheon groaned, pleased with the feeling of your clothed sex rubbing against his "You like this baby?" You whispered quietly, leaning down a bit more to peck his lips "Does it feel good?"

He nodded, leaning back against the headboard "Feels so good" He whispered, hands down on your hips, guiding your movements now that he was feeling a bit more confident.

"It does" You replied, pressing down harder against his erection letting him feel how your panties were getting wetter and wetter each second thanks to him.

When he moaned again you took it as a good sign and started moving faster, you felt the grip on your hip tightening, boner becoming even harder and breathings getting heavier. You've never been a fan of dry sex but with Jooheon it felt so good that you suddenly were a huge fan of it.

Your movements kept becoming faster, harder and none of you were able to stop what was happening. Your panties were soaked and his boxers were the same thanks to all the friction that had been happening between the two of you. Jooheon wasn't worried about his moans and was being as vocal as you.

Thanks God the rest of the group was out because if they could hear the sounds the two of you were making there would be a lot of teasing for the rest of your lives.

"W-Wait" Jooheon stopped your movements, gripping your waist so tight that you would surely had marks on your body tomorrow "I-I want to be inside of you"

He didn't need to tell you twice, as soon as those words got out of his lips you rushed to your jeans, getting out the protection you always carried in your wallet, quietly ripping the package before you joined him in bed.

"Can you do it? Or should I?" You asked with a small smile, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

"I'll do it" Jooheon said, clearing his throat, grabbing the condom and putting it on as you just sat there looking at him.

"Jooheon" Carefully, you reached out and grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers "Are you sure about this baby?" You asked gently, pecking his cheek

"Of course" He said softly, hovering over you again using your intertwined fingers to pin you down against the mattress. "I really want to do this"

You spreaded your legs for him to get comfortable between them, the tip of his cock barely brushing against your wet entrance "I love you so much" You whispered running your fingers through his hair, gently pulling him down to kiss him.

"I love you too" Jooheon muttered happily against your lips, pecking them before he started talking once again "If I do something wrong just tell me okay? I've never-"

You leaned back in and kissed him passionately "Shut up and make us feel good already" The words made him chuckle, made him feel a bit more confidently when he heard the soft desperation in your tone.

After a deep breath was released from him, Jooheon's hips kindly thrusted inside of you, slowly and so gently like if he was scared of breaking you with his movements. Once Jooheon's length was in you, he stopped moving, his eyes closed and body as tense as yours as he tried to get used to the overwhelming feeling of stretching your tight inner walls out.

"Fuck" He muttered, tiredly laying his body against yours with his face buried in your neck.

"You okay?" You asked, rubbing his back gently, "Take your time, we are not in a rush here"

"I'm just trying not to cum right now" He admitted, making you chuckle softly. Jooheon smiled, sensing you weren't bothered by his inexperience "You're so fucking tight baby, it feels so good"

"Mhmm, I know Jooheon...You're so big" Your praising was turning him on even more, making him struggle to stay still.

"Fucking hell (Y/N)" He swore, slowly moving his hips back "I know I won't last long but I'll make you enjoy this"

You don't know where that sudden confidence came from but Jooheon started moving his hips against yours. He started nice and slow, making sure you felt how every single inch of his cock stretched you, groaning every time you clenched around him and drinking in your expression full of lust and passion. The two of you were looking into the other's eyes, there wasn't a need for words, you could see what Jooheon felt in his eyes and he could easily do the same thing.

As time passed, your orgasms were getting closer and Jooheon's inexperience had vanished, his hips moved faster and harder chasing the ecstasy the both of you wanted to feel incredibly bad. The sound of his hips thrusting into yours, his quiet grunts and your moans echoed in his room.

Staring down at you, Jooheon squeezed your hand "Baby cum for me" He whispered, leaning down to lick your lips gently "I won't last much"

"Jooheon, fuck, you feel so good" You whispered, squeezing his hand back. Your back arched, pressing your chest against his, while your legs were now wrapped around his body "B-Babe...So close…"

"God I love you so fucking much" His hips stuttered for a second and you knew he was struggling to hold himself back, waiting for you to cum.

With a last loud moan of his name, you finally reached the best orgasm of your life. Jooheon reached it almost one second later, moaning and groaning your name over and over again as he kept moving his hips into you, helping the both of you to ride out your highs.

At some point Jooheon stopped moving, his face going back to the crook of your neck while his arms snaked around your body, keeping you closer to him.

"I love you too Jooheon" You whispered pecking his forehead "I love you too"

#kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #kpop oneshots #monsta x #monsta x fic #monsta x fluff #monsta x hyungwon #monsta x jooheon #monsta x kihyun #monsta x minhyuk #monsta x shownu #monsta x wonho #monsta x changkyun #jooheon #jooheon fluff #jooheon smut

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thecleverdame · 5 years

Text

Control and Release

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: With the rest of the staff caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, dub-con.

Words: 1800+

Beta: @ilikaicalie

“No way!” You close your eyes. This has to be a nightmare.

“You’re the only person who made it to the hotel. We’re all snowed in until morning, no one can get a flight out. You’re going to have to staff him until I get there. His schedule is pretty light compared to what it usually looks like. Half his meetings were canceled because of the storm.” Pepper rattles into the phone. She’s only a year or two older than you but she’s your boss’s boss. She’s Sam’s executive assistant, in charge of the entire assistant staff and she’s had it out for you since you started four months ago.

“I don’t think I can do this.” You gulp, shrugging your jacket off. You deliver mail and push the coffee cart around the building, the lowest rung on the corporate ladder.

“You don’t have a choice.” She snips. “You think this is what I want? I’m going to end up paying for this, even though it’s not even remotely my fault. I can’t control the weather...look I’m going to send you his schedule. Just make sure he’s on time. He’ll let you know if you’re doing something wrong, believe me. Just keep your mouth shut and do what he tells you to do. Whatever you do, don’t cry. He hates it when people cry.”

“Why would I cry?” You regret answering the phone and you already know the answer to your question.

Sam Winchester is a real son-of-a-bitch and everyone knows it.

To say his reputation proceeds him would be a gross understatement. He’s smart, successful, ruthless and above all, focused. You’ve worked for Winchester and Singer for six months and have yet to encounter him.

You’ve never even directly spoken to him, never seen him in person other than the monthly reviews he conducts with the entire company in attendance. Even then he’s just a man on a stage.

“I’m emailing you right now. Keep a copy of the schedule on you at all times.” She pauses to take a breath. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, I’m listening. Have the schedule on hand, keep my mouth shut, and try not to burst into tears.”

“Just don’t fuck this up.” Pepper is as over-worked as everyone on the executive level. You can’t really blame her. This job is her life. “You need to check in with him tonight. Just knock on his door and ask if he needs anything. He’ll send you away, but he expects a check in just to be sure.”

“Okay.” You nod to yourself in a windowless hotel room. “I can do this.”

The elevator rises slowly to the penthouse floor of the Ambassador Hotel. It’s nearly midnight and his flight arrived only an hour ago. He was in Tokyo last week and was rerouted during the storms in Boston.

You knock twice on his door, waiting with bated breath and hoping he won’t answer. You’re about to leave when the deadbolt turns and the door opens to reveal Sam Winchester with a cell phone up to his ear. He pauses for a moment, looking you over head to toe before opening the door the rest of the way and walking away chattering to whoever is on the other line.

You stand in the hallway, unsure if the open door is an invitation. On cue he turns around, eyes narrowing as his nods his head.

Already off to a rough start.

Shutting the door behind you, you follow him into the living room, standing awkwardly, waiting for his call to end. When he finally hangs up, he presses his phone against his chest, staring at you like a zoo animal. “Pepper said you’re the only employee here?”

“Y-yes.” You choke out. “I was visiting family in New Mexico, so I flew in from-”

“We’ll have to make due I guess.” He cuts you off. “You have tomorrow’s schedule?”

“Ahuh.” You hold up your phone, forcing a smile.

“Ahuh?” He tilts his head. “I prefer actual words. Yes or no.”

Your cheeks flush hot, embarrassment settling in.

“Yes, Mr. Winchester.” You correct. “I have your schedule. Pepper asked me to check in and see if you need anything tonight.”

“No. I don’t need anything.” His stare is unrelenting. “Do you have something more appropriate to wear tomorrow?”

His question takes you off guard as you look down at the sweatshirt and jeans you’re currently wearing. “I, um, yes sir.”

There’s a nauseating combination of shame and anger settling into your gut. He really does live up to his reputation.

“Good. You better go. We have an early start tomorrow. I won’t need you until after the gym. I’ll be done by 6:15 and I expect you to be here.”

“Yes, sir.” You nod, looking at anything but his face. You’re an ant under a microscope, already feeling the heat.

“Good. You can go now.” He pulls out his phone, hits a number and begins speaking to someone in Japanese as you high tail it out of the room.

You don’t cry until you’re in the elevator. The doors shut as you fight back the urge to turn into a sobbing mess, instead of wiping away a few tears and composing yourself.

Three hours of sleep is all you manage. Between your nerves and being afraid you’ll sleep through the alarm, you’re up and showered at four and dressed by five.

Clutching a portfolio in your arms you step off the elevator. There’s a full-length mirror at the end of the hallway and you stop to make sure you’re presentable. You thought you’d be manning a promotional table during the conference, planned on wearing khakis and a pullover. You brought exactly one business professional outfit that you haven’t tried on in a year or two. It’s a plum-colored sleeveless sheath dress that’s tighter than you would prefer. It looks good but perhaps a little much for this trial by fire.

“This is as good as it gets.” You whisper, giving yourself a final look before finding Sam’s room.

You knock and he answers immediately, holding his glasses in hand.

“You’re late.” He quips, turning around to gather his suit jacket and briefcase.

“I,” You stop, checking your phone. “It’s 6:15.”

“In my world on time is late and early is expected.”

“I’m sorry.” You’re horrified. “I didn’t - I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to do better next time.” He eyes settle on your bare shoulders, then tick down to rest of your body. It’s a quick glance but you catch him. “I have files in the living room. Please make sure everything is in order and ready to go. Pack it all up, we don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

You wordlessly scamper around the room, carefully collecting half used notepads and countless pages of legal discourse that you couldn’t understand if your life depended on it. When you turn back around, clutching his files in your arms, he’s leaning against the doorframe between the entryway way and the living area, watching you intently.

Your cheeks burn hot. Sam is handsome, there’s no arguing that fact, but he’s also notoriously difficult to work for. You’ve never once heard even a whisper that he mixes business with pleasure. If anything he’s known for being controlled. Everyone’s heard of his type, high-level business execs that are uptight beyond belief.

But the way he’s looking at you...no. It’s in your head.

“I’ve got everything.” You nod, shoving the files into your leather bag.

“Good, I want to get down there early.” He checks his watch and strides out of the room without another word and you’re left scrambling after him. Instead of heading to the public elevator you took earlier, he turns in the opposite direction to head toward the private lift his penthouse room offers as a perk. You stand beside him as the doors close and he pushes the button for the ground level.

He turns toward you, looking concerned. “I asked you to wear something business professional.”

“I-” The humiliation continues. “I am. This is all I brought with me.”

“I see.” His eyes narrow.

“Would you like me to go grab a sweater to wear over it?” You ask softly.

“No.” He purses his lips, head tilting ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t be able to tell how tight your dress is if I couldn't see your panty line.”

You nearly choke on your own spit. Letting out a nervous cough as your breath speeds up. You force yourself to look at him, trying your damnedest to determine what this is. Is he coming on to you? Just a perfectionist who’s so caught up in the details that the outline of your lace underwear crosses some sort of invisible line?

“I didn’t realize you could see. I’m sorry.” You stare at the floor, praying to God this day ends quickly.

“Don’t be sorry.” He commands tone calm and even. “Take them off.”

The world stops. All the oxygen evaporates out of the room.

Your eyes go wide, shooting up to meet him and his expression is unreadable. In a split second, your body reacts against your will, heat blooming between your legs, shame tightening in your chest.

You wonder if he’s like a predator able to smell fear. Does he somehow know what kind of effect this will have on you? Is it the way you called him sir, or how quickly you responded to his commands?

“You want me to…” You can’t finish the sentence but he doesn’t need you to.

“Take them off.” He repeats.

“Right now...here?” You whisper.

“Yes.” He confirms, reaching out to take the bag from you.

You hesitate, but only for a second before reaching under your dress and hooking both hands in your panties. The elevator is nearly at the first floor, and sweat breaks out over your entire body at the idea of being caught.

Stepping out of your panties you hold them up, looking at him like a deer in the headlights. There’s nowhere to put them, you didn’t bring a purse, the conference is in the hotel so you left it the room. But Sam casually plucks them from your hand and stuffs them into the pocket of his suit pants as the elevator reaches the lobby and the doors slide open with a ding.

“Try to keep up.” He hands you back his briefcase, your messenger bag of files, and steps out into the general population as you follow.

Tags: @smallgirlbigpersonality @mereka18 @gryffindorable713 @trainlikeawinchester @winchesterprincessbride @bamby0304

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#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfic #Kale!Sam #tedtalk!sam

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honeyedhoseok · 5 years

Text

Don’t You Need Me?

Genre | Angst, Taehyung x Female reader, friends->lovers->friends? au

Word Count | 9.6K

Summary | “Send me back in time, to those nights when we had it all / Will this come out right?” Set 1 year into Y/N and Hongbins relationship; You and Taehyung timidly rekindle your friendship online and then in person when Taehyung moves less than fifteen minutes away–which leads to dinner, wine and a sensual moment that was never supposed to happen.

Warnings | Language, slight smut (dry humping), mentions of weed and alcohol

A/N | Here’s the next part of The V2 Series, a flashback that details the first time Y/N and Taehyung ever hooked up after breaking up in high school. Thanks @sleevelessparkjimin for being my plot coordinator & helping me soooo much with this, you’re the best :* Enjoy! <3

— Set 1 year into your relationship with Hongbin —

You stare at the blinking cursor on your screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard of your laptop, stomach twisted in nervousness. The feeling either stems from the venti caramel macchiato that you just chugged on an empty stomach—which has been known to leave you anxious and trembling on more than one occasion—or, more accurately, it may have something to do with the decision you are currently contemplating.

Your eyes graze over the home screen of your Facebook, where you stopped scrolling in awe at a status update from a former . . . friend.

Kim Taehyung is feeling accomplished—with Kim Eon Jin and 2 others.

Underneath is a picture of Taehyung in a graduation cap, his parents flanking him on either side mirroring his signature smile with ones of their own. Taehyung had a reason to feel proud—in high school he’d sworn he wasn’t going to go to college; he’d said it wasn’t for him, it was for people who had done better than him and who actually had a chance at surviving two more years of education.

Like you, he’d said. You’re smart. You should definitely go back to school, baby.

The nickname echoes in your head. You can still hear the soft tone of it, the way sometimes he’d caress your cheek when he said it, the way he’d whine the word when he wanted you to get off the couch and get him something to drink because he didn’t want to miss a minute of the game, the way he’d make it come out of your own mouth in a more wanton way when you two were—

This, you think, is why after you break up with someone, you should delete them from all social media. And if you were at all smart like Taehyung thought you were, you would have done it a long time ago. Because then you wouldn’t be thinking of sending a congratulatory message to a person you hadn’t spoken to in over two years.

It could be simple, right? Just a “congrats,” nothing else. That wouldn’t hurt anything, would it?

Your fingers jump over the keyboard, itching to write the message and get it over with, so you place your hands under your legs. You glance around at the Starbucks cafe, trying to catch any suspicious eyes averting to yours, wondering why you are concentrating so hard on the tiny screen of your computer.

When your gaze is unmet, you look back at the screen, at that god damn blinking cursor that is mocking you in the comment section of Taehyung’s status. Why were you so scared? Two years was a lot of time to mature—and if you did it in a mature, nonchalant way, Taehyung would also take it as a mature compliment . . . right?

But then, who all would be able to see it? Everything that you commented on or liked on Facebook and any other social media always ended up on your friends timelines. A public comment wasn’t a good idea. A DM, instead? Or was that too personal? Too closed off? Too secret?

You groan outwardly, leaning back in your seat. A woman to your right reading a novel at a small table glances over at you, but doesn’t say anything.

“This is stupid,” you murmur to yourself quietly. “Just do it!”

You quickly pull up your chat and type Taehyung’s name into a new box and start your message:

Hey, congrats on graduating

Too brief. Do it again.

Hey, an Associates! That’s awesome! Always knew you would get there one day. Remember in high school when

Too long-winded. And too fucking happy. Again.

Hey, uh, just wanted to say congrats on the achievement

“UH”? Were you a bumbling moron?

Hey, long time no talk

You pause, biting your lip. That was casual, right?

Hey, long time no talk. Just wanted to congratulate you on getting your degree, and I hope you’ve been doing well :)

You let out a long breath of air from your nose, reading the two lines over and over again until you finally hit ‘Send,’ and close out of the app as quickly as you can. You close the lid of your laptop too, realizing for the first time that your heart is beating rapidly in your chest, pulse singing in your veins. It feels good, but you’re worried it won’t last long. What if he didn’t even answer back?

You don’t give yourself much time to dwell. You pack up your things, throwing away your empty venti cup in the trash can beside the door as you exit the cafe. You decide to give it twenty-four hours before you check to see if he read it, just to save yourself from disappointment and from looking over-eager to reply to him—if he decided to reply .

But Taehyung doesn’t care about either of those things, obviously, because as soon as you are settled into the front seat of your car, your phone buzzes with a message:

Y/N! Thanks so much. I never thought I’d get there, honestly. & it HAS been such a long time . . . how are you?

— 1 month later —

“Can you pause it?” you ask Yeonwoo. “I have to pee.”

She rolls her eyes. “This is like the third time!” she groans, but pulls the remote from underneath her blanket and hits pause. “We’re never going to finish the HP series at this point.”

You two were having a movie marathon during a dreary Saturday—as the movie paused, you could hear rain splatter heavily against the windows in the living room—and Yeonwoo had insisted you start the Harry Potter series from her favorite, The Goblet of Fire. You were actually a fan of The Prisoner of Azkaban, but when you suggested watching it first, Yeonwoo had acted like she hadn’t heard you.

“It’s the margaritas!” you yell, already halfway down the hallway to your bedroom. “Stop judging me!”

As you round the corner into your bedroom, you whip out your phone from your hoodie pocket, tapping twice on the screen to make it light up.

The first message you have is from Hongbin, an email sent thirty minutes ago:

I have a meeting tonight after work. I’m sorry I keep cancelling our anniversary dinner, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.

-Hongbin

He wasn’t allowed on his phone during work hours, so he’d resorted in the last few months to a distant, formal mode of communication that the computer on his desktop would allow him. You hated it, mostly because a message from work meant the inevitable—Hongbin was telling you he was getting off late and/or cancelling plans. Today it was both.

You use the bathroom and wash your hands, drying them off on a towel next to you before picking your phone back up. You bite your lip, reading over the message once more. Your anniversary was three weekends ago, and Hongbin and you still weren’t able to celebrate because of his demanding schedule. You just wanted some time with him, but Hongbin insisted on getting dolled up and taking you out—which led to reservations and a special time allotted that he, in turn, kept being unable to make.

You sigh. There’s nothing you can do—sending back a biting remark or getting mad would do nothing. Hongbin was working hard at his firm, determined to climb the ladder after his father. Who were you to complain about that process? He had drive, ambition, goals—and what did that matter in the face of his girlfriend wanting to spend a little time with him after a year of dating?

As you exit out of the email app, your phone vibrates in your hand, alerting a new message in a private Facebook chat. You click it open, revealing a smiling picture of Taehyung standing beside a road sign—one that you recognize well. Underneath the caption reads:

Guess who has two thumbs and just moved all their shit into an apartment here?

You break out into a grin instantly, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Shut UP! No fucking way! You got the job at the library???

Taehyung is typing . . .

Duh! Those fuckers want me to start Monday

I don’t have a bed frame or a comforter

My mattress is sitting on the floor with just a navy fitted sheet on it

You breathe out an airy laugh before sending your response.

Lmaooooo, poor kid

Congrats tho

That was so quick, you’re insane

It was too good of an opportunity to pass up!!

& thnx :) How’s your day going?

“Y/N, this century, please!” Yeonwoo yells from the living room. “Jesus.”

You send a quick movie marathon w/ Yeonwoo. Harry potter to Taehyung before tucking your phone back into your hoodie and walking back to the living room. You fall back on the couch, bundling up with your blanket and margarita glass.

“Sorry,” you say, giving her a smile. “Press play!”

Hongbin 9:36pm

Just getting home. I’m so tired

You roll your eyes at the message, throwing your phone back down onto your bed. You were cuddled up in a blanket, catching up on shows on your DVR while Yeonwoo was getting dressed for a night downtown. It was still raining, so you’d decided to stay in—but your roommate obviously didn’t care about her hair or herself getting wet whatsoever as she stepped into your room donning a short, black skirt.

“Is this cute?” she asks, turning around in a circle. “Maybe with a jean jacket or something?”

You nod. “What about that rugged one you just got from the thrift store a few days ago?”

She disappears again, some rustling coming from her room as she searches. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?” she calls. “We can pick one place and stay there, so we don’t get soaked!”

“I’m fine,” you say back, eyes trained on the TV. “I’m not really feeling it, just gonna watch some shows or something.”

Yeonwoo comes back into your room a few moments later, hair curled in pretty, loose ringlets and outfit complete with a skirt, floral top, jean jacket and boots.

“Good?” she asks.

“Cute,” you say. “You leaving now?”

“Yeah, I just called the Uber. I’ll let you know when I’m on the way home, okay?”

You nod, listening to the sound of her boots clunking down the hallway before the front door opens and closes. You sigh. You probably should have went with her, knowing how she gets, but you hope that for once she can handle herself without you. Or that one of her friends is playing the “mom” card for the night. You wanted to sulk for a little bit; if your boyfriend was going to cancel plans, you might as well sit inside and do nothing and it be completely his fault.

You settle back into your blankets, trying to refocus on your show when your phone vibrates again by your thigh. You’re thinking it’s Yeonwoo, saying she forgot to lock the front door, or Hongbin, wondering why you haven’t responded to his earlier messages—but it’s neither.

Video Call from Kim Taehyung…

You stare at the screen, bewildered. Looking back at you is the reflection of someone who should not be seen in video form—but you find yourself hitting the ‘Accept’ button, anyways. Taehyung and you don’t video chat, so this is new.

Taehyung’s face fills the screen immediately, and your heart jumps at the sight. He’s wearing a dark beanie, his ashy blonde locks sticking out from the front and sides a little. In an awkward silence, he blinks twice into the camera, making sure he isn’t frozen from his side of the connection.

“Y/N?” he says with caution, and your breath hitches quietly at the sound of your name coming out of his mouth after so long.

Of course, with you and Taehyung having reconnected on social media a month ago, you’d done your fair share of stalking his profile—looking at pictures, status updates, his tagged content—but seeing his face on the screen of your phone was something else entirely. You find yourself speechless.

His eyes, pretty and brown, search the camera unsurely.

“Are you frozen?” he asks again, shifting in his seat. “Hello?”

You finally break out of your trance, opening your mouth and shaking your head a little. “Hi,” you say quietly, watching Taehyung’s face brighten at the sound of your voice.

“Hey!” he says, grinning. “We had a bad connection for a minute, there.”

“Yeah.” You laugh lowly, nervously. “The internet here sucks, sometimes.”

“Yeah, same.” He moves around with his phone in his hand, placing the camera lower so that you get more of his chin and neck, the strong line of his jaw. In the background, you see plain white walls and kitchen cabinets, making you realize where he is, finally.

“Is this your new place?” you ask, sitting up in bed. “Let me see.”

“Yep!” He taps his screen twice, turning the camera around to the kitchen.

It’s a small, cozy room with dark granite counters and white walls, giving it a modern feel. Taehyung gets up from his seat and walks into the living room, giving you the tour. A small, dark couch sits against one wall with a ton of boxes surrounding it.

“I haven’t gotten much done,” he says, laughing nervously. “Moving by yourself is so hard. I had no idea.”

“You did everything alone?” you ask. “Your parents didn’t help?”

He doesn’t answer, moving past the living room to his bedroom, which is exactly like he explained earlier with a single mattress sitting against one wall, a night stand placed beside it and a desk on an adjacent wall.

“I was thinking of putting my bed in this corner,” he explains, “then it wouldn’t be up against that window and I’d have some space to do stuff in the middle.”

“Like what?” you tease. “Dance?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Taehyung says, laughing. He taps the screen again so the camera is back on his face, and your stomach clenches at how he prettily smiles into the camera. “You never know what can happen at casa de Taehyung.”

You roll your eyes, which only makes his smile grow brighter.

“But yeah, my parents helped me move the big stuff and then they left.” He frowns. “Now I have to unpack everything before I work on Monday.”

You shrug. “Well, you don’t have to. But I guess that would make the most sense, huh?”

“Yep.” He sighs. “Oh! I have a reason for this phone call that I keep forgetting to ask you.”

A little part of you feels relieved. It felt odd but good talking to Taehyung, but you were beginning to wonder why he’d chosen videoing instead of a text or phone call—either way, you were happy he was taking your mind off of other things for the time being.

You watch him walk back through his apartment to the kitchen, where he turns the camera on a bouquet of flowers sitting on the table.

“How do I keep these alive?” he asks. “Someone gave them to me as a housewarming gift—don’t ask why, I have no idea. I mean, seriously,” he turns the camera back on himself, quirking a thick eyebrow, “do I look like a flowers kind of guy?”

You giggle. “I mean, maybe?” you say. “Remember in high school when Mina asked you to prom? She went all out with it, too! She got someone to record it and she brought you flowers—”

“And I had to gently let her down because I’d just asked you out a week earlier?” he finishes for you, cringing at the thought. “God, that was terrible.”

“Hey, I told you to go with her!” you counter, laughing. “I didn’t care about prom whatsoever, but you made me go anyways.”

Taehyung shrugs, giving you a soft smile. “But you were so pretty in your dress, so I don’t wanna hear it.”

Your next laugh dies in your throat, but you manage a smile at Taehyung’s compliment. You two are quiet for a beat, eyes focused on each other in the camera lens as you relive the moment in your memories.

“The flowers need a vase,” you say, finally. “Do you have one?”

Taehyung cocks his head to the side. “If I’m not a flower guy, why the hell would I have a vase handy?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes again at his ever-present sarcasm. “Shut up.”

“Should I put them by the window?” he asks, getting up from his chair. “In the morning, they can—”

“No!” you say, a little louder than you mean to. Taehyung freezes on your screen. “I mean, direct sunlight will make them wilt faster. Don’t you know anything?”

“I know you’re being very unhelpful to my situation,” he says, tsking. “Do you have a vase?”

“Yeah?”

“Then bring it to me.”

You pause, feeling your heartbeat increase as you ponder the offer. Bring it to him? As in to his house? As in seeing each other for the first time in two years?

“Oh, uh—yeah,” you stutter, eyebrows furrowing. “I guess I could. I mean, you said you needed help unpacking . . . before Monday . . . right?”

Taehyung nods, keeping his expression even. “I’ll make it worth your while—I can make us lunch or dinner or something. Whenever you’re free to help tomorrow.”

You’re still quiet, so he tacks on: “Don’t feel like you have to or anything!”

“No, no.” You shake your head. “Sunday is good.” Hongbin was going on a golfing trip with some coworkers and Yeonwoo would be passed out until the afternoon time. “I can come, and I’ll bring you a vase.”

You’re glad you agreed, because the way Taehyung’s face brightens—a wide smile splitting his face—makes you feel like you’d do anything to see it happen more often.

“Great,” he says. Then he sighs, and looks past the camera around at his apartment. “Well, I’m going to try to get some stuff done in the kitchen tonight so we have somewhere to eat tomorrow.” His eyes meet yours once more: twinkling, hopeful, a little mischievous, but that’s just Taehyung. “I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah,” you hear yourself say, “See you then.”

His voice is a soft hum to your ears, “Goodnight, Y/N,” right before he disconnects the call.

The screen goes back to Facebook, and you stare at it for a little while, relishing in the excited rush flowing through your veins, at the familiarity of it all, at one thought turning over in your brain for the rest of the night: you were going to see Taehyung tomorrow.

You tell Taehyung you won’t be headed over to his place until after lunchtime, but your excited nerves have you awake at eight. You stare at the ceiling fan rotating in the center of your bedroom for a while, watching a single blade spin while your mind reels similarly until you feel dizzy and have to close your eyes again. It was just Taehyung, and you were just doing him a favor. So why did it feel like you were keeping a secret?

After watching a little TV in the comfort of your bed, you get up and take a shower, going through your normal routine at a leisurely pace to help waste some time. You grab a granola bar off your desk and eat it while you pick out an outfit. When you finally step out of your room and into the living room, you’re surprised to see Yeonwoo stretched out on the couch, a white sheet mask covering her face as she watches TV.

“Hangover?” you comment, snickering. “You’re up early.”

“So are you,” she snaps back, but her usual biting remark is softened by the stiffness of her mouth as she tries not to move too much and disturb the mask. “Where you going?”

You decide to tell the truth, seeing if it helps ease the building anxiety in your stomach. And to cover your tracks for later, whatever later was. “I’m helping an old friend move into their apartment.”

Yeonwoo sits up, eyeing your outfit—a pair of plain jeans, a crew neck sweater and sneakers. When she’s satisfied with your believable clothes, she relaxes, shrugging her shoulders. “Sounds like a shitty way to spend a Sunday, but okay. Have fun.”

You laugh with her, trying to sneak out of the house without any further questions. Just as you open the door, she hits you with another: “What’s with the vase?”

“Housewarming gift!” you quip, stepping outside. “Bye!”

You realize on the way over that you’re making a mistake.

You should have told Hongbin. You weren’t just going to help an old friend, you were going to help an old ex. A person who, foolishly, in high school, you thought you were going to spend a good portion—if not the rest—of your life with.

You look down at the housewarming gift in the passenger seat of your car: a bottle of white Riesling with a gold bow around it, and your stomach twists in nausea. As the GPS directs you to make a u-turn because you just missed the exit to Taehyung’s house, you find yourself pulling off onto the side of the road.

Hongbin answers on the fifth ring.

“Hey,” you say timidly, biting your lip for a second. “I just wanted to call you—I’m like, I don’t even know what I’m doing right now—”

A roar of laughter erupts in your ear, cutting you off. You hear Hongbin excusing himself and some rustling before he finally addresses you. “Y/N, hey,” he says, rushed. “What’s up? I told you I was busy today with work.”

It’s a response so fucking typical of him you can’t even give him the satisfaction of getting mad. Here you are, trying to give him some insight on your worries and he’s too busy chasing a promotion to care.

“Seriously? You’re not at work, Hongbin,” you remind him sourly. “You’re on a golfing trip kissing ass.”

“And if we ever expect to move in together, I’m going to have to get back to kissing said ass, Y/N,” he snaps back just as easily. “I’ve got to go.”

“Fine. Forget it. Bye.”

You hit end on the call and throw your phone down in the seat next to you, listening to the harsh sound of it smacking against glass. You wince, and although you don’t want to, you glance down to make sure you haven’t broken the two gifts beside you.

Taehyung. Your annoyance at Hongbin drains and nervousness replaces it—but it’s a feeling you’d rather have a thousand times over than one of neglect. So you put the car back into drive, make the designated u-turn the GPS is telling you to, and get back on the road to Taehyung’s house.

Which building/room?

Taehyung is typing . . .

1100/425!

You grab the wine in one hand and the vase in the other, making the short walk from the parking lot to the building lobby. You take a deep breath as you step into the elevator, letting it fill your chest, lungs, stomach, and letting it out through your nose only when the shaft lurches to a halt. A ding sounds as the elevator stops on the fourth floor, and all too quickly you are standing in front of room 425.

With your heartbeat pounding against your rib cage, you rap your knuckles softly on the surface. You hear heavy footsteps and clicks of the lock, and then Taehyung is swinging the door open, his face full of delight to see you standing on the other side.

He’s traded the beanie and sweater from yesterday for freshly washed hair that sits in voluminous, messy pieces on his forehead, a grey zip up hoodie, and black sweats. He looks so reminiscent of times when you two were in high school hanging out at his house that you feel relieved—if anything, he was still the Taehyung that loved to be in baggy, comfortable clothes.

“You made it!” he says, grinning. “And you brought the vase!”

He steps back and gestures for you to come inside, which you do, cautiously. You glance at the floor, following his bare feet into the kitchen, watching as they come to a stop in front of the oven.

You set the vase down on the table, still gripping the wine awkwardly in your left hand. “I um—brought this, for you,” you say, holding the bottle out towards him. “Hope you still like sweet white.”

Taehyung smiles softly, taking the gift from you. “Of course I do. Maybe we can crack it open after dinner.”

You nod, and the space between you two falls into an uncomfortable silence. Taehyung tries to make it not as obvious that he’s taking you in—eyes trailing from your head to your toes and back again, taking note of all the changes—but you can feel his gaze on you even as you look away, bringing an embarrassing heat to your already warm face.

You clear your throat. “How much did you get done last night?”

Taehyung seems to remember why you are there, finally, pushing off his relaxed stance against the counters and walking into the living room.

“The kitchen is pretty finished, I think,” he says. “But there are so many boxes in the living room that need to be unpacked.”

Your eyes trail over the ones stacked on top of each other on the couch, blocking any and all possible ways of relaxing in front of the flat screen TV already perched on an entertainment stand.

You sigh. “Well, let’s start with those, then.”

You two fall back into your old rhythm quickly. You’re grateful for this, because the first thirty minutes are spent quietly unpacking, neither of you being sure what to say to the other until Taehyung finally starts talking about his library interview.

You catch back up on what each other have been up two since high school: you, working full time and just recently deciding to go back to school, and Taehyung, living with his parents while he took day classes and saved up money to move out. In two years time, both of you have grown up so much; but also not, by the way you still reminisce about the past, teasing each other about old embarrassments and times together.

Taehyung has matured. He has hardened in places—the line of his jaw and playful glint in his eyes both sharper, body filled out and lean underneath the thin t-shirt that you see after he sheds his hoodie, voice sultry and deep, an air of confidence that follows his movements that you aren’t used to seeing. You wonder what changed him, but you’re fine with whatever it was because this is a good look for him.

“We’re so stupid for moving out so early,” he says later, flopping back on the now-cleared couch. His face glows with a radiant warmth, his hairline a little sweaty from moving furniture around in the living room. You’d offered to help but you couldn’t lift much—and Taehyung had insisted he could do it by himself.

“Hey, Yeonwoo and I are doing just fine,” you counter, frowning. You take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, pulling your legs underneath you. “You should have gotten a roommate. It would make everything easier.”

“I don’t want to live with anyone, though,” he replies.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s hard.”

“So is paying rent by yourself,” you add, laughing. “I think you’re hard to get along with, and that’s why you don’t want a roommate.”

Taehyung raises a questioning eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Explain.”

“Well for starters,” you begin ticking each point off on your fingers, “everything has to be neat and tidy. You hate mess.”

“This is true. Go on.”

“And,” you add another finger, “You survive off of coffee and chicken wraps like a weirdo, so a roommate would starve going grocery shopping with you.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but lets you have that one. “Mhm, and?”

“And, you smoke. Not everyone likes that.”

Taehyung smiles, knowing he has the one-up on you. “That, my dear, is where you’re wrong,” he says. “I quit.”

You sit up a little. “What? For real?”

“It’s too expensive,” he says. “I do something a little cheaper, now.”

“Cigarettes?” you say, unable to hide the disgust in your tone.

Taehyung reaches in the pocket of his hoodie thrown over the back of the couch. “Cigars,” he says, brandishing a rectangular box.

You furrow your brows. “But you used to smoke these before.”

“And now they’re weed-less,” he counters, giving you an impish grin. “Here, smell.”

He takes one out and hands it to you. It’s skinny—not the giant ones that mob bosses smoke in movies—and you bring it to your nose with caution. On the inhale, your senses are flooded with a sweet, smoky smell, something reminiscent of fruit and maybe, firewood.

You hand it back to him and he digs around in his pocket for a lighter. You reach for the box instead. “Summer blend?” you read.

“Yeah, they’re pretty good.”

He lights it up, takes a long inhale. You watch the tip glow red, watch the way Taehyung’s mouth purses around the end before he blows out a continuous exhale of smoke. Even though you’re on the other end of the couch, the smell hits you immediately and you realize it’s one that has been floating in the air since you got there. Earlier, when Taehyung brushed past you to get another box you would smell it, and you thought it was just the scent of his deodorant or body wash. Somehow, knowing it comes from a cigar makes it more enticing, and you watch curiously as Taehyung takes another slow drag.

His eyes meet yours through the skinny smoke hovering in the air and he raises an eyebrow. “Want to try?”

You feel yourself reaching for it before you’ve entirely made up your mind. You smoked a cigarette, once. You hated it. But that wasn’t with Taehyung watching you intently from the end of the couch, so you find yourself more inclined to like cigars as you bring the plastic tip to your mouth.

You cough a little on the exhale, but otherwise it doesn’t feel like anything. You find yourself wishing for something a little stronger, and your eyes drift to the unopened bottle of wine on the table as you hand the cigar back to Taehyung. His eyebrows raise questioningly at you, but otherwise he doesn’t say anything.

You gesture to the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?” You pause. “Or late lunch, rather?”

Taehyung scratches the back of his neck lazily. “Umm—”

“You didn’t buy anything, did you?” you guess with a sigh. “So typical of a chicken-wrap-and-coffee guy.”

“What? No.” He laughs. “I said I was going to cook for you but it’s going to take a second. Is that okay?”

“Oh.” You perk back up. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Great.” He gives you a smirk. “But you’re right about the chicken wrap thing—I'm also a dying-vase-of-flowers guy,” he adds jokingly, getting up from the couch and walking towards the dining room table. He puts his cigar out in a little ash tray on the table, touching the wilted bouquet before spinning on his heel to look at you. “Can we salvage these?”

“I suppose I can work my magic,” you say playfully. “You start cooking.”

“Deal.”

While Taehyung pulls pots, pans, and ingredients from the cabinets, you work on cutting the stems on the flowers shorter. As you run them under cold water in the sink, Taehyung looks on from your side.

“Girls must be born with the ability to take care of things,” he hums appreciatively.

You smile a little and try not to let him see it as you pull dead leaves and wilted petals off before finally, sticking all the stems in the clear, glass vase you brought from your apartment.

“Pretty?” you ask.

Taehyung turns around from where he’s chopping vegetables at the counter. “Perfect,” he agrees. “You’ve earned a glass of wine.”

“You say that like I didn’t buy it,” you snort, rolling your eyes.

“Hey, it’s my housewarming gift,” he says. “But I’m willing to share.”

You grab a glass from the cabinet Taehyung points to, thanking every instinct under the sun that you thought to get a bottle that had a screw-on top. Without looking for it, you know Taehyung wouldn’t have a wine opener.

“What are you making?” you ask.

“Stir fry,” he says. “I figured it would be quick and easy. That okay?”

You sip quietly and stand beside Taehyung as he chops, looking at the graceful way in which he handles food. His hands, big and tan, work with a knife flawlessly. You can’t help but wonder where he learned the skill—in high school he hadn’t known how to cook eggs properly.

He gets you to pour some wine in a separate glass for him that he sips on occasionally. You’re glad you thought about buying it—somehow having a drink in your hands eases the awkward staleness in the room that seems to creep back in during silences. He asks you a few more questions while he prepares—what was the best place to eat in town, what was the nightlife like, what was there to do for fun—and you rattle off what you little you know.

Lastly, he pulls out a small package of white mushrooms and begins slicing them. When he sees the uneasy expression on your face at the addition of a certain hearty vegetable, he shakes his head.

“I’m cooking them in a separate pan, love,” Taehyung murmurs quietly, brow furrowed in concentration. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it, casually tacking on the old pet name onto the end, but you’re glad he doesn’t, because the shock on your face would tell everything.

He hasn’t forgotten anything about you or your preferences. The thought pulls at invisible strings on your insides, but it’s not the same anxiousness as earlier. It’s more of a warmth, an appreciation, a heartfelt emotion that has been silently gnawing at the back of all your interactions since you stepped foot in his apartment. You missed this.

You down what’s left of the wine in the bottom of your glass, hoping the alcohol will take that tight feeling in your throat with it as it travels to your stomach.

“Shit, I forgot to cut up the broccoli!” Taehyung says suddenly. “Y/N can you do that while I get these mushrooms frying? They’re going to take longer.”

You nod, going to the refrigerator. Taehyung puts a pan on the stove and turns on the burner, digging around for a spatula to cook with as you grab the knife and get to work. Somehow, you forget everything you’ve ever learned about cooking or cutting, and a few seconds into slicing the broccoli stem, the tip of the paring knife goes right through the tip of your index finger.

“Ow, fuck!” you say, dropping the knife immediately and cradling your injured finger with your other hand. It oozes blood and you step back from the cutting board to save the food.

Taehyung is at your side immediately. “You okay?” He cuts off the stove burner and rushes out of the kitchen. “Run it under some water, I’ll get the first aid kit!”

It isn’t bad, but it’s going to need a band-aid if you expect to carry on the night without a huge mess. You watch the dark red liquid start to run down your finger so you walk out of the kitchen to avoid getting blood in that sink and opt for the bathroom connected to Taehyung’s bedroom instead.

“I know the first aid kit is around here somewhere,” he murmurs as you walk through, his back to you as he bends over a few boxes stacked in the corner of his room.

You turn the sink on and rinse off the blood pooling at the end, blotting it dry with a square of toilet paper. Taehyung walks into the bathroom with the first aid kit just as you are closing the lid on the toilet, sitting on the seat as you apply light pressure to the cut.

“Is it bad?” he asks, crouching down in front of you. He pulls some ointment out of the kit and flips your hand over, cradling it with his much bigger one as he inspects the damage.

“It’s fine, I think,” you say, trying hard not to show the way tingles are shooting up your arm as Taehyung spreads a small amount of ointment on your finger, hands dancing and caressing your skin with care as he tends to it. “Sorry that I’m so awful at using a knife.”

He looks up at you, giving you a pretty, genuine smile. “It’s okay, I should have remembered—last time we tried to cook together it ended in a disaster, too.”

There’s a beat of silence—partly because you are racking your brain trying to remember the specific time Taehyung is referring to, and partly because suddenly, his face is close to yours for the first time of the entire night and you can see everything that you missed about Taehyung: the chocolate irises that stare happily back at you, the freckle that dots the tip of his nose that you used to kiss over and over, the softness of his pink lips and the way they pull back over a set of straight, beautiful teeth and send a warm smile your way.

And then his head is bent again, the moment gone as quickly as it came as he focuses back on the task at hand. He grabs a thin band-aid from the kit and works on unwrapping it, letting go of your fingers for the time being.

“Thanks for this,” you say, finally. “And thanks for inviting me over, I’m really—” you pause, licking your dry lips and trying to swallow the lump that’s suddenly formed in your throat, “I’m glad I got to see you.”

Taehyung doesn’t look up immediately at the confession—instead, he lets it linger quietly in the air of his cramped bathroom as he peels the paper strips off the sides of the bandaid. He wraps it around your finger gingerly, dropping the trash in the waste basket that sits beside the toilet. Still crouched in front of you, Taehyung pulls your hand up, fingertips aligning with his as if measuring your hand sizes before he intertwines them between yours. He gives your hand a squeeze like this, and you find it hard to look away as your eyes meet.

“Me too, Y/N,” he says softly. “I missed you.”

The quietness of Taehyung’s apartment lays easily on the conversation, covering the confession like a warm blanket. Your face is hot, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the wine or the intensity in which Taehyung is staring at you, still crouched in between your legs and holding your hand with his own.

When his eyes lower from yours finally, you realize you had been holding your breath the whole time, and you let it out quietly through your nose. Taehyung seems to deflate in front of you as well—deciding against whatever was rolling in his mind and making his eyebrows furrowed, as he loosens his grip on your hand and moves to straighten up.

But you don’t want him to move yet. You want to stay in this atmosphere, in this pulse-racing closeness with Taehyung because it’s a feeling that hasn’t coursed through your veins in a long, long time. You tug him back into place and he stutters at the movement, opening his mouth to say something but you don’t let him.

You just want to touch him, to feel him underneath the weight of your fingertips, to run your hand across the tan, smooth skin of his cheek. The feeling is so strong you can’t decide a solid reason why you shouldn’t. So you untangle your hand from his and rake it through the long, blonde strands of his hair, scratching lightly at the back of his neck where you know he likes it. Taehyung’s eyes close from pleasure, familiarness—and when he opens them, you know he’s lost the battle with himself from the fire lit behind his brown irises. You don’t mind, because you lose the same battle when you decide to lean in, using your hand resting on the back of Taehyung’s neck to guide his lips to yours.

The kiss is timid at first, a testing of the waters with closed mouths pressed against each other because neither of you are sure what is happening, or if it should be happening. But when Taehyung brings his hands up to cup the sides of your face, breaking away for just a second to reposition so that his lips are slanted across yours in a harder, more urgent kiss—all sensibility you had leaves the room.

Taehyung pulls you up from your sitting position as he straightens his legs from crouching, using the opportunity to bring you closer and wrap his arms around your waist while his lips graze feverishly across your own. It’s been over two years without pressing your lips against his, but the moment they touch, everything comes back. Taehyung kisses you to leave you breathless, his tongue easily slipping in after a few moments, lacing with your own in a way that is familiar but exciting and new at the same time.

You’re reminded of the mushrooms suddenly, and that Taehyung hasn’t forgotten anything about you like this, either, despite some time apart: the way you loved it when he cradled your face with one hand while his other wrapped around your waist, cocooning you in his warmth and pressing you against his lean body; kissing you slow, but hot and needy to where your body can’t help but feel like melted ice cream in his hands; the way you loved it when he pulled back and looked at you, gauging your reaction to it all, even when he knew exactly what he was doing to you before diving back in with eagerness that made your heart skip.

When you break away to get some air, Taehyung only moves his attention to the skin of your neck, peppering kisses down your jawline until he reaches your pulse point, suckling on the skin lightly there. You close your eyes, tilting your head back to encourage him further, a breathy sigh releasing from between your lips at the warmth of his mouth.

Somewhere along the sucking and nipping and feverish, open-mouth kisses on your skin, Taehyung begins walking you back through the bathroom door frame and into his bedroom. You stumble with him towards the bed, unable to take your hands off of each other for fear that the moment will be ruined and unable to be recaptured with quite the same amount of passion. Neither of you speak, either, for the same reasons, you suppose--but you couldn’t say anything if you wanted; Taehyung doesn’t give you a chance with the way his mouth dances across yours.

Taehyung lightly pushes your shoulders once you’re at the edge of his mattress that sits on the floor—sans bed frame—and you lower yourself down as he follows you, covering your body with all of his. He positions himself perfectly between your legs so that his hard cock sits right against your center, placing pressure on your most sensitive bits, and Taehyung milks a slight moan from your mouth when he ruts against you.

Your clasp the sides of his face, bringing his lips back to yours with fervor unmatched to any time you’d been kissed in the past two years. While Taehyung licks inside of your mouth, your hands roam underneath his thin, white T-shirt, fingernails dragging along the skin of his back in a light scratch that has him groaning in the back of his throat. He leaves your mouth again to nip along your collarbones, bringing one of his hands up to pull down the collar of your sweater and give himself more access.

It’s hot in his room, and not because the A/C isn’t working—in between closing your eyes, you see the vent on the ceiling right above your heads—but your skin is warm all over your body, a feeling that only comes with the circumstance of Taehyung between your legs. You roll your hips upward to meet his, making his mouth stutter in the marks of distinction it was making along your chest. He sits up, kneeling between your legs and looking at you with curious eyes. Taehyung’s lips are swollen from all the kissing and his hair is mussed from your fingertips running through it, but in this moment, you’ve never been more attracted to him.

You tug at the bottom of his shirt and Taehyung snatches it over his head with ease, smirking when your eyes roam over the tan, lean planes of his chest and stomach. His shoulders have widened and broadened, but he’s still managed to keep a slender, boyish figure over the years; you want to run your hands over every crevice of his body and re-remember all the lines so that when this moment between you two is done, you can revisit the memory over and over and over.

When Taehyung leans back over you to connect your lips again, you roll over his body before he can, pushing him flat on his back and swinging your leg over so that you’re straddling his waist. Though Taehyung looks surprised at first at the sudden dominance, his eyebrows slowly return to their normal position on his forehead as you lean down to kiss him once more.

He melts underneath the brush of your mouth, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs caging him on either side of his body. While you trace the underside of his jaw with your tongue, he breathes out, “God, I missed you,” while his hands roam upward, grabbing what he can of your ass through the jeans you have on. The movement makes you jump in surprise and Taehyung laughs a little at the way you pull back from him to look at the playfulness in his eyes before he leans up and kisses you on the mouth chastely.

With his hands spread across your backside, Taehyung pulls your hips towards him, causing you to grind against his hard cock that sits beneath the crotch of his grey sweats. You close your eyes as Taehyung’s tongue sneaks out to tease against yours, coaxing you with the warmth of his mouth and his lap to continue your ministrations.

“Tae,” you breathe out, bowing your head as you continue to grind on him.

Your panties are slick with your wetness, sticking to you uncomfortably underneath your jeans but you’re too lost in the haziness of the moment to do anything about it. You realize how pathetic you might sound, moaning because of the friction between so many clothes, but when you open your eyes and look at Taehyung, staring half-lidded back at you and breathing heavily—you couldn’t care less. His gaze sends a knot coiling in your stomach, tightening with every roll of your hips.

When you moan his name again shamelessly, Taehyung sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, closing his eyes as if fighting with himself for what he wants to say—but then he loses when the words escape his plump lips.

“What is it, baby?” he murmurs. “Why don’t you take these off?” He pats his hands where they rest against your butt, squeezing once again through the material.

The thought flashes in your head of what underwear you wore today—certainly not a fuck me pair—and try to think of how Taehyung would react to seeing your simple, baby blue cotton panties.

“Hm?” he asks, letting his hand come down on your ass in a harder smack this time—still encouraging the roll of your hips against his cock. “Take them off, I want to touch you.” He pauses, fighting the groan building in the back of his throat. “Wanna—make you feel good, Y/N.”

Hongbin is never this forward with you—he wasn’t much of an ass guy in the first place, so he would never do this—and since it had been a while since you two shared a passionate moment because of his work schedule, you couldn’t remember what it was like with Taehyung overpowering those memories with his sensual, fiery touches and narrations.

You want to get completely lost in the moment, but you can’t. Hongbin—he floods back into your brain, unwarranted and at the utmost wrong time he possibly could. It’s all happening so fast—but not fast enough. Your mind takes over instead of your body, your wants, and you open your eyes from their closed state, taking in the sight before you:

Taehyung, underneath you. Shirtless. Small, pink marks covering his neck and chest from your mouth. From your mistakes. From your infidelity. You snatch your hands back from where they rest on his stomach, guilt flooding your system as the fog in your brain thins. Taehyung’s eyes open to anxiously search yours, and he knows immediately what has happened in the last few, precious seconds.

“Taehyung—” you gasp, moving off him and scooting away, off the mattress and toward the wall of his bedroom. When the cold, hard material presses against your back, you realize how far your shirt was pushed up—how close you were to taking it off with your pants following shortly after, and it only makes you feel worse.

“Y/N,” Taehyung says, rushing to crawl after you on his hands and knees. He cradles your cheeks between his hands, brushing away trails of tears you didn’t even know you were crying. “Y/N, I’m sorry—fuck, I’m so fucking sorry. I—” he pauses, running a hand through his air, looking past you with far off eyes. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, god. Fuck!”

You run a shaky hand through your hair, blinking away tears and moving your head side to side in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, pushing his hands away. “I have to go—I have to leave, I’m—” you push up from the floor, walking on shaky legs towards Taehyung’s bedroom door.

He grabs his shirt and is after you in a flash, reaching out to capture your wrist in his before you can make it far. “Y/N, wait a second, we should talk about this.”

You pull out of his loose grip and he lets you, watching you with worried eyes as you put on your shoes and jacket by the door.

“Y/N, please,” he says, and you can hear the hopelessness in his voice. It makes you pause and look up at him, but then your eyes zero-in on the marks on his chest, at the shirt in his hand, and your eyesight blurs with tears again.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Taehyung,” you say. “I’m sorry, this was—this was a mistake.”

Taehyung flinches at the sound of the word, but he nods slowly in understanding. “I’m sor—”

You manage a soft me too, cutting him off before he can say it and then you are rushing out, pulling Taehyung’s front door shut behind you. Just before it closes you catch a glimpse of his kitchen, at the pans on the stove sitting with the cold, forgotten remainders of a dinner that never should have happened in the first place.

— One week later —

“You all right?” Yeonwoo asks as she sits across from you at the kitchen table, setting a mug of steaming hot coffee in front of your tightly clasped hands. This is about the millionth time she’s asked since you got back from Taehyung’s last Sunday—it’s annoying, but at least you’re getting to practice your lying by having to convince her over and over.

“I’ll be great as soon as I drink this,” you say, giving her a smile right before the cup touches your lips. You welcome the burning feeling of the coffee, coating the lies and guilt that keep building up in your throat whenever she asks you.

Yeonwoo hums in agreement, naively, and takes a sip from her own mug.

Of course, you couldn’t tell her what had happened—you couldn’t even process the thoughts yourself, much less explain to someone else what made you cross such a terribly huge line in your seemingly stable relationship. You know you’d wished for it in the moment, but now you want the unrelenting memories of Taehyung to stop flashing through your mind at any given moment and give your poor, guilty heart a fucking break.

“Want to go shopping today?” Yeonwoo asks, not looking up from scrolling on her phone. “I need a new pair of boots.”

You take another sip of your coffee in contemplation, glancing at your own phone sitting a few inches away on the table. Taehyung hadn’t contacted you once since then, and it was eating at your nerves a little bit—shouldn’t he have something to say about it?

“We can go,” you say, finally. “But I need to make a phone call, first.”

Yeonwoo nods and doesn’t look up as you leave the room. You walk in your bedroom, phone in hand and shut the door behind you. For good measure, you lock it, just in case Yeonwoo decides to burst in while you sit Indian style in the middle of your floor and try to figure your conflicted emotions out.

You tap the Facebook app on your home screen and type ‘T’ into the search bar—the first person that pops up is Kim Taehyung from your incessant checking of his timeline within the last week. All he’d posted was a few normal pics of himself sightseeing around town and going to work; it was all boring, mundane things that didn’t help the insatiable craving to reach out to him, but at least he looked cute in his new work button-ups.

You pull up your chat, staring at the last message between you two:

Which building/room?

1100/425!

You knew where his house was, you could just have this conversation to him in person—the thought has you shaking your head before you even finish it. If you couldn’t control yourself last time, how the hell would it be any different during a second round of being alone together?

But, deep down, did you really want it to be any different? The thought had been scaring you for a week straight.

You drag both of your hands down your face in anxiety, pressing your knuckles against your eyes until you see black and static stars. You cross and uncross your legs, pick your phone up and put it down a few times before you finally click in the space to type and let your thoughts formulate freely:

Taehyung, I’m sorry that I left last Sunday and we didn’t really get to talk about what happened. But I’ve had some time to think. Honestly, I think the only thing we can do is put it behind us and move on. I’m sorry that it happened and it shouldn’t happen again. But meeting up made me realize how much I’ve missed you, and I think I kind of need you around as my friend. I’m really sorry, and I hope you still want to talk to me after this. I understand if you don’t, though.

You press send and throw your phone away from you, pulling your knees up to your chest and burying your face in the space between your legs and chest. You breathe out shallowly, thinking over in your head what you just texted and hoping it didn’t make you sound like a pitiful, stupid, selfish idiot.

You knew it was wrong of you to ask Taehyung to come back in your life after what happened between the two of you. Hell, you know it was wrong to bring him back into your life after two years of radio silence between the two of you. What happened was more than just a moment—it was a melding of hidden feelings, of unfulfilled desires and the unrelenting urge to be with someone who knew your body better than you did.

You loved Hongbin. But Taehyung set a fire within your ribcage that billowed outwards and swallowed everything you thought you wanted in your relationship with your current boyfriend; Taehyung, in just a few short hours, had made you forget all of it, made you cross lines you swore you never would because you knew what it felt like to be cheated on. But something about it had felt so right in the moment—

No. If you were going to do this, you had to do it right. You had to be Taehyung’s friend. You had to bury the moment you two shared along with all your dirty desires and do what was right.

But then again, you never were the best at making decisions. The thought passes through your mind as you hear the distinct, vibrating hum of your phone across the floor a few feet away from you, and you snatch it up with sweating palms, a racing heart, and an unrelenting sense of hope blossoming in your chest.

Before the message even pops up, you know, without a single fucking doubt in your mind, that this moment is going to change everything.

Taehyung is typing...

#taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung angst #bts scenarios #bts smut #kim taehyung smut #bts angst #honeyedhoseok #the v2 series #don't you need me?#v2 flashback

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