#nothing like how ours does - should feel deep and internally consistent. even if some things are a stretch it should 'make sense' by it's

[venusiangguk]

gold rush pt. 2 | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader

>>genre: pwp, v little plot, smut, kinda fluffy, college au (kinda), established relationship

>>word count: 8.9k

>>warnings: romantic ass eating 😐, oral (m), fingering (m/f), butt stuff but it’s SEXY, explicit sex, crying, jungkook likes to be praised, soft koo, dom reader... but like soft, spitting in mouth, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, this is so soft, that good smut, literally like 7.5k of filth

>>notes: hot girls eat ass!! oc is a hot girl!! this involves butt stuff (just mouth and fingers, no pegging 😔), so if that isn’t ur cup of tea just read pt 1 again lol, i separated it this way in case there were people who weren’t down to go down... iykyk. but with that said, i encourage u to open ur eyes and ur mind and give this a chance 🤩

>>summary: jk finally lets you eat his ass 😁👍🏻

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

It’s day 6 of trying to get Jeongguk to let you eat his ass. It’s getting hard to function, and the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it used to. The week has been a rough one, filled with clenched butt cheeks, and fewer blow jobs than normal. You just can’t seem to stop yourself from wandering south when you’re down there, so you’ve lost the privilege. Constantly met with Jeongguk’s laughter filled eyes when he pulls you up to where you’re supposed to be, and a “You should not want to eat my ass this bad.”

He just doesn’t understand.

Currently you’re sat in the cafeteria with your friends, your eyes consistently roaming to a table across the large room. He’s laughing at something and his hands are clapping in front of him as he throws his head back. You rest your head on your arms, pouting, and you breathe a deep and miserable sigh.

“Alright y/n what the fuck?” Your friend Yuna says, flicking your cheeks.

Her speaking up causes a few of your other girlfriends at the table to direct their attention towards you. “Yeah, you’ve been like... pouty for the last few days. What’s going on?” Cho questions as well.

You debate keeping the silly internal struggle to yourself before giving in and stating plainly, “Gguk won’t let me eat his ass.” You blow absently at a piece of hair that falls into your face, eyes crossing as you look at it. Next to you, Jiwoo chokes on the zero cal drink that she’s been sipping.

Yuna stares at you blankly for a moment before recovering. “That’s... well that’s a predicament.” She hums in thought. “Does he actually not want to or is he just being shy and stubborn?”

“Second one.” You say. You’ve known your boyfriend for years and you’ve definitely learned how to tell when he’s being serious and when he’s just being stubborn. If you really thought he wasn’t about it you would have dropped it. But you know Jeongguk’s just being difficult because he thinks it’s funny to make you pine, and actually has at least some curiosity about the act. He just won’t admit it.

“Minjun was the same way,” Cho nods in solidarity. “But he likes it now.”

“How’d you get him to change his mind?” You ask perking up. A beacon of hope.

“We watched porn of it together.”

“That’s how I discovered it!” You gasp.

You pull your phone out to text your boyfriend.

you:

minjun let’s cho eat his ass 🥺

You watch Jeongguk from across the room and see the moment he receives the text. He searches the lunch room before his eyes land on yours and he let’s out an incredulous harsh laugh, before shaking his head slightly to himself. You glance at your phone and see the text bubble appear in your messages.

koo 🥴:

maybe he’ll let you eat it too 🥺

You gape at your phone and look at your boyfriend only to see him talking to his friends again. He gives you a side glance and you see his smile grow bigger as he tries to ignore you.

~~~

Jeongguk’s sitting at his lunch table picking at the food in front of him listening as Jimin rambles about the not-so-great grade he got on his latest science test. “Why the fuck do I need to know that the sun will make it too hot for life to exist on earth in a couple billion years? Not only will I be dead, but that is just anxiety inducing.”

His phone that’s vibrating on the table catches his attention, a picture message from you on the home screen. He gets a little excited at the sheer potential that a picture message has and opens it eagerly. Sure the chances of getting a titty pic when it’s mid-day and you’re both in the middle of a lunch cafeteria are small... but they are never zero.

When he opens the message and sees the picture, he laughs loudly before clapping his hand over his mouth to quiet himself.

baby 🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

He’s about to respond when Taehyung says, “Alright, you can’t keep laughing at your phone and not tell us what’s so funny.”

Jeongguk looks at the couple in front of him a trace of a smile still lingers on his lips. He shows them what you sent. “Y/n wants to eat my ass so bad.” He laughs to himself, going back to his phone.

“Are you not letting her?” Jimin asks.

Jeongguk sets his phone to the side before he gets to respond. It’s clear his friends are ready to have a conversation about it. “I don’t think so.”

Jimin and Taehyung look at each other and smirk. “Why not? It feels really good.”

He looks between them silently before asking, “You’ve done it?” He receives two nods.

“This one’s a real ass-muncher.” Taehyung says jerking a thumb at his boyfriend. Jimin swats at him.

“He says like that like its a bad thing and like he doesn’t cum from just my mouth and my fingers.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Jeongguk tenses and turns a little red. A little tremor of heat coursing through his body at the thought of feeling so good that he could cum without even having a hand around himself. “Just from that? No dick touching? Is that even possible?”

“Oh to be straight and oblivious to the wonders of butt stuff.” Jimin pouts at him like he feels bad for him.

Taehyung on the other hand is a bit more helpful. He pops a fry in his mouth and talks with his mouth full, “It’s possible. We have like a button in our ass that’s like... magic. You know what a prostate is right?”

Jeongguk scoffs. “Obviously.”

“Okay well let her put her fingers and tongue in your ass then, if you know so much about it. Have you eaten hers?”

“Yeah I’ve had my tongue in every crevice of that girls body.” He’s nodding and smiling like he’s proud. He glances at you, and he sees you huddled next to your friend, looking closely at something on her phone, your long hair falling like a curtain over your shoulder, some pooling on the table. You look so pretty. You feel his stare, and look at him. Your smile is soft, and your lips pucker in a little kiss. Chuu.

“Right,” Jimin says bringing Jeongguk back to the topic at hand, “Well if she let you, and you’re open to it you should let her... like it will actually feel better for you than it probably did for her.” Jeongguk looks like he’s about to defend his honor and sex skills, before Jimin cuts him off, “Not saying you didn’t do it right or whatever. It’s just that guys are like programmed to like it... like biologically or- something.”

“Or something.” Jeongguk repeats.

“Why don’t you want to in the first place? Is it because you think it’s gay?” Taehyung asks laughing, knowing that that’s not why.

Jeongguk gives him a bored deadpanned stare. “No. Maybe it’s because I shit out of my ass and don’t want her mouth near it? She’s perfect, she doesn’t deserve that.”

Jimin cackles. “Well it’s not like you just let her go for it! You have to prepare.”

Jeongguk sits and listens as his friends give him nothing less than a full comprehensive lecture on the logistics of ass eating and ass getting ate. Ass 101. He’s still unsure but hearing from guys who have actually done it and enjoyed it makes him feel a bit more open and curious. It has him pulling out his phone and tentatively typing out a text to you, finally replying to the picture you sent.

me:

i’m thinking about it

He watches you, waiting for the text to get to you. He smiles when he sees you get excited at seeing his name on your home screen, something warm blossoming in his chest. He struggles to keep his face straight when he sees your head whip up, looking at him wide-eyed like you can’t believe what he just texted you. His fingers wiggle in a small wave, and the biggest smile slowly crawls across your face. He receives one last message before lunch ends.

baby 🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

say less, sir 🤤

~~~

Jeongguk lays on his back patiently, looking down at you below him while you take your time planting soft kisses all the way down his body. He was in a quite docile mood considering all the pestering you’ve put him through the past few days. And despite what you both knew you had planned for him. Something he claimed to be nervous about, but you supposed one could be nervous and excited and pliant all at once.

When you take one of his nipples into your mouth he lets out a soft “oh...” his hands flying up like he wants to wrap them in your hair, hold you there till he’s pleased, but he catches himself when his arms are halfway raised. He brings them back down by his sides, fists the sheets like he’s holding himself back, like he wants to be good for you. As you lick and suck on the paired nipple, feeling it pebble in your mouth, you watch  Jeongguk’s mouth fall open silently while his eyebrows furrow and a wrinkle of pleasure forms between them. His cock is steadily going from warm and plump to hot and hard and leaking, you can feel it twitch against your lower belly.

He opens his eyes to watch you and you can see his pupils are blown and you smile up at him, a tiny bud still pulled between your teeth and Jeongguk whines. A high pitch needy, breathy noise falls from his lips before he pulls his bottom one between his teeth. His head turns to the side, baring his neck in subconscious submission, and God. He doesn’t get like this often but when he does? He is the prettiest sight.

Heat pools in your belly and your panties are already sticking to your bottom half. You hum before moving your ministrations to his torso, soft wet open mouth kisses being placed any and everywhere, prolonged ones on each of his abs. He works so hard for his body, his physique. It’s something he does for himself, but you feel lucky that you get to see him like this in all of his glory.

“Thank you.” You say as you place a kiss on the tattoo he has on his hip bone.

He hums, “For what?”

“For letting me see you like this,” You finally wrap a hand around his cock. You bite your lip when you feel it jump in your palm, “For letting me explore today. You’re so sexy, and so lovely, and so perfect. You work so hard, baby.” Kisses, so many kisses planted over his groin area, but never where he wants it most.

He huffs and you can see a flush from embarrassment darken the already present flush of arousal, due to the praise and mention of exploring. He squirms in your hold, not wanting to talk, probably wishing you would just get on with it already. Surely you can feel him throbbing in your hand, right?

Finally, you bring your lips to his frenulum and place the softest kitten lick to it and Jeongguk positively keens in your hold. You stroke his cock, squeezing on the upstroke to watch a bead of precum well at the top. It glistens, shiny and clear, at the pink head. You wrap your lips around the tip fully, lapping and swirling your tongue over it, humming at the heady, slightly bitter taste on your tongue. It’s not particularly pleasant per se but it’s sexy. The fact you get him so worked up that his cock can’t help but leak, so worked up that he can’t help the soft little whines that fall from his lips; the fact that he gets so turned on and hard and wet just from a few of your kisses and licks makes you moan with his cock in your mouth, thighs squeezing together for some type of pressure and relief.

You pop off with a harsh suck. “I can’t wait to taste you.” You groan, licking a broad stripe up his cock with the flat of your tongue.

He grumbles quietly shifting, sort of like he’s antsy and frustrated. He knows what you mean and he knows you don’t mean his cock that you just had in your mouth.

“What was that?” You ask through a smile, nipping at his hip with your teeth.

“Can you stop talking about it and just suck my dick so I can forget you’re even gonna do that?” He rolls his eyes and pouts down at you with a tiny scowl on his face.

“Oh baby,” You laugh, not patronizingly, but there is a little bit of a teasing lilt to your voice, “Are you still embarrassed?”

He doesn’t answer, just scowls harder if that was even possible.

You move away from his cock, and up his body. His eyes reflect panic and his hands finally move from the sheets to press on your shoulders, trying to keep you in place. “No, stay,” he whines.

You laugh again pushing against his hold before finally settling half on his chest. You rest a leg over his thigh, keeping your body close and pressed to his. You look into his big brown doe eyes that are slightly glassy from all the teasing. You can see some apprehension and nervousness swimming in them as you place a hand on his cheek, stroking softly. He closes his eyes and nuzzles into your palm before his hand comes up to hold your wrist, to just touch some more. His other hand runs up and down your body that’s resting half on top of him, tickling slightly like your the one that needs attention. He kisses your hand that’s on his cheek softly before looking at you again.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” You say quietly, thumb brushing over his cheek bone.

His eyes fall closed again and you can see his brow furrow once more, though this time it isn’t out of pleasure it’s because he’s thinking. Despite all the playful teasing and pestering and banter, you’ve always made sure to check that he was actually okay with you going down there. And, yeah, he was nervous but after talking about it seriously and doing some research together he always said he was fine with it. But you know things can change in the moment and you just want to double check, make sure that he still feels that way.

You hum in question gently, prompting a response.

He huffs, tightening his grip on your wrist, a nervous gesture. His eyes are still closed when he quietly says, “No I just... I- I’m not like backing out...”

“You can though.” You interrupt.

His eyes open quickly, and he shakes his head. “No, no I want to I just...” His voice starts off strong but tappers into a softer tone. “I want to I just feel a bit like... weird.”

Your brow furrows this time. “Why, baby?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t want you to.” He doesn’t meet your eyes and you can feel his cheek heat up in your palm.

Ahhhh, you think. Although you talked and teased about the topic, you realize that while Jeongguk agreed (whilst impishly feigning a faux diswant on principle) you never realized that the lighthearted “You shouldn’t want to eat my ass this bad” remarks may have stemmed from something serious, and weren’t just playful protests.

“Why do you feel that way?” You press gently.

His eyes flicker to you and then to your mouth, then back to something (nothing) off to the side. He has a small not-so-amused smile on his lips when he says, “It’s kinda taboo isn’t it?”

You can’t help but giggle at the word he used. Taboo. Out of all the things you guys have done, this is what he chooses to get shy about. Sweet boy.

“Not any more tabooo than you wanting to eat my ass, or fuck my ass.” You hum at him, stretching out the word in a teasing manner, making him look at you. You smile at him before continuing, “Or you like slapping me, or me gagging you with my panties, or-“

“Okay okay! I get it.” He laughs and places a kiss to your lips to get them to stop moving.

You beam, glad to see he’s a bit more relaxed. The boner however, is definitely gone, but that can be fixed.

“I’m not trying to convince you though.” You emphasize, “I only want to if you want to.”

He nods, softly smiling at you. “I want to.”

A salacious grin takes over your face and you sigh softly into his ear before whispering, “Perfect... I’m going to make you feel so good baby, make you feel so good with my tongue. Get you all whiny and red and sweaty. Maybe your legs will start to shake from how good it feels? Do you want that, Jeongguk?” You nip at his ear lobe as you feel a slight tremor run through his body. Your hips subtly roll against the side of his body, seeking any friction at this point. You feel him nod. “Maybe if you like my mouth enough we can use fingers when you’re ready baby.” You hear him suck in a sharp breath and slowly let it out on a shaky exhale. You grin and place a kiss to his temple before continuing. “Get them inside of you to find that spot that will really set you off. The spot that will make you cum for me. Wouldn’t that feel so good baby?”

He nods again and you can feel the hand that has been running up and down your back throughout the conversation grip at your ass roughly.

“Say it baby, I wanna hear you.”

He whines and struggles against the hand on his face that is now gripping his jaw, still putting up a little bit of a fight about wanting something he considers “taboo”. But he gives in easily enough when he realizes you won’t continue until you get more confirmation that he genuinely wants this, and is excited to have it.

“It’s gonna feel so good y/n. God, you’re gonna make me feel so good.” He’s shy when he says it, but he’s almost panting as well. At last, he’s giving in and admitting to himself that this is something that will feel good and is okay to want.

He grips your face and kisses you. It starts slow and tentative but quickly manifests into a kiss that is deep and hard, one that is full of lust and neediness. He bites at your lip needing to release some of the pent up frustration but at your whine of pain he licks over it apologetically, placing softer kisses instead for a moment before he rests his forehead against yours, both your breathing is ragged for a minute until he speaks up.

“Please y/n. I’m so hard.” He pleads in a soft whisper.

You take a second and look down between your bodies and sure enough, his cock has returned to full hardness, and your mouth waters seeing even more precum welling at the tip than before.

“I’m gonna suck it.”

“Please do.” Jeongguk laughs as you move down his body, but the laugh goes high pitched and breathy when you take him down your throat immediately.

“Fuck...” he sighs, his head falling back and eyes fluttering.

You pull off and close your eyes, relishing in the fact that you can make him feel like this. Grinning against his cock you place a kitten kiss to the shaft. “Good baby?”

He nods his head. “Yes yes, please keep going.”

You hum against the head causing Jeongguk to exhale sharply, hips twitching due to the vibrations. He’s so sensitive and you crave the reactions you pull from him. Whether they’re the soft noises and the small twitches or the loud moans and jerking muscles, they are all equally loved and desired.

Quickly you pull off and reach up placing your hand under his mouth, before he can protest at you pausing again. Maybe you’re being a little mean, but he sounds so pretty when he’s desperate and you just can’t help yourself.

“Spit.” You instruct.

You see him work his jaw, sharp edges protruding here and there while he gathers some in his mouth before spitting it into your hand. You peck a nipple on the way back down to his cock wrapping the spit filled hand around him. You see him watching you and you hold eye contact as you gather some of your own and let it drool from your mouth landing on the tip of his cock. You swear you see his eyes go impossibly darker, his jaw clenching, hands turning to fists in the sheets beneath you both.

When you stroke, mixing everything, his eyes close and he lets out a breath through his nose as he rests back and gets a little more comfortable. It’s not too messy, just the perfect amount of wetness for the glide to be slick and pleasing for him. You tighten your grip and twist under the head watching as the muscles in his stomach and thighs tense, a soft grunt draws your gaze to his face.

“Yeah... like that...” he whispers. He’s just barely rocking his hips into your hands, trying to be subtle while also trying to chase the feeling.

You speed up your hand, keeping up the movements he likes while adding your tongue to flick at the underside of his head. You glance at him and find him watching you again, a fucked out look on his face, mouth slightly parted and a bead of sweat running down his temple. Slowly you sink down watching him till you can’t anymore, burying the tip of your nose in the soft patch of neatly kept hair at the base of his cock. When you feel him hit the back of your throat you contract it and shake your head from side to side and finally, finally you pull out one of his loud and unrestrained moans. It goes straight to your pussy, making it feel like it’s pulsing in your panties.

You come up for a breath before you stay down as long as you can repeating the same actions that pulled the lovely moans from his throat and you continue to hear them as you feel him start to sink his hips, almost like he’s overwhelmed and trying to pull away from how good it feels, like he can’t handle how how good it feels.

In your peripheral vision you can see his hands twitching like he’s fighting with himself before he gives in and sinks them into your hair, pulling slightly before pushing your head down and bringing his hips back up. He’s not fucking your face, but he let’s his cock sink as far back as it can and let’s you work your throat around him, lets himself get overwhelmed instead of pulling away from the feeling like he was before.  

Jeongguk was a head pusher in every sense of the term. Some people hated when their partners did that, but you loved it. You loved it because Jeongguk was different from most head pushers. He had variety. Sometimes he liked pushing your head down and holding you there to choke you and watch tears form in your eyes, to watch your makeup run while you struggled to breathe. Sometimes he did it in a face-fucking way, his hips jackhammering while he moved your head up and down just the way he wanted it. This time though, he held your head down in a begging way. In a way that said “Oh god please, please don’t stop, it feels so fucking good, please stay there forever”.

Jeongguk is whimpering above you and you hum and moan loudly sending strong vibrations up your throat and down his cock and he’s thrashing, throwing his head back, grip in your hair tightening, a pleasant pain on your scalp.

“Oh my fucking god,” He groans, neck extended and his eyes squeezed shut.

His whole body is burning when you bring a hand down to massage his balls while still moving your throat against his tip and then all of a sudden he tenses and stills before he’s pulling you off, frantically chanting “Stop it, stop it.”

At lightening speed you grip the base of his cock, squeezing, trying to keep his orgasm at bay. Jeongguk’s whole body jerks with his cock, but no cum leaks out, only precum and spit making a mess on his angry, swollen cock. He relaxes back for a moment, cock still jumping, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath and you do the same and after you slowly release the hold you have on his cock you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Suddenly your world is blurry and you’re quickly being pulled to his chest and smothered with his hands on your cheeks, and his lips everywhere they can reach.

“God. You’re so good, so so good y/n. So perfect, make me feel so good baby. How do you do it?” He praises you between kisses and you giggle, gently pawing at his chest to get him to stop or at least slow down.

He does and you take a second to look at him. And he’s glowing. His eyes are shining, like he was close to tears and his cheeks are flushed. His sweaty hair sticks to his forehead in places while the longer pieces are fanned out on the pillow underneath him. And his smile. He’s beaming and you are so in love.

You bring a hand up and brush some sweaty strands back off his face. His eyes close and he pushes into the touch like a kitten wanting pets. He sighs contentedly.

“You’re so beautiful, Jeongguk. So pretty.” You whisper, placing a kiss to his forehead.

You bring your hand down from his hair and cradle his cheek, running your thumb over his plump, red bottom lip. You can see faint teeth marks underneath it from where he was biting it. His eyelashes flutter on his cheek as his eyes close and he sighs quietly before he nibbles on the fingertip with his front teeth and then takes the whole thing into his mouth, sucking on it. You gasp quietly, and apply light pressure pushing down on the wetness of his tongue prying his mouth open and he just lets you.

Your lips find his, and you dip your tongue into his open mouth before your hand moves to his jaw to keep it agape and you fuck your tongue into it.

“This is how my tongue is gonna fuck you...” you whisper.

He whines high and needy, and his hands move to cup your cheeks. You moan before settling over him more comfortably and pushing your soaked panties to the side before wiggling till his cock is settled between your lips.

The night was supposed to be about him, but you need something before you lose it. You move your hips in small little thrusts, the length of his cock rubbing deliciously over you clit. You both gasp into each others mouths. The hands on your ass encourage you, pressing into your cheeks and the small of your back whenever you thrust forward, and the thumbs on your hips push when you grind back.

“Holy fuck you’re so wet.” He’s says it like he’s in awe, like he can’t believe it. Like he hasn’t made you this way so many times before.

You rest your forehead on his while continuing to grind on his cock. “Love you like this...” You grip his jaw again and pry it open, even though you know he would open willingly if you just asked. You look in his eyes searching, before you feel him nod in your hold. You lean forward over his mouth and let some spit fall into it, he moans while he eagerly drinks it down.

His grip on your hips tightens and you feel his cock jerk against your clit, but he’s good. He doesn’t cum.

“I love it too... just not all the time... it’s- a lot. Overwhelming.” He whispers, and you coo.

“I know baby, you’re doing so well. Color?” You ask.

“Green.” He answers without hesitation.

You smile and kiss him. “Wanna keep going?”

He flushes when he nods his head. “Please.”

Once again you find yourself between Jeongguk’s legs. You play with his cock a little before smoothing your hands under his thighs, trying to gently push them up and back but he whines and resists.

“You have to let me see baby.” You say, a smile in your voice.

Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before slowly letting his legs fall apart.

You hum, before saying, “Hand me a pillow please.”

He’s confused but does as you ask, understanding when you tap the side of his cheek with instructions to lift his hips, pillow settling underneath his ass and lower back, propping them up a little.

You settle back down on your tummy, and open his legs again. Jeongguk says nothing but you can feel his body shaking a little with a constant tremor. He takes a deep breath settling back into the pillow he placed behind his head so he can watch what you do next.

“Ready?” You ask, hands gripping at the meaty inside parts of his thighs. You get a stiff nod, but still no noises. You pout but get started by running your tongue flat over his balls, hoping to ease him into it.

You feel his thighs tense, as you lap at the hairless balls, sucking them into your mouth every once in a while. Your eyes constantly flicker to Jeongguk’s face to make sure there’s nothing wrong, but all you see is pleasure on his face while he breathes out in soft little puffs through his nose. His eyes are hooded and his lip is drawn between his teeth.

You hold his heady gaze and you place your first little lick on his perineum. At the contact, his head falls back, mouth hanging open. You wiggle closer to place a kiss to the area, transitioning to quick little flicks of your tongue and Jeongguk moans, and you watch as he spreads a bit more, lifting his feet so his knees are pulled closer to his chest, giving you easier access. You moan at his eagerness, and have to stop for a minute, putting a hand between your legs to just press on your center for some kind of relief.

His eyes are still closed, like he doesn’t want to see you between his legs licking at his most private area, but his quiet whining and restless shifting is enough to let you know that he’s okay and enjoying it.

You bring your hands up and place one on each of his cheeks, squeezing a little, admiring the soft give of his muscles. He’s so plush. You apply pressure so his legs fall farther back and then spread him apart. You bite your lip and your mouth waters at the thought of how good your going to make him feel.

Tentatively you poke your tongue out and trace it around the little ring of muscle. He gasps and tries to clench and close his legs but you hold them in place.

“It’s okay baby.”

“‘S weird...” He mumbles.

“I know. Just try to relax for me, okay?”

You hear him take a few deep breaths before you feel his body shake with a nod. His legs fall open again and you make quick work of his hole, placing your tongue flat over it, dragging all the way up to where his balls meet his perineum.

“Ohhh,” He breathes out.

You take that as a good sign before getting a bit rougher with your actions, less of the tentative licks and more of some tight sucking and quick flicking. He’s doing so well and you can hear him moaning above you. His cock is so hard and swollen on his belly, neglected and leaking.

“Pull your legs back baby.”

He opens his eyes and they are unfocused. It takes him a second to process what you asked him to do, but once he does he moves quickly. He has a hazy look in his eyes, his mouth in parted slightly, and his tongue peaks out to wet his lips as he gets comfortable in the new position.

“Watch me?” You plead, while licking over his hole again, eyes not leaving him waiting for a response.

His eyes close for just a moment and a wrinkle of pleasure forms between his brows and his cock jumps, a little spurt of precum oozing out. He inhales and opens his eyes on the exhale, breathing out a small “Okay.”

Once you start to figure out what he likes and what makes him happy, all you hear is the steadily getting louder pleased noises falling from his lips. You point your tongue and gently push past the tight ring of muscles and Jeongguk sobs. He brings a hand to his face and rubs over it, before throwing his arm over his face, hiding because he’s so overwhelmed. To your surprise he starts to gently rock against your tongue.

“Oh my god you’re so hot Jeongguk,” You moan.

“Don’t stop,” He begs. He sounds close to tears.

“Touch yourself, baby.”

You wait until you see his hand wrap around his cock giving himself a few slow strokes, wet eyes on you, waiting for you to keep going.

As soon as your mouth meets him again, his hand he has on his cock starts moving faster, almost frantically over his length and his hips are stuttering like he doesn’t know if he wants to fuck his hand or if he wants to fuck himself back onto your tongue. You decide for him and hold his hips close to your face, sucking repeatedly on the ring of fluttering muscle.

Jeongguk gasps, “I’m close, I wanna cum y/n- Please, I-“ His head falls back and his hand doesn’t slow.

You give your hum of approval against his hole, and watch him fall apart.

His head is thrown back and he’s so sweaty from working so hard for his release. His chest rises and falls in quick staccato breaths, and his free hand goes up to a nipple, lightly rubbing his thumb over it and he keens, before he goes silent, whole body stuttering and he chokes out nothing more than a quick, quiet “Cumming” before his cock pulses and shoots out 1, 2, 3 stripes of white, the rest dribbling down his length and over his fingers. His body almost convulses from the pleasure coursing through his veins. He keeps stroking, and he lets you keep licking until he squirms, uncomfortable from the overstimulation.

You wipe your mouth and immediately make your way up to his face, straddling his hips. You don’t care about the cum, but you’re carful to avoid his sensitive cock, which is a little deflated but still laying somewhat hard on his tummy. You’re both out of breath when you slam your lips against his so it’s more gasping into each other’s mouths while your lips occasionally meet before you need a breath again. But you’re desperate to show him how good he did.

You pull back and grip his face in your hands. His hands hold your wrists, like he’s keeping them in place on his cheeks. He’s still catching his breath with his eyes closed, but you want him to see how proud you are.

“Jeongguk, look at me.”

He does and his eyes are glassy and wet and his eyelashes are clumped together with unshed tears. He offers you a sheepish smile.

“You did so good baby. So fucking good. I love you.” You pepper kisses over his face.

He laughs breathlessly, “Didn’t get to your fingers...”

You laugh with him quietly. “That’s okay baby, we can do that next time. You were perfect.” You take a deep breath and collapse on top of him, resting your face in the crook of his neck, smiling while leaving small lovebites all over.

After a minute or so though, you feel him start to get restless underneath you.

“What is it baby?” You ask not really moving much.

He mumbles something into the top of your head.

“Huh?” You say sitting up to look at him.

He looks kinda petulant for someone who just came so hard it hit their neck.

He mumbles again.

“Koo. Words.”

He blushes and scowls looking away from you but the hands settled on your hips rub small circles into your hip bones, showing he’s not actually mad and most likely just being a brat.

“I want them now.” It’s quiet and pouty, but at least you understand him this time.

Your mouth opens in understanding but your eyebrows raise in surprise. You look over your shoulder and down to see his cock still laying plump and hard on his stomach in a little puddle of cum.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to, I know we said that was the plan but we can always do it ano-“

He grabs the back of your neck pulls you down to kiss you deep and slow, his tongue finding it’s way into your mouth. When he speaks again it’s soft against your lips.

“Please y/n... it felt so good,” A tiny peck is given as your noses touch.

You exhale a shaky breath, “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you want.”

He kisses you deeply again, but positions you over his cock so he can rut up into your pussy.

“Can’t you feel how bad I want it?” He whispers against your lips. He nips at the bottom one while smiling before pulling away and settling against the pillows again, looking at you expectantly once he gets comfortable.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Big words coming from someone who claimed they didn’t even want this like an hour ago.” You smile down at him, eyes sparkling.

He snickers. He breathes a deep sigh before settling back even more. “Yeah. That was before I came so hard that I almost blacked out.” His hands are behind his head and his eyes are closed like he’s reminiscing about a distant memory, a smug smile on his lips.

“You switch from being my baby to a pain so fast.” You pout as you settle once again between Jeongguk’s legs.

He parts them with a hum. “Still your baby... just- make me feel good please, I’m like so hard- throbbing.”

You suck on your fingers a little bit to get them wet before circling one around the ring of muscles. You don’t miss the tiny gasp, or the way his legs subconsciously part even wider.

“I don’t think it’s gonna feel the best at first....” You warn, applying the slightest pressure to his hole, before going back to circling it. “Hand me the lube on the nightstand please.”

Jeongguk obliges before he says, “I know just... go slow.” He sounds just a little bit nervous.

You give a quick nod while you open up Jeongguk’s half empty bottle of lube and drizzle some onto your fingers, lathering it over them to warm it some before getting them into position.

“Do you think about me when you use this?” you ask still running your slick fingers over him.

He nods and licks his lips subconsciously. “Mhmm sometimes.”

You fake gasp and bite at his knee by your side. You’re sitting crisscross applesauce in between his legs. “Only sometimes?”

“I watch porn too,” He giggles breathlessly. “Sometimes I look for girls that look like you though, if that helps.”

“It does not.” You say indignantly, only half joking.

He brings his foot up and lightly kicks at your leg. “You watch porn too that’s literally why we are in this mess right now. We watched it together.”

You full on laugh at that. He has a point. “Okay enough, hush and relax baby.”

You weren’t sure if it was better to warn Jeongguk, or just slowly ease him into it without saying anything. If you warned him you knew he would tense up and it would just make it harder on his body, but you also didn’t want to take him by surprise either.

You must have just been circling his rim for a minute because Jeongguk huffs before asking, “Are you gonna like... put it in or...?”

You take that as a go, and peck the inside of his thigh a preemptive apology because you knew it was going to hurt a little. Jeongguk had prepped you for the times you tried anal with him and you vividly remember the sting before it became bearable. Your hands and fingers were much smaller than his, and certainly much smaller than his cock, so you are hoping the pain isn’t too horrible and ends quickly.

Oh so slowly you start to sink your middle finger inside of him. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and when you flick your eyes up to look at him you can see his eyes squeezed shut tightly and his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry are you okay? Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t really hurt yet, it’s just uncomfortable... Keep going.”

You nod softly before you resume what you were doing, and once you get down to your last knuckle, you wiggle your finger around inside for a second like you had seen in the porn that you and him watched together, hoping to stretch him out some.

Above you Jeongguk is taking shallow breaths the sort of sound like they are getting a little higher pitched at the end, and he shifts and wiggles a bit because of the foreign feeling. You glance at his cock and see that’s its gone just a little soft.

“Touching yourself might help you relax a little bit and it might make it feel a little bit better.” You suggest lightly.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything but he does as he’s told, slowly stroking his cock back to it’s full length.

“That’s it, good boy. I can feel you’re less tense already.” You praise, and you start to move your finger in and out. It’s tight, but there’s a lot less resistance. You move them just a bit faster and focus on Jeongguk’s reactions.

His hand has started to move a bit faster over his cock, and his mouth is parted and his eyes are closed, like he’s lost in the feeling. There’s a flush on his face that has travelled all the way down his chest. Soft moans fall from his lips occasionally, although you can’t tell if that’s from you or him touching himself.

“Does it feel good?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“It feels…” He pauses like he’s unsure. “It feels… nice. I think.”

You snort. “You think?”

He laughs a little breathless, hand still stroking over his cock. “I mean it’s weird. But it’s not unpleasant. I could probably cum if I kept touching my dick.”

“Don’t cum, I haven’t found your button yet.” Your eyebrows furrow, determination set on your face.

“I do not have a button.” He says absently.

“You do. I’m gonna do the second one kay?”

“I don’t and okay.”

You ignore him and grab the lube again, adding a bit more. Your fingers find their place and as they start to sink in, Jeongguk sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, and goes rigid. You wince.

“Hurts…” He says quietly.

“I’m sorry baby.” You rub your free hand over his thigh, trying to comfort him. You give him a moment, he takes a few breaths before saying to keep going.

It takes a little bit but eventually you get both fingers in. Jeongguk isn’t feeling good yet, teeth grinding, body tense, and hands fisted in the sheets trying to ground himself, but you are determined to make it good for him. You get on your stomach and add your tongue to your fingers as you start to pull them out just to push them back in. The lube doesn’t taste very good, but the way that Jeongguk’s breath hitches when he feels your mouth on him again makes up for it.

“I- I love that.” He says, voice airy and soft as he turns his head to the side and into his shoulder like he’s trying to hide.

“Mmm, starting to feel good now baby?” You ask, flicking your tongue while your fingers start to sink in easily.

“Yeah, ‘s good…” He mumbles.

Once you’re sure that there’s no pain at all for Jeongguk, you start to crook your fingers inside of him on every thrust in trying to find that secret spot of his. Jeongguk sounds lovely while you’re searching, but the way he sounds when you finally hit it is like nothing you’ve heard from him before. It’s like he gets punched in the gut and looses his breath, a moan getting caught in his throat for a moment before he exhales a high pitched whine. You didn’t get to see it, too focused, but you know his eyes rolled back.

“There,” he breathes.

You moan as you rest your head against his thigh, focusing on your attention on your fingers and hitting that spot every time you move them inside of him. Each time you hit it sweet moans are punched out, or quiet affirmations are whispered. “Yes, please, more…”.

He has that look of pleasure on his face, the scrunched eyebrows, the parted mouth. He’s fidgety, and fussy like he just wants more but doesn’t know how to get it. He huffs, annoyed, before he starts to push back on your fingers.

“God… you’re so desperate for it,” You whisper completely captivated by how much pleasure Jeongguk looks like he’s in.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. Until you start to put a constant pressure on his prostate, rubbing.

“Oh fuck- I-“ He looks down to where your fingers are like he can’t believe the way they are making him feel before he throws his head back and let’s out a deep groan.

He lets you make him feel good, let’s the pleasure build up in his body until you start to feel him tense. His whines start to come out more frequently, almost constant moans filling the air. So noisy. His legs open more and you see how his toes curl in the sheets.

“Oh my god I think I’m gonna cum,” It’s said breathlessly, almost confused. Like he didn’t think that he would actually be able to cum just from your fingers inside of him, hands still at his sides fisted in the sheets.

“Yeah baby?” You ask, voice airy.

He nods, tongue poking out of his mouth like he’s concentrating.

Your arm hurts, but you keep thrusting and rubbing over that spot inside of him. His muscles are strained, and next to your body, you can see his legs start to tremble. His breathing is fast and short. His cock is fat and swollen laying in a puddle of precum, it looks like it hurts with how red it is. You take you other hand and start to rub on his perineum, stimulating him on the outside as well as the inside and that’s when he loses it.

He let’s out a choked cry before his body jerks up, curling in on itself. “Oh fuck I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming-“

You don’t let up, an awestruck smiling forming on your face as you watch Jeongguk fall apart on your fingers. He’s so tight around them, it’s like his body is begging you not to stop, keeping you in place. He feels like every hair on his body is standing on end and like his skin is overly receptive and sensitive to every little thing. Wave after wave of ecstasy is flowing over him. His whole body trembles, yet his cock doesn’t jerk like with his other orgasm. This time it just pulses flat on his stomach, cum leaking out of the tip adding to the mess that was already there. With every pulse of his cock, Jeongguk’s body curls more, back raise off the bed, abs flexed due to the strain on his core. The look on his face is one of indescribable pleasure. It’s obscene. After the final pulse of his cock, he falls back, absolutely spent.

Your fingers slowly come to a stop, and you carefully remove them from him and wipe them on the bed before you crawl over his thigh and flop down by his side. You peck his cheek, staying quiet this time, not wanting to overwhelm him. He’s still has tremors running through his body when he turns his head to look at you. His chest is heaving and his eyes are droopy, but there’s a sleepy smile on his lips. He curls onto his side so you guys are facing each other.

The silence is thick and heavy but not in a suffocating way. More so in a comforting way. The atmosphere feels like you both are wrapped in a weighted blanket, just relishing in the warm afterglow of what you did together.

You wiggle closer, hook a thigh over his hip. “How was it? Did you like it?” You don’t know why but you sound shy, kinda nervous.

He simply nods, a soft smile on his face as he brushes some hair behind your ear, hand coming to rest on your cheek for just a few seconds before it’s sliding down your arm, down your hip, playing with lacy top of your panties. He bumps noses with you, breathing in your exhales before he closes his eyes and fits his lips between yours. His hand slips into your panties.

You open easily for him, angling yourself mostly on your back so it’s easier for him to reach where you want him most. He sighs into your mouth when he feels how wet you are. He dips between your lips and you gasp, hand going down to grip at his wrist willing him not to tease, to not move his hand away.

“Don’t worry, I just wanna make you feel good baby.” He coos in your ear as his middle finger starts to rub slowly over your clit.

You let out soft whimpers at the slow pace that makes the fire in your belly curl and steadily grow.

“Jeongguk, I’m already close…” You warn.

“Mmm, that’s it baby. Want you to cum for me, like I came for you.” His finger speeds up some. “Fuck, you made me cum so hard y/n. Made me crazy. You always do.” He moans gently into your ear.

You nod, and your legs begin to tremble. “Don’t stop,” You beg, meaning both his fingers and his words.

“You wanna know what it felt like? You wanna know what you did to me?” He presses a touch harder, and nips are your cheek.

You nod again, subtly rocking your hips into his touch.

“You made me cum untouched y/n. Do you know how good you had to fuck me in order for that to happen? God, it was so intense, and I was just leaking so much the whole time. You did that to me baby, you made me feel that good. Fuck, I wanna make you feel that good too, please cum for me y/n. I know you’re close, I know your body just as well as you know mine.” He sounds desperate, just yearning to get you there. “I can tell by the way your legs are shaking, and the way you can’t stop whining my name. Sound so pretty baby, just for me. Your hand on my wrist is gripping so hard, like you can’t take what my fingers are doing to you. But you’re gonna take it and give me what I want right? Just like I gave you what you wanted, hmm?”

“Fuck, Jeongguk I’m cumming,” You cry, his words and his fingers making you shake and finally get the release that you’ve been putting off the whole night. Your thighs close over his hand but Jeongguk doesn’t let up, not until you’re cumming for the second time in a span of minutes.

“Please- I can’t-“ You squirm, and wiggle, until his fingers slow and finally slip form your panties. You sigh in bliss, body twitching as the last bits of your climax leave your body.

You turn back to your side and snuggle all the way against Jeongguk’s body, legs intertwining. Jeongguk runs his nails over your back, making little goosebumps sprout over your body. There’s a peaceful quiet coming over you, both tired from the events of the night. Jeongguk breaks it.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” It’s a timid statement, but you can hear how much he means it.  

You kiss softly over his heartbeat. “I always will.”

“Just please don’t ever ask to peg me.”

You simply hum. “Goodnight baby.”

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i hope you liked it!! i’m thinking of writing a smutty drabble of when oc and jk watch the porn together 🤨 let me know if you would want to read that or anymore of this universe! comments, notes, and feedback are YEARNED for. my ask is also open if you want to request, share thoughts, or just talk

part 3 here!

#thebtswritersclub #btswriterscollective #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook fic #bangtansorciere #wkcnet #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic recs #jeon jungkook #btswritersguild #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #smutcentralnet #bts fanfic #bangtansmutcentral #maknaesmutsociety #networkbangtan #armiesnet #bts x reader #bts #jungkook fluff #bts jungkook #bts jk #jeongguk x reader #bts fic #bts fluff

[wornoutmouse]

Cow Endeavor

Don't ask no questions you don't want answered. Either way, i have no answers for you. I cried while writing this

Praise kink, male lactation (🙃 say something i dare you) farm au, y'all know i love my breeding kink.

You were a simple farm hand. Every morning you'd wake up, feed the animals, and water the crops. It was your job to make sure everything was in order and working properly. In the essence of things working properly, that meant you had to take care of the farm's prized cow, Enji.

You weren't sure how or when he got here, he had just always been there. What you do know was that his performance in producing milk was so great that he had become the pinnacle for your farm, a mascot even. A cow that could make milk without even needing to be bred.

So it's understandable the panic everyone went into when their prized cow stopped producing his prized milk. "I just don't understand, he just had a calf but there's not even milk for hj., we had to result to bottle feeding!"

You pat Keigo's back reassuringly, "It's going to be okay, have you ever considered that maybe he's just too old now?" Takami's face paled, "You're right, what if our poor Endeavor has run his course?!" He then grips the front of your overalls and gazes you with a look that pierces your soul.

"You have to fix this, if they find out he's no longer making milk, you know what they'll do to him!" You nodded, retirement for farm animals was never fun, they'd either try to force his glands to make milk with dangerous chemically induced hormones, or it would be off to the chopping block.

So now, standing in front of Enji's stall, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. Though his primary caretaker, you had never seen Enji in person so this would be either overwhelming or underwhelming.

Opening the swinging doors, you stand amazed. It may be called a stall but it was nothing less than a renovated room. There was, of course, a wooden trough where his hay and water was, but there was also a nice bed for him and even a damn vanity with a 6ft tall mirror.

"Are you the butcher?" You jump and swivel your head around. There standing at a whopping 6,11, was the prized Enji.

His blue eyes were cold as they glared down at you, and if you hadn't seen his massive pecs, you would have confused him for a bull.

"Uh, no I'm not. I guess you could say I'm going to be your doctor today." Enji rolled his eyes and walked past you. He sits on his bed and for a moment, you saw a look of sadness etched in his scared face. A reminder of a past problem.

"Look I'd recommend you replace me with Touya, he can't do it as often but the quality in milk is just as good. I only ask that you allow little Shouto to sleep with him here, he gets terrible nightmares when he's alone."

You cursed your bleeding heart as you were two sentences from crying. Shouto was his most recent calf,, not even old enough to graze, yet he was far away from his mother where he should be, sucking and carefree.

"Well I hope it doesn't come to that, can you get comfortable?"

Enji lays on his back, sinking into the soft bed below him. You step out the stall and grab your bag of tools. You walk up to Enji and feel your face warm as he looks back at you. His face remained stoic as he watched your hands maneuver the bag clamps.

You let out a loud shriek as a warm hand envelopes your left breast. "If you were a cow, I'm sure you'd make excellent milk." You laugh awkwardly before breaking into a coughing fit as Enji releases you.

"Thanks, could you remove your top for me?" Enji sits up and does as you ask and you balk at how much bigger his chests were when released. "Mommy milkers." You whisper to yourself, catching Enji's attention. "What did you say?"

"Nothing!" You put your stethoscope in your ears, and hold the circle piece to his chest, uttering small apologies when he hisses at the cool temperature. You do the normal required check up before moving to the current task at hand.

You start to put on your latex gloves but it's stopped by Enji shading his head. "I don't like the way they feel." So with your bare hands, you examine his chest.

First you massage the skin around his nipple to try to coax some milk out. With no luck, you decide to pay attention to the actual nipples balancing from prodding to pinching them. "Normally when things like this happen it means that something could be blocking the exit." Enji huffed, "Why won't you people accept that I'm just old?!"

You ignore him and continue. You feel around the swell of his breasts and push inwards with two fingers. At that, you faintly catch the sight of his pink buds being coated with clear shiny liquid. Enji's face warmed at the feeling of it dripping down the valley of his chest.

"See, what did I tell you!? It just needed a little coaxing!" You press and prod more trying to coax a consistently white spurt of milk but soon run dry. Enji's face was completely red and sweat had accumulated on his brow. He was internally thankful for the pants he requested as an embarrassingly large bulge was present just below the fabric.

"S-See all that was just a shadow of what I once was." You flick his nip and shake your head, promptly missing how his eyes gently rolled back at the feeling. "Calm down edge lord. I think you need a constant force, I'm going to go get Shouta and see if he can suck more out and hopefully shift whatever is blocking."

You stand up and give Enji a reassuring smile. Rising into a panic, Enji grabbed your forearm, "Don't bring him!" You pout your lips, "Well who do you want me to bring?"

Enji grits his teeth, he didn't want any of his calves to see him in such a state, but he knew this was an opportunity for him to stay at the farm a little while longer. Gently, you feel yourself being tugged.

You trip over yourself, slightly leaning over Enji which gave him the perfect opportunity to cradle the back of your head. He says nothing as he holds you closer, and it wasn't until you saw his flushed face, that you realised what he wanted.

"E-Enji, I don't think this is appropriate I-" Enji wastes no time before pressing his hardened nipple into your partially open mouth. Your protest is muffled as he pressed your face closer. His eyes closed tightly as your warm breath fans over his cool skin.

Soon you realise that you were not going to be let go anytime soon. You reposition yourself the best he would allow you before closing your eyes as well, and sucking gently. Enji lets out a sigh that reverberated down his body.

You let out a muffled exclamation as you feel a warm liquid

flow into your mouth. It was thicker than the clear liquid you saw before, bittersweet and addicting without any additives. It was easy to see how Enji had become the prized cow.

Enji's grip slackened when he felt you relax against him, but you barely noticed as you became enraptured in the taste of his milk. In a strange way, suckling from him felt almost intimate in a maternal way.

Despite your innocent feelings, Enji found himself becoming aroused at the sight of you enjoying him. In all his years of work, he had never seen someone, besides his calves, drink his product.

"D-Do you like it?" You hum around him and he had to clench his teeth so he wouldn't release any sounds. You find yourself getting pliant in his arms, becoming more focused on getting more of the psweet liquid.

You soothingly lave your tongue around his nipple and Enji can't help but let out a small moan. His dick was painfully hard in his cotton pants and there was only so much he could take.

You remove yourself from him with a wet pop, before applying a kiss to his swollen bud. Rather high off happy chemicals, you stand shakily to your feet. Enji had drool and small dribbles of milk spurting from the unattended side of his chest. "You were so good for me Enji. I'm sure this will get you up and running in no time!"

With that, you utter a quick "thank you" and walk away, missing the large splotch of cum leaking from the fabric crotch of Enji's pants.

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It was 3 weeks before you saw Enji again. And you don't deny that you were avoiding him. What you did was beyond inappropriate and uncalled for. You should have pulled away and called for one of his calves.

But avoiding your job is just as easy as it sounds.

"Hey y/n, Enji thinks he's running dry again. Even though there seems to be nothing wrong when the machine mills him, I think you should go check and make sure." You stiffen and shovel a mouthful of lettuce into your mouth.

"If there's nothing wrong, I have no reason to go. Besides why can't you do it." Keigo looks at you with a raised eyebrow, "He requested you specifically." You feel your chest flutter with an unknown emotion and you quickly finish your lunch to avoid any conversation.

You enter Enji's stall the next day and watch silently as he immediately removes his shirt. Ever since your first meeting, his chests had doubled in size since the milk had finally been allowed to move freely. The sight of them excited you, and you couldn't help but feel conflicted.

You sit in a small chair next to Enji's bed and examine his swollen breasts. Even the slightest touch caused milk to spill forth and it became hard to ignore. "You're not really starting to dry up are you?"

Enji sighs before sitting up. "Ever since that day I couldn't get you out of my head." You tilted your head confused as Enji cups his breasts before trailing his large hands down his stomach to his crotch before gripping his obvious manhood.

"Enji this is going beyond inappropriate." The large man made a sound that was a cross between a desperate whine and a grunt similar to that of a bull. "Don't deny that you like it too, I saw the look on your face." You lowered your head unable to look at his eyes.

Thoughts mulled over in your head about what type of punishment you could receive from possibly contaminating merchandise. Would the milk be different? People have been sending letters about how much sweeter Enji's milk has gotten.

Ah, but the thought of Enji's sweet sustenance on your tongue made your mouth water. Enji hid a small smirk as he saw you finally make up your mind. He had missed you since your last encounter, he spent nights thinking of you as his tits swelled with milk.

You untie your work apron and toss it on the stool before straddling Enji's thick legs. In the back of your mind, the logistics of his height and weight made your shiver at the thought of his cock.

Enji brings you in for a kiss and the rather off putting taste of oats and spring grass floods your senses as your tongues intertwine. You use your hands to massage his breasts and feel your front become warm as you subsequently squeeze out some of his milk.

You place hurried kisses along his jaw as you make your way to the true treasure. The sweet taste of his milk overrides your morning meal and you are baffled by how different it was from last time.

Enji, no longer feeling shy, let out a groan as he holds your head close to him. His free hand pulls his leaking cock out and strokes it in time with your rough tongue as you press it against his sensitive bud.

"Harder my little flower." You sigh with contentment at the nickname and do as ordered. You feel Enji flex below you and you take pride in it.

You scoot your lower body closer to his groin and rock your hips against him. The feeling of your denim pants against his throbbing cock was almost too much yet too little.

"Please, let me be inside you." You raise your head to look at him and Enji almost coos at the milky dribble rolling out the corner of your mouth. You were such a small thing, needed to be fed, needed to be protected and most importantly, needed to be bred.

Dazed, you shimmy off your pants and underwear and grind your hips. "B-Be gentle okay?" You were trembling on top of him and it was absolutely adorable. "Of course my flower."

In the corridor Keigo was making his way towards Enji's stall. It had been beyond the recommended time for an examination so he was coming to see what was taking you so long.

As he comes upon the door, the sound of whining fills his ears. "Just a little bit longer, flower." His eyes widen and he takes four steps away from the stall door. "You sly fox y/n fraternizing with the produce." Keigo shakes his head in disapproval before shrugging with a small grin.

"None of my business."

The feeling of fullness was strange and uncomfortable. Enji was not long whatsoever, that was another characteristic that set him apart from the bulls. But he was thick to the point where you knew you'd have to work extra hard to accommodate him.

"You're doing so well for me flower." You rub your face against his bosom and resume drinking from him. The taste of his milk was therapeutic and before you knew it, he was thrusting fluidly inside of you.

The thickness of his shaft rubbed just right against your g-spot. The feeling of your soft lips alternating between each nipple, made Enji speed up his menstruations for he could no longer contain his pleasure.

He was sad that he couldn't bring you to completion as well but that can always be saved for next time. The feeling of his semen filling you felt just as amazing as the milk flooding your mouth and you clenched tightly around him.

🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄🐄

"It's not funny Keigo!" "Really? I think it's hilarious." You groan as you cradle your slightly protruding belly. You should have seen it coming, and subconsciously, you weren't surprised to see two pink lines on the pregnancy test that you took 4 months ago.

Now at 7 months and obviously showing, Keigo took the opportunity to bring up the fact that he was there when your new child was consummated therefore reserved the right to be it's godfather.

Telling Enji the news went scarily smooth as the cow bastard only replied with, "Of course you are pregnant, I'm the sire." Followed by him asking to try your milk as well, so he could critique. All his calves, now yearlings, seemed to take the news just fine and only seemed excited to pick baby names.

"Look, all I'm saying is, don't come crying when little junior starts asking about the family business." You groan as the dirty blond man continues his jokes. A small content smile is present on your face.

#black y/n #blackreader #am igonna lost my black card for this? #mha endeavor #endeavor smut #kinktober #male lactation #cow aesthetic #cow anthro #enji thirst #enji todoroki #enji smut #mha enji #bnha endeavor

[bbq-hawks-wings]

Chapter 316: BBQ is capable of critiquing BNHA and… Oh boy.

Let's start this off properly, Horikoshi's typical quality of writing has been diminishing in recent chapters, but this week it was so different that it didn't even feel like Horikoshi was the one who wrote it.

To be clear, I'm not blaming Horikoshi for the issues I'm about to bring up. The man is criminally overworked, usually doesn't even get the final say in what makes it in the final drafts, and even in his other rough patches he's still produced decent chapters that hold up amongst the grand scheme of things. This feels like something else is going on behind the scenes, and while I have my suspicions on who/what might be the culprit behind it, I choose not to share it at this time because if I name names some people might go off on a crusade, and that's not what I want.

I just want to be clear that I'm not blindly firing off shots in the dark, but despite my frustrations I want to wait to see if this gets resolved down the line, and while I do I can complain about the specific reasons this chapter left such a bitter taste in my mouth.

Buckle up, buttercups, because we got a lot of points to cover.

Where's the Gun?

Not a literal gun, but I mean Chekhov's Gun. It has always been a staple of Horikoshi's writing and the reason so many of his long-standing plot lines have paid off so well.

Chekhov's Gun is a writing principal that if you see a gun on the table in the first act of a play, it will be used in the murder that happens in act 2. Basically, the author should include details that are relevant to the story and not betray the audience by leading them in one direction and at the last minute pull the rug out from underneath them to go in another direction.

Horikoshi has done this to phenomenal success in the past. Just as one example, he dropped hints about Nomu being human experiments early in the series but held off explicitly stating it for a while. He hinted at the loss of Shirakumo in the main narrative and that he was important to Aizawa and Mic as well as approved it for Vigilantes so when it was revealed that Kurogiri was Shirakumo's body, not only did it narratively make sense but it also pulled in Eraserhead and Present Mic's emotional stakes into the battle with the Doctor, and then when Ujiko reveals he was after Aizawa's quirk the whole time it made the payoff for Mic punching him in the face all that much better and brings the weight of his crimes and the impact they have on the victims full circle.

That's 3 different guns paying off in the long run: the Nomu, Shirakumo, and both Mic and Eraserheads' personal arcs past the loss of their childhood friend and that they could finally finish processing their grief and avenge him in full righteous fury instead of chalking it all up to cruel chance.

He has left details, some particularly innocuously, in plot lines like the Touya Todoroki reveal, Hawks' backstory, Shigaraki's blood connection to Nana Shimura, even with Mr. Compress's backstory, and more. When re-read, these details become more obvious and usually leaves us with a greater sense of satisfaction in the plot knowing that twists and turns were not only planned, but built up to and hinted at for us to find so the payoff is that much better and it feels purposeful instead of just shock factor.

None of that happened this chapter.

Lady Nagant has zero business being in this plotline. She was never hinted about before this arc, and her existence does nothing to tell us about the plot moving forward or the world that they're trying to change. Nothing her existence provides actually has any bearing on the universe or tells us anything we don't already know. But that's not how she was presented.

In the beginning we're given a glimpse of her helping Overhaul escape from Tartarus. The focus on her was odd enough to begin with as a new character, and the fact that she didn't look like she fit the profile of someone who belonged in Tartarus was like a flashing neon sign saying, "Pay attention! This new character is important!!!" She then shows up later with Overhaul in hand to attack Deku out of the blue. We get her talking about how she thought Overhaul might be useful and her disillusions with Hero Society. We catch her mannerisms with eery similarity to Hawks only to find out immediately after she was a senior colleague in the HPSC. Never once to my knowledge has Hawks referred to any of his senior colleagues as a "senpai" - not even his fellow heroes - and when he catches her in midair, he uses the words, "Don't die on me, senpai!" as if she's near and dear to his heart.

The entire character arc is set up for her to have known about Hawks and grapple with her desire to help people and her fear of re-creating what she hated, and this also set up Hawks to be the successor who succeeded where she failed and helped bring her to a place where she could be a hero without guilt again. What actually happened?

They're strangers.

They have never actually met before, and while he seems to know a lot about her, she doesn't even seem to have any idea of who he was - at least as far as being another hero under the thumb of the HPSC. So ALLLL that setup, all that gesturing, and all of the potential themes that would be right at home in an arc like this goes completely out the window.

Her story doesn't tell us anything new. The HPSC bad. We knew that. They're not above throwing innocents under the bus to achieve that goal. We knew that. They preyed upon young hopefuls with powerful quirks with the intent to maintain the status quo. We knew that even if the fact that Hawks isn't the only one now makes more questions than answers. We know that these young heroes can never say no under threat of steep, life-shattering consequences. We knew that already.

So what does Lady Nagant even bring to the table?! The entire "you're just a puppet doing what you've been told" angle is a little tired and out of place in this point and time with actual anarchy in the streets (not to mention hypocritical considering she was a blind puppet following orders and offers zero actual solutions that supposedly fall in line with her heroic nature), and it could have been left to any number of other villain characters who could have executed on the theme better - you know, like Shigaraki who's justification this entire time has been, "hero society doesn't make people safe, it just makes them feel safe" from the moment of his inception.

So from that angle she's unnecessary.

Her presence messes with the continuity of the series as well. If Hawks is supposed to explicitly replace her, that would mean that he wasn't just a fluke find on the commission's part and grabbed to mold into their own special superweapon; and that also would mean that her killing of the former president was before he was discovered which should put her at least in her forties. If this isn't the case, and he was meant to simply replace her in a "special agent" case, that still begs the question of how many more gifted children the commission preyed upon and are still out there.

And maybe the worst kicker for me is that something stinks. The way the art in this chapter is presented, if you completely blanked out the speech bubbles, is the same setup I had before - Hawks reaches out to his former mentor and pulls her from the brink of despair with a moving message about why he never gave up hope in being a hero who could actually make a difference.

Again, this is not what we got. He claims he knows her, and it's implied to have been a deep, personal character witness; but at best he only knows about her from secondhand sources. Even his reasoning as to how he never lost hope doesn't vibe with his character.

We have gotten so many cool one-liners for Hawks, but there has always been a consistent tone and imagery with them.

"Those who can fly, should."

"I don't belong in a cage."

"I'm free of my shackles."

"Can I be a shining light, just like him?"

What we got was, "I'm an optimist to a fault" which was the wording the official release went with and was by far the best iteration I have seen, but even this falls short of being truly in character for him and answering her question properly.

@mikeana made an edit of the titular panels for us Hawks stans this week with dialogue we and a few other friends felt was more fitting not only with the imagery of the chapter itself but internally consistent with the specific expressions Hawks uses in his heartfelt, personal dialogue. I just tweaked it a little bit more to fit what I was going for in our original conversation.

Which brings me to another concern.

2. What's the point?

There was no use for Nagant in the series as she's been presented so far. But more than that, Hawks has no business in this fight to begin with. He literally did nothing to earn this emotional moment, and this should have been Deku's moment.

We were teased in an interview with Horikoshi that Hawks was going to get a special moment as an important end-game character as a "shining light" of hope for others to follow as well as promises for Ochako to have another moment in the spotlight to make a difference.

If this was Hawks' shining light moment, it wasn't necessary, and it does nothing to move the plot forward or develop characters in any true or believable way. It just happened because plot. This should have been Deku's victory through and through, and even he is the reason BOTH Hawks and Nagant made it out alive instead of painting the street below them.

Deku's victory was stolen from him, too. It sours the other promises made to us about other characters moving forward, as well, if this really was Hawks' "Shining Light" moment.

By the way, did you forget about Overhaul? Me too!!! What was the point of getting our hopes up about reintroducing this beloved character with the implications this was a major arc setup to have him scream about pops and then get detained with no clues about what's going to happen to him besides, "Say you're sorry to Eri, and you get to see pops"?!

All this posturing and clumsy narrative flailing only actually succeeded in getting Deku in front of AFO again for plot when we already know Mr. Potato Head could summon, show himself to, or find Deku at any time he wanted. But instead we get this time skip with a bunch of heroes completely mended walking into a big, spooky mansion for AFO to evil monologue at Deku for… *counts*

FOUR PAGES!!!

Only to then give him the "I want YOU!" point over a pre-recorded message and the final nail in the coffin to me that something is off.

3. Ex-pu-LOOOO-SHUN!

It's become almost a game among friends to count how many explosions have happened since the end of the war arc - and specifically fake-out explosions. In the end of 311 we get All Might's car attacked via explosion and Deku cornered by Nagant only for All Might to be fine in the next chapter. In 315 Lady Nagant herself explodes in a blaze of glory to once again not be dead.

Gee! I wOnDeR if aLl the heroes were AcTuAlLy cornered and KiLlEd in that explosion in the mansion!

None of us do. They're fine. We're going to see it first thing next week. The shock has worn off, and it's repetitive and annoying at this point. There is no cliffhanger despite how the framing might try to tell you otherwise.

It's BAD WRITING.

The writing has been moving far too quickly and clumsily with no explanation in sight, and even character interactions are being cut short to the point of them being meaningless and empty.

This doesn't even feel like Horikoshi's bad writing. It feels like someone else is trying to call the shots and rushing him through these final bits of the series, and he's run out of things he's previously set up for months and months to reappear so someone is trying to get Dabi-reveal levels of attention with arcs and storylines that don't have the build-up to result in a satisfactory payoff.

4. At least it can get better... I hope.

Maybe those who share my suspicions or know what particular suspicions I have are with me in believing that this is a temporary disappointment and we haven't seen the last of the writing that's captivated me for years. I don't blame Horikoshi for these glaring faults that all came to a head in this chapter.

It CAN get better later, and I think it WILL- we just probably are going to have to wait for it. Until then, I'm going to enjoy the Hawks panels we got, maybe edit the last few chapters to be more in line with something more like the BNHA I know in a "fix it fic" fashion so I don't groan in anticipation of how long it might take us to get there.

See you all next week, hopefully on a much brighter note.

#she speaks #chapter review #bnha 316 #bnha chapter 316 #bnha manga spoilers

[nanowrimo]

5 Tips for Finishing Your Novel

April’s session of Camp NaNoWriMo is drawing to a close, and you might find yourself nearing the end of your novel. If you need some tips on writing and polishing the ending of your story, author Derek Murphy is here to share a few! Plus, you can check out the rest of our novel-finishing resources on our #NaNoFinMo page. 

You won NaNoWriMo and have a 50k collection of scenes and sentences, but how do you clean it up and get it done? How do you make sure it’s finished, satisfying and enjoyable? Here are 5 powerful strategies for finishing your novel and some helpful writing tips that will push you past the finish line.

1. Give it a satisfying resolution.

In order to have a powerful story, your book should probably focus on a main character’s change or transformation. There’s an inner war, a.k.a. the character’s emotional healing, and an outer war: the conflict that forced the reckoning. If it’s a purely symbolic internal realization, you can mirror that with actual conflict in the real scene: the breaking of a dish, a fit of rage, a sudden ray of sunlight (or a storm… this should not be pleasant; It’s a breaking point and spiritual death/rebirth).

You can clarify the moment of change by setting up an illustrative contrast, a before and after, that shows how those internal changes have resulted in real-world consequences or benefits. Each character’s unique challenge will match their personal weakness or fear. The price for victory is the one thing they have so far refused to do, or something they cannot give up or bear to lose.

Make sure your protagonist has gone through a transformative struggle to arrive at deep insights, knowledge or awareness. Find a way to deepen the incidental scenes so that they become instrumental to a deeper purpose, leading towards an identity-shifting event.

The plot is what happens, and it’s important. But you can make it more dramatic and meaningful by making sure you demonstrate how hard it was and what it cost. It matters, it is remarkable, because it forced your protagonist to change.

Your conclusion might include:

Physical tension as allies perform a tug-of-war battle against resistance, that shows how difficult this struggle is, and how much force is required.

The consideration phase, as characters are tempted last minute or the price for victory is revealed: the sweet memories that give them awareness that this fight is worth the cost or risk (you need to show them making the choice, knowing what they will lose).

The final flashback, as the full backstory is revealed so we can see exactly why this conflict is so difficult or meaningful for the main character.

2. Add (unresolved) conflict.

Your story is made up of the events and scenes, where something happens. Each new event will push the characters further into the plot. Slow scenes where nothing is really happening can be red flags, so the first thing to focus on is increasing conflict, drama, suspense and intrigue. This is what creates urgency. The full reveal, demonstrating why THIS challenge is so difficult and powerful, should happen just before the final battle or resolution.

You want to make sure every scene, especially in your conclusion, has enough conflict. I recommend these three:

Outer Conflict (threats): Challenges or obstacles that prevent the character from achieving goals.

Inner Conflict (doubts): Moral struggles, decisions, guilt or shame, anger.

Friendly Fire (betrayal): Strong disagreements between allies or supporting characters. 

You want to extend and deepen the potential conflict, without resolving it too easily. The biggest destroyer of conflict is conversation: when your characters just sit around and talk to each other. Most conflict involves a lack of information, and a desire for clarity. A lot of conflict is perceived or imagined.

The most important information needs to come last, and come at a great price. The information that has an emotional impact, and influences their actions and decisions, should be big reveals at dramatic peaks. A surprise or twist should be treated as an event: each scene is leading towards a change or new piece of information that provokes the protagonist to respond.

3. Fill plot holes with character motivation.

After you’ve made sure that “what actually happens” is intriguing (opening questions and raising tensions without resolving them) you can focus on making sure the plot holes are filled, and characters are properly motivated – these two things are usually adjacent.

You can find and fill plot holes by asking:

Why are the characters doing this?

Why does any of it matter?

Basically, readers need to respect the main characters enough to care what happens to them, so their choices and actions need to make sense within the given information. If there’s a simpler, easier solution, readers will get stuck up on “why didn’t they just…”? To fix plot holes and gaps in logic or continuity, or make the story go where you need it to, you can add urgency, fix the mood of the scene (bigger stakes require bigger justifications), show characters in a weakened mental state, or raise concerns but have them dismissed, with an excuse or justification.

You need rational characters to make plausible choices that lead to dire consequences. You need show why they don’t do something easier, or nothing at all, or why they face clear challenges, despite potential obstacles.

They’ll also require a deeper motivation, for why they’re willing to put themselves in identity-destroying conflict, rather than just giving up or running away. Why do they stay in THIS fight, when they’ve run from similar ones? If they weren’t ready at the beginning, why are the ready now – what changed in them, as a result of your story’s journey?

Your protagonist needs to have a strong, consistent internal compass, and it needs to be revealed through incidents that establish their character. This is who they are. Without this reliable core identity, we won’t be able to tell a story that forces them to change. 

4. Let readers picture your story with detailed description.

In the final stages of revision, you can begin improving the description with specific details.

It’s smart to start – or end – a chapter with a vivid, immediate scene. You want to leave readers with an image they can see in their minds, hopefully connected to the feeling you aim to evoke. You can close a chapter with a reference back to a motif or image, with a deeper or more reflective context; applying meaning to the metaphor. This will help readers feel engaged, be moved, and leave a lasting impact.

Vivid scenes are mostly a matter of detailed description, so add the specifics about the story environment. Be precise, not vague. Instead of “she put a plate of tea and snacks on the table” you can write “she gently placed an antique porcelain teapot on the table. I could smell it was Earl Grey from the scent of bergamot. The half-sleeve of Oreos and can of onion-flavored Pringles seemed incongruous with the fancy dishes, but I knew she was making an effort to welcome me.”

Focus on the sensations and feelings; but also zero-in on any potential sources of conflict or internal emotions or states of mind. In my example above, the host might be nervous or ashamed of her spread; or perhaps she has a degenerative brain disease and doesn’t notice the incongruity. Tensions are unspoken, potential sources of negative feelings. They hover in the background of your description.

Readers will remember the pictures you put in their heads, not the words on the page.

Description should serve and be bound to the story, not distract from it.

It should be squeezed into and around the scene action, when the protagonist is using or exploring.

Show what’s different, not what’s the same.

Leave space for readers to fill in the gaps, but get them started in the right direction so they aren’t surprised later.

Sidenote: be careful about your metaphors, analogies and similes. Each one will put a picture into readers’ minds, and it can quickly get overcrowded with imagery. You’re asking them to ignore your real scene and think of something else. Use them to confirm and amplify the scene you have, and limit distractions.

5. Prepare to publish.

Typos are bad, but perfectionism will ruin you. This section is about editing and proofreading, but I don’t have time for all that, and you don’t either. The real problem with a story is rarely the number of typos. A very clean book isn’t better if people stop reading.

You can solve a lot of common writing problems, with my big list of 25 common writing mistakes, and self-edit your manuscript to make it as good as possible. After that, a copyeditor or proofreader isn’t always the best investment (and it can also be the biggest publishing cost).

Instead, use an editing software (I like Grammarly) to root out obvious mistakes, but don’t dwell on the small stuff like perfecting every word or rearranging the commas. Spending a very long time wrestling a poorly-written manuscript in shape is less effective than getting something (actually) done to the point where you’re comfortable sharing it.

This may be difficult at first, but you can’t learn and improve without genuine reader feedback (from people who aren’t your mom or best friend; nor the short-sighted opinions of a self-proclaimed literature enthusiast). You need to find readers who enjoy your particular genre, and the sooner you find them, the more valuable feedback you can get.

Shorten the feedback loop: Get over the fear and focus on learning by getting feedback early and often. However, this doesn’t just mean joining a writer’s club: writers are brutal and might focus on trivial things. The safest bet is to make it public, on Wattpad at least. Or get a cheap cover and throw it up on Kindle, Draft2Digital or even your own blog.

Making it public is scary and vulnerable, but it’s better than letting the fear of messing up keep you from the brutal, necessary experience of allowing readers to tell you what they liked and disliked about your writing. Will some people be critical? Yes! But guess what, you’ll get negative reviews even if you’re a brilliant, famous writer. Those are inevitable. And the first negative reviews may teach you more about writing than 10 years attempting to self-edit, afraid of putting your book out into the world.

PS. You can use resources, like my 24-chapter plot outline, as a way to spot story gaps in your manuscript and improve the structure (especially if your book suffers from a “soggy middle.)

Derek Murphy has a PhD in Literature, writes urban fantasy and is the founder of the alliance of young adult authors. More recently, he’s started sharing writing tips on http://www.writethemagic.com

Top photo by Adegbenro Emmanuel Dipo on Unsplash.

#nanowrimo #camp nanowrimo #nanofinmo #writing advice #writing tips #finishing a novel #by nano guest #derek murphy

[five-rivers]

Interview with a Ghost (part 5: Buried)

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4)

.

.

.

"What?" said Captain Jones, as Collins and Paterson finished explaining their understanding of the situation to him. "What? What?"

"That was my reaction, too," said Paterson. "Just, you know, internally."

Jones waved one hand, the other supporting his forehead.

"Er, sir?" said Collins, leaning forward, trying to catch the captain's eye. "How should we, you know, proceed on this? I don't think there's any precedent."

The captain bit back a groan. "No, there isn't. He was insistent that the Fentons, his parents, didn't do anything to him?"

"Yeah."

"But it still can't be- can't be healthy for a ghost or- or whatever he is to be there," said Jones. This was making his head hurt. "They have weapons, and even if it was an accident, he died and they- No one noticed!"

"That is pretty messed up," agreed Paterson.

"That's got to be child neglect, at least, right? Negligent homicide?"

Collins nodded. "We can't really charge them with that, though, can we? Not without revealing he's a ghost and getting the GIW and whoever stole the body coming down on us."

"That could just be something Phantom's saying, though," said Paterson. "We don't know if it's true or not."

"It felt true," said Collins. "He sounded like he was actually scared."

"But can we just let a kid- two kids, with his sister- be in a situation like that? Even if one of them is dead. Especially if one of them is dead. Or whatever Fenton, Phantom, whatever, is claiming to be."

"He didn't really claim to be anything, really," said Collins.

"Look, I already have a headache as it is. What it comes down to is, I don't want a kid to be living under the same roof as people who regularly and publicly shoot at him."

"So, what do we do?" asked Collins. "He doesn't want to leave, and I don't think we can make him, physically."

"No, we can't. But does he know that?"

"I think he's aware of his laser murder powers," said Paterson.

"He kept coming to talk to you, though," said Jones. He massaged the bridge of his nose. "There's something here..." Suddenly, it all came together. He clapped his hands. "He wants to keep his secret from the public, right? That's our leverage."

"Leverage?" asked Collins, dubiously. "Captain... he is still a teenager."

"I know, I know, but hear me out. We tell him, he has to let his parents know, and his parents, they have to make their house safe for him. If they're reasonable, they'll do it. If not, we can get them for, I don't know, going crazy and thinking their kid is a ghost, or having weapons all over their home. Obviously, he isn't. That's the position we'd maintain." Jones took a deep breath. "No need to expose him publicly, and, as long as he isn't, he'll have to act like he's human, right? If he wants to maintain the illusion?"

"I guess that would work," said Collins. "But... do we have to get child protective services involved? I don't see that going well."

"Not if everyone is reasonable," said Jones, a crazed look in his eyes.

"Hold up," said Paterson. "Doesn't this hinge on getting him to, you know, tell his parents?"

"Weapons. Home. Around children. And- We'll agree to bury the rest. Tear up documents. Hide everything. Cover for him. We already know what killed him. What's the point of bringing it into the light?"

Collins and Paterson both nodded slowly. "I'll call him," said Collins.

There was a knock on the door. The three glanced at each other.

"Come in," said the captain.

One of the officers stuck her head in. "Sir?" she said. "The mayor is here to see you."

.

Danny would have been at home, plotting with Jazz about how to get his body back, but, no, Skulker had to show up, again. He should have wrecked his suit instead of just sucking him into the thermos last night.

"Hah! Ghost child!" shouted Skulker. "Today I will have your pelt! I have new-!"

Danny screamed in frustration, the harmonics of his voice almost touching a ghostly wail. "Can you leave off about my pelt for like five seconds?" demanded Danny, attacking more aggressively than was his usual wont. One of Skulker's arms flew off his body, clattering on the tiles of a nearby roof. "Didn't you have enough of that, helping Vlad steal my corpse yesterday?" There, after days of dancing around the word, he had finally said it.

"Wait, your what?" asked Skulker, pirouetting awkwardly to avoid another barrage of ectoblasts.

"My. Corpse!" screamed Danny. "You helped him steal my corpse!"

"You don't have a corpse, you're still alive!"

"Shut up!" It was a good thing they were so far up. Even at the volumes they were speaking, they wouldn't be overheard. "You don't know anything! I'm half dead, so I have half a corpse, and I had to bury it, and then the police found it, and you helped Vlad steal it!" Danny was basically in tears at this point, hands clenching the metal of Skulker's chest so hard it buckled and warped, holding the unfortunate ghost above his head.

A number of complicated emotions passed over Skulker's face. "Uh," he said. "Time out?"

"What?" snarled Danny. He was more than ready to rip Skulker apart.

"Your body, whatever there is of it, did Plasmius really take it?"

"He basically gloated about it to my friends," said Danny.

Skulker's face twisted up, the metal plates it consisted of glinting in the sunlight. "Disturbing the remains of another ghost is... distasteful, at best." He shifted, obviously trying to get out of Danny's grip. Danny held on, tighter. "Let me go," he said. "I'll spread the word. There won't be a ghost in the Zone who'll work for Plasmius after this."

Danny sniffed. "I want it back," he said.

"Of course you do," said Skulker, nervously. "Just- let me go, alright, ghost child?" He paused. "Phantom?"

Danny relaxed his grip. Before Skulker could recover, he whipped out the thermos and sucked the other ghost in.

"I'll let you go," he grumbled. "Right into the Ghost Zone."

.

Jones did not like Mayor Masters. A complete outsider, a stranger to Amity Park, the man had somehow wormed his way into the mayor's office. Jones had always suspected bribery, but had no evidence.

This visit of his... it was suspicious. Incredibly suspicious. The timing felt rotten. Masters had barely set foot inside the station before this.

Well, the timing and the questions he was asking. Jones was glad he had told everyone to deflect questions about the body and Phantom beforehand, no matter who was asking.

Jones fixed a grin onto his face. "I'm sorry, Mr. Masters," he said. "We can't discuss ongoing investigations."

"I think," said Masters, "that, as mayor, I am exempt from that rule. I am, after all, your boss."

"That's true," said Jones, "but this case is especially sensitive, and everyone is a suspect."

"I can't possibly be," said Masters. "I didn't even live here two years ago. I believe you are dancing around the subject, sir. Let us not have our personal feelings get in the way of things, hm?"

This bastard- There was no way he should have known that particular detail. Not without suborning the ME or her assistant.

Or stealing the records. The initial reports had gone missing with the body, and the computer system had been hacked.

Jones pressed his teeth together so hard they ached. He could feel them grinding inside his head.

"Why don't I give you an overview of what we know so far?" he asked, voice as sweet as he could stand to make it. "We'll start with Cameron over here. He's the head of our cult division, and a real wizard with computers."

If anyone could drive the man off, it was Cameron.

.

"I didn't think babypop even had a corpse," said Ember, crossing his arms. "Are you sure he isn't just delusional?"

"He could be," said Skulker, "but that's not the point. He believes it. Do you really want to be dealing with him as a restless spirit?"

"Oh, god, no. He's already such a spoilsport. Can you imagine?" The blue flame her hair was drawn back into shuddered.

"I don't have to imagine," said Skulker. "He tore my arm off."

"He always tears your arms off," said Ember, dismissively.

"He's only going to get worse though," said Skulker, "if it really is his body. If Plasmius is doing anything to it. That anxiety. A person's body should be taken care of properly, not messed about with."

"Hey!" said Technus, who was on the other side of the room, fixing Skulker's mechanical body. "I donated MY body to SCIENCE! I'm perfectly fine."

"Yeah," said Ember. "Some people would disagree with that, but the thing is you chose to do that. Those're the rites you wanted."

"Do you think I, the great TECHNUS, master of all things technological and-"

"No, actually, I don't think you knew," said Ember.

"Ohhhhh! I'll alter all your auxiliary cables, you little-!"

"Can we get back on topic?" asked Skulker, his high-pitched voice cutting above the argument. "We need to get Phantom's body back! Otherwise he'll be completely unbearable!"

The ghosts looked at each other. "Agreed," they said.

.

Danny leaned over Tucker's shoulder. "Are you sure?" he said.

"Positive," said Tucker. "Sorry, man, but Vlad's super secret super villain stuff isn't online. Your body isn't mentioned at all. Nothing is. His internet enabled stuff is all pretty bland, compared to what we know he's doing. I mean, some of it is kind of sketchy, but it just isn't the same level."

"Anything we can blackmail him with?" asked Sam.

"Not really. We can't exactly say how we got it, after all, so he'd have plausible deniability."

Danny groaned. The groan turned into a long plume of blue mist. Danny growled. "Whoever is interrupting this time-"

"Whoa, calm down, man," said Tucker. "This is pretty normal."

Danny's phone began to ring. If this was those detective he was going to-

It was Jazz. "What?" he asked.

"The ecto-exodus alarm is going off," said Jazz. "Where are you?"

"Tucker's," said Danny. "I'm going to check it out."

"Be safe. Mom and Dad are out there with blasters, and they've notified the GIW."

"Noted," said Danny. He hung up, then turned to Sam and Tucker. "This is a big one, apparently. You might want to stay in."

"Good luck with that," said Tucker, pulling a ecto-rifle from beneath his desk. "I've been wanting to try this baby out."

"Please don't name it," said Sam.

"I think I will!" said Tucker.

"Just don't shoot if we're not fighting, okay? They might not be here to cause trouble. Don't give me that look, I'm trying out some optimism."

Before his friends could say anything about that, he flew up through the roof. From there, he had no problem picking out the crowd of ghosts who had just passed by.

Skulker was leading them. Danny scowled, and flew forward to intercept them, too angry to process whether or not confronting a group of ghosts that large was wise.

"Hey!" he shouted. "I thought you said you'd leave!"

"Chill, babypop!" shouted Ember. "You're a cold core, aren't you? We're here to get your body back."

That brought Danny up short. "Wait, really?"

The other ghosts, largely the rabble of the Wastes, the region of the Ghost Zone right outside the Fenton portal, gave a ragged sort of cheer.

"Yeah. And trash Plasmius's crap."

"Oh," said Danny, taken aback. "He has a ghost shield around his mansion, you know. A human shield, too, before you say I can get past that."

Poindexter floated up, over the mass of the crowd. "He can't keep them up all the time, can he?" he asked adjusting his glasses.

"No, I guess he can't. One sec." He pulled out his phone. "Hey, Tucker, can you find out where Vlad is right now?"

.

"... and these are the cults that believe ghosts are divine messengers, there's a lot of variety in them, too," Cameron was saying, pointing eagerly at his computer screen.

"Excuse me," said Vlad. "But I don't see how this is relevant. At all. To anything."

"Oh, it's very important," said Collins, nodding sagely. "We got some of our best leads in this case from the cults."

Cameron beamed.

"I am myself quite familiar with the local cults," said Vlad. "If they become relevant, I'm sure I can come back to-"

"No, no, Mr. Mayor," said Paterson, "you won't understand without context."

"I-"

Several dozen ghosts suddenly entered through the roof. Everyone dove for cover.

"Hiya, grave robbers!" shouted a ghost with fiery blue hair. Ember McClain. "Or one grave robber in particular."

Actually, come to think of it, she'd masqueraded as a human for a while, too. Collins was going to have a crisis about how easily ghosts could blend in with humans at some point in the near future. Not today, but before the end of the week. He'd need to talk to a shrink. Preferably one who wasn't a ghost.

Oddly, the ghosts weren't attacking.

The sound of Mayor Masters clearing his throat issued from behind a sizable desk. "What are you here for?" he asked.

"You know, grave robber. We've got a bone to pick with you, until you give back what you took."

A few feet away from Collins, Jones inhaled deeply. He stood up. Collins resisted the urge to drag him back down.

"We don't have Phantom's body," said Jones, "if that's what you're here for."

"We know," said Ember. "That's what this's about. We know who took it, and we don't want to deal with Phantom while he's freaking out over some jerk having his body. So. We're giving an ultimatum-"

"Hey, guys," said Phantom's voice. "I found the shield deactivation button. It was in his car, next to his garage door opener."

"Oh, cool. You trash his car?"

"Nah, I let these little gremlin dudes do it. They looked like they were having fun."

"Whatever, babypop. Let's go get your body!"

As quickly as they came, the ghosts were gone.

Mayor Masters swore, and started for the door.

"Hold up," said Jones, putting a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Where exactly do you think you're going?"

"To call some competent ghost hunters, since those menaces are clearly after my belongings!"

"Nuh uh," said Jones. "We've got some questions for you."

"Yeah," said Collins, "like why you seem to think that they're going to your house, when they could have been talking about anyone."

"Wow!" said Cameron, smiling. "That was exciting! I'm glad I was livestreaming, like you told me to, Paterson!"

"Well," said Vlad. He paused. "I need to call my lawyer."

"Better make sure they're a competent one," mocked Jones.

.

Collins was surprised when Phantom materialized in the middle of the room with a long, dark plastic body bag in his arms. So were most people. Across the room, next to the coffee machine, one of his more caffeine-addicted coworkers do a spit take, and Jones burst out of his office in an avalanche of paperwork.

"I want a burial," said Phantom, finally. "A real one, this time."

Silence.

"I think I can arrange that," said Captain Jones.

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay2020 #dannymay 2020 #day 27

[in-the-whisper]

I'm sorry if this is a common/stupid ask but I fundamentally don't understand religion and I couldn't imagine believing so strongly in anything, but it seems very nice(?) and possibly even optimistic to have a constant like that in your life. so in the sense I think I have an idea of what religion is, what makes you decide(?) to follow it or believe in it? genuine apologies if this comes across as patronizing or condescending, it's not my intention and sometimes I'm just bad with words ':]

dude you are always welcome here and i will never assume that you are being mean you are very sweet <3 i am very happy to talk to you!

ok so i come from a super different background so it’s hard for me to even imagine like not knowing a ton of people who are religious so i will try to explain and then if it doesn’t make sense feel free to poke me and i will try again. also it makes me happy so dont be scared i will say oh! someone asked me about God! yay! and then i will write a silly tumblr post while making this face -> c: 

okay so one of your confusions seems to be why i would believe in something so strongly. in a way everyone believes things strongly, some even more than me (i mean look at politics and thanksgiving dinner). i think the reason that my relationship with God in particular is something i feel strongly about is because i derived my faith from my natural understanding of the value of my friends and from my understanding of morality.

i love my friends very much (most people do) and the idea of them getting hurt or mistreated makes me very angry (i think people would agree). and you could make the argument that the reason that i care so deeply about people and justice is because of all the stuff ive been through but i did think this before anything bad happened to me really.

there is a difference between atheist (philosophical) morality and Christian morality. for someone who doesn’t believe in God, there isn’t anybody who is more important than humanity who can tell them what to do. if one person does something, and i don’t like it, all i can say is, “i don’t like that,” and not “you shouldn’t do that.” because im not in charge of them. i’m just another person, who am i to go around establishing moral laws for other people?

but what that /also/ means is that there isn’t any “grounding” or like /reason/ for morality or the value of life other than personal preference. this Really bothered me about my philosophy class, every atheist philosopher did this. they all wanted to say that you could make morality for yourself (looking at you nietzsche). But then what happens? What about when someone is killed? or raped? I want to be able to say, “Rape is horrible.” and not just “Rape is horrible in my opinion.” Anything that doesn’t allow for these like absolute, unquestionable, overarching standards of how people /should/ or /shouldn’t/ live just doesn’t add up imo.

Atheist professor of law at Yale, Dr. Arthur Leff, wrote an article on this exact topic called “Unspeakable ethics Unnatural Law.” The entire thing is amazing and I recommend it, but here is the conclusion:

All I can say is this: it looks as if we are all we have. Given what we know about ourselves and each other, this is an extraordinarily unappetizing prospect; looking around the world, it appears that if all men are brothers, the ruling model is Cain and Abel. Neither reason, nor love, nor even terror, seems to have worked to make us "good," and worse than that, there is no reason why anything should. Only if ethics were something unspeakable by us, could law be unnatural, and therefore unchallengeable. As things now stand, everything is up for grabs. 

Nevertheless:  Napalming babies is bad.  Starving the poor is wicked.  Buying and selling each other is depraved.  Those who stood up to and died resisting Hitler, Stalin, Amin, and Pol Pot-and General Custer too-have earned salvation.  Those who acquiesced deserve to be damned.  There is in the world such a thing as evil.  [All together now:] Sez who?  God help us.

So if I think this is true, if I really believe that death is evil, that rape is horrible, that there are some universally binding and unchallengeable truths about how people ought to live, I have to believe in a God. or i can live in a state of constant existential dread hahahahaha, , I joke but I actually did do that for a while it was pretty miserable.

i think the next question was kind of what made me believe in it? and that is kind of a difficult question because i think in a way Christianity just encapsulates a bunch of things that i already believed, and i just found like a label for them i guess. i also grew up Christian, so for me my experience questioning my religious identity was more like, three people you love are dead why do you still believe in a loving God? Rather than which religion or philosophy do i like the best?

idk maybe they come out to be the same but it doesnt feel entirely the same. i’m still a christian because of sunsets and sunrises and because the world feels beautiful and intentional, and because i’ve been in a lot of pain and it was real. it really happened. it wasn’t in my head (looking at you stoicism). it wasn’t unimportant. there is not if buts ands ors it was just awful and that’s that. so what can explain it? what can explain meaning? only God can.

Christianity is specifically the religion im interested in because it’s the only one i’ve come across that is as internally consistent, historically accurate, scientifically accurate, coherent understandings of the universe.

No other philosophy allows you to grieve. That’s why I believe in God. No other philosophy validates grief that a belief in a loving God, a belief that death isn’t meant to happen, that people are violently ripped from you without purpose and that you are meant to live together forever. It allows for a belief in the value of humanity and grace while also allowing you to believe that things that happen to you that might last with you forever are wrong and not just in your opinion. They were violently wrong, they violated ancient laws of the universe, they were an act of aggression toward God himself.

Ok im rambling now but I will leave you with this, which is what i wrote after finally deciding to remain a christian:

“There are several questions I asked that stopped me from rejecting Christianity.

Where did the universe come from and why does it exist?

Why does our experience involve morality?

Why is there love? (deep love between brothers, self sacrificial love, to die for another love)

Why is there goodness?

There are, of course, answers to these questions under ideologies other than Christianity, but I found their answers to be unsatisfying because to me, the existence of these things screams that there is something more to the universe than an unfortunate accident in a vacuum of uncaring nothingness.

When I listened to music encouraging its audience to live, when I listened to people fight for the lives of those they love, when i watched the sun set, or cried at the end of a deeply touching movie, I would think, “In light of this how can you say there is no God?”

In Christianity I found answers that profoundly satisfied my deepest questions. 

There is a universe because God in his wisdom fashioned it to be a beautiful gift. There is morality because we stand in the midst of a cosmic battle between good and evil. There is love because God’s nature is perfectly loving and the fabric of the knowable universe was woven in his loving kindness. There is beauty and goodness because life wasn’t created to be a void and an unknowable miserable darkness.

The true issue with atheism is that while intellectually and technically feasible, it gives empty answers to facets of life that do not have empty realities.

It forced me to ask myself this question: How can such a beautiful, meaningful, tragic world exist from nothing and for nothing?”

#rape tw #rape #griefjourney #grief tw #long post #i specify philosophical morality because atheists by and large dont actually think like this but at an academic level this is how the logic #ends up working out

[stellarrmoon]

Eternally.

"Wanna do something crazy?"

Tags: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, cunnilingus, fellatio, dirty talk, teasing, dom!kuroo, sub!reader, kurooxfemaleoc, virgin!reader

_________

It started out as a couple of friends having a late night drive. With him in the passenger seat and me on the edge of the boot, feeling the wind blow into my face as the driver drove down the empty highway. The radio blasted some 10s hits, making me feel like I was in some sort of coming-of-age movie. I noticed him tapping his finger to the beat of the song and smiled.  

After about 15 minutes of aimless driving we decided to go on a MacDonald's run. At the drive-thru it started getting a little cold and I grabbed a jacket behind the driver's seat, awaiting my fries and McFlurry.

"Hey, y/n, are you sure that'll be enough?"

Kuroo, my long-time friend who didn't even know about my feelings for him, asked me.

"I'll be fine, K." I rolled my eyes, smiling internally because he was worried about me. Our friend, Kenma, paid for us and we drove to the beach, where we made our own little space in the soft sand, and sat over a blanket Kenma had laying in his boot.

As we watched the waves quietly crash into each other, I asked, "Do you guys ever wonder what it's like to fall in love?", when in fact, I knew exactly what it felt like.

They were silent for a while, shoving their burgers down their throats, thinking about the question. Kenma gave a simple "Nope." while Kuroo seemed to be in deep thought about it.

"Yeah, I've wondered about it before." He looked up the stars, the moonlight hitting his face, perfectly highlighting my favourite features about him. "I think being in love is meant to be a process. You get to understand that person like they were you through another lense... someone who gets you without even trying. And the process makes you feel complete. Because no one can go through life alone, so that person completes the journey. It's like, it was just meant to be."

It was silent again. I pondered on his words, surprised that he said exactly what I was thinking. As I was about to say something, Kenma sighed. "Well, things just got deep here and I'm not in the mood to get in my feelings so I take it as a sign that we can leave now." He said as he stood up.

"I kinda wanna stay a bit longer."

Kuroo and I said at the same time. I chuckled silently. Kenma looked at us blankly and I could tell he was annoyed and wanted to get back into his warm bed.

"It's cool, we can uber back to my house and I'll drive her back home tomorrow morning." Kuroo suggested, "Go home, dude."

Kenma smiled with thanks and left us alone, taking the trash with him. Now that it was just two, it seemed a bit more intimate. "Aren't the stars beautiful?" I asked.

He hummed in agreement, "the view's much better from down here."

I looked to my side to see that he'd laid down on his back. One of his hands supported his head and I noticed the goosebumps on his bare arms. "Shit, aren't you cold?"

"Well, you took my jacket so I didn't really have anything to keep warm now, did I?" He smiled at me.

My eyes widened and I looked at the jacket, confirming how familiar it looked and I tried to take it off but his hand stopped me.

"Don't worry about it. Lay down with me, instead."

I complied, staring into the sky and found myself agreeing with him, "The view is much better from down here."

"I dont know why you'd doubt me."

My lips curled up, feeling him roll his eyes. We started talking about nothing and something at the same time. Going on about conspiracy theories and what else could be out in space. He was convinced that there were parallel universes and that in at least one of them, we were in the exact situation as now except he was a girl and I was a guy.

"What the fuck, Kuroo?" I snorted at how he sounded so convinced. Things felt so natural with him. We were almost always laughing and he made me feel like I was invincible.

"Hey," he called me. I turned my head left to face him, "you wanna do something crazy?"

"Always."

With a mischievous grin he suggested, "Let's go ski-"

"-nny dipping." We smiled at each other as I finished his sentance and got up together, stripping down to nothing. I tried not to look at him while I put my dress, panties and his jacket on the blanket while he just tossed his shirt and shorts on the sand. He was faster than me as we ran to the water, me holding my tits so they didnt flail as I got closer and as soon as we entered, I squealed.

It was so cold. I was in the middle on getting into my tippy toes when I felt myself going under the water. That son of a bitch dunked me. As soon as I got up, I saw him trying to swim away but I caught up and gave him a taste of his own medicine. I didn't even think of what would happen when he got back up, which consisted of him getting an eyeful of my naked chest while we stood 5 inches from each other.

He wouldn't stop looking and I couldn't move. His wet hair stuck to his face and I was lost in how beautiful he looked with water dripping down his face. "Um..."

Kuroo seemed to be at a loss for words. Meanwhile I was weighing my options in my head, thinking that this was my chance to get something out of my huge crush. "Fuck it."

With those words, I closed the gap between us; my boobs were flush against his chest and his hands instinctively held my waist. "Y/n..."

I looked at his pink lips and he looked at my plump ones, "Should I do everything for you?"

"Do what?" He said, calmly.

I didnt answer, instead took a leap of faith and planted my mouth on his. He immediately started moving his with mine, his grip on me tightening the more control he took of the kiss.

It's like he was slowly turning aggressive, with the way he placed my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. He was enjoying it more than me it seemed, because he suddenly moaned into my mouth. I suddenly pulled away, and laughed but it turned into a purr when he latched his lips onto my neck.

It wasn't long before I felt a rod-like object resting against what would be the space between my ass cheeks if it wasn't so big. I gasped because while I hadn't seen it, I was sure it was his dick. When he dug his nails into my ass, I let out a whimper, involuntarily pulling on his hair and arching my back.

The water around us softly waned around us as we continued making out in the moonlight. He bit my bottom lip before sucking on it, shocking me a bit because of the new experience.

While I had had my first kiss, I was still a inexperience in many ways. The way he held me was new but it was so addicting that I got lost in his arms. I savoured the feeling of him against me, but started feeling feeling the cold a bit more when I realised he was walking us out of the water.

I rested my head on his shoulder as he carried me to our blanket until he finally laid me down. He leaned over me, locking his brown eyes with mine and just staring.

"What?"

"What does this mean?"

I looked away. Even I didn't know.

"Do you have feelings for me?"

Meekly I replied, "Yes."

The song we both recognized as Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood played in the distance, probably from a pub that was still open at the nearby mall.

"Look at me." I did it without question. My eyes were brimming with tears as I looked at him. "How long?"

"A few months now."

He let out a heavy breath before smiling softly. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

I rolled my eyes, "So you can reject me."

"Except I wouldn't reject you."

Did that mean...

"I like you too, Y/n."

I couldn't really believe what I was hearing, purely because I'd convinced myself that he'd never feel the same way about me emotionally. But right now, I was a puddle down there and I needed to feel something else more. "Can we have this conversation tomorrow?"

I'm sure the list in my eyes was obvious as I trailed them down to finally land on his lower appendage. My eyes nearly fell out of my eyes because I never imagined him to have so much... meat on him. I was still a virgin but something in me yearned for it to be inside me.

Without warning, he started kissing on my body. My neck, my collarbone, my breasts and the area below them. On his journey, he left markers of where he stopped, teasing me every now and then when he'd stay at one place for too long. The biggest torture was when he got to my thighs.

The man kissed up and down my inner thighs, going up one, across my pelvis, to the other, making sure to skip the part I needed to feel his lips most. Whining, I lifted my hips, to which he quickly pushed them down. "Patience, babygirl."

With that, he spent a bit more time on the area close to my vulva. He licked up the line where my thigh met my pelvis and repeated the action on the other side, making me suddenly grab the top of his head. He looked at me with a smile and chuckled at my eagerness.

He ran his index and middle finger softly down my pussy lips, getting a bit of my wetness stuck to him. My pussy noticeably pulsed which seemed to entice him because he licked his lips.

"Please, Kuroo."

With a smirk, he separated my folds and run a finger up my slit, finally getting to my clit. At the first touch, I gasped; the feeling was so different from my own hand. He started rolling the nub around, very slowly which pleased and annoyed me at the same time. He knew what he was doing and he knew it well but it made me needier. When he took his finger away, I started complaining but he shut me up by putting his mouth around it.

"_Oh_ ..." I couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped my lips, not with this man's tongue putting just the right pressure onto my clit.

While he did so, he spread my folds again and teased my entrance, circling it and feeling it pulse against his already sticky fingers. Without wasting another moment, he plunged a finger into me and as he did, lay his tongue flat against my clit. I felt his finger rotate inside me before he curled it and hit my g-spot.

"Ah, fuck." My moans from then on became more frequent, he got more intense with his tongue and fingers and i could tell he enjoyed it. He switched to lapping his tongue on my entrance before inserted it into my heat. I was so wet that I could feel my juices stuck between my ass cheeks, and I was sure they were on his gave too.

"You gonna cum for me, baby girl?" He said against me. I only purred in response.

I kept my hand in his hair as he continued his work, feeling something pull in my lower belly as time went on. As he pumped faster nd sucked at just the right pressure, my back arched fully off the blanket. I threw my head back as I felt it coming.

"Oh my God, Kuroo, please!"

It wasn't too long until I finally came. The feeling washed over me like a tsunami, suddenly feeling a huge release from my pussy as it tightened. While I shook, he held my legs over his shoulder and kept eating me out, letting whatever squeezed out of me, enter his mouth as if it were his last meal.

While he did that, I kept switching between saying his name and cursing until I couldnt formulate coherent words anymore. Once he started to slow down, my high started going away. I calmed down as his head finally emerged from between my thighs and he looked at me with devilish eyes.

His lips glistened with my essence and I took a mental photograph of the picture in front of me. I had never experienced anything like that, not even by my own hand; and it was euphoria.

As soon as he was directly over me, I flipped us over and ran my hand down his torso. He licked his lips as I started marking my territory on his body. His light skin made it easier for me, but I didn't notice just how much I'd bruised him until after a few minutes. I kissed down his body until I got to his (hard) cock.

My heart wanted to jump out of my chest, but my lust calmed my nerves; even though I'd never done this before. On my knees, and back arched, face to crotch with him, I tried to remember all the tips and tricks I'd gotten from my friends who had done this before me and decided to go for it.

Slowly, I licked the underside of his shaft from the base and slid it up to the tip, where I wrapped my lips around it and looked him in the eye as I took in as much of his dick as I could. About 2 inches were left but I wasnt ready to deep throat him yet. Instead, I memorised his expression when I pulled back. As I sucked, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he took in a deep breath.

I smiled mentally, and let the saliva connecting my lips to his tip drip onto my hand. With all the bravery I could muster, I started jerking him off. My hand moved up and down, barely fitting around his girth, but it didn't matter because I could tell the slippery feeling of my fingers around his saliva-coated penis drove him crazy.

"Stop teasing, y/n." He groaned.

Granting his wish, I started doing the real work - going down on him again and with the few inches outside my mouth, I satisfied with my hands. I couldn't really believe how hard he was in my mouth but when my tongue swirled around him and I felt it twitch, I knew I was doing something right.

"Fuck, I've got the perfect view of you right now." He proceeded to tell me how seeing my ass up and back arched with my head bopping up and down was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen.

With his hand in my hair, he guided my movements until I took a break from blowing him and bit my lip while I used my hands - one playing with his balls and the other moving up and down his shaft. Deciding to tease him again, I circled my thumb around his tip and smiled when he moaned. "Is that so, Daddy?"

"What did I say, y/n?"

I giggled before going back to sucking. I could feel him getting close, with the way he was bucking his hips every now and then. I worked on him for a few more moments until he pulled my head back, just in time for his cum to spurt onto my face.

"Shit."

I slowly opened my eyes, feeling the cum on my nose, cheeks, lips and even some on my eyelashes. He looked worried that he came on my face but I reassured him with a smile and licked his essence off my lips.

While he calmed down, I wiped my face and sat back up. I looked at his dick again and it was still hard. "Wow." I breathed.

"Sorry." He apologised, looking at me thinking deeply. "You're thinking about it..."

I innocently nodded my head, weighing my options. Was I ready to lose my virginity? To him, especially? My gut was telling me that tonight was the night and no one else was better than the boy I felt for.

"We don't hav-"

"Fuck me." I blurted out. "Wait no, I..."

Instead of finishing my sentance, I straddled him, his dick directly against my slit. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure about anything else in my life. I want to do this with you, Kuroo."

He lifted his hips, grinding his shaft against me to signal that he was eager. I took his dick into my hand and lined it up with my wet pussy. My juices basically dripped onto his pelvis as I lowered myself on him. It felt tight with just the tip in; my years of finger-fucking myself couldnt help me now.

One thing that kept me going was his sound of enjoyment as I tried taking more of him in. I did it little by little, going up and down, taking more and more with each subtle bounce. Finally, I had over half of him inside me and it was uncomfortable but the more I moved my hips, the more I was washed over by a wave of pleasure. He, himself gripped my hips to guide me and trusted upward as well.

As he did that, he hit the perfect spot for me to cry our. I started grinding faster, my boobs bouncing in his face, tempting him to take one of my nipples into his mouth and play with the other one with his hand.

"This feels so good, Daddy."

"Does it, princess? My dick's making you feel good?"

"Uh-huh." I threw my head back, my pussy pulsating around his length and my mouth letting out the most lewd sounds.

He played with my clit, adding to the pleasure and earning a single tear running down my face. Pulling my head into his neck, he lowly said, "You look so sexy when you cry for me, baby."

Without warning, I came on him. My body spasmed while he held me and my legs turned to jelly. I couldnt stop saying his name while I went through the phases of pure satisfaction.

He flipped us over and pulled his dick out of me, kissing my mouth to swallow my moans. He didn't wait for me to relax and just started to pound into me. "I love being in this pussy. What do you think, princess? You like the way I'm fucking you? The way I'm hitting every corner of your pussy?"

My legs were suddenly over his shoulders and my Lord, did it feel amazing. It was like he was burying himself deeper into me, and I couldn't complain. It wasnt long before I felt a familiar tightness in my belly. The only difference was that this time, it was like the one day I let out a stream of water-like liquid and wet my sheets.

Impatient, Kuroo bit my neck and demanded me to respond. "Answer me, princess."

"Yes Daddy, I do."

He just kept fucking deeper and better that I had to cum for another time. Except now, he kept thrusting and it triggered me to release the big knot that I was trying to hold in. I guessed that when I came, the tightness of my pussy made his cum inside me too, because he suddenly stopped, letting the ejaculate coming out of me simultaneously spray onto his torso and face.

I squirted. All over him. But I didn't have time to think about it because of how lost I was in pleasure. He had bottomed out by now, just holding me as my legs shook over his shoulders for a few more minutes.

We were both breathing heavily, staring at the stars after he pulled out and lay beside me.

"I..." He started.

"Thank you." I finished.

#kuroo #haikyuu #kurooxreader #kuroosmut #haikyuusmut #kuroo tetsurou #nekoma #tendou #oikawa #ushijima #asahi

[harley-sunday]

The Draw [16]

Summary: The whirlwind starts at the 2018 ACE Comic Con in Phoenix but you’re not sure where it will end…

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language. 

Word count: 5k

AN: I just can’t seem to quit this story - I keep adding parts... But. BUT. We are closer to end. There’s not much more I can say without giving anything away, except that this chapter seems to consist of mostly phone calls... 🤷🏻‍♀️ I hope you like it, please let me know what you think - I’d love to read your thoughts :) ♥

Masterlist

“I don’t know, Brad,” you try your hardest not to sound as frustrated as you feel, “last week you told me that you understood the process, so I don’t really get why we are missing all this inventory right now.” You rub your temples, trying to get rid of the headache that started when you got to the office this morning, quietly cursing the jetlag that has been bothering you ever since you got back from Greece on Saturday, although you know Brad’s fuck-up also has something to do with it. Inventory is not that difficult. 

Brad, who’s been interning at the San Francisco office for a grand total of three weeks and yet somehow thinks he’s God’s gift to this company, just shrugs, “I’m sorry?”

You just stare at him and shake your head, “No. Go over it one more time, ok? I’m keeping these here,” you tap the stack of papers on your desk, “so really start at zero again and report back to me tomorrow morning.” You watch him roll his eyes before he nods and turns around to leave. “Brad?” You no longer try to hide the annoyance in your voice, “Close the door on your way out, will you?”

When he does you let out a frustrated groan and lean back in your chair, quietly shaking your head and wondering if you were ever this cocky when you first started working here. Probably not, Deb would have never allowed it. As if on cue your phone rings and when you see who’s calling you answer with a smile, “Hi, Deb.”

“How you holding up, kid?”

“Just told an intern to start over on inventory,” you offer, “so I’m sure he’s telling the other interns what a bitch I am right about now.”

You hear Deb chuckle, “Good for you.” There are some muffled sounds on the other end of the line then and you can just imagine her getting up and walking to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee because the woman seems to run on double espressos and cigarettes. “Listen, I want to run something by you.”  

Weird. This is weird. Usually she just informs you after whatever it is she has decided, but her wanting to 'run something by you' tells you she actually wants your opinion. You sit up in your chair, curious to hear what she has to say, “Sure.”

“Technically I’ve found someone to take over the San Francisco office from you,” she says, “and on short notice too, because I know you’ve already been out there longer than you’d like.”

“Ok,” you draw out, not sure where she’s going with this.

You hear her sigh and then she mutters something about biting the bullet before she says, “It’s Mark.”

“Oh.” Your heart drops and your throat goes dry, the lump that suddenly has appeared hard to swallow. There’s a million things running through your head all at the same time, some good, most of them bad, and an involuntary shiver runs down your spine. You don’t really know what else to say and so you stay quiet, waiting for Deb to give you something more to go on.

“I know,” her voice is unusually kind, reserved only for the really shitty situations and it tells you she hates this as much as you do. She clears her throat then, “I’ll be honest with you, kid, I contacted him. I know he wasn’t happy when I shipped him off to the London office after you-” she hesitates and clears her throat again, “After what happened. Thing is, he has done some great work there, out of all our overseas offices, this one’s giving us the best turnover.”

You only half-listen to her listing off why this is a good idea, your mind drifting to when you first met Mark. There was talk of a new guy coming in to maybe take over from Deb in a few years, supposedly the best in the business although some called him an asshole who would stop at nothing to get to the top and so by default you had decided you probably wouldn't like him, but then all of a sudden there he was, all six foot two of him, full of ambition and good looks  and sweeping you off your feet almost instantly. You told yourself, and him, you didn’t do office romance, that you would never date a colleague, but all it took was one night of overtime and some celebratory drinks after to make you forget your so-called rule. 

And the first six months were good, really good. Or at least that’s what you thought. In the end there were warning signs all along, but you just choose to ignore them. And even now you’re not sure what triggered him but something changed after those six months and Mark became manipulative, obsessive, and abusive, and at first you told yourself it was just stress from work, even though deep down you knew better. Still, you always believed you’d be the one to make him change his ways, if only you did what he wanted. Problem was, you were never sure what that was. 

He’d want you to wear a tight dress and high heels one day, and the next he would tell you you looked like a whore and what were you thinking leaving the house looking like that? It took you too long to understand you could never make him happy, no matter what you did, and that he would always find things to obsess over. When you finally realized your relationship had turned toxic it still took you another two years to quit him, and that was only after you learned he’d cheated on you with a girl from accounting. When Deb found out what Mark did she immediately took your side and made it look like his sudden move to the London office had been planned all along even though you know she had to pull quite a few strings. 

She still doesn’t know about the verbal abuse and the threats and the mind games, you realize then. Maybe if she did she wouldn’t have offered him to come back. 

“You still there?” Her voice interrupts your thoughts. 

“Yeah.” 

She sighs and you can just imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose, “Thing is, with the experience he has, you’d only need a day, two at most, to bring him up to speed.” She hesitates, “If we bring in someone new-”

“It’ll take at least four weeks,” you offer with a nod even though she can’t see you. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes,” you echo. You roll your lip between your teeth, trying to decide whether or not you should tell her the full story. Would it matter? And if it did, would it mean you’d be stuck out here longer?

“Listen, take the day to think about it,” she offers then, “get back to me tomorrow and let me know, ok?” 

“Ok.”

“Alright.” 

Before you get a chance to say goodbye she has disconnected the call and so you’re left with your own thoughts. Tapping your phone against your chin you’re trying to decide what to do, but it seems like too big of a decision to make on your own. You pull up your texting app and send Lauren a quick message:

You free tonight? 

Her reply comes not much later and surprises you:

Sorry, can’t tonight. Going on a date :)

You type a reply almost immediately:

?? Why didn’t you tell me? But also, YASSS! Go get it, girl! Call me tomorrow?

You lean back in your chair while you wait for her reply, a little upset that she didn’t tell you, and you can’t help but wonder why. 

Her reply doesn’t really make you feel any better:

You were busy, babe. Talk to you tomorrow.

You kick off your shoes the moment you step into the apartment you refuse to call home, and head straight to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine, before you open the takeout container and put some of the fried rice and egg rolls you got from your favourite restaurant on a plate. It’s still nice outside and so you end up on the tiny balcony, now bare feet propped up on the railing as you eat your dinner. 

The thought of having to work with Mark again, if only for a short while, takes up most of your headspace and you hate how indecisive you are about it. Part of you wants nothing to do with him ever again, but part of you knows he really is the best man for the job. Say what you will about the asshole, but he knows how to run a company. Having Mark at the San Francisco office would probably mean neither you nor Deb would have to step in ever again and, you reason, he could probably manage Seattle and Phoenix from here too. 

You really just want to talk to somebody about this, because putting your thoughts into words has always helped you, and so you call your brother.

The call goes straight to voicemail although a message follows soon after:

At Jake's science fair, or did you forget that was today?

You let out a frustrated groan, because yes, you totally forgot. 

It does nothing to help your mood and you're starting to feel so bad about missing out on so much that's happening in Charlotte right now, what with Jake’s science fair and Lauren apparently dating someone, that it's actually making you homesick. You decide to pour yourself another glass of wine, because fuck it. 

When you close the fridge your eyes fall on a picture of you and Sebastian you've put up there and you figure maybe you should just call him. A quick glance at the clock, however, tells you it's early morning in Greece and so you forego that idea because you don't really want to wake him up with the news your ex is about to make a comeback into your life.

You are having a very ‘Woo is me’ moment and hate how alone you feel right now. You know the wine is not helping and so you dump what’s left in the glass in the kitchen sink and put the kettle on for a cup of tea instead. While the water boiling you set out to find a notebook, hoping that putting your thoughts on paper will help you figure out what it is you can do about this situation and maybe make some decisions.

You call Deb the moment you’re at your desk and she answers on the first ring.

“Tell me,” 

Never one to beat around the bush, you think, although in this case you appreciate it. “Have Mark take over San Francisco,” you tell her, “but I need him to do his homework in advance because two days is my absolute max.”

“Noted,” Deb agrees easily, “but?”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, “I want to be able to divide my time between Charlotte and New York as I see fit, with Charlotte as my home base, at least for now. If I ever decide to move to New York I want it to be an option to turn that arrangement around-” 

“Give me two weeks once Mark has settled in-”

“-and I’d like to take four weeks of unpaid leave in August,” you add quickly, before you lose momentum. 

She sucks in her breath, “I don’t know if I can do that, kid.” 

“It’s only four weeks, Deb,” you counter, “and it’s unpaid. I still have enough days left to make it a paid vacation if that’s what you prefer.” You close your eyes and scrunch up your nose, anxious about her reply, because you’ve never really talked back to her like this before. 

Turns out there was nothing to worry about when she tells you, “Look who finally put on her big-girl panties, standing up to her boss.” She lets out a laugh, “I’m proud of ya, kid.” 

“Will you let me know when to expect Mark? I’ll make sure everything’s ready by then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“It’s just,” Lauren hesitates, and you want to tell her it’s ok, that you know you haven’t been there for her as much as you should have, but she continues then, “it’s weird not having you around, not knowing what you’re up to. Not knowing if, when I call you, I’m bothering you.”

“Hey,” you counter quickly, “you are one of the few people who never have to worry about that and I’m a little shocked you would even think that. You can call me day or night, Laur, always.” 

“I know.” She sighs then, “It’s just- I feel like- I don’t know, ok? It’s just different with you being so far away for so long. I miss you.” 

“I know,” you try to smile even though she can’t see you, “I’m sorry for not being the best bestest friend these past few weeks. I miss you too, babe.” You get up from the couch and make your way onto the balcony where you lean against the railing, “Let’s just hope Mark can make it out of London soon so I can get back to Charlotte and get back to annoying you twenty-four seven.” 

She laughs, “You’re going to have to share me now, though.”

You’re relieved she seems to have accepted your apology and so you decide to tease her a little more, “You do realize the first thing I’m doing when I get back is give Matt the same stern talking-to as you did Sebastian?” 

“Oh shit,” she whispers. A little louder then, “Please don’t, I really like him.” 

“Well you better tell him then that your best friend is not above kicking his ass if he ever hurts you.”

“Will do.” She clears her throat then, “So, are you going to tell Sebastian about Mark?” 

“That was the most abrupt change of subject ever,” you scoff with a grin, “what the hell, Laur?”

“I just think you should tell him.”

“I know,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I will. I just want to wait until I know when Mark gets here, you know?”

“Yeah.” She lets out a yawn and laughs, “Sorry.”

“Alright, alright,” you smile, “I get the hint.” 

She laughs, “I’m sorry, babe, it’s been a long day. Listen,” another yawn, although you’re sure this one was on purpose, “let me know once you know more about Mark and when you’re getting back, ok?”

“Yup, will do.” You have to stifle your own yawn then, “Talk to you soon, babe.” 

“Love you.”

It isn’t until Friday afternoon that there’s an email from Deb, informing you Mark will take a flight from London next Wednesday so that you have all of Thursday and Friday to get him settled in. She’s included a list of subjects he wants to discuss but you decide that’s for later, before you close all active connections and shut your laptop off. You grab your phone off your desk and send a quick message to Lauren:

Coming home next weekend :)

Her reply comes when you’re at the elevator bay:

Yay! Let me know how when you land and I’ll pick you up! Xx

Your next message is to Sebastian:

Missing you something fierce, Stan! Call me when you can? X

The sound of your phone wakes you from a deep sleep early on Sunday morning, but you can’t help but smile when you see ‘Mr Smooth’ flashing on your screen and so you answer with a quiet, “Hey you.”

“God, it’s good to hear your voice again,” he whispers. “Hi, sweetheart.” 

“Hi,” 

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” you smile, “I have some news though.” There’s a knot starting to form in your stomach and so you figured it’s better to bite the bullet right away. 

“Tell me,”

“Promise you’ll let me finish before you say anything?”

“That bad?”

“Not really- I don’t know,” you push the covers off and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You take a deep breath before you continue, “Remember when I told you about my ex, Mark?” 

“Hmm,” he replies, and you take that as your cue to continue.

“What I didn’t tell you then- And maybe I should have- We used to work together in Charlotte.” You clear your throat, “And when we broke up Deb moved him to the London office, but now she wants him to take over San Francisco from me.” You wait for a reply from him, but then remember you told him to wait and so you continue, “He starts on Thursday and we’ve scheduled two days for me to bring him up to speed, so I’m going to have to spend some time together with him and I don’t know, I just thought you should know.” You push yourself off the bed and make your way to the kitchen, “The good news though, is that I got Deb to agree to let me divide my time between Charlotte and New York from now on, and that I have four weeks off in August.”

He stays quiet for a little too long and so you’re preparing for the worst when he finally replies. But then he just says, “How do you feel about seeing him again?” and you feel a wave of relief washing over you.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I mean, I know he’s right for the job and it’s always easier to bring in someone who has experience and knows the company, but I- There’s a lot of history there and I just hope he realizes I’m not the same person anymore.” You lean against the counter and let out a sigh, “I guess I just want to get this over with and go back to Charlotte.”

“So nothing for me to worry about?” His voice is soft.

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him. 

“Good.”

Mark is, well, he’s still an asshole, you realize when he walks into your office and tries to greet you with a hug. You offer him a hand and a curt, “Hello,” and have to hide your smile when you see the disappointment in his eyes. You’ve been feeling nervous all morning, hell, all week, because somehow you knew he would try to act like nothing ever happened. 

“So this is how it’s  going to be, huh?” He says while he puts his briefcase down on one of the visitors’ chairs on the other side of your desk. 

“Yes, Mark,” you nod and sit down in your own chair, “this is exactly how it’s going to be.” You watch as he unbuttons the jacket of his three piece suit before he sits down and leans back in his chair and you hand him a folder, “Read this first, it’s an overview of the last five years and should give you a fairly good impression of how things are run here.”

He thumbs through the papers, seemingly resigned to the fact that it’s solely a business relationship between you two from now on, and you see his eyebrows go up when he comes to the financial statements, “How on earth-”

“I know,” you hand him another folder, “this is Paul Kroeger’s file. Or at least everything that I’ve managed to uncover in the few weeks I’ve been here. I really urge you to keep digging, because I’m sure more shit will come up.” 

“Why didn’t Deb step in sooner?”

“You’ll have to ask Deb that,” you offer with a shrug. Another folder then, “This is everything you need to know about the rest of the staff here. I don’t think anyone else was in on it, but again, you might want to keep digging.”

He nods, “Ok.” Taking all three folders, he puts them in his briefcase before he looks back at you, squinting a little as if he’s trying to read you. There’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips when he says, “You’ve changed.” 

And you haven’t, you want to bite back, but don’t because you want to at least try to keep things civil. Instead you simply agree, “I have.” You try to steer the conversation back to work, “We have a meeting with Finance in ten minutes, then lunch with the board, and a meeting with Sales in the afternoon. After that I figured we could take a quick tour of the building, so you can meet everyone, and then I’ll send out the official message to all of our partners.”

He just nods.

“I’ll make sure to have this office empty by the end of the day so you can get settled in,” you continue, “and then I’ll be available all day tomorrow should you have any further questions.” 

“You forgot one thing,”

You don’t say anything and just look at him with a raised eyebrow. 

A cocky smile flashes across his face when he says, “You forgot to mention we’ll be having dinner tonight so we-”

“We’re not having dinner tonight, Mark,” you say, effectively cutting him off. It makes you feel good to tell him no and so you have to try your hardest to hide your smile when you see his face drop. 

“You really have changed,” he says again, but this time there’s a hint of dismay in his voice.

You smile widely now, because fuck him, “Yes. I really have.”

Blame it on the red-eye flight and thus having to get up extremely early this morning, or simply on the fact that it’s been five weeks since you last saw her, but you find yourself actually tearing up when you walk out of exit E and see Lauren waiting there for you. 

She holds out her arms as you walk up to her and then envelopes you in a tight hug, “Don’t cry, silly.” 

“I just really missed you,” you sniffle while you wrap your arms around her. “And it’s that time of the month, so you know,” you chuckle through your tears, “double the fun.” When you pull back you see her eyes are glossed over as well and so you just stick out your tongue at her, “Let’s go home.” 

“Alright,” she says once you’re in her car, “start talking, babe. I want to know everything that’s happened since I last saw you.”

You’ve just finished telling her about your parents’ visit to San Francisco and your trip to Greece when she pulls up on your driveway and so all of a sudden you’re home again after almost two months. The garden looks absolutely immaculate and you know you have your parents to thank for that, reminding yourself to call them later today. Grabbing your suitcases out the trunk you let Lauren take one from your as you follow her to your house.

She turns around rather dramatically when you get to the front door, “Ok. So. Please don’t be mad, but-” she pulls a face, “-that plant in your dining room?” 

“Felicity?”

“Sure, yeah,” she scoffs, “name your plants. What’s next? Naming your electrical appliances?”

“You’re just stalling because Felicity the Fiddle Leaf Fig is obviously no longer with us and you’re just too afraid to admit you killed her,” you counter, trying to keep a straight face.

“I didn’t-” Lauren hesitates then and seems to realize you’re just messing with her, “but yes. Felicity has gone to plant heaven. It was all very sad. I buried her in the backyard if you want to pay your respects.” 

You let out a laugh, “I’d rather you just open the front door for me so we can have a drink and gossip about Mark.”

“You really said that?” 

“I really did,” you admit with a smile, thinking back to when you told Mark to have a nice life when you left the office Friday afternoon. You grab the bottle of wine from off the floor next to you and top of her glass before you fill yours, “I don’t know. In a way those two days gave me some sort of closure, I guess.”

“Hmm,” she agrees, taking a sip of her wine. “So what’s next?”

“Well first you’re going to introduce me to Matt sometime this week-”

“Babe.”

“Babe,” you echo. “You’ve been dating for almost a month, do I need to remind you that you met Sebastian before we even were officially dating?”

“Yeah, ok,” she agrees, “I guess you could both come over for dinner next weekend.” She sits up a little, “So you’re going to be here for a while, right?”

You nod, “Sort of. I go back to work on Monday and then Sebastian’s scheduled to fly back on the third and that’s the same weekend I start my four-week leave-”

“That’s only two more weeks.”

“It is,” you smile. “I don’t know if he wants to celebrate his birthday here or if he wants to go to New York, and I think he said something about maybe taking a short holiday somewhere, but his next project starts in September so I’ll come back to Charlotte then and probably stay here while he’s away.” 

“Ugh,” Lauren rolls her eyes and shakes her head but smiles, “to be the girlfriend of an international superstar.” 

“Tante!” Jake exclaims when he opens the front door. He all but jumps in your arms to give you a hug.

“Uh, excuse me, sir,” you tease, resisting the hug, “who are you and what did you do with my nephew?” You laugh when he pulls a face, “You are getting too big, kiddo, slow it down a little, will you?” 

Jake giggles and hugs you even tighter. 

“Ah, there she is,” Nathan says from the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest, “my long-lost sister. So glad you're finally gracing us with your presence after coming back home a week ago.” 

“So dramatic,” you counter with a grin, although he has a point. You should have gone to see them sooner, but as always work got in the way, what with Deb doubling your workload before you take your leave in another two weeks. Jake jumps out of your arms then and so you get to hug your brother for the first time in what feels like forever, ‘“ Hi, Nate.”

“Hi, loser,” he says from somewhere over your shoulder, but the way he holds you tight tells you he’s missed you too. 

“How you holding up?”

“Good,” he pulls back and smiles, “still some headaches every now and then, but not as much as two months ago-”

“That’s good,” you agree. You follow them through the house and out into the backyard, where Jake excitedly shows you the inflatable swimming pool he and Nathan put up yesterday. Sitting down on one of the chairs you watch him as he takes off his shirt and jumps in without hesitation. 

Nathan re-emerges from the kitchen with some iced tea and hands you a glass before he sits down somewhere next to you. He flicks your upper arm, “You good?”

You nod, “Yeah.” 

“Truth?”

“Truth,” you reply with a nod. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “a lot has happened in a short time, I guess.” 

This is new, you think, this out-in-the-open caring side of your brother. You decide you like it and so you try not to make a smart remark but instead reassure him, “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Nate, what are you getting at?” You’re confused now, because why is he pressing this? 

He hangs his head and lets out a sigh, “I guess you haven’t seen it yet, have you?”

“I’m not-” you watch him as he gets his phone and pulls up something that has his jaw set in a way that tells you whatever it is, it’s not good. He hands you his phone then and you let out a quiet, “Oh,” when you see the pictures.

“I figured that’s why you were here,” he says with a nod towards his phone.

"When?"

"Saw them this morning," he offers.

You scroll further down and feel your throat go dry when you see picture after picture of Sebastian and some girl, her hand on his arm as she seems to whisper something in his ear. He’s laughing in some of the pictures and if you didn’t know any better you’d think they were on a date. 

“Is that his co-star?” Nate asks quietly, knowing that if it is the pictures could have been taken on set and it wouldn’t be as bad. 

Not trusting your voice right now you just shake your head because no. No, it isn’t. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing, babe,” Lauren tries again, but she sounds a little less confident now that she’s seen the pictures and read the accompanying article about Sebastian’s new mystery woman where they claim she’s a Greek local he fell for while filming ‘Monday’.

You drove straight to her house when you left Nathan’s in a hurry, but only after you promised him you wouldn’t do anything reckless, and now you’re on her balcony, trying to make sense of all of this over some hard liquor because you both deemed wine wasn’t going to cut it. 

She says something else then, but you’re not really listening and so you just continue to stare into the distance. She nudges you with her foot, “Call him.” 

You shake your head, “I don’t want to.” 

“Why not?”

You look at her with tears in your eyes, your voice barely above a whisper, “What if it’s true?”

#The Draw #Sebastian Stan x reader #Harley Sunday x Sebastian Stan #Sebastian Stan Imagine #Sebastian Stan fanfic

[delicrieux]

Hello! May I have a one-shot with Kylo being injured and reader, who is part of the resistance, finds him and takes care of him? Thanks!

idk how this turned out to be 5k words but WHEW i mean if ppl want me to continue it im down so send in sum request of wat u think should happen!! xoxo gossip girl

requests are open! | masterlist | part 2.

Fear. The kind that makes it hard to breathe as if you are kept underwater; the kind that makes your muscles clench and freeze as all senses flow out one by one. Today had been almost too typical — you woke up, you trained, you talked to your comrades and learned battle strategy — and you were certain your evening walk would be just as uneventful. The breeze in your hair was playful; the setting sun provided warm light and set your surroundings in a pleasant, rosy glow. You like the fresh air; you like exploring; you like the freedom that comes with being alone in wilderness. And in turn, it serves as a reminder for why you are fighting in the first place. To preserve this peace, this freedom, that now has been tarnished when you stumble upon a body.

For a heartbeat you think he’s dead — his expression is lifeless and his face, pale as first snow, is bruised, covered in soot and dried blood. Willing your legs to move, you approach cautiously, not breathing, afraid to break the shrill, sudden silence — no birdsong, no wails of wind passing through trees… nothing. Life had, at that moment, stilled completely. But as you draw closer, grass crunching under your feet softly, you intake a breath of both relief and surprise. Dark locks of hair spray on his forehead and obscure the minuscule knit of his brows, his trembling lashes. He’s alive. The thought consumes you and you fall to your knees, skidding beside him, pushing his hair from his face and landing your palm on his forehead.

It’s awfully cold. Chilling. Almost biting at your sensitive flesh, urging you to pull away. It rolls in waves, this sudden cold, sudden sickness, as if it is a virus that spreads and you have caught it with this minimal contact. But you don’t pull away, despite the near overwhelming urge to do so, despite the fear returning with a new blow. Instead you glide your fingers down his jaw and press on his neck, breaking into a small, crooked smile once you feel a slow drum against them. He is alive, but barely. You glance about him, looking around the area. Nothing out the ordinary, no branches broken, no bushes disturbed and no trails left on the grass. How he got here is a mystery that will have to be solved a different time.

You hope he will tell you once he wakes up, if he even wakes up at all.

That, and, his name, too.

Your base is small and tugged away in a dense jungle, the tall trees and heat warding from unwanted visitors — the First Order. The compartments are small; there are barely above a few dozen people here; it serves more as a safe haven for lost wanderers looking for a cause or shelter, or a backup base in case others were destroyed and the rebels had nowhere to go. It is far away enough from war. Everyone here is, to some extent, safe.

You had never been on the front lines. You had never faced a Storm Trooper, had never seen the Force at work — if there even is such a thing, speculations speculations, nothing consistent, merely gossip — and you had never seen a dead body. Perhaps that is why you froze up so terribly at the sight of him. Perhaps that’s why you felt as if a void opened within you, swallowing up the last shred of light, of life, and leaving you hollow.

You should get used to the sight, though. There will be many dead in battle.

He’s the only one occupying a bed in the Medical Wing and he hasn’t woken up for two days now. His vitals are stable — no internal bleeding, no disease detected, nothing out of place as it seemed. But he is lost in deep sleep, constantly dreaming about something that made him tremble and muss and toss and turn, but never wake. It is entirely bizarre how his state is simply there, caused by no injury, no blow, nothing. And the more you take care of him… the more questions you get.

You eat in the cafeteria, a vast enough, pale walled space occupied by few people during lunch time. Next to you sits a blue eyed, blonde haired cherubic woman – she serves as the doctor, the only doctor here. She smiles lightly at you when you catch her gaze. You had always wondered why her name is Vendetta. 

The amount of denizens is small here, so small in fact that the only ones serving under this branch is a rag tag team of scavengers, travelers, nobodies that had abandoned their old lives to fight in this war. Rebels, quite literally, with a cause. Many have taken new names. Vendetta, too, had a name before this, a life, a different purpose. Though her odd choice leads you to believe that what ever had happened to drive her here was painful and severe, deserving justice. In front of you sits a tall, bony, brown haired, brow eyed mechanic with a scar running down half of their face – Q. And beside them, July – you had never seen him smiling, had never heard his voice hold a tender note in it. He is always displeased. Always with a frown.

“Seven.” Vendetta calls you, noting your blank stare, the untouched food in your plate. Seven. You chose this because you were the seventh child in your family, and, subsequently, the seventh person to join the Resistance when this base first opened.

“She’s probably thinking about the stranger.” Q mutters, taking a sip, “His origins are…” They glance about, leaning in slightly, “ A hot topic, after all.”

“We get injured wanderers all the time.” Vendetta waves them off, “As if he’s any different.”

“I don’t think we should be so quick to dismiss him, V.” July grumbles, his voice low, the sound of crunching gravel. He sits with his arms crossed over his chest, observing the three of you with something akin to hostility, “You never know who may be working for the Order.”

“You can’t just assume that.” You pipe up, “He might just be another gambler dropped by the Floating Casino because he couldn’t pay his debts.”

“Or he might be a spy.” July stresses, glaring.

“No one knows there is a base here.” You continue, unrelenting, “Half the Resistance doesn’t know it exists, how can someone from the Order?”

“Still, I advice we exercise caution.” Q says calmly, a pleasant smile on their face — if anyone can defuse an argument before it starts, it’s them, “You never know what people are hiding, Seven.”

“Okay,” Vendetta chimes, “I will certainly not disclose this vital information when the man awakes from his comatose state. I shall make sure to confuse and frighten him further by chaining him to his bed.”

“Good.” July says.

“That is not what I had in mind, and you know it.” Q mutters, a tad disappointed, “I was thinking more along the lines of… An interview.”

“Too civil.” July mumbles, “I say we go with Vendetta’s idea.”

“That was not an idea,” She hisses, “it was sarcasm.”

“Fine, interview.” You submit, “Either way, I doubt anyone from the Order would not say they are from there. They are feared. Probably would think he has the upper hand, or something. Plus, our disguise is impeccable. We look like a research facility. Better yet, a shelter if no one wanders up to the main rooms.”

“I also sincerely doubt anyone, Order or not, is so good at lying first thing when they wake up.” Vendetta agrees.

July narrows his eyes at her, “That is an awfully naive observation to make.”

“Really now? It is a known fact that people half-asleep always tell the truth.”

Another hour of this and you feel drained and sore and with a mild headache. As much as their company has helped you, they can be a bit too eager to prove one another wrong. On most occasions you’d enjoy the chatter. Today, however, you feel too distracted to focus on anything. Q makes some good points, July argues, Vendetta and her biting comments pick at your skin. Always the blazing look in her eyes, always a certain gleam of anger hiding within her mellow, sweet tone. You excuse yourself when you finish your meal and they do not keep you from leaving. Perhaps they noticed you being out of it. Perhaps they were too caught up in their new topic – Lo and Chester’s sudden break up. 

It does not take you long to come to the Medical Wing. The door shuts with a silent sweep and your heart drops – the bed is empty. Before you can do much else strong arms wrap around you from behind. With a yelp you feel a hand squeeze your throat and your breath leaves you with a helpless whine, sparks flying in your vision. Your reflexes kick in before you can control them. In a panic, you elbow your attacker in the chest and the grip loosens a bit, enough to allow you to escape and put some distance. Inhaling mouthfuls of air, you turn to the man that had been sleeping since you found him in the wilderness.

You never quite realized how tall he is, or how angry he could be. He’s confused and you see fire in his eyes, a sneer on his face, and he stands unmoving, waiting for you to try something, anything, so that he could grab you and try to kill you again.

You raise your hands, palms up —a fragile, harmless motion to indicate you mean no harm. His guard is still up. He’s heaving and his shoulders are tense, his gaze not once leaving your form, “…Hi,” You wheeze, almost voiceless, “I’m not here to hurt you.” You indicate softly. Cold, again, as if thrown into a bottomless ocean; body heavy, like a stone. You gulp. “Are you alright?” You question gently, afraid to provoke him again. “You must be tired. You’ve been out for a while.”

“Where am I?” His voice is deep and scratchy and it seems to set him off. He trembles from anger, you can almost feel the steady build up of rage in his chest, ”Who are you?”

“I’m Seven.” You introduce, “I found you outside our base. Do you know how you got here?”

He takes a threatening step forward and your arms shoot higher, “I’m not your enemy.” You insist, “You are not a prisoner here. You were dying and I wanted to help you.”

He regards you for a silent moment as if unsure whether to believe you or not. However, you sense that he will not try to hurt you, for now at least. You give him a shaky smile, trying to ease him — you cannot imagine how frightening it is to awake in some room among strangers and not knowing where you are or what had happened. “Do you…know your name?” You continue your questions, your arms slowly falling by your sides. After another pause, he nods curtly, “Good. That’s good.” you step away from his bed, “Please, lie down. You’re still recovering. No shady business, I promise.”

You are a bit surprised that he listens, but you don’t show it. He’s cautious, regarding you as if you were some dangerous animal cornering him, and his walk is sluggish. You can tell it’s hard for him to move, but don’t say anything. You doubt it would do any good. He finally sits down and just stares at you. You try to smile again, “Do you know how you got here? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“How long have I been here for?” He asks instead.

“Two full days in the base.” You say calmly, “But out there?” You vaguely motion with your head to the outside world, “I don’t know.”

Your answer unnerves him. For the first time his frown falls and he stares at you with big eyes and a trembling lip, as if a lost child not knowing what to do. That expression warps suddenly and he looks away, his hands gripping the side of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

“Well, if there is…anything you need…” You start mildly, “You can call upon me. Or Vendetta. She’s the doctor here, so if you feel any pain or sickness, you should tell her. She’s sweet.” You smile, “And she will help. But right now, just try to rest…I’ll…leave you to it.”

You bolt past him to the door but– “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

You turn back to him, shaking your head lightly, “No. But it doesn’t matter. A lot of adventures come through here, lost and injured. You aren’t the first one. Now rest, please.”

He’s volatile, is what you learn upon the first days of his resurrection. His mood can change in a flip of a coin and he goes from placid to enraged in a blink of an eye. Tantrums, yelling — all signatures of a spoiled child not knowing what he has but simply wanting to break it. He’s nobility, or so your peers gossip. You hear snippets of all sorts of things, each more outrageous than the one before. The one that he is a prince kicked out of home for adultery seems to be the most popular one.

And he’s egotistical. He had not been, besides the attempted murder, that hostile and untamed towards you — the choking you told no one about as you concluded he simply felt threatened and scared. Though his other tantrums you are not so quick to chalk up as self-defense. Vendetta, exasperated, one evening told you that she somehow offended him — ”All I said is stop pouting because you need my help!” — and he, with a bruised ego, so high and mighty promptly jumped out of bed. Whatever he was trying to do backfired — perhaps he was trying to leave, or trying to grab something and to hit her with — but he slipped and fell and hit his head into the sharp corner of table. “And I said to him, oh I said: look what you’ve done now! Off to bed, quickly!” Vendetta finished bitterly, stabbing her fork idly into her food, possibly imagining his face there. His nose, much to V’s displeasure, was not broken, but an ugly gash and a dark bruise split his skin in half and he laid in bed sulking for at least a day.

As the week passed, he seemed to favor your company the most. It is not that he smiled and joked and laughed in your presence, and you were not exchanging secrets or hugging or even calling each other friends. He simply seemed to be more mellow around you, possibly because you oddly knew what to say and what to keep silent. It is as if you sensed the subtle shift of his moods; could read his expressions in a way no one could, perhaps no one tried. And you would come and visit him as often as you could when relieved of your duties — you felt responsible for him in a way, and you wondered if you would still feel this weight on your shoulders when he eventually left this place. After all it was you that had found him lying in the grass; it was you that had insisted to help him; and now, it is you that brings him food and tries to provide some comfort in a form of conversation. You don’t pry into his past, don’t even ask for his name, because you know he does not want to give it, and you won’t risk questioning in fear of another explosion of his temper. You talk about inconsequential things: what’s happening around the base, what sort of plants grow around here, what bugs could kill him before he took two steps. He especially enjoys hearing the rumors about him, even if he is too prideful to admit that they amuse him greatly.

“And what if I am?” He questions one evening, something akin to a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a kind hazel color that could be beautiful if not for the persistent angry spark within them that is now, seemingly, vacant, watch you closely.

You frown softly, “Are what?” You question, “A prince?” He nods. You snort, “Well then, your majesty, I shall make sure to inform the others. What will be your first decree?” 

He pretends to think, “No more slacking around.” He says sternly, “This is supposed to be a military base, isn’t it?” He ends on a cheeky note. You gulp. Ah, yes, you might have let it slip that he’s in one of the Resistance’s safe houses, though you did not disclose the coordinates.

“On a mission to make fun illegal, are you?” You ask with a raised brow. 

He frowns, “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

Childish, really, though you suppose it is better than arguing with July.

You feel it before you hear it— rain and thunder. The merciless patter on the roof and on your window. In night the sound is almost deafening — a loud roar of an engine, followed by cracks of lightning and flashes in the dark sky. You would have slept through it if not for the pins and needles washing your skin behind the warm sheets thrown on your body. You stir. Thunder roars and a flash of bright white light illuminates your room and seeps through the cracks of your lashes. Cold, again, as if standing in the middle of a storm.

You finally sit up, rubbing your face and then looking around to see if your friends are playing some sort of joke on you. You were almost certain they had dragged you outside and left you to get drenched. But you are alone in your room and you frown and shiver from the biting cold. Groggily you throw the sheets away and leave your bed, not entirely certain where you are going but there is a pull in your gut and half-asleep you follow it. You think you might still be dreaming —the rain on your dry skin feels real, though all dreams feel real until you awake. You leave the dormitories and take the elevator to the first floor. The base is silent, save for the shrill of machinery. Finally, still in your pajamas and almost fully awake, you step past the main entrance and stop.

It’s pouring, a curtain of rain obscuring the confusing contours of trees and leaves and bushes. The darkness does not help. A bleak light pulses to life once you pass the sensor and your surroundings illuminate. Thunder, lighting, more rain. You stand safe and dry under the roof, and he stands at the very edge of it, half soaking, his face kissed and washed by the rain.

You are not sure what to think. He seems lonely standing there surrounded by darkness and water. It’s whispers, or something akin to that, that urge and beseech that he does not want to be alone. You hear them somewhere in the back of your mind. If he noticed you, and he should have with the light suddenly on, he does not show it. You approach him slowly, your footsteps concealed over the heavy drum of rain.

“Not used to it, are you?” You ask, your voice followed by a bolt of thunder. He stirs, head tilting in your direction. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet — there is no hostility in them, no anger, just a distant sadness. You give him a soft smile, “I can tell you don’t see it often. I didn’t, either, at first. I grew up surrounded by deserts and I had not seen a drop of rain for at least eighteen years. But, here… Well, there’s no shortage of it. We have storms at least once a week. You’ll grow sick of it before you leave, trust me.”

He says nothing, still looking at you. The light sniffs out. Both of you stand unmoving.

“Why are you here?” He asks, a note of genuine confusion slipping past his calm tone.

“I… don’t know.” You admit. A frown pulls on your brows and you bite your lower lip, staring into the heavy curtain of rain, “I…I really don’t know.” You turn to him, “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, savoring the silence. Then, “I got bored laying in bed.” Somehow you feel that anxiety has more to do with his sudden nightly venture, rather than actual boredom. Though, you suppose it is quite tedious doing nothing all day. You imagine he is active, judging by his built. He has a strong character and he knows what he wants (most of the time), or rather has a distinct sense of what he doesn’t want. You imagine he’d be a good commander, or leader, with his deep voice and unrelenting stare, if only he wasn’t so sensitive. He’s too unpredictable. Too uncontrollable. His emotions get the better of him too quickly for him to be unbiased. For that reason alone you deem him unfit to be a spy, or a soldier, or a figure of military power. He’d burn all he would build if that were the case. No, him being of noble birth and being stranded here as some sort of twisted punishment sounds believable enough.

“What are you thinking?” He questions, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hum, ponder whether you should be honest with him or not. “Don’t lie to me.” He says suddenly and you jolt, heart drumming painfully in your chest. For a frightening moment you figured he could read your mind. Then again, you have been spending a lot of time together. He must have noticed how gentle you are with him, how carefully you pick your words. His signature frown is back, you see it for a second when lightning strikes.

“I was thinking about your life.” You admit, “Your work. Whether you really are a royal as most of my crew mates seem to think.”

Flash. You see half a smile blooming on his lips.

“But I know you won’t tell me. Don’t worry, I get it. Ladies love a mystery.”

“What?”

It’s your turn to grin, “Oh, please, it’s almost all I hear about. Seven brought a brooding stranger with a secret past into the base. Lo…Michel… Two of your rapid admirers. I already told you that your arrival has sparked many speculations.”

“I…I haven’t…” He sounds uncertain, flustered almost, as if embarrassed, but there is no way he is, you refuse to believe it. He stumbles upon his words and lastly says nothing. You snicker silently. Another flash of lightning and you see the same confused, puppy-like look on his face you have had the pleasure of seeing once or twice. He does not shield it this time, this moment of vulnerability. He probably doesn’t see the point because darkness obscures everything again.

You extend your hand to him as a silent offering. How many things have you offered him now? Life, health, your company. He regards it, ponders a bit, lastly gently clasps his hand over yours. You jerk. Electricity courses through you and your eyes go wide, tingles rushing all over your body. Lightning strikes. You see wonder on his face, a mimic of your own surprised expression.

“Come on,” You stutter, tugging him, “you’ll catch a cold.” He follows after you. The light blinks on. You don’t know what is happening. Couldn’t have been the thunder, the feeling is not as intense. It felt more like a build up of energy; like you accidentally touched a circuit and it zapped you.

Impossible, you hear something alike his voice but not quite — it’s quiet, distant, muddy.

“Hm?”

“What?”

Once inside, the door sweeps shut behind you, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” He sounds a bit ticked now, and you decide to drop it.

“Oh,” You mutter, “must’ve imagined it, then.”

His hand is cold in yours and you squeeze it just a bit, hoping he won’t notice and hoping that you will warm it. When you reach the Medical Wing, you tilt your head and say, “Wait here. I’ll get you dry clothes from the storage.”

But as you turn to leave he doesn’t let go, though doesn’t say anything either. He’s choked up — either he doesn’t know how to say it or doesn’t want to say it at all. He doesn’t want to be alone. Those whispers come again, ringing in your ears so quietly you aren’t sure they’re even there. You give him a soft smile, catching his gaze, “Okay, we can go together. You’ll probably stay here for at least another week, so, it’s best you know where the storage is anyway.” There’s no rush in your words, no annoyance, just simple acceptance. It eases him, relieves him of saying and admitting things he’s not willing to bring to light.

The walk is quiet and you still hold hands. His is much bigger than yours, rough, though not unpleasant. They are hands of a man that uses them often — for better, or for worse — and a twinge in your heart, a sudden thud of uncertainty, informs you that your previous speculations might have not been correct at all. His hand doesn’t feel like that of a prince (not that you would know what that would feel like), no, it feels like a hand of a soldier. But that inching of something amiss is swept away by warmth, silent happiness, a certain deliriousness that starts blooming within you and spreading all around. You feel him, somehow; feel a connection. You can’t put it into words exactly, you doubt you could ever explain it to anyone. It’s fragile. And beautiful. And maddening that such a devout emotion is sprung by something as innocent as holding hands

You wonder if he feels it. You somehow know he does.

The storage room is not big. Your hand slips from his as he chooses to stand by the doorway and you rummage to get his things. You feel braver. Perhaps it’s the tiredness that leaves you so open and bold, but searching you can’t help but ask, “So tell me…” You start, handing him some towels, “What were you actually doing? Besides being melodramatic.” You add, your lips quirking upwards.

He regards you with lively eyes and you see a grin lift his cheeks. He’s smiling, actually smiling, and you know this action is precious and rare and you can’t help but beam at him in return, “You think I was being melodramatic?” He questions.

You laugh a little, a breathless bell-like “Yes” falling from your lips as you fetch him dry clothes from the upper shelf, “All you needed was a cape to swing around.”

His expression abruptly falls and the temperature drops with it.

“Right, no cape.” You mumble, a tad disappointed, handing him his clothes.

As you make your way back, you can’t help but saying, “I just thought it would suit you, is all.”

“What else do you think would suit me?”

You raise a brow, trying to keep up with his drastic shift in moods: again, hes smiling, then he’s pensive, now he seems lighthearted, genuinely curious. “You like to ask a lot of questions.” You conclude.

He shrugs, “I’m just trying to figure out what you think of me.”

“And why are you curious?”

“Now you are the one asking a lot of questions.” He points out. You snort.

“You started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

This again, followed by quiet chuckles. You don’t turn to the Medical Wing now, instead stopping by the elevator and pressing the red button. The doors slide open. You glance at him.

“So…” You mumble, “This is not how I imagined my night going, but…” You aren’t quite sure how to finish, how to vocalize the strange swirl of emotions in your chest, “Well, goodnight.”

You step into the elevator, going to push the button—“Ben.” He says suddenly, making you flinch and turn to him. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at the floor, “My name. It’s Ben.”

Again, that same energy, that same shock you felt when you first touched his hand ignites your body with something closely akin to happiness. Trust. Bond. He trusts you. The connection you felt was not an exaggeration. He would not have given you his name otherwise.

“Goodnight, Ben.” You say softly, fighting a smile that’s trying to rise on your face, “Sweet dreams.”

“…Goodnight, Seven.”

As the elevator doors shut, you think you hear him say “Thank you”, but that might have just been your imagination.

.

hope you liked it! xxx

.

#kylo ren #star wars #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #ben solo #ben solo x reader #imagine #imagines #reader #reader insert #xreader #fluff #request #fanfic #angst?? not rly #star wars the last jedi #star wars the sequel trilogy #star wars rise of skywalker #star wars imagine #idk how this happened #but uhh.... it did lol #like it or else!!!! #i dont usually write long one shots cuz idk how #but like i wrote this so enjoy plz

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the Elevator Bae - 13

Chapter Thirteen

Erik Stevens x Black OC (Phoenix) 

A/N: This series is almost to its end. I will be ending with Chapter 15. Thank You so much to everyone who has read and shared this story. I adore all of you soooooo much :)

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

How did two months go by so fast? Tour was coming to an end and It was bittersweet for Phoenix. She was able to finally see just how many people enjoyed her music and travel alongside one of her greatest friends but she missed Luna. She missed Erik? That’s been the confusing part. She didn’t really miss him but seeing how he’s been with Luna has warmed her heart. He’s been sending her videos and pictures daily. His bright smile seems to light up her world when she FaceTimes him to see Luna.

The closer she’s been getting to the last performing date, the more her anxiety has been surfacing. Since Erik’s been back, it was dropping Luna off because she had rehearsals and meetings and then tour. (A week during tour, Erik flew in to Detroit for Phoenix to have Luna while she visited family and he was on his way back to LA.) Their only interactions have been for Luna and they were good with that. She was good with that. There wasn’t any time for anything else. But soon, the tour will be over and she’ll be taking some time from work. Will things change? Have they already started to change?

Phoenix knew she was sure that this is what she wanted. For them to only focus on their daughter. All of these thoughts were swimming through her pool of a mind. Currently sitting in her hotel room, reading the comments under Erik’s latest IG upload weren’t helping. He just posted a picture of him and Luna while they were out. He had taken her shopping with him and snapped a picture of them in the dressing room mirror. It was the cutest picture. Luna looked unbothered while looking at the phone through the mirror. This kid had so many moods to be new here. Phoenix’s mom joked that Luna’s been here before.

Phoenix found herself smiling at the caption.

‘Luna ain’t having it with you hoes today.’

Erik’s captions were always… very Erik. And the comments full of women that Phoenix assumed were from Erik’s past or women who dreamed of being a part of his future.

‘She’s beautiful Erik.’

‘I still can’t believe Erik Stevens is somebody’s daddy.’

‘Lol, she’s so cute. Does she need a brother?’

‘Damn E. You make beautiful babies.’

‘Call me, E. 😘’

Phoenix wasn’t jealous. He was single. This was her decision. But sometimes, she hoped he would post something about her. Well, you know, because she is Luna’s mother of course. Maybe a shoutout?

No, no. She caught herself. She didn’t actually need that. Everyone following Erik knew who Luna’s mother was. Phoenix was fine. She. Was. Fine. These feelings? These thoughts? They will pass. So, she exited the app. It was time for rest and rest is definitely what Phoenix needed.

—————

Everything was… okay! Phoenix had worked herself up and things between her and Erik were good. They had the perfect schedule since she’s been back home. Erik would have Luna every other weekend. He’d come over to spend time with her during his ‘off days.’ They’d joke like old times. Even Ava had warmed back up to Erik. Of course things could never be what they used to be but this was a good start to making their situation feel somewhat normal.

“So tell me Phoenix, how has your transition back home been?” Dr. McKee wasted no time. She was eager to hear how Phoenix had been managing on her own.

Phoenix didn’t go back to therapy right away when she came back home. She figured she would take some time to test the waters and see if she would handle things with the methods she’s learned.

Releasing a deep breath, “Everything is good.” Phoenix finally says. “I’m happy.”

A genuine smile grew onto Dr. McKee’s face. “That’s amazing Phoenix. I’m honestly so proud of you.”

“Thanks. I’m proud of myself too.”

“So,” Dr. McKee paused, “What made you want to come in today?”

“I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m supposed to be using this time off to relax but I can’t. I feel like I should be doing something. Too much down time makes me think and when I think, I overthink. When I overthink, I get antsy. Then I feel anxious. Which only leads to a panic attack. I just don’t know what to do with this energy.” Phoenix stops herself to take a deep, calculated breath.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Did I make the right choice— No! I know that I did but…” Phoenix trails off.

“But what?”

“Luna loves him so much. The way she lights up when she sees him. She deserves to be that happy every day. I want her to feel what I feel. I’m happy.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince someone of that.”

The way Phoenix rolled her neck, she felt offended. How dare her own therapist insult her like this? Phoenix was happy! She didn’t have to convince anyone. She rolled her eyes at the idea. The nerve of this highly educated woman.

“I’m not trying to upset you Phoenix. I’m just trying to understand.”

“So are you saying I don’t make any sense right now?” Phoenix snapped back.

Cool, calm and collected, Dr. McKee blinks, “I’m not saying that at all. You make perfect sense. I just want you to share as much as you can so we can get to the root of what brought you here today.”

Phoenix closed her eyes and chewed on her lip. She internally chastised herself for being snappy. “It’s just,” she slowly began, “the way he looks at me with those puppy dog eyes. Even when he’s laughing, his eyes are saying something else. Like… he’s trying to slowly drown me. When he looks at me, his eyes linger like they’re trying to get me to catch on to something.”

Phoenix opens her eyes and focuses on the floor. “I’m not changing my mind. He’s always been a smooth operator but unfortunately for him, I know that. He doesn’t get to come around and make me feel guilty for choosing what’s right for my baby.” Phoenix paused. “Our baby.” She whispered that last part.

Dr. McKee takes some notes. She opens her mouth to speak but Phoenix beats her to it.

“I understand. I really do. Erik wants to give Luna the family experience. I want that for her too. But the family we’ve all created for her is fine.”

“I agree, Phoenix. So many of us get caught up in the idea of a traditional family. But family is whoever loves you unconditionally. From what I know, you, Erik, Coby, Ava and the entire tribe you guys have around you love Luna beyond this world. That’s more than enough. You’re a great mom. Great moms make tough decisions every day, but great moms also know each decision is for the greater good of their family.”

Phoenix smiles. It feels good to hear that someone sees you and your hard work and the sacrifices for what they are. Dr. McKee was right. They may not be the traditional family, but Luna is still surrounded by a loving tribe that is unique to her.

“But,” Dr. McKee continues, “you can’t attach yourself to Erik and what he may be feeling about this. You’ve made yourself clear what you wanted. You’re happy and Luna’s happy. There’s no need to ruffle anymore feathers here.”

Dr. McKee turns to her laptop and begins typing away on her keyboard. After a few clicks, she turns to Phoenix again.

“I’ve emailed you a list of things that could help you during your free time. I want you relax and enjoy this time off as best as you can before it’s time to get back to work. You deserve it.”

“I’m going to my best.”

—————

Phoenix wasn’t in a rush to leave the parking lot of Dr. McKee’s office after her session. She sat in her car going over the list in her email.

Ways to Relax Your Brain:

-Workout.

-Take an art class.

-Plant a Garden.

-Read some good books.

-Get out in Nature.

Phoenix wasn’t gifted with a green thumb, so gardening was out of the question. She works out pretty consistently, but it hasn’t worked out with calming her thoughts so that one is scratched off. Art class felt like work and books? She’s read every book that resides in Coby’s house. She was tired of reading. Looks like getting out in Nature would be worth a shot.

She’s always loved the beach but she couldn’t remember the last time she’s been to a beach.

—————

Phoenix found herself in a very familiar spot. A picnic table on the beach, watching the beach goers enjoy themselves. The waves look beautiful as they rolled in onto the sand. The sounds of splashing seemed more soothing than Phoenix ever realized. Time seemed to be passing so slow. Everything in the world has come to a calming pause. Her mind wasn’t racing. Her heart wasn’t pounding. Tranquility was all Phoenix could come up with to describe this feeling. She had no worries, no fears, no anxiety.

The sounds of an ice cream truck moving through the parking lot near her, caught her ear. The thought of eating something sweet without her infant bullying her into sharing seemed like a great win. She stood from her seat and seemingly floated to the truck.

“Hello, what can I get you?” the older man inside the truck said with a contagious smile.

“Um,” she tapped her chin with her index finger, “I’ll go with chocolate on a waffle cone.”

“Coming up.”

Moments later, Phoenix exchanges her money for the ice cream cone and travels back to her spot at the picnic table. She picked up where she left off admiring all that surrounds her. She ate her ice cream with a pleased smile pinching at her cheeks.

The small vibration of her phone pulled her from her trance. Erik is facetiming her. She assumed he was calling to see Luna so she swiped to answer the call.

“Hey, E. I’m not with Luna right now.”

“That’s cool. I called to talk to you.”

“Oh, um, okay. What’s up?” This made her suspicious.

“The Outreach Center will be opening this Friday. We’re doing a whole big thing and uh, I wanted to invite you if you aren’t busy. Shuri told me that if I didn’t call you right now, she would never talk to me again.”

Phoenix was mid bite into her cone and almost dropped it from laughter. “Well, you know I have nothing to do. Tell Shuri that me and Luna will be there.”

“Alright.” Erik paused, eyeing Phoenix’s background through the phone. “Aye! You’re at the beach?”

“Yeah. I just needed a moment. Needed to get out of the house, I guess.”

“Everything’s alright?” His words were soft, genuine.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is good.”

Erik didn’t believe her. He could tell something was bothering her but he didn’t want to push her. That wasn’t his place. Well not anymore at least.

“Well you know, no matter what, you can always come to me.”

“Yeah, E. I know.”

“Alright, I have some shit to get done before Friday. I’ll let you get back to your me time. I’ll text the details later.”

“K…”

“Kiss my baby for me when you get back home please.”

“I will.”

The call ends and Phoenix is frozen. Erik calls her while she’s sitting in the very spot he’d taken her when he needed to clear his mind. This use to be their spot. Her peace was broken then. Erik was everywhere. Even when he wasn’t there. She looked around and threw in the towel. Her time here was up. She finished her ice cream cone on her walk back to her car. She was ready to get back home to get her daughter.

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

The week had flown by. Phoenix was just sitting on Dr. McKee’s couch. She was just at the beach. But now, it was opening day for the Outreach Center. Phoenix couldn’t understand why she was feeling so nervous. She had this gut feeling that something was off. Her and Erik were good. She loved T’Challa, Shuri and Queen Mother and they all adored her. She wrecked her brain trying to come up with an answer.

Phoenix called her mom. She would understand and maybe help her with her feelings.

“Something just doesn’t feel right, Ma.” Phoenix props the phone up on her dresser while she gets Luna dressed.

“That’s your intuition, baby. If you feel like something ain’t right, it’s because something ain’t right.”

“But I don't know what it is. It’s driving insane.”

��The only way to find out is to go and face whatever it is.”

Phoenix finishes dressing Luna. She places her in her bouncer in front of the phone so that Luna can see her grandmother on FaceTime.

“Hey baby girl.” Phoenix’s mom dotes on the bouncing baby. “You’re looking more and more like your grandma everyday.”

Phoenix cuts her eye at the phone. “She looks like her dad.”

Phoenix catches her mom rolling her eyes.

“You can’t hate him forever, Ma. He’s going to be around for a long time.”

“I don’t hate him. I just think he’s stupid. Maybe if he pays for a round trip for me to go to Wakanda, I’ll forgive him.”

“Mom!”

“Those are my terms Phoenix and I ain’t changing them. Ain’t that right Lulu? Tell your stupid ass daddy to send me to Wakanda.”

“Alright Luna,” Phoenix picks Luna up, “Your grandma is on all bullshit today.”

“Hey! What your mouth around my grandbaby.”

In disbelief, Phoenix looks at the camera, “But you just said a bad word.”

“Ass isn’t a bad word.”

“Okay, ma. Whatever you say. We have to go so I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Alright. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

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

Phoenix was roaming the large, empty halls of the Outreach Center. She had been inside multiple times while dropping off Luna to Erik or picking her up. She had checked Erik’s office, looking for him but he was nowhere to be found. She was making her way back outside when she sees Shuri. 

“Shuri!” Phoenix stops her, “Have you seen Erik?”

“Philly! I’m so happy you’re here.” She pulls Phoenix into a tight hug. Phoenix embraces her back and their body’s rock. “I missed you. Hey Lulu.” Shuri adds pinching Luna’s chubby cheeks.

“I told you that you can over whenever.” Phoenix adjusts Luna on her hip. Luna was getting heavier every day.

Before Shuri could respond, she looks up and sees Erik walking straight toward them. “Oh there’s the little T-Rex.” She points in the direction of Erik.

When Phoenix turns around, Erik is walking with that famous dip. His dreads are back into a ponytail and he’s sporting a navy blue suit that’s tailored to perfection. He’s always had great style. The smile on Phoenix’s face slowly began to drop when she noticed the tall, curvy, well dressed woman walking alongside Erik. That uneasy feeling she felt when she was home crept up from her stomach and settled in her chest. She tried to control her breathing before it picked up. She wouldn’t allow herself to get worked up before knowing what was going on.

“There you are. Philly was looking for you.” Shuri says. She turns to Phoenix, “Come find me later. We have so much to catch up on.” Shuri walks off.

Phoenix isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do. She awkwardly stands there looking around to avoid looking at the woman standing next to Erik.

“Hey, Phoenix,” Erik grabs her attention and motions to the mystery woman. “This is Alicia. Alicia, this is Phoenix.”

Alicia sticks her hand out and shakes Phoenix’s hand. “Oh my goodness, you’re Phoenix? I’ve heard so much about you. Hey Lulu.” Alicia rubs her thumb on Luna’s arm.

Lulu? The only people who calls her Lulu are people who are close to her. It’s obvious that this woman has been around Luna a great deal.

“Oh…Hm. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her eyes bounce between Alicia and Erik a few times before they lock in with Erik’s. She can’t read him. These are not the same eyes he usually looks at her with. He licks his lips. This woman isn’t just a random woman that Erik decided to introduce to her. Something was up between the two of them.

Luna throws her body backwards trying to get to her dad. Erik scoops her up with one quick motion, taking her from Phoenix. He peppers kisses all over her cheeks before checking his watch. “We’re gonna miss the opening ceremony. We should get outside.”

“You guys go ahead.” Alicia says, “I have to use the lady’s room. I’ll catch up.”

“Okay. You know where to find me.” Erik says with a smirk. Alicia places a hand on his arm and walks off toward the restroom.

Erik and Phoenix began the journey outside to watch T’Challa give the opening ceremony speech. As they approached the big door that led out, Phoenix looked to Erik. “She seems nice.”

“She is.” Erik tries to bite back his smile.

“Good. You need someone nice.”

Erik stops walking. He was stunned by her words. How did she manage to put those pieces together? His words got caught and he struggled with a response. Phoenix picked up on his struggles.

“She called Luna, Lulu. That told me everything, Erik.”

He caught on. “I wanted to tell you before now, but I didn’t really know how.”

“It’s fine. As long as she makes you happy, there’s nothing to talk about. Things may not have worked out with us but I can see that you’re a better man. Someone should get to experience that.”

Phoenix doesn’t stick around to hear how he may react. She walks ahead leaving him and Luna and goes outside. Erik stood there processing her words. Alicia catches up to him. She could see that something had shaken him up.

“Erik, is everything okay?” her eyes searched him for any kind of answer. “Did something happen with Phoenix?”

He finally looks at her, “No, nothing happened. She just, uh, she thinks you’re nice.” A single dimple appearing.

A small smile forms on Alicia’s face. “So does this mean that I’m Phoenix approved?”

They laugh. He steps closer to her and plants a kiss on her lips. Alicia’s face goes red. “Not in front of Luna.” she plays.

Erik opens the door for them and they walk out just in time as T’Challa takes the stage.

As the day progressed, Erik was talking to so many people. He found himself explaining different parts of the Outreach Center over and over but he didn’t complain. Alicia stayed by his side, mingling while Luna bounced around between the two of them and Queen Mother. It wasn’t until T’Challa pulled Erik aside to ask where Phoenix was that Erik realized that he hadn’t seen her since their exchange. His eyes searched through the crowd hoping to see her somewhere. To his disappointment, she was nowhere to be found.

He texted her.

Erik: Hey, Philly. Where did you go?

Time passed and he never received a text back.

Phoenix’s thumbs hovered over her keyboard but she just couldn’t find it in her to say anything back. When Erik didn’t come outside for the ceremony right after her, she snuck out and left. Luna was in good hands and she just couldn’t stick around. She meant what she said. She really did see Erk for the better man that he had become. He was an amazing person and even more amazing father. It wouldn’t be fair for her to want him to not move on. Again, she reminded herself that this was best.

“Philly. Come get your glass.” Mica yelled from the kitchen.

When Phoenix got back home, she told Ava what had happened and Ava called Mica and Camren over for girl talk and wine. They were all between their third and fourth cups. Hours had gone by and Phoenix still couldn’t text Erik back. She just says “fuck it,” and tossed her phone on the couch and heads into the kitchen for her refill.

When Phoenix gets a hold of her assigned wine glass, she downs it in seconds. Her friends watch on in shock.

“Damn Philly, calm down.” Camren says.

“I’m grown, Camren. You don’t have to tell me how to drink some weak ass wine.”

Mica clutches her pearls. This isn’t like Phoenix at all.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ava asks. “Is this about Erik?”

Phoenix throws daggers at Ava with her heavy eyes. “Everything ain’t about Erik. I’m good.”

“You’re not acting good.” Mica adds.

Phoenix begins filling her glass up again. “Well since yall just know me so well, how am I acting if I’m not acting like I’m good?”

Ava snatches Phoenix’s glass. “You’re acting like you’re trying to drink your problems away.”

“I don’t have any problems to drink away. If I did, I’d be killing off something way stronger than wine.” she reaches for her glass but Ava pulls away.

“It’s obvious that this Erik shit is bothering you, sis.” Ava says.

Camren and Mica both nod in agreement.

Phoenix slams her hands down on the island counter. “Yo, fuck Erik. I don’t give a shit about what that man is doing. He’s moved on. He’s happy. I’m happy. Why are y’all holding on to this shit?”

“You’re holding on to it.” Ava yells. She’s fed up with Phoenix’s rudeness.

The gloss appearing over Phoenix’s eyes alerted her friends that she was struggling to hold back her tears. Ava reaches for her but Phoenix pulls away. She looks off at nothing when a few tears escape and flow down her cheeks. Her lips shake and she wraps her arms around herself.

“I don’t get why you’re torturing yourself. You clearly still love him.” Mica says.

“Yes!,” she aggressively wipes tears from her cheeks, “I still fucking love him, but this love ain’t mean shit. He doesn’t get to do this. He can’t just pop back up after all of this and have his life back like nothing happened.

“So,” Camren hesitates for a moment. “You’re punishing him?”

“I’m protecting myself.”

Ava steps closer to Phoenix in a nurturing way. “No, you are punishing him and yourself. Look at you. I hate what his stupid ass did just as much as you. But she’s right. We’re right. You're torturing yourself while trying to prove a point.”

“No I’m not!”

“You keep saying that he can’t do this.” Mica joins in again. “That he can’t just come back. But you can’t just pretend like you don’t care. It’s not fair to either of you.”

Phoenix doesn’t respond. She’s listening but she wishes that she wasn’t. They were right and she wishes they weren’t.

Camren breaks the silence. “We’re not trying to hurt your feelings Philly or piss you off in any way, but you can’t be hurt that he’s moving on when you’re the one that told him to.”

Mica interrupts, “So, either you can move on too or tell him how you really feel.”

The group of women notices Phoenix’s lack of responses. She’s in shut down mode. They didn’t want that but they couldn’t sit back and not tell their friend the truth about herself. Phoenix finally gets her hands on her abandoned glass of wine on the counter and downs it before silently walking away from her friends. She goes upstairs to her room. They give each other knowing looks. They would give her some time and they’ll go up to console her. Moments pass and they all suddenly hear the front door slam, scaring them. When the women rush to the door, they barely catch Phoenix just as she is nearing the end of the driveway.

Ava runs out toward the reversing car but Phoenix quickly shifts the car into drive and drives off.

“Fuck!” Ava yells. “We have to get Coby.”

#the elevator bae #erik killmonger x black oc #Erik Killmonger #Erik Stevens #erik x phoenix #erik x luna #shaebewriting

[iwillsithereandtrytocontribute]

1- The Scientist

Masterlist Last Next Ao3

Pairings: Logince (not yet established at this point

Warnings: slight gore, let me know if I need to add anything

A Welcome to Nightvale and Sanders Sides crossover fic suggested by Local Carlos Stanon! 

Characters: Roman - Cecil Palmer 

Remus - Kevin 

Logan - Carlos the Scientist 

Janus - Steve Carlsburg 

Patton - Lauren Mallard 

Virgil - Intern Maureen 

Thomas - Dana Cardinal 

Remy - Tamika Flynn

Emile- There is no Emile because everyone in Nightvale and Desert Bluffs need therapy and there’s no one to give it to them.

A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep.

Welcome to Nightvale.

“Hello listeners,” Roman said smoothly. “I have a quick notice from the City Council before we get to the important news.” He leaned forward, closer to the mic that hung from the low ceiling in the radio station. “The City Council would like to announce that you should not know about the Dog Park. You should not think about the Dog Park. Again, dogs are not allowed in the Dog Park. People are not allowed in the Dog Park. There is a possibility of seeing Hooded Figures through the electrified fence that surrounds the Dog Park. Do not approach the Hooded Figures. Do not approach the Dog Park.” Roman’s voice doubled in volume as he spoke, filling the station and the homes and cars of his listeners. He sat back in his chair as he completed his report. “The Dog Park will not harm you.

Listeners, a new man has come into town. Who is he? What do he and his beautiful, perfect hair want? He says he is a scientist, gesturing to his coat. Well…” Roman smirked knowingly. “We have all been scientists at some point haven’t we? But why now and why here, in our little town?” Roman cocked his head to the side, placing his elbows on the desk in front of him. “Of course, we will soon discover what he plans to do with the lab he is renting near Big Rico’s Pizza.

And now, traffic. 

There is a cactus in the desert. There are many cacti in the desert, but only one that matters. You will wander the desert. Searching. Searching. Searching. The sun will beat down on you, slowly melting your skin, your organs, your bones. The freezing nights, solidifying your remains until you are a shambling mess of what you once were. And still you wander. Searching for something that isn’t there and perhaps never was. You don’t remember why you’re in this desert, what you’re searching for or how you got here. How did you get here? 

An update on the new visitor to our town. The...” Roman paused, savoring the word, “... scientist’s name has been revealed to us through the use of the Secret Police’s monitoring systems.” Roman shuffled some papers on his desk, looking through them until he found the right one. “A quick reminder to speak as loudly as possible when having private conversations. You don’t want the Secret Police to miss anything important after all. And do your best to have interesting conversations. Maybe discuss owning a writing utensil, or acknowledge the existence of angels. Brighten your agent’s day. 

Returning to the scientist. His name is Logan Sanders, and he is perfect in every way.” Roman sighed wistfully. “His lab coat is crisp and clean. His perfect hair is complemented by his blindingly perfect smile. Logan called a press conference today, which of course, I attended. He told us that our little town is the most scientifically interesting community in the U.S. by far. The perfect, beautiful Logan told us that he and his team of scientists were already busy studying a house in the Desert Creek housing development that doesn’t exist. It seems like it exists, like it's just right there when you look at it, and it's between two other identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. But it does not exist, according to Logan and his team of scientists.” Roman shrugged. He was well aware that his audience couldn’t see him, but he shrugged anyway. There was something nice about the motion of shrugging, so he shrugged. “Existence is a tricky thing.

“He said more, but I was busy watching him. He smiled and grew animated talking about something scientific. Everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly.

A quick reminder to parents out there; keep an eye on the color of the helicopters while your kids play in the Sand Wastes. Are they blue? That’s the Secret Police, your kids are safe to play. Are they black? Probably the world government. Return to your homes and cower in fear. Are they red with orange stripes? Return to your home and cower in fear.  Do they have images of hawks and falcons all over them? Well, no one knows what those helicopters mean best to-

just a moment listeners, I’m receiving a call from—” Roman gasped excitedly— “Logan!” He flapped his hands energetically. “While I take this, let us go now, to the weather.”

***

“Welcome back listeners. Now I don’t want to take up time from our final story or our sponsors, (we have to pay the bills somehow), but I just have to tell you about the call from Logan,” Roman gushed. “I gave him my number at the press conference and told him to ‘Call anytime. Like literally, anytime.’ He looked at me strangely, but he took the slip of paper and he called me! Just now!

He said that I need to tell you that the sun didn’t set at the right time today.” Roman laughed. “I told him that the sun doesn’t have a schedule. But he persisted, telling me that it was important that I inform my listeners that the sun did not set at the correct time. So here I am. Informing you. I asked if he had anything else to say to me and he muttered something about needing to write some numbers on his new whiteboard and hung up.” Roman shrugged again. “You win some you lose some am I right?

And now a word from our sponsor. 

You are a human. Probably. This message is for humans. If you are human you are made of up to 65% water. Therefore, water is required to make you human. Without water, you are not human and should not be listening to this. Stop listening. Stop it. Now. Brought to you by Clorox. Humans are not the only sentient beings composed of water.

The NRA is selling bumper stickers as a part of their annual fundraiser. They sent one to the station for some publicity, and as we are a community radio I’m happy to read one for you now. The bumper stickers read, ‘Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. Guns have nothing to do with it. Stop blaming guns for your actions. They don’t like it. There, there guns, the mean people can’t hurt you anymore.’” Roman sat a little straighter, and leaned towards the microphone. 

“Someone took my advice to discuss the hierarchy of angels and they are now being taken to a reconditioning facility somewhere deep beneath the desert. Thank you for making your agent’s day,” Roman said smoothly with a smile. “As always, you are reminded that you should not know about the hierarchy of angels as they do not exist.” He nodded at the camera in the corner of the room and at the car that never moved from outside the station. 

“Stay tuned next for silence followed by wallowing in your own thoughts.” Now came his favorite part. 

Until next time. Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.” 

*

Not far away, a scientist stared at the radio. He hadn’t turned it on when he arrived this morning. In fact, he hadn’t even known there was a radio in this lab. This morning someone introducing himself as Roman had suddenly blared out of the radio, scaring Logan half to death. Somehow, this stranger knew that he had come to town and… Logan felt his cheeks get hot as he remembered what Roman had said throughout the day. 

Logan had done some rudimentary tests around town to see if there was anything of interest. He found a surprising amount. The screams at the post office, the ghost cars, the house that doesn’t exist, and the pit behind the Ralph’s which wasn’t so much scientifically interesting as just weird. He also met a very kind Faceless Old Woman who was secretly living in his new apartment. He called a press conference (you could just do that here by thinking about having one) and explained what he found out about the house in the Desert Creek housing development. No one had seemed… concerned. Which was, in itself, concerning.

After the press conference, Roman had slipped him his number, explaining, (with a wink that made Logan glad his skin was too dark to show a blush), that it was his personal number, and that he was welcome to call whenever he wanted. Logan left the conference feeling dazed and wandered back to his lab.

He started unpacking. He needed something easy to do while his mind churned away at the strange town he had found himself in. And of course, there were chemicals to place in their exact spots, whiteboards to set up, computers to plug in... all the usual work that went into getting a lab ready for work. He hadn’t paid much attention to the radio, but he stopped his work when he heard his name. How did Roman know his name? He tried to remember everything Roman had said. Something about the Secret Police. Secret Police? Monitoring him? That’s how they learned his name?

He glanced down at his watch. He almost went back to work before he realized that it was nine o’clock. Logan glanced out the window to see that the sun wasn’t even close to setting. He pulled out his phone and looked up the time of today’s sun set. 8:33. 

Logan furrowed his brow. He pulled out the piece of paper he had carelessly shoved into his coat pocket. Beneath the hastily scratched numbers was a barely legible name "Roman Palmer." He punched the numbers into his phone and held it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Is this Roman?" Logan asked.

Hey all! This crossover is happening due to the amazing Local Carlos Stanon! They proposed the idea and I had to write it. This will consist of a series of oneshots, hopefully deviating from the original material a bit more than this one. Please. Please. Please listen to Welcome to Nightvale and talk about it with me! It’s an amazing podcast with very queer characters (in both senses of the word).

If you need a warning added, would like to be added to my tag list, or have any questions or requests shot me an ask or message!

Taglist: @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @thefivecalls @dragonleesupporter @emo--nightmaree @7-slights-at-virgil @lokiamorstuffs @underthesea73 @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd @callboxkat @k1ngtok1 @somehow-i-got-an-account @silverobsidion-speaks  @a-fandom-trashdump  @averykedavra @k1ngtok1 @potatsanderssides @sign-from-god-complex

(Some of these are from @the-taglist-repository. Just ask if you’d like to be removed.)

#sanders sides #welcome to nightvale #wtnv #wtnv fanfic #wtnv fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssidesfanfic #ts fic #ts roman #ts logan #sanders sides crossover #welcome to nightvale crossover #mild gore

[calesmiththealchemist]

CaleSmith = Alchemist

I am called The Keeper by some...

Tonight I present to you a rare glimpse into the elite - whom to me are of as low an intellectual I’ve ever seen - and I can’t believe what they’ve done has worked so damn well. Anyway — this is ...

How they Lie to you

What I look to do with wisdom is share it in a non-demanding and tolerant way. I would never care about marketing myself or the topic, nor would I bombard anyone with secrets long since hidden from public view that could, if applied as prescribed, allow us to level up in ways far exceeding monetary gain...even if I possessed secrets that could demand such a price*, i would not proceed down that road of service to self and repeat the mistakes of the past 12,000+ years we are living in today. Further, I wouldn’t use the amazing gifts of knowledge Handed down to me in order to make noise at you or act as if I’m better because of it, and certainly not to make money – no, instead I’ll use it as intended —> to provide insights and useful information that help you to find your own truth as it did for me. All one can do for another is ask questions, give impulses and share their own experiences.

I don’t have answers for you, because I know that you have to find the answers yourself inside of you, nor do I claim that my way is the only right way. In lieu of this, I encourage you to find out for yourself what you resonate with, and what is the right way for you, but know that if I’m ever able to be of assistance, I’d take the time to answer your questions when you are struggling, but ultimately i will leave it up to you. I think one thing any teacher must ask themselves is, ‘Am I helping those with me into independence and not keeping them adequately guarded against co-dependence?’ This is of paramount importance because we will never find our answers externally. We carry them all inside of us.

Again as it bears repeating —> We will never find our answers externally. We carry them all inside of us.

There is no other truth than our own. And it changes, as we move forward and raise our frequency, and expand our consciousness. It simplifies more and more, until the questions just stop and are replaced by a deep inner knowing. So just be aware, despite the struggles, wobbles, and insecurities, to not fall into another loop of co-dependency.

Your story is like no other. You will have to walk your own path and have to find your own answers. Under any context - should you find yourself blindly following someone else, you are still acting from a place of fear, not from self-love. Once this changes permanently and you master self-love then it will be clear: The only person to follow is YOU.

Today we stand on the precipice to the Age of Aquarius —> Nothing like this has ever been witnessed before in the history of humankind. We have arrived at the most important intersection in world history; our choices will define the unfolding of our future. It is important that all people try to stay as positive and optimistic as possible; however, still too many switch on their Dancing Colored Box every night to become indoctrinated with lies from the MSM-fear mongers with their misleading images and carefully chosen constructs ...

To the uninitiated ~ I don’t say that statement in judgment or to instigate anyone with an opposing viewpoint, viz: There is no anger, no provocation, no judgment, no fears, no buttons you could push on me, because I do not resonate with these frequencies. I’m here to simply hold space for you upon your readiness, and will not be triggered by anything.

It MUST be emphasized that I do 100% intend for anyone who reads this to know that it is Stated like the undeniable and objective fact that it is ~ the Media lies🤥 and 90%+ of you are under various forms of mind control 😲, but don’t worry It’s not our fault and it doesn’t mean you’re a weakling that cowardice produces - let’s start with the fact we are all ignorant - and let’s remember what ignorant means - not this puzzling remix of the word that = an insult ... for ignorant carries strongly negative connotation and as with many words these days - I’m at a loss as to why - for all it means is uninformed. It means we have never been told or educated properly - how does that make you feel now? I suspected this may soften the sting a bit - so we should all be ok with escaping the failure label and instead we were simply failed. As our parents before us were, and as their parents before them.

Every single one of us below the elite were biogenetically engineered into this ignorance - so it’s nothing to be mad about or take offense to, we never had a chance! It’s the design of the system as a whole to churn out (figuratively speaking) deaf, dumb, and blind human beings ...

Until now — I don’t like time predictions but I’d feel insulated saying the longest one can stay in the main illusion is another 12-36 months — and that’s very optimistic for the ones still in the dream state. Anyway —> as the frequencies and collective consciousness rises every second of every day - the choice of ignorance will be taken from you... it’s a fact - it will happen - it’s simply when and not if. I offer this as merely information I’ve come across so do with it as you please —> you’d rather move with the internal alchemical changes and self care necessary using a cadence that aligns with the integration required by your powers of observation, will, reasoning, and ultimately—discernment.

If not now, when?

If not you, then who?

you either have static intelligence or fluid intelligence in this life from this NOW moment forward - which is it for you? Are you finished with all research required to fuel your belief system - or will you opt for an ever expansive approach to assimilate all information crossing your consciousness by examining the field for any newfound possibility or potential of life plus validating the X-Y-Z axis for every current belief ?!

To me, I understand that beliefs are, in a very real sense, the birthing chambers for our reality, so I want to ensure mine aren’t limiting, but At the same time they must be undeniably possible, although I’m unconcerned with what the Probability May be — as I think the whole idea of probability kills as much or more potentialities than the lack of belief ... it’s damn close I tell you ~ factoring anything but a certain probability in with a belief is, to me, the exact same thing as not believing.

There is no wrong answer - but I trust you know the one thing that can always be counted on via the universe is motion - it never rests and so my choice was easy - as above, so below and as within, so without. I mirror this great cosmic dance in order to nurture and maneuver with the outpouring/inpouring light that surrounds us all the time.

that I have no urge to convince anyone of - when you’ve plumbed the depths I have - it’s as much a certainty as gravity.

for it is a solo journey we must all take...and all will eventually. Nonetheless, once accepted, this offering of Knowledge being held for you patiently by our cosmic brethren will give you any answer you seek, but more importantly, you’ll gain a glimpse into our collective future where

the polarities are harmonized

the complexities are simplified

&

the paradoxes have their solution

which is why i present the recipe of how they lie:

A Fallacy is: "An unsound argument, or mode of arguing which, while appearing to be decisive of a question, is in reality not so; or a fallacious statement or proposition in which the error is not readily apparent." Sophistry is a Fallacy used to deceive others. Sophistry employed to deceive others regarding their moral obligations of rules of conduct is frequently called Casuistry.

Here follows a collection of the more common forms of Fallacy, with a brief description of the particular character of each, and an indication of the particular point of each in which the false-reasoning is hidden.

The Fallacy of "Begging the Question." This particular form of Fallacy consists of one assuming as a proven and accepted fact something which has not been proved, or which, at least, would not be accepted by the other person were it put squarely before him in the form of a plain question. The gist of this form of Fallacy may be said to be in "the unwarranted assumption of a premise, usually the major premise."

A writer gives as an example of this Fallacy through the following argument expressed as a syllogism: "Good institutions should be united; Church and State are good institutions; therefore, Church and State should be united." The above argument may seem quite reasonable and logical at first thought, but a more careful examination will disclose the fact that the Major Premise, viz., "Good institutions should be united," is a mere impudent assumption lacking proof, and not likely to be accepted if presented plainly and considered carefully. It "sounds good" when stated blandly and with conviction (principally because we accept the Minor Premise), but there is no logical warrant for the assumption that because institutions are "good'' they should be "united." Question the Major Premise, and the whole chain of reasoning is broken.

Many public men habitually violate the laws of sound reasoning in this way: they boldly assert a fallacious premise, and then proceed to reason or argue logically from it, the result being that their hearers are confused by the apparently logical nature of the whole argument and the soundness of the conclusion, overlooking the important fact that the basic premise itself is unwarranted and unsound.

Such argument and reasoning is rotten at the core. These men proceed on the principle attributed to Aaron Burr, that "Truth is that which is boldly asserted and plausibly maintained." They carry into practice the policy of one of Bulwer's characters, who said: "Whenever you are about to utter something astonishingly false, always begin with: 'It is an acknowledged fact, etc.,' or 'It is admitted by all,' or 'No thinking person denies.' " Bulwer also makes this character say: "Sir Robert Fulmer was a master of this manner of writing. Thus with a solemn face that great man attempted to cheat. He would say: 'It is a truth undeniable that there cannot be any multitude of men whatsoever, either great or small, but that in the same multitude there is one man among them that in nature hath a right to be King of all the rest—as being the next heir of Adam!' "

In all reasoning and argument, therefore, be sure to first be sure to establish the "reasonableness" of the premises, or basic facts. It is true that no reasoning or argument is possible unless we agree to assume as reasonable, or proved, a certain general or particular proposition; but we are always entitled to take the benefit of the doubt in such a case by challenging the reasonableness of the principle or premise seemingly fallaciously advanced to support the subsequent argument of chain of reasoning. Once admit, or allow to pass unchallenged, a fallacious premise, and you may be led by the nose into an intellectual quagmire or morass, where you will sink up to your neck, or perhaps over your head. A fallacious premise is like a rotten foundation of a building—that which is erected thereon may have been carefully built, and be of sound material, but nevertheless, the whole building is unsafe, dangerous, and not fit for habitation.

A writer has given us the following basic rules of sound reasoning and argument: "(1) Clearly define your terms, and insist upon your opponent doing likewise; (2) Establish the correctness, or reasonableness, of your premises, and insist upon the other side doing the same; (3) Then observe the laws of sound reasoning from premise to conclusion."

The reader will be surprised to discover how many popular ideas, beliefs, and general convictions are based upon arguments and reasoning which "beg the question" grossly in stating their Major Premise.

The Fallacy of Reasoning in a Circle. This form of Fallacy consists in assuming as proof of a proposition the very same proposition itself, stated however in another form ("same in substance, different in form"): For example, the following proposition: "This man is a rascal because he is a rogue; he is a rogue because he is a rascal." (There is here, of course, no proof here that the man is either a rascal or a rogue.) This may sound foolish, but many arguments are no sounder, and are based on the same general principles. Here is an "explanation" given under this fallacious principle: "We are able to see through glass, because it is transparent; we know that it is transparent, because we can see through it."

Here are more complex forms: "The Republican Party is the right party, because it advocates the right principles; the Republican principles are the right principles, because they are advocated by the right party." Or again: "The Church of England is the true Church, because it was established by God; it must have been established by God, because it is the true Church." Or, again "The prophet was inspired; we know that he was inspired because he, himself, so stated, and being inspired he must have spoken only the truth."

As a writer has said: "This particular form of Fallacy is most effective and dangerous when it is employed in long arguments, it being often quite difficult to detect its presence in long discourses in which the two statements of the same thing (in different form) are separated by other words and thoughts.''

Irrelevant Conclusion. This Fallacy consists in injecting into the Conclusion something not contained in the Premises. For example: "All men are sinners; John Smith is a man; therefore, John Smith is a horse thief." Many solemn statements made by public men, and others, are really quite as absurd as that just stated, though the absurdity is often lost sight of in the extended statement, and complicated presentation, aided by the solemn, positive air of authority assumed by the speaker. A more plausible form is as follows: "All thieves are liars; John Brown is a liar; therefore, John Brown is a thief." In this last, the statement ignores the fact that while "all thieves are liars," all liars are not necessarily thieves. Remember the old saying: "All biscuits are bread; but all bread is not biscuit."

False Cause. This fallacy consists in assuming a false relation of Cause and Effect between things merely occurring at the same time at the same place; a Coincidence is not necessarily a Cause. There follow typical examples: "The cock crows just before sunrise; therefore, the cock-crow causes the sun to rise." Or, "The Democratic administration was accompanied by bad crops; therefore, the Democratic Party in power is the cause of bad crops, and therefore should be kept out of power." Or, "Where civilization is highest, there we find the greatest number of high silk hats; therefore, high silk hats are the cause of high civilization." In the same way, a symptom or a consequence of a condition is often mistaken for the cause of the condition.

Burden of Proof. It is a favorite device of sophistical reasoners to attempt without due warrant to throw the Burden of Proof upon the opponent; particularly when this is employed to establish the truth of the sophist's contention, because the opponent is unable to "prove that it isn't true." The absurdity and fallacious nature of this is more clearly perceived when the proposition is illustrated by a ridiculous example, as for instance: "The moon is made of green cheese; this must be admitted by you to be true, because you cannot prove the contrary." The answer to such a fallacious argument is, of course, the statement that the Burden of Proof rests upon the person making the statement, not on his opponent; and that Proof does not consist in the mere absence of disproof, but rather in the positive evidence advanced to support the proposition advanced. In this connection one recalls the old story about the lawyer in court who produced three men who swore that he saw John Doe strike Richard Roe; whereupon the other side offered to produce a hundred men to swear that they didn't see him do it—this sounded well until it was shown that none of the hundred men were present on the scene of the fight at all.

Abuse of Opponent. It is no argument, or true reasoning, to abuse the opponent, or the general character of those holding contrary opinions. This is a direct evolution of the ancient argument of beating the opponent over the head with a club, and then claiming a logical victory. Likewise it is not a sound argument, nor logical reasoning, to appeal from the principle under consideration to the personal practices of the person advocating the practice. For instance, a man arguing the advantages of Temperance may be very intemperate himself; but to point to his intemperate habits is no proof or argument that the principle of Temperance is incorrect. Many a man fails to live up to the principles he teaches to be correct. It may be logically argued, in the above case, that belief in Temperance does not always cause a man to be temperate; but there is no proof here that the practice of Temperance is not advisable—in fact, the man's habits may even be urged as an argument in favor of Temperance, rather than against it. The Fallacy is readily detected when one considers that the man may change his habits so as to square with his belief; and in such case it cannot be held that a change in the man's habits changes the principle from untruth into truth. A proposition is either true or untrue, regardless of the personal character of the persons advocating or presenting it.

Prejudice. Prejudice is "an unreasonable predilection for, or objection to, anything; especially, an opinion or leaning adverse to anything, without just grounds, or before sufficient knowledge." Prejudice arises from Feeling, not from Reason. Take away from Prejudice the Feeling element therein, and there is little left to it. When we form judgments from Feeling, we frequently perpetrate Fallacy. And, yet, the average person performs the greater part of his decisions, and makes the greatest number of his judgments, in this way—he is ruled by Prejudice rather than by Reason.

A writer says: "Many persons reason from their feelings rather than from their intellect. They seek and advance not true reasons, but excuses. They seek to prove a thing to be true, simply because they want it to be true. The tendency is to see only those facts which agree with our likes, or are in line with our prejudices; and to ignore the other set of facts. Such persons unconsciously assume the mental attitude which may be expressed as follows: 'If the facts do not agree with my pet theories or prejudices, so much the worse for the facts.' "

Another writer says: "Nine times out of ten, to argue with any man on a subject that engages his emotions is to waste breath. His mind is not open to logical persuasion. His emotions first determines his opinion and then prompt his logical faculties to devise plausible excuses for it. There is a thing that psychologists call a 'complex.' It consists of an idea charged with emotion, and it operates as a sort of colored screen in front of the mind. A man whose emotions are deeply engaged on one side of a question may think that he is reasoning about it. But, in fact, he may be incapable of reasoning about it, because whatever impressions his mind receives in that connection come through his complex and take no color. His logical faculties operate only by way of inventing plausible defenses for the judgment his emotions have already formed. It is impossible to change his position in any respect by reasoning, because reason cannot touch his mind until his emotions have dealt with it and made it conform to their color. Whenever you talk to a person with a strong bias on any particular subject, which bias does not coincide with your own bias, talk to him about something else.

Illogical Deduction. There are a number of phases of Fallacy arising from the violation of the technical rules of the Syllogism, which violation results in deduction opposed to the principles of logic. These points are too technical to be considered in detail here, and the reader who wishes to pursue the subject further is referred to some elementary text-book on the subject of Logic

Adonai

[crackimagines]

For the Child!Blyth AU that you're doing, how would the class and possibly the staff react to Blyth doing something unexpectedly and extremely adorable?

EDIT: Child!Byleth Post Masterlist here!

—–

I can imagine that anyone finding what little Byleth did ‘Cute’ would be met with a face like this from him:

Regardless, I love this prompt!

Thanks for the ask,  merciful-chaos, I hope you enjoy!

—–

Sweet Hearts (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)

Child!Byleth Professor AU

It is revealed that the Tiny Professor has never had sweets, or anything similar despite that being a necessity for a child. It’s up to Flayn, Mercedes and Annette to help Byleth with this tragedy.

—–

Byleth didn’t know what to do with freedays. He was so used to working as a mercenary 24/7 and barely had any time for relaxation. Even if it did happen, it was only during the dead of night.

Now as a Professor, he was now able to roam freely on Sunday’s to his heart’s content.

Part of him wanted to grab his stuffed bird (Reference to this post!) and walk around the school for comfort, but he knew as soon as he did, he’d get everyone ‘aww’ing over him.

Plus, some of the students would look down on him for it. Considering he was a professor now, he wouldn’t be allowed the same luxury as before. He had to appear strong, although his height and age did not help at all in that regard.

All the while, Sothis was watching his internal conflict.

(Sothis) “You know, you’re making quite a big deal about carrying that toy. Why not do it? Your age permits it, does it not?”

(Byleth) “No. That would lead to complications with the students.” He replied, albeit he seemed reluctant to leave the comfort of his stuffed bird behind.

Uncharacteristically, he let out a sigh and left the bird on his pillow.

He began walking towards the door and opened it. It was surprisingly quiet, so he decided to go on a stroll.

Byleth made small talk with the house leaders as he passed by and as expected, made sure to bring up the topic of being a tiny professor into the conversations. He tried his best to be respectful, but that didn’t seem to get him anywhere.

So, he decided to visit the dorms and see if there was anyone in this damned academy that would talk to him normally like Jeralt or the mercs did.

Fortunately for him, he just came across Flayn.

(Flayn) “Oh, Byleth-er no sorry, Professor!”

(Byleth) “Byleth is alright on free days like this, Flayn.”

(Flayn) “Well alright then, Byleth! Would you like to accompany me to the dining hall? It’s the lunch hour, so everyone’s heading in.”

He silently nodded and followed Flayn. She talked to him, well more accurately AT him. He was far more focused on the fact everyone began chatting that the two kids being together was adorable.

it’s a shame too, he really did like Flayn, but had no idea how to actually talk to her, leading to the impression the tiny professor had a crush. Which wasn’t true. Probably.

When Byleth and Flayn grabbed their plates, they sat down near an empty table and began to eat.

(Byleth) “…Your plate just has fish.” He said aloud, quite confused.

(Flayn) “Yes, it’s a personal favorite of mine, I can’t have enough of it! Just like sweets!”

His plate consisted of the bare minimum, a bit of meat and veggies, though it’d be more akin to a snack.

He was used to the mindset of sticking by mercenary traditions so if the worst case scenario happened, he wouldn’t be reliant on the ways the monastery changed him.

It was then that he heard Mercedes and Annette behind him.

(Mercedes) “Ah, hello! Is it okay if we can sit here, Professor? There don’t seem to be other seats.”

That was a lie. As he and Flayn walked in, Byleth counted about 4 different tables that were open. 

He probably guessed it was so they can speak more with their ‘little professor’.

Byleth was very thankful that he didn’t quite understand emotions, because he’d be making the biggest pouting face imaginable, which would’ve made the situation worse.

Regardless, he did like the two students. They worked hard and took it seriously, making sure their teammates were okay was the cherry on top. 

He wouldn’t mind having to not deal with their coddling, however.

Before Byleth could say anything, Flayn nodded and motioned them in.

(Flayn) “Go ahead!”

Mercedes and Annette smiled and sat down. 

They also placed a giant plate of steak next to him.

(Annette) “As we were getting our food, we noticed you were eyeing that piece for a liiiitle bit too long! I bet you thought it’d be childish if you went for it!”

Byleth was sure that his inner child didn’t show up like the bird situation. Obviously, that had failed. Because they were completely right.

He hesitated going for the plate, but Mercedes saw it and pushed it closer.

(Mercedes) “Please, do not worry about it! The food here is quite good, and it’d be a crime if the staff didn’t even eat anything that they’d enjoy!”

She had a point. Besides, if Jeralt said if these kinds of actions was acceptable, then why not? Perhaps he was being a bit too cautious for nothing. He nodded in thanks and added it to his plate. Though his face didn’t move, everyone could tell he was quite satisfied.

Once he was finished, he politely put the silverware onto the table and looked at Flayn.

(Byleth) “Thank you very much for inviting me to lunch.”

(Flayn) “Huh? You’re not getting dessert?”

Dessert. Now that was a term he was barely familiar with. He didn’t really have the luxury of sweets as a mercenary, even during his birthdays that wasn’t exactly an ‘always’ thing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he tasted a candy.

(Byleth) “There’s…sweets?”

(Annette) “Jeez, the way you’re talking you sound like you’ve never had them, professor!”

(Byleth) “Actually I…I never-”

All three of them gasped before he could finish his sentence.

He was about to say ‘I never got too many chances to eat sweets’, but of course, Mercedes added fuel to a fire.

(Mercedes) “You’ve never had sweets, professor?!”

All the students from the Black Eagles, Blue Lions, AND Golden Deer turned to face their direction. He could hear the voices now.

“What kinda kid doesn’t have sweets?” “The poor thing!” “I feel kinda bad…”

Byleth honestly considered slamming his head against the table to knock himself out. She had just screamed that out, although he could tell she didn’t mean to. Though…WHY did she have to scream that?

Instead of Byleth slamming his head, Flayn slammed her hands on the table.

(Flayn) “We’re fixing this mistake right away then! Mercedes, Annette! Please fetch the Professor one of your best baked treats!”

(Mercedes) “Right away!”

(Annette) “Got it, let’s go, Mercie!”

They both got up to presumably go to their dorms. Flayn looked at him with the most serious face he had ever seen her have. Though, this was the completely WRONG reason to have it.

(Byleth) “F-Flayn, you don’t have to make a big deal out of it-”

(Flayn) “Yes I do! Even YOU deserve to enjoy yourself time to time!”

(Edelgard’s voice) “It’s true you know.”

Byleth saw Edelgard walk over while smiling.

(Edelgard) “You don’t know what you’re missing, Professor. Sweets can really make your day.”

(Claude) “How about that? Our Professor’s so gone off the deep end, he never got to enjoy things like candy!”

(Dimitri) “Hah, I can’t say I’m surprised to be honest. You should enjoy your youth, professor! When you get to our age, those things become scarce!”

WHY IS EVERYONE HERE!? He shouted to himself.

(Flayn) “Don’t worry, Byleth! Mercedes and Annette are the best bakers here, they’ll fix you up in no time.”

Everyone began to laugh, though Byleth wasn’t. Once again, his stone face prevailed over the embarrassment that was surging forth internally.

(Mercedes) “We have it!”

(Annette) “Here, take it professor!”

It was some odd brown-blackish square treat. It was soft, yet hard at the same time. What the hell was this thing?

(Flayn) “Ah yes, this one is a personal favorite! It’s called a ‘brownie’. It’s made of chocolate!”

(Dimitri) “My my, you two are bringing out the big guns!”

(Claude) “Hey, gotta have the first time be memorable, right?”

(Edelgard) “Well professor, dig in!”

Byleth knew if he refused, they’d force it down his throat. So he swallowed his pride and took a bite of the brownie.

His eyes sparkled upon tasting the brownie. It was the most delicious thing he ever had.

After the first bite, he quickly devoured the brownie. Making everyone’s smile even bigger.

(Claude) “Hey, I think he liked it!”

(Annette) “Oh, thank goodness! My heart was about to stop!”

(Mercedes) “This was our best treat we made, I’m so happy he liked it!”

(Dimitri) “What a relief. Honestly I would’ve said that the professor wasn’t human if he didn’t like it!”

(Edelgard) “Hah, how was it, professor?”

Everyone leaned in for his response, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

(Byleth) “G-Great…”

That brownie had made him lose all senses, and couldn’t really process anything else than wanting another one.

He began to blush a little as he looked down, speaking quietly.

(Byleth) “May…May I have another brownie, please?”

Everyone’s heart melted.

(Mercedes) “Of course! Come Annette, let’s get cooking!”

(Annette) “Right, we’ll be right back, professor!”

(Flayn) “We have now steered you off this dark path! Welcome to the light of sweets!”

Some of the students began clapping while others laughed and went back to their meal.

Claude chuckled and went back to his table while Edelgard and Dimitri did the same.

Flayn stayed with Byleth, and the two began discussing at length about how great sweets were, and of course, were treated to brownies.

Later that night…

Once the high of the brownies wore off, it was then Byleth realized what he had done to his reputation that he worked hard to maintain.

He fell onto his bed, clutching his bird in embarrassment as Sothis floated near him, a smirk growing.

(Sothis) “Oh, how mighty your maturity is, falling to your knees to a mere treat!”

She began laughing as he groaned into the fur of the bird.

Claude, Dimitri, and Edelgard would no doubt spread word to the students. He wasn’t going to live this down anytime soon.

He began to regret everything he did during lunch today. 

Except eating the brownies. 

…Damn it, now Mercedes and Annette have even more of a reason to think of themselves as his ‘Big Sisters’.

He wanted to curse yet thank Flayn for introducing him to sweets now.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses imagines #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three houses headcanons #byleth #flayn #mercedes von martlitz #annette fantine dominique #edelgard von hraesvelgr #claude von regan #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #sothis

[snakechef41]

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It is by no mean an instantaneous fix, but it provides me peace of mind as I start my day. Some fortune-teller believe that your initial deck should be gifted to you. While everyone enjoys presents, there is absolutely nothing better satisfying yourself with the magic of prophecy, so I claim you need to delight in the opportunity to select your first deck. With so many charming options readily available, the most important variable is your unique link to the cards. Amidst international health and wellness issues as well as political discontent, individuals are increasingly counting on spiritual methods to assist them via these unpredictable terms. For on the internet analyses, many people placed a great deal of value on the method of communicating with their tarot reader. For instance, some individuals want a excellent mobile application, in which situation Kasamba is your selection from the above listing. 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Reading tarot card cards is not regarding informing the future, so make certain to keep that in mind when pulling the card that talks with you. We will certainly start your reading with me asking if there are any kind of areas you would like for me to specifically focus on and go from there. The way my readings work is, as I shuffle the deck, the cards come flying out of my deck, so I do pass by the cards. After that, we'll look at several of the standout cost-free alternatives you can try, if you 'd like to see what might work for you. Live Analyses - If you desire a complete tarot analysis experience, using cost-free 3 min analyses with expert tarot card reading masters will likely supply even more of what you're seeking. These tarot card professionals often have over two decades of experience and have moved online considering that the pandemic begun in very early 2020. If you found yourself asking what a "three-card spread" is, this is the section for you. There are lots of methods to review tarot cards, and also commonly the directions that feature your cards will consist of images of one of the most popular spreads. These include the simple three-card spread, the Celtic cross, as well as a seven-day spread, yet you'll soon learn that there's a spread for any circumstance, and you can constantly make up your very own, also. The last couple of years have seen a resurging passion in all things witchy, tarot card cards among them. I interpret the cards based on both the traditional significances but also details messages I receive from spirit and also depending on the various other cards that befall. Numerous, including myself, likewise use oracle cards in their card readings. Tarot card has taken lots of various kinds today as well as fortune-teller can take a growing number of imaginative licenses in their readings. https://tarot-masters.com incorporate spiritual coaching and manifestation guidance into my readings too. Well, we have the solution to some of the concerns you've constantly had regarding these cards as well as their role in fortune-telling. Every morning, I draw a card from my tarot card deck for my daily reading.

#tarot reading #tarot card reading

[three-self-shippers]

𝒜𝓈𝓈𝑜𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 // 𝒜𝒾𝓏𝒶𝒩𝑜𝓍

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Aizawa x Nox / Daqat

Trigger Warnings: Mention of religion, self deprecation, mention of depression, anxiety, bad irrational habits, process of burnout, mention of sleeping disorders, symptoms of borderline personality disorder, slow-burn, angst, and confrontation. (?)

**I’m invested in making this as realistic as I can, but uh, it’s not healthy, well, yeah--

⇐ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs - ɴᴇxᴛ  ⇒

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A shiver went through me with how cold he was, he hates me now, doesn’t he? It weirded me out to the heart as I fixed up work that piled up on my desk to do later before fleeting out to the roof to catch up with him. As I skipped over each building to maintain my stealth, I thanked my ballet classes when I was a kid for teaching me how to maintain my balance and sort my weight as well as being flexible. 

It was dangerous indeed, hopping off tall buildings and hanging from pipelines, but Aizawa wanted me two blocks away and that’s what I was going to do: go there.

As I reached the less luminated part of the area I saw his bending figure, crouched atop a pole as his hair lifted due to his usage of Erasure. I felt my breathing get heavy as my legs began to give out, a replay of what happened earlier today and the musky yet fresh wooden scent somehow being reincarnated in my nostrils except it was as thick as honey. 

“Daqat..? Chaiai!” Aizawa’s distant yelling of my hero and last name was the last thing I noticed before giving out and falling off my footing. My body weight shifted to the left where the edge of the building was as I almost fell to my doom, if it weren’t for EraserHead saving me again. 

As I woke up meeting with a much more beaming white light blinding my eyes, I cried out in pain that I forgot to even use my eye gel for three days and cried for hours atop it all. 

A fork was being stabbed into my eye, it felt like it. I knew that the dehydration of my eyes would open that damn wound and I’d always refer the pain to being stabbed in the eye. I whimpered as I tried muffling my cries not knowing who’s talking to me or trying to soothe me out. 

“Chaiai-San, what’s wrong?!” A figure jolted yet I was too busy to even think who it was, knowing too well it’s none other than Eraserhead.

The feeling of not knowing whether I should blink or not was unbearable as my eyes kept tearing up, trying to wash out the pain without success. When I open my eyes it hurts, when I close them it hurts more, the pain was intolerable though I had a high pain tolerance. 

“Something’s in your eye I’m assuming? Don’t move, stay still. Shhhh..” His deep vibrations somehow overpowered the pain which was only growing more as the tears continued falling out especially from my left eye. I took my hand out of my eyes to show him how red they are, this isn’t the first time it happened to me.

“That’s it, stay still for me, alright? I’m going to put in them some hydrating droplets.” His tone was reassuring as I held onto the sheet of the bed I was laid on, my eyes hurting more than ever as I lowered down my painful whines. His flakey dry hands soon came into contact with the area under my left  eye as he softly tugged my lower lid down to drop in the solution. My eyes absorbed it as if it was nothing while he applied to the other eye before going back to the first one again. 

At this point I signed him to stop, the pain has reduced but is still there and I was not going to let him use all the solution in the bottle for me-- He needs it too. “E-EraserHead, why are you here?” I sniffled out while trying to sit up just to be laid down again by his hands on my shoulders to which I flinched out of his touch. 

“You passed out and were going to die from falling off the building, I caught you with the binding cloth. And of course I have to accompany you to your full recovery, you’re under me, after all. And I wouldn’t be a good hero or boss if I just went by as if nothing happened.” He furrowed his brows at me. 

“I don’t know--” “Of course you don’t, you don’t have a medical history of that, has it ever happened before?” He interrogated, cutting my sentence in half. 

“This is the first time I’d passed out. But the air becoming thick and my muscles feeling as if they were about to give out weren’t.” 

“Why do you have health insurance when you never use it?” “I do use it! Sometimes.” I tried countering him although he immediately followed up: “For your mental health, Chaiai. It’s clear what you just had was an anxiety attack--” “G-Get out.” I felt bad, very bad of that sort of confrontation. 

“I’m not going to go--” “There’s nothing wrong with my mental health! I don’t have any sort of illness that associates with the way I think or my ability to take responsibility!” I yelled at him as my brows twitched when they knitted towards each other. A sense of betrayal and disappointment in myself filled in. 

“Chaiai--” “Not another word, EraserHead, don’t say anything. I apologize that I’m being disrespectful right now but it’s for both your own and my good. You’re slurring a lot of words when you know nothing about me so please.. Get out of here. Because if you say another word I might just lose my admiration and respect for you.” I gritted at him, tears filling my irritated red eyes as I saw the curtain of guilt that fell upon him before he left me in the room. 

The doctors came in asking me all sorts of questions to fill up my medical history, I asked them for the lubricator eye gel I use for my eyes and they gave me a little forum to answer. It consisted of questions that determined my mental state and I took these kinds of fill-ins to know how they look like. I answered all the questions as If I was living an average life. 

Sleeping consistently, doing sports and hobbies, socializing, everything that I barely ever do if ever. I never sleep unless my body betrays me, I am a lazy sluggish person who only ever trains the necessary combat fighting and flexibility workouts and literally does nothing else, hobbies only as in the ones that seem to cheer me up for a brief minute before I remind myself how they’re the reason of disappointment that my parents felt towards me, and socializing which is something I’m awkward at except my very close friends if they reach out, though I do try to balance out my negative thoughts and my life out, it fails miserably every time. 

The doctor took a swift look at my answers then at me before she brought the same forum again. And laid it in front of me. “Answer honestly, Chaiai-San.” The stern tone made me gulp in place, hesitant to tell the truth. “W-What do you mean? I answered it--” I couldn’t finish before I got cut off by her again. “We can’t help unless you answer honest--” 

“I don’t need help!” I stood up to prove my point, not noticing I had a dripper attached into my veins which almost ripped off my bloodstream if it weren’t for the doctor lending a hand in and sat me on the bed again. 

“I don’t know what kind of environment you came from, but bottling things up won’t do any good. Let’s just talk it out, yes?” The woman wearing a lab-coat asked with concern and empathy. 

“Fine.” 

.

.

.

While I got discharged, I looked at the little plastic bag in my hands. It contained various meds for depression, insomnia, anxiety and vitamins. Walking towards the hospital door, I felt nauseous as I didn’t like all the talking that happened, all the explaining. It’s been hours of just talking.

“Daqat, wait!” Aizawa’s voice called out as I turned around, he’s been waiting for me? I can’t do that with him. The fluorescent just made his face look more tired. My eyes looked at the shoes I wore, black, as most of my clothes were colorful I always ended up only wearing monotones. 

“I apologize, I came off rude and ignorant to you.” My eyes refused to look up at him and I could feel my chapped lips press into a line. “It’s fine.” 

“It’s not. As much as I’d like to give you time off the job, I suppose you wouldn’t take it.” 

“This sort of thing shouldn’t affect my productivity. I apologize for being disrespectful earlier, too. And I’ll be going to the agency now, since you have class in an hour.” I checked my support item-based watch, it’s heavy but it’s part of my costume and I got used to it. 

“Don’t overwork yourself. But at the same time do your best, plus ultra.” His sad-filled voice didn’t fit the motto of the school. He handed me the keys to the agency, as it dangled from his delicately long finger before I carefully took it. Though my efforts to not come to physical contact with him, our skin briefly brushed as the metal rings were held firmly in my hand. 

The simple electric zap lingered on my fingertips, he felt it too, I can tell by the way he was startled. It mayhaps also be just concerned with my unexplained wariness, either ways. 

“I’ll come by later with my intern, but just in case here’s the keys.” He spoke. 

With that being said, I waved him off with a bow and a tired smile before going to the agency. The sun was on it’s way up, it’s golden rays showed how much time I spent in the hospital. Moreover how much time I wasted when we could’ve made the streets safer. I blamed myself for it, but apparently I was questioned by a therapist and was told to take these pills. I didn’t though, they might affect my usual work times. 

I shoved the plastic bag into my over-sized purse before giving my face a quick wash and went out of the agency to fight villains. It felt good to let out my self-loathing at those lowly villains. To just blank out and focus on my next move. It was good that it was daytime, too, the warmth of the sun making my musk charm work better as I sweat more during arrests and combat. 

Contrary to EraserHead’s request, I did end up doing an unholy amount of work by myself while his other sidekicks did their normal amount too. After buying some packed sushi from a nearby store, going back to the agency to shower, I sat by and played some cheesy One Direction music in my earphones as I started on the reports. 

“Either ways, now that you’re in the hero course, it shouldn’t be something hard to grasp. You’re a fast learner and during this internship you will be finding ways to better the use of your quirk in battle.” 

Aizawa’s voice overlapped with my music as I took off my earphones. Lifting my head up as they knocked on my door and came in. He had his intern whom I met a couple times already. “Shinsou! Nice to have you around.” I beamed at the lavender-headed teenager in UA’s uniform before I drew my eyes to look at the man beside him. 

“Thanks, I’m blessed to be able to be here.” He replied. “You already met Daqat or Chaiai-San, my new sidekick. Either ways, are you free right now? I was thinking you sparring with Shinsou could make him more tolerable to your quirk and other quirks that are similar to yours.” Eraserhead chimed in as I stood up with the pile of papers that I finished. 

“Yes, just let me submit these reports--” “How many villains did you arrest?” The noirette was annoyed at my obvious overworking and sudden productivity. “Don’t worry, they were all thugs. Around thirty four?” I assumed as I carried the papers away. 

Aizawa looked at me while I hurried away with the pile, shaking his head. “That woman.. Let me show you where the changing room is so you can get into your costume.” Aizawa went to guide his intern. 

.

.

.

Round after round of sparring with Hitoshi, not replying to his quirk, constantly dodging the binding cloth and pinning him down without failure due to the difference in experience. I can see Aizawa signing me to stop as he woke up from sleeping, zipping down the sleeping bag, the same one he covered me in a day ago..

I stood up, lent a hand to help the younger hero-in-training up which he took. An evident redness laid across my own cheek of the workout but also because of how EraserHead was snuggled two minutes ago in his sleeping bag. 

“Of course, you’re going to get better with time, evaluate your performance with Daqat to fix your mistakes.” Aizawa’s voice was heavy with sleep. “Y-Yeah, there were quite a lot of loopholes you can cover up in your fighting.” I tried being helpful by pointing it out, explaining how he could not give out chances when close-combat fighting. 

“But don’t you think it’s a bit unfair?” Hitoshi asked, to which we both looked at him weirdly. “You can avoid my quirk. I can’t just-- Stop breathing or not try reading into your next move.” He explained. 

“It’s not true.” I objected to him, he looked at me questionably. “Your quirk is powerful, Shinsou. You just need a little training, but you’ve got the quirk to be independent. Haven’t you asked why some twenty-four year old is still a sidekick?” 

“Because my quirk aids other people, something that drains energy and boosts, it needs someone else to make use of it most of the time. Back in my place, I constantly trained my sparring since I couldn’t depend on my quirk alone like most people. Quirks often are an add up to daily life routines but in my cause I had to do extra hard to level things. Though I’ve already accepted that I probably won’t ever get enough votes to open my own agency so working for EraserHead is the best offer I’ve got.” I lectured in a rather depressed voice. 

“I’ll assign you to spar with someone else or go on a patrol, whatever’s on the schedule. Daqat, I need to talk to you.” Aizawa chimed in, changing the subject.

My whole body shivered at that last part. “I-- O-Okay--” I coughed, clearing my throat, nodding as I followed him to the office after he left Shinsou with another sidekick. The ground suddenly became the place where my eyes were stuck on as I occasionally glanced either at the back of his shoes or his back profile.

Once we were in his main office, he asked me to close the door and cornered me immediately, in his verbal sense: “Your culture doesn’t allow you to date, right?” 

My face became all shades of every color as I felt my stomach do flips, my throat felt as if someone made me drink a cup of sand. “It’s not something you should be ashamed of, your possible religion that is, I’m assuming.” 

“Y-Y-Yes,” I stuttered, almost as a whisper as I fidgeted with my hand. “I’m muslim so it’s… Taboo.” I breathed out, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole, this wasn’t the type of situation that I’d be put in. 

“I figured. So, are you going to tell me how it works?” He deadpanned at me, to which I tilted my dead, being the dumb person I am. How did I deem so smart yet so stupid at the same time?

“How does it work if I-- Wanted to associate with you.” He explained questionably. My heart skipped a beat. “W-Well, y-you’d have to talk to my p-parents and it-- Uh, usually involves a deal of money of sorts? I’m s-sorry but--  Why?” 

“Why what?”

“Why would you want to… Associate with me?” I looked down to my fingers which were scratching themselves. My left thumb digging at my pinkie almost drawing blood. He deserves better, he’s so good and a hero atop it all. He can’t associate with such a fuck-up like me.

“Well, it’s my choice isn’t it? And I find you quite… Amusing.” 

“But we just met and you’re my bo--” 

“It’s fine. Not as if it was a scandal, you’re my sidekick and it shouldn’t be a problem. More importantly, is that a yes?” 

“No. You don’t-- You can’t mar-- Associate with me.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m a mess, I’m weak, imperfect. You don’t want to commit to something like that it’s-- You deserve better.” I exclaimed, denying the built up feelings and the fact I write vanilla romance fan-fictions of him when I’m alone. 

“Chaiai-San, I don’t necessarily think those define you. More importantly, I never believed in love from first sight, but you’re quite something else--” “Don’t say that.” I cut him off. 

“Sorry, just.. I’m not sure about anything. It’s true, I’d love to have a life partner but still,” I inhaled before exhaling with my next line: “uncertainty of my parents’ reactions is scaring me.” I had goosebumps of the mere thought of it, all the worst-case scenarios that could happen. 

“Chaiai-San, Daqat, look at me.” He spoke in a softer tone as I lifted my gaze to him reluctantly. “Do you trust me in my choices?” I gulped as my breathing became heavier. “Calm down, breathe.” His soothing voice prevented me from guiding myself into a panic attack. 

“I-I-I t-trust you.” I managed to say. “You aren’t forced to associate with me, are you hesitant to be involved in a relationship with me?” He asked. 

“N-No! I’d actually-- Love to! You’re my idol-- It’s not-- It’s not like I don’t uh-- Feel the same…” I slurred up incoherent words. My gaze wouldn’t dare to look up to see his expression but I knew too well; it’d be one between a flustered smirk and a concerned thinking knitted brows. 

“It’s settled then. If you need anything, talk to me. Keep in mind I’d want to talk to your parents. You’re dismissed for the day. Get some rest, for me.” 

The last part made my head overload. I didn’t know what to say to it. “Th-Thanks, S-Sir. You too-- Uh, do your best-- I-- Sorry--” I excused myself with yet another trail of mushed-up words. 

When I reached my office to grab my things, I found out my phone was ringing. 

“Mom…”

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@simpgameplays @stephiecarie @silentxraiin @thatfanfictionwriter 

#self ship #self insert #aizawa x self #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa x oc #aizawa shouta #aizanox