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thealleydog · 8 months

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LONG LONG LONG STORYTIME ABOUT HOW MY LIFE GOT FLIP TURNED UPSIDE DOWN THIS PAST WEEKEND (tldr at the bottom)

Guest starring @wint3r-h3art ~! 💖💖💖

This is chisme. Gossip. Personal life stuff. But I am, still, very much unemployed.

This wasn't on my 2023 bingo card. I didn't know this was gonna happen when I ate those grapes under the table of a New York dive bar. But sometimes you gotta get your heart broke before you can shake some shit up.

My mentor and close friend owns the tattoo shop we work(ed) at. He taught us how to tattoo on top of some real-life lessons. And if people were to ask me, I'll always credit him for getting me to where I am now. But this bitch is a severely traumatized, unmedicated bipolar who ends up taking it out on the people closest to him. Amazing man who wants to be a good person to his people. But - untreated and refuses therapy.

And while he can be a good man, he will put your ass THROUGH IT. I'm telling you, my homie, Fabian, and I literally had almost quit our apprenticeships because we were helping him build that shop, and it was STRESSFUL. But it made us tough. Instead, I settled for a full mental breakdown along the shore and stared at the lake for an hour or so.

(Side note, why does crying clear up the face and make you look beautiful??? That's no makeup right there?!?!)

We two and our other homie, Primo, have been there for the beginning. I'm talking as soon as quarantine was lifted enough that shops in the city were allowed to reopen and could cut our hair again. (I got a shaggy mullet.) So that's three years of our lives to give to this shop and him. Everyone else that came in and was with us to the end are literally amazing people. Like the social circle we had there was something we don't wanna let go of. And he was almost like our dad in a way.

Anyways! So this summer hasn't been the best and in an effort to get new blood and clients into the shop, four of us decided to work a booth at Anime Magic and represent the shop. There was a whole row just for tattoo artists and we knew a handful of them from other shops. (The community is surprisingly small.) We spent about a month worrying and preparing and buying supplies. It's mine and Mari's first con, but Fabian and David knew what to do and we passed inspection.

All's good, right? I'm excited. I booked @wint3r-h3art and her husband! They came all the way from Boston to get stabbed by me. (Which oh my god I'm still humbled someone would do that!)

So I'm tattooing my first internet friend I get to meet in real life...

Then Mari stopped tattooing and showed me the mass text we got from him.

Bro.

My heart fell into my ass and I felt the world crumble. It was so embarrassing. Had to pull up my big girl panties and knock out these tattoos though. I ain't no punk.

At the end of the night, Fabian and I try to call him, trying to see where his headspace is at and if he's okay. He didn't answer at first, but he called back. I didn't say anything because I was sitting all quiet, full of disappointment and crying a bit. Fabian tried to tell him we are here for him and we love him - only for him to hang up on us.

So we head to the shop to check on every still there. The mood is just...

Everyone is heart broken and disappointed and scared even. But the kicker is the lady who does the office paperwork felt safe enough to tell us how he was acting lately. How he'd talk shit about us and vent his frustrations to her. But he'd act more than okay with us. Even when we would talk to him, he never showed his feelings about anything he vented to her. His mental health was definitely getting worst and with four of us at the convention, all he wanted was for something to go wrong that Friday.

And it did. One of the artists has to go back to her home country for surgery because of a numbness that has been bothering her for three years. She told us she was gonna put her two weeks in and work a little at other places until she had to leave. So when she holds his hands and begins to tell him "I have to leave -"

"Okay then go. Pack your stuff immediately."

Didn't give her a chance to explain or talk even when she begged him to listen. Had to pack her stuff into garbage bags.

Then he sent that massive text that morning we were at the convention.

Mind you, we are a crew of nine people, including two baby apprentices. We think we ain't got jobs. I was able to not think about it the rest of the night because Linda and her hubs were so awesome, and I got to eat and drink something for the first time since 8 or 9 am. (But for real, you guys are the highlight of my story so far!) Anxiety? Betrayal? The streets??? On an empty stomach, good Lord. ⚰️

Day 2 and Day 3 go by. We're still tattooing. But now people are starting to ask questions. So we tell them our situation. It's like blood in the water.

"Come work with us!"

"We got spots!"

"You should come by and talk to the owner of our shop."

Apparently our shop has a GOOD reputation. And all the artists do good work so people want us to work for them.

The now Refuge Gang decided on Sunday night to go to shop and just clean out our equipment, which would leave the owner with a very empty shop on Monday. We just didn't want to deal with him anymore considering he was being very manic with his texting and how he was responding to people in the shop. Gave no illusion that he would change his mind.

That night I felt empty and lost. I felt terrible about that this had to happen with him. He really saved me by teaching me. But this was abusive. With a heavy heart, I was the last to leave my key in the office. Wasn't expecting to cry.

We ended the night with Korean BBQ, plum wine, and several shots of shochu.

I think everything is gonna be alright. He tried to call me twice during this whole thing. But I ignored it because I'm not going back and I need space from him for a long time. Still love him, but that was something I won't tolerate anymore is people abusing me in any shape or form. Even cherished friends.

I have a job lined up not too far from my place and I'll be apprenticing one of the babies from the old shop as part of the deal! Even though she's like my age, but Dani's awesome as fuck. Gotta step my pussy up and guide her and myself on this wild unknown road!

Fingers crossed I just need to meet the boss this Friday to iron out the details. But this one is set up where I could actually... have a life. I can be an artist again. A real, piece of shit, beautifully grotesque, smut artist that I've been! (Check out my Instagram and scroll down, you'll see what I mean.) The Refuge Gang have started a group chat to support and look out for each other. We're making sure everyone will be working again and stable. Someone us even got into some real Chicago staple shops! I'm proud of all these talented hoes.

AND and, HOPEFULLY, because we liked each other so much and we're all incredibly talented - Fabian has spearheaded an idea and is in the works of starting an artist collective! Working on getting funding, investors, a building, THE WORKS. That way we can be artists AND tattoo artists. We'll be our own bosses. If everything goes well, we should have everything organized by the spring. It takes fucking forever for shit to happen in Chicago, but we'll be having meetings to talk and work together on this project.

TLDR: My homie got me and the Refuge Gang fucked up but we're wily. Tattooing isn't for punk bitches.

#STORYTIME #tattooing is wild

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stormxpadme · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 No. 13 - Cold Compress

Scogan Bingo challenge Yoga AU

"What are you doing here?" The stranger was staring at Logan with something that might be either bewilderment or a healthy amount of apprehension at the unannounced visit – telling was once more an unnerving guessing game.

"You ever take these off, bub?" Logan nodded at the guy's red-coated sunglasses half-amused, half-unnerved, and then inside the apartment with his brows raised, ignoring the question for the moment. Mostly because he had no fucking idea about the answer himself. It had been pure instinct, calling off his shift in the wood mill for today to come here instead, and his instincts, he usually could trust. Which the sight of his usually so annoyingly handsome fellow yoga student that was marred by a sicklish paleness and a hunched posture today, proved once more. "Scribbled down your address from the instructor's files when he wasn’t looking. Let me in? You look like shit, no offense."

"It's just headaches." That at least explained why pretty boy hadn’t shown up for class at their usual time of ass o'clock by the lake, Logan supposed. But it couldn’t be the whole truth, not with how absent, dejected the guy sounded this noon, the usual focus entirely off today on every single of those nimble, extremely flexible movements at their common hobby that Logan never got tired of watching from the corner of his eyes, something he found increasingly hard to deny. Indeed, Logan was almost sure his enhanced senses could pick up on a faint note of stale beer when the stranger finally turned away with a shrug but left the door open, obviously trusting Logan wasn’t gonna behead him with one of his tools for work on the back of his truck. Which was courageous, given they'd hardly exchanged a couple of sentences in all these last months so far since pretty boy had showed up at Logan's class for the first time.

It was not for nothing that one of the reasons why Logan preferred the sunrise training was the limited number of attendees and the latter's dislike for empty chattering. In all of this time of indulging in this so surprisingly useful sport, he'd never felt the need to get into closer contact with any of these people in his group, most of them only showing up for a couple of days or weeks before quitting anyway.

Pretty boy was a very welcome exception to the rule, exceedingly easy on the eye and, much like Logan, fitting not a single one of those boxes that most pupils of every yoga guru could be sorted into, ranking somewhere between New Age wannabe witches, bored housewives or stressed managers trying to impress the secretaries they were fucking by engaging in some new trend sport. The man was a mystery Logan had felt more deadset on cracking by the day lately, and it seemed, he'd come at a very good time for starting to do so.

"Need something from that pharmacy across the street?" Worriedly, he watched as the man laid back down on the sofa, on his stomach, and unfolded a cold-pack from the glass table with uncoordinated-looking movements, putting it down on his neck with a hiss.

"Untreatable case. Gave up on drugs when they stopped working for me," the stranger muttered, slightly muffled from where he was burying his face against the next best pillow, and then groaned again.

Logan suddenly had to fight hard – as it happened embarrassingly often in class, as well, watching that stupidly tall, well-built body move in the row right in front of him –, not imagining those noises being some of pleasure instead of pain. Not the right moment, obviously.

"On days like these, only reducing all sensations to zero as well as possible helps. So while I appreciate the sentiment, wolf guy: If you finally decided to get off your ass, to stop staring at mine and ask me out or something, you picked a really shitty time."

Logan was tempted to object in offense for a moment, part of him still fighting the idea alone that something like true interest could actually have manifested in him again, after all of his previous attempts of that kind had ended in tragedy and blood … But whom was he trying to fool? If he hadn’t been intrigued, he wouldn’t be standing here in a disgustingly clean and tidy apartment right now. He usually wasn’t exactly the type for perfectly aligned photos – some with many kids, none of them seemed to be the stranger's own – or hand-crafted models of airplanes draped in precisely measured distance on the ceiling, or for slogan doormats. It was mostly his pride, forbidding him from admitting, he was indeed once more staring at a certain body part of his training partner, looking mighty fine once more in those sinfully tight sweatpants. A mouthwatering sight that at least helped, not stubbornly snapping at some guy whose real name he still didn’t know that he needed to stop being arrogant, that Logan was only trying to be nice here … He wasn’t nice; that didn’t come with his nature. He was caring though when someone was close to him, and that mysterious stranger over there, breathing heavily through what really seemed to be a killer of a headache, for some reason had been hunting his sleep for a while now. It was in fact the first time in a century or so for him to be actually curious, and that didn’t happen a lot, especially not with normal people. "Yeah, we can talk about that when you're seeing straight again," he therefore just answered, friendly enough to make it clear, this was only a rain check on his part as well, not a no. "Anything else you need? Call in sick to your school or something?"

"School …?" The stranger looked up again with a frown, a little moan when he moved his neck, following Logan's gaze at said photos whereupon his face immediately darkened. "I'm no longer teaching. Left our Institute in Westchester when I fucked up at the job really bad last year. I've been doing freelance flying since then, mostly deliveries and tourists," he added, sensing the next question on Logan's lips coming before it could form. "So no, no one to notify anyone, thanks. Stop worrying so much, wolf guy. I'm not dying anytime soon, you know. Just had the shitty idea of drinking to some sad anniversary yesterday. There's reasons I usually don't do that." He lowered his head back down on the pillow with a grimace, reaching for the cold compress again to pull it into place, with an unhappy sigh at the sensation that must be lukewarm more than anything by now, judging by the missing condensation on the bright blue plastic.

"Stay." Logan was there fast enough to stop the guy from trying to get to his feet with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Grabbing the cold-pack, he took a brief look around, soon spotting the sliding door that must be leading to the kitchen. "Got another one of those in the fridge?"

"Top drawer." Pretty boy regarded him with a still very confused headshake but was obviously feeling far too shitty to contemplate Logan's motivations any deeper for the moment. There was a very grateful sigh on his lips when Logan came back with the replacement from the other room, carefully wrapping it about the guy's reddened, sweat-covered neck. Another sigh followed, something like a purr almost mixing into it when Logan left his hand right there, the other one joining, a few cautious, slow massaging movements across the steel wires that seemed to be tensing in those shoulders, inside that thin back. "You're listening better to our instructor than I thought when he's talking about relaxation techniques."

"I'm not," Logan answered truthfully, growing more courageous when he was at least not punched in the dick immediately, mostly relying on muscle memory as he slowly started to knead more of those evil little knots from the stranger's body, especially at the back of his neck. And well, if he was softly stroking through that thick dark hair again and again that he'd silently longed for to touch for a while now, the stranger sure as fuck wasn’t complaining. "Just had a couple of decades of manual labor to learn how to not end up wanting to kill yourself after every second shift."

The stranger turned his head to him again with that intense frown that not even his glasses – which Logan had long realized he needed to stop being an asshole about – could hide, a movement already looking slightly less arduous to Logan's relief. "You don't look like you've been working for decades."

"And you don't look like a full-time pilot or teacher," Logan answered with a wry grin, another closer look at one of the pictures on the wall above the sofa. Images on which he'd spotted by now that many of the pupils depicted sported physical disfigurements and characteristics, some even depicted in the process of using some kind of gifts that Logan, too, had been graced – cursed – with early in his life. Not to mention he was pretty sure he'd run into the leaders of this certain house in Westchester before and had been quick to tell these two assholes where to shove their job offer. His instincts might not have been off about that either, seeing as those people apparently had let this guy here who looked too damn good for this world, walk out the door instead of saving him from drowning in guilt and self-pity about whatever. "Wanna tell me what you're running and hiding from in the middle of bumfuck Canadian nowhere, bub? Or do I get a name at least? No offense, I'm sure our instructor loves that kind of mythology shit but I'm not calling you Cyclops."

"I could ask you the same questions." With a movement light enough to indicate, it wasn’t a rejection, the stranger pushed him away a little to turn around and put that icepack on his forehead next, wincing, another smile on his lips when Logan dimmed down the light in the room even further by closing the shutters another bit.

Getting up for that, looking out to the almost deserted street of a dirty, worn green belt alleyway through the shutters' small slits for a moment, was also a perfect excuse to gather his thoughts, to decide if this was anything he wanted to answer and how. "Not hiding from anyone. I just don't like to make waves. When people find me out, they usually want to shoot or use me. Not hot on either. And the name's Logan."

"Scott. Something you could call ex-military, I guess, and I've been used all my life, so I kind of get it. Not interested in doing any shooting though. Though to be fair, I might consider it if you keep on lusting over my ass at class without buying me dinner at least." Scott demonstratively tapped his glasses with a knuckle so Logan could see it in the window's reflection, that exhausted grin on his lips looking more lively – and increasingly interested – by the minute. "Want to tell me how a feral ends up doing yoga for breakfast?"

"Don't play dumb, kid. Can't tell me you never had any of my kind at your school." Logan rested his forehead against the summer-heated glass, closing his eyes, pushing from his mind as so often far too many memories of corpses, red on his hands, screams of agony in his ears while he always ended up being the last one standing. "Mind like mine needs to be under control if I don't want to lose grip on the animalistic side of my instincts. Meditation every morning is a lot less dreary when you get to stretch a little while you're at it."

"I know a little what that's like. Always needing to be in control, I mean. Looks to me like you've got that part down though." Scott tried to sit up a little, visibly interested in hearing more about what they so unexpectedly shared, but that was a plan too ambitious still; he fell back on the sofa with a yelp. "Fuck …"

"Get some shuteye, Slim. I'll see if I can get you some of the good stuff from that drugstore. They tend to hand it out to me because my metabolism burns through everything else. And once you're back on your feet, we can talk about this whole buying dinner thing." When he passed by that sofa again, Logan bent down for a brief kiss on Scott's cheek without even thinking about it. Fuck, that guy smelled good, too, even in this lousy condition. "Or maybe I'll fuck you stupid first, depends on the mood. Got a key somewhere so you don't need to get up again?"

"You know, most people date first before moving in together," Scott gave back dryly, but the heat suddenly radiating off his skin upon that certain dirty promise made it doubtful, he meant it. "Jacket, left side. Do me a favor and don't steal anything for me? I'd really like to avoid anyone from my old life tracking me down here over a couple of pills."

"No promises." Smirking to himself, Logan closed the apartment door behind him. Well, this would definitely turn out to be a very interesting long weekend.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

@scoganbingo

#no.13 #Cold Compress #x men #fic #everything after x2 didn't happen sue me #x men original timeline movies #x men movies #stormys fanfics #fanfiction #scott summers #cyclops #wolverine #scogan #scott x logan #scoganbingo #I AM WRITING YOGA AU WTF #I BLAME IT ON THE PAINKILLER DRUGS #whumptober really bringing out the weirdest things this year #whumptober2023

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toofunktastic · 7 months

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Ok I guess a week and two days is long enough to break down my thoughts about the weekend of the 24th!!!

So here's some backstory since it's been damn near like 8 years since i've actually posted on here! I won the lotto to see the show in Philly for July 16th meaning I got to see Courtney before she went to broadway. Then, I was convinced to see the show a second time in Philly bc friends were in town which meant I got to see Yvette. And then of course I had to see the show the next day bc Nicci was on as Satine. And then I spent the next two months just obsessing over the tour and the cast and listening to literally every audio I could.

As soon as I heard about the cast change I knew I had to go, so in a fit of insomnia one night I purchased a ticket with not idea of how I was going to actually go! And as it got a little closer I ended up deciding to just stay for the weekend and just see every show from Friday to Sunday especially since I had already taken off that week anyways! Plus it meant I could see Gabrielle as Satine and keep Tourtine bingo at least for a short while.

Good thing too, bc Gabe ended up leaving the tour for Broadway on the 22nd instead of the 24th, so I ended up catching his final tour performance!

And I'm not going to go too in depth for each performance in particular, but here are some highlights:

9/22: Two people left the show during preshow bc they were homophobic which was surprisingly hilarious. also meant I got to move over in act 2 which was nice bc my seat was horrible. Like I couldn't see Yvette on a swing bad. Even for only $45 it wasn't worth it. But Gabe was on fire, and he teared up at the end of the show. So glad I got to see him one last time on tour!

9/23 m: First time seeing or hearing anything of Gabrielle McClinton as Satine and what a treat! It's hard to describe but her Satine felt so unique compared to the others I've seen live! She did pop out late in Chandelier (I mean unless they changed the timing who knows I know they're apparently making some show changes in the future), but it really wasn't obvious unless you know the show way too well. Also there was mic problems the whole weekend so "Word to the wise my friend" just was completely inaudible. Also got to see Pepe Muñoz as Santiago is so fun. He plays such an adorable Santiago!

9.23 e: Happened to get to see the final show for two swings (one being a last minute swing on too!) and getting to see Preston Taylor swing on too! And John and Yvette were getting emotional near the end which definitely bode well for Sunday!

And finally 9/24 aka John, Yvette, Austin, Libby and Jennifer Wolfe's last show. And obviously the audience was hype. But there was just so much emotion throughout the entire show. I feel like especially from Yvette who had me tearing up through my beloathed Firework. And she broke when she said "we well be together on this stage one last time" and it killed me.

Oh and also someone bought seats and kept them empty in the front row and i took one so I got to experience act 2 from front row center. I don't think I'll ever recover from experiencing John's Roxanne from front row. And I cried like a baby from Chandelier to the end, and especially during finale too especially with how much John was crying.

I just never expected to be that connected to a cast, nor would I have ever expected to go out of the way to go see a touring cast! And here I am with another ticket for when the show comes to baltimore!

#broadway #theatre #moulin rouge #musical #moulin rouge tour #moulin rouge musical #musical theatre #john cardoza #yvette gonzalez nacer

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amarrymeinbostonwriter · 5 years

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@saltysurvivors I completed your bipolar bingo meme!

#This isn't all the time but I checked anything that I have done in the past or still do #actuallybipolar #bingo memes #I hate yoga lol #surprisingly I only got one row of bingo #my hair isn't dyed right now but I've done it multiple times before #bipolar disorder #saltysurvivors #completed bingo memes

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lunar-girl-fic · 3 years

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Against All Odds- Week 1

Warning: Harrassment/assault, language, suggestive, threats

Y/N POV

Word Count: 2530

A/N: As mentioned before this is based on my personal life. Even though not everything in this story happened, some of the more serious topics actually did. So a quick warning, there is content in here than can make the reader uncomfortable, specifically se**** harassment/assault. My intention in mentioning this in the series is to make people aware that this kind of stuff does actually happen in places you might not think it happens in. Also I try write relatable content. In my opinion Y/N reaction was kind of realistic. I reacted like that as well but instead of telling a boyfriend I told my close friend who worked with me and his reaction was the same as Eunwoo’s. Soooo in conclusion I hope you don’t think I’m writing this to be insensitive. I’m just trying to be as realistic as possible since it is based off my life.

A/N 2: I am a brown (If ya wanna know my exact ethnicity you could ask and I'll gladly tell :)), curly hair girl and since this is based on my personal life/experience I'm gonna write this series with those details in mind.

*Beep beep beep beep*

Your turned to your side to turn your alarm clock off. When you turned it off you gently pried the hands that were on your waist off. Even though your boyfriend was going to school the same time and place as you, you wanted to get ready first so you could make breakfast.

You took a quick shower and put on some home clothes because you didn't want to mess up your new uniform. After dressing you woke up Eunwoo.

"Eunwoo wake up" You said while shaking his shoulder.

He lifted his head towards you and barely opened his eyes, "Mmmh 5 more minutes", he mumbled dropping his head back onto the pillow.

You understood why he was so tired. You guys had stayed up late finishing the homework assignment that was due today. Had you guys known it was going to take so long you would've done it a week before but there's no point in dwelling on the past.

You shook him again, "Eunwoo, you have to get up. Class starts in an hour." He turned onto his back and whined.

"Morning sleepy head."

"Mornin’“

"You should start getting ready. We don't know how this man handles lateness."

"But I'm soooo tired." He said as he grabbed you and pulled you back onto the bed.

"I know, so am I."

"I can think of a couple ways to help us feel more energized." He said while caressing your thigh.

"So can I and it's called a shower and breakfast." You said while slapping his hand away.

He pouted, "You're no fun."

"I'll be sure to remind you of that next time you wanna have se-"

"Okay okay you win."

"I always do, now hurry up and get ready. You have about 15 minutes to shower and eat."

"Hmph, unlike you I don't take an hour just to shower."

"Wh-what?!? I don't take an hour!"

"How would you know if you've never timed yourself?"

"Well-I-you-"

"My point exactly." He said with a smirk as he closed the bathroom door.

You scoffed in disbelief but then thought about it. Maybe you did take an hour to shower but who cares. At least you were thorough when you cleaned yourself. You put your school uniform on and packed you and Eunwoo's lunch. Even though your school was close to fast food places, you guys needed to save up to pay for necessities. Plus who knows if your professor is actually going to give you a long enough break to buy food in those dreadfully long lines.

Just as you finished packing lunch Eunwoo walked out of your shared room fully dressed. You looked down at your watch and realized it was time to go if you guys wanted a seat close to the front.

As Eunwoo went to take a bite of his breakfast you snatched it out of his hand and bagged it.

"Hey! I was about to eat that."

"I don't think so, you took too long to get ready so now you have to eat it on the way."

"Sounds like too much work." He said as he tried to grab his food out of your hand. Of course since you were smaller than him you were able to escape and quickly ran to your bookbag to put his food in it.

After you zipped up your bag, you turned to look at your pouting boyfriend.

"As I said before your going to eat on the way there but since you'll be driving I'll feed you. How does that sound?"

His face beamed at your offer, "Let's get going then."

As you promised you fed him on the way there. By the time you arrived you had about 5 minutes to spare. Before you guys entered the gym you saw one of your classmates you made friends with when you took Pharmacology.

"Hey Laura!"

Laura turned around to see who was calling her name. When she saw who it was she instantly smiled. "Y/N! How are you?"

"I'm good, how have you been?"

"Pretty good, can't really complain." She said but then looked at Eunwoo who was just standing there looking like a teen whose mom just saw an old friend. You wouldn't have mind at first since this would be the first time she ever saw him. But the look she was giving him ignited a fire in you that only happens when you get jealous and that doesn't happen often. So you just stood there and tried your best to keep smiling and act like nothing was wrong.

"Who's your friend?"

"This is Eunwoo, my boyfriend." You said making sure to put emphasis on the boyfriend.

"It's nice to meet you." He said sticking his hand out for a handshake. She shook his hand. An action that is generally an innocent and friendly greeting seemed so wrong in that moment that you couldn't take it anymore.

"Ohh would you look at the time, we should probably go find a seat before all the good ones are taken." You said while pulling on Eunwoo's arm.

"Maybe we can sit together." Laura said as she tried to catch up to you guys.

"Mmmm I don't think we'll be able to." You said while you scanned the room for a row with only two seats available.

Bingo you thought when you saw row 3 only had 2 seats. You quickly pulled Eunwoo to the spot. You looked back to see what Laura was going to do and saw the look of defeat on her face. Which of course brought a smile to your face but quickly dropped it for a look of remorse.

Once you both pushed your chairs closer to each other you sat down and pulled out your syllabus, textbook and notebooks. You didn't even have a chance to talk to Eunwoo because it just turned 8 o'clock.

"Okay, Let's get started." The class immediately got quiet. "Welcome to Process 1, this is where you will learn the fundamental skills of nursing. I covered most questions in our previous zoom meeting so I will not be answering any today unless it has to do with the material. As I said before you must abide by the rules because this is Nursing and we need to shape you into future nurses. I will NOT baby you because this is college and if your looking for an easy class then you can go do Business Administration."

Oh great, another smart a**, you thought.

"Now let's get down to business. Today we're going to be watching videos of what you are going to do for your head-to-toe assessments. But before we do that I am going to let the other clinical instructors introduce themselves."

After they introduced themselves your professor started the videos. At first they seemed interesting but then after a while you started to get sleepy. And you weren't the only one. You looked over at Eunwoo and he was already sleeping. You gently pushed his shoulder and he woke confused about his surrounding until he realized he was still in school. Thankfully your professor finally gave you guys a break from watching videos.

"Okay now we are going to practice what you just saw. I want you to take a finger and find the 1st intercostal space and then the 2nd and don't stop until you get to the 5th one. You will do this on yourselves first and in a few minutes on your partner. But when you are with your partner you will only go to the 2nd one. "

That shouldn't be too hard, it's literally just the space between your ribs, you thought. But boy were you wrong. You couldn't tell if what you were touching was a space or something else and it started to hurt because you were putting a good amount of pressure. You looked over at Eunwoo and surprisingly he seemed to know what he was doing.

The few minutes were up and your professor told you to find a partner and find their intercostal spaces. Obviously you chose Eunwoo as your partner.

"Did you find it on yourself yet?"

"Yepp, it was actually pretty easy to find."

"Can you help me please?"

"Are you sure you want me to touch there?" He said with a smirk.

You narrowed your eyes at him, "Fine. I'll ask someone else. Maybe that guy by the projector... "

"No don't do that."

"Then help me and don't you dare try to do anything."

"Yes ma'am."

He took his pointing finger and started in the upper middle of your chest and dragged it side to side. In a non sexual way of course. He found it to be bit difficult to find it because of the fat in your boobs. However he finally found it.

"Ah, there it is."

"You found it?"

"I found two of them. The other 4 are a bit difficult to find since they’re underneath your top. The only way I can find it is if I stick my hand in your top."

"Eunwoo." You warned.

"What? I was just saying. I never said I was actually going to." He said feigning innocence.

"Could of fooled me."

He just shrug his shoulders, "Give me your finger so I can help you locate it."

It took a minute before he was able to locate it again but when you finally felt it you let out a breath of relief. You knew you needed to find this for your finals and if you weren't able to you surely would fail the class.

"Do you feel it?"

"Mhmm"

"Good, now find mine"

Since Eunwoo had a flatter chest than you it was easier to find despite him laughing from being ticklish. Before you had a chance to tell him your finding, your professor interrupted you.

"Fooling around isn't going to get you to pass my class."

"But we-" You said.

"Aa! Talking back isn't going to help you pass either. Now go find another partner. You need to practice on your other classmates because your not going to know who you'll be testing with until testing day."

You felt your insides boiling. You had to deal with this crap in high school and now your dealing with this in college. When he left you let out a strained sigh and Eunwoo instantly rubbed circles in your back to calm you down. Normally you would welcome this but you didn't want the professor coming back over to scold you so you pushed his hand off. He looked at you clearly hurt by your actions but you brushed it off and went to find a new partner. Unfortunately the only person available was actually the guy by the projector but at this point you didn't care.

You walked up to him and tapped his shoulder, "Excuse me, do you uh have a partner?"

He turned around to see who tapped his shoulder. You expected him to answer but then he started to check you out with a smirk on his face. "Well hello there, what can I help you with beautiful?"

You rolled your eyes, "I asked do you have a partner?"

"Oooo sassy too, I like"

You narrowed your eyes and turned to walk away, "I don't have time for this."

"Wait! I'm sorry I was just surprised you asked me when you have your boyfriend."

"Not trying to be mean or anything but I wouldn't had asked you if I wasn't forced to choose another partner."

He looked at you slightly deflated by your confession, "Ah... I see but since you need a new partner I'll gladly take the spot for now." He said as he got up to make his chest more accessible.

"...okay... thanks I guess."

At first it started off fine., You were able to find it on him rather quickly. However when it was his turn that's when it turned into a problem. He found the first one and gradually went lower until he reached the beginning of hem of your scrub top. You expected him to stop there but when he started to put his hand lower in your top you instantly jumped back.

"Wh-what are you doing?!?!?!"

"Just doing what we were told to do."

"You were supposed to stop at 2."

"Was I? Must've misheard, my bad." If you weren't paying attention to his tone you would've thought he was being sincere just by his facial expression.

Not wanting to cause a scene the first ay of class you excused yourself and went back tp your seat to think about what just happened. Was this something you would need to report or were you over exaggerating? Should you tell Eunwoo? What if the guy was right and made you get in trouble for not listening to instructions? All those questions raced through your mind until Eunwoo saw your troubled face and left his partner to comfort.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked as he placed a comforting hand on your back not caring if the professor saw.

"Yea... actually no."

"What happened?"

"I was working with that guy over and he was about to put his fingers down my shirt before I stopped him."

Eunwoo's gaze instantly hardened and if looks could kill that guy would no more. But you couldn't have your boyfriend fighting your battles for you. You gently cupped his face with your hands and made him look at you.

"Promise me your not going to do anything."

"I don't know..."

"Promise me."

"I can't promise I won't do anything but I do promise to not intervene over something you can handle."

"I guess I can take that."

"You'll have to because I am not about to just let some guy touch you like that without your permission. He's lucky I wasn't there because he surely would've been picking his teeth off the floor."

"You know, I never took you as the violent type."

"I can promise you I'm not but this is a different story."

That was the end of the conversation because your professor continued on with the rest of the lesson which was fairly easy. He dismissed the class an hour earlier since it was the first day. However when you guys went home instead of relaxing you started your clinical homework because you didn't want a repeat of what happened last night.

It was about 11 o'clock when you finished half of the assignments. Eunwoo was starting to lose focus so you decided it was time to go to bed. After you finished putting on his t-shirt and your curls in a bun, you went to join him in bed. He pulled you closer to him so that there was barely any space between the two of you. You knew this was his way of silently comforting you. He wasn’t going to lie. He was looking forward to having sex with you but after todays events he knew you probably weren't going to be in the mood and just want to sleep off the days problem. You were thankful but deep down you knew you weren't going to get much sleep that night...

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the photo’s used. I got them off of Google.

A/N: Soooo sorry for the long wait. I had so much to write that Ii realized I couldn’t put everything in this one post. On that note I’m hoping I can have the next post up by next week. :)

#eunwoo #eunwoo smut #eunwoo angst #astro smut #astro angst #eunwoo fluff #astro fluff #eunwoo x reader #nursing au

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sadaboutniall · 3 years

Text

happy halloween! 👻 here’s a quickie little yn x niall fic to celebrate my fave holiday! this song is the vibe, if you want some listening to go along with.

the moon laughs and whispers, ‘tis near Halloween

Unsurprisingly, Halloween is perfectly at home in Edinburgh. The night is dark and damp, a pervasive chill hanging in the air as you and your friends rush drunkenly along the cobblestone street, rain hitting the backs of your necks, and warm, golden lamplight from flats above trickling out onto the dark stone. The city is as alive as it always is—alive in a way that feels like a million different lives, like it somehow knows both the past and the future, like it’s holding you close but also hurtling you forward. It feels like tonight is a special night—and, although you have no real reason to think this Halloween will be different from any other Halloween, you let that feeling in, let it settle into your bones and carry you forward toward the party.

It had been Fiona’s idea, going to the football squad’s Halloween party. Your other friends had championed a pub crawl or a scary movie night at the flat, but Fiona’d heard about the football party and, knowing the keeper she’s been crushing on would surely be there, insisted. And now you’re here, drunk in a witch costume on a dark October eve, your pointed hat barely keeping the rain off your face, orange and brown leaves crunching under the heel of your boots as you pick up the pace and run toward the party, giggling into the night.

The football house is packed even fuller than you’d imagined it would be, the air thick with the smell of beer and weed and Fiona, dressed as Posh Spice, spots the keeper just milliseconds after your group ducks into the party, disappearing in a flurry of rhinestones. It leaves just three of you—Fleur, Amina, and yourself—standing in the middle of a heaving party, first years entirely out of their element.

“Drinks?” Fleur, dressed as a zombie bride, asks.

“Drinks.” Echoes Amina, the antennas on her alien costume bobbing as she nods her head.

The three of you clasp hands so as not to lose each other and Fleur leads the way, zig zagging through the crowd of goblins and ghouls and strangely sexual Boris Johnson costumes until she finds the kitchen, a dark, damp little room with one, singular coffin shaped window above the sink and no furniture save for a wooden table in the middle of the room, without a single chair. Atop the table sits a literal cauldron, cast iron and all, with a pink liquid gently swaying inside.

“Ick,” says Amina, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. “Boys.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s been in here for a hundred years,” you say, voice low. Something about the room makes you feel like you’ve travelled a million miles away from the party, just on the other side of the door. You can’t hear a thing in here—just the pitter patter of the rain against the window, and the creaking of the floorboards as Fleur steps forward.

“That’s probably true,” she laughs, peering into the cauldron. “I bet none of these lads can cook. They must order Nando’s every night.”

“Probably,” Amina agrees, stepping forward to peer over Fleur’s shoulder. “At least they went through the effort of making a mixed drink, though. I’m far too bloated for a beer.”

“Aye,” Fleur’s Scottish accent thickens when she’s drunk, but it sounds even thicker all of a sudden. “Commitment to the theme as well.”

“It smells lovely,” says Amina, shutting her eyes as she smiles. “Like roses.”

“Really?” Fleur says, as you step deeper into the kitchen and join them around the cauldron. “I reckon it smells like chocolate.”

You lean forward, too, despite yourself. The scent of the drink is intoxicating—neither roses nor chocolate but, you think, the distinct smell of a chilly day by the sea: salt air and a rising tide and it’s more like a memory than a scent, a moment in time, the most peculiar sense of deja vu. Whatever it is, it’s not the kind of smell that should be coming from a mixed drink at a house party. Whatever it is, you don’t want to step away from it.

The three of you—the witch, the bride, and the alien—stand over the cauldron for a long moment, breathing it in. There is no sound beyond the rain outside, no semblance of the party raging beyond the kitchen door. It’s just the three of you, this cold, quiet room, and the strangely comforting feeling that you are, after all, not alone.

“Are there any cups?” Amina speaks first, glancing up at you, across the table from her. Her brown eyes are glassy, her gaze faraway.

“Cups,” you echo, a little floaty, your mind still by the seaside. “Right. Let me find some.”

The room’s only cabinets flank the sink and the single window, one on each side. You find the first cabinet empty except for a shimmery spider web and an old looking candle, but the second holds exactly what you’re looking for: three cocktail glasses, set on the shelf in a pretty row, glinting despite the dingy light. Perfect.

“Bingo!” You say, turning back toward your friends. “And only three left anyw—guys?”

The room is empty.

The cauldron still sits atop the table, its intoxicating smell strong as ever, but your friends are not where you left them, twenty seconds ago, when you turned toward the cabinets. Your friends are not anywhere in sight.

“Guys?” You call out again, taking one step forward. “You’re so not funny. I found cups.”

Silence.

“Fleur? Amina?” You step forward again, toward the center of the room, toward the drink. “You want a drink, or no?”

Still, silence—somehow more silent than before. Even the rain sounds like it’s whispering.

“This is fucking freaky,” you say, one last shot, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. “You guys win, I’m fully freaked out, Happy Halloween.”

Silence. Stillness. A sudden, oppressive need to get out of this room.

Quick as a cat, you do.

When you step back through the door and out into the party, alone, it’s like you were never gone. In fact, it’s a bit like time has stopped—the party is just as packed as it was when you arrived, and you’re pretty sure the same song is still blasting through the speakers. Confused but ignoring it, you start to push your way through the crowd, in search of your friends.

A few steps deeper into the crowd and you spot a sliding back door. It makes perfect sense to you, the idea of Fleur and Amina slipping out into the backyard for some air, so you head straight for it, stepping out into the chilly, dark night.

The rain has mostly stopped, though the leafy ground is still damp beneath your feet and the air feels wet, like it could begin again at any moment. Although it’s dark, you can see well enough—the yard is illuminated by a group of jack o’lanterns lined up along the back brick wall, and fairy lights strung between trees, casting a warm, flickering aura—and it’s immediately clear that Amina and Fleur are not out here. In fact, no one is.

You turn around to head back inside, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you do. And that’s when you walk right into him.

“Lads, are you—oof. Deo, you eejit—shit, you’re not, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“I—” you step back to collect yourself for a moment, eyes trailing up the hard chest you just stumbled straight into. It’s just a guy—blonde hair, bright blue eyes, thick Irish accent—but there’s something about him that keeps you rooted to your spot. Something about him that feels safer than going back inside.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He rushes, when you don’t answer. I should’ve been looking, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no,” you manage. “I’m fine. It was my fault anyway, was looking at my phone. Are you okay? You sounded, like, worried?” You don’t know this man, you have no idea what his worried sounds like. But you can’t stop yourself from saying it.

“Can’t find my mates anywhere,” the stranger says, eyes sweeping the backyard over your head. “It’s like they fucking vanished.”

“I lost my friends too,” you echo, turning to look with him, though you know you’ll only find an empty yard. “I thought they might be out here, but nothing.”

“Two lost souls,” says the stranger, a smile in his voice. When you turn back around he’s pulling at his phone, saying, “I’m just going to text them and tell them I’m out here. They can come find me.”

“I was about to do the same,” you tell him, glancing down at your phone in your hands to shoot off the text. “There are way too many people in there.”

“Wanna wait it out together?” He looks up from his phone, a smile on his face. It brings out one tiny dimple, and sets your heart moving a little faster. “I’m Niall.”

“I’m a witch,” you smile back at him and he laughs, blue eyes trailing down your body once. It sends a jolt of something through you, makes you hope the flush creeping up your face isn’t visible in the flickering light.

“Have you got any powers?” Asks Niall, his eyes moving back up to meet yours. The blue is stunningly bright, even in the darkness.

“That’s for me to know,” you say, more smoothly than you ever imagined. “And you to find out. What’s your costume?”

“You can’t tell?” He glances down at himself, dressed in double denim with an American flag bandana tied around his neck. “Bruce Springsteen.”

“Right,” you nod, though it wasn’t obvious to you at all. “Course. You need to work on that accent, though.”

“Do I?” He raises an eyebrow, and adopts a surprisingly good—if over exaggerated—New Jersey accent. “I’m pretty proud of it, honestly. Been convincing people that it’s real all night.”

It’s not all that difficult for you to believe, actually, a bunch of drunk Brits buying into a fake, over the top, American accent without a single question. Instead, you ask him, “is there a tragic backstory, then? To go along with the tragic attempt at an accent?”

Niall laughs, bold and loud into the dark night, and suddenly you realize how entirely unafraid you feel with him—how you’d been on edge since the moment you stepped into the party but now that’s gone, evaporated, replaced, with a warm feeling in your belly and Niall’s infectious laughter. You bring your drink up to your lips and take a sip before you realize yet another thing: you have no memory of filling up your cup before leaving the kitchen.

Across from you, Niall’s clutching what looks like a pint of Guinness, which is a drink that makes very little sense at a house party. The more you think about it, the less of the night makes sense. You shake your head to push it away, not quite ready to give this up just yet.

Under the golden, flickering light from the jack o'lanterns, you study Niall: the way his freckles sprinkle across his thick neck, how his roots are so much darker than the blonde at his tips, the tuft of chest hair peeking out from where his denim shirt is unbuttoned—everything about him leaves you breathless, desperate, longing, attracted to him in a way you’ve never experienced before. You feel, distinctly, that you are both supposed to be here, tonight, alone, together.

You feel, distinctly, that something went out if its way to make sure this would happen.

And maybe it’s the drink—the mysterious thing that smells like sea salt to you and roses to Amina—but here, with the wind rising around you and the night settling in, you have the distinct feeling that Niall is on the exact same page.

“I have the strangest feeling,” Niall says, voice dropping to something like a whisper. Behind him, leaves rustle as the wind blows a strong, measured gust though the garden. “We haven’t met before, have we?”

“I don’t think so,” you can’t look anywhere other than Niall’s eyes. “But I know what you mean.”

Niall nods, taking one step forward to lessen the gap between you. He’s so close you can smell him: warm and musky and soft and something else, too—something that reminds you of salt air and days by the sea. “I just feel like,” he says, and you nod.

“Me too.”

Far, far away someone calls your name, but you can’t stop looking at Niall, stepping closer and closer to him with every distant shout of your name. The shouting grows louder and louder until it’s impossible to ignore, although Niall doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all. You open your mouth to ask him if he can hear it too, but before you get the chance something shakes your shoulder, calls your name one more time, and you open your eyes.

“Jesus,” says Amina, a mixture of relief and concern clouding her features. “You are impossible to wake up.”

“I’m—what?” You sit up in bed, head foggy, limbs heavy. “Fuck, what time is it?”

“Noon,” Amina pulls out her phone to check. “We’re gonna be late for our brunch reservations, that’s why I came to wake you up.”

“Oh,” you rub your eyes, shaking your head to try to bring yourself back down to Earth. “I was having such a vivid dream, sorry.”

“It’s cool, just hurry up.” Amina makes her way to your bedroom door, but pauses before she steps back out into the hallway. “Oh, by the way, Fiona said there’s a Halloween party at the football house tonight and she’s fucking desperate to go since she fancies the keeper. Could be fun, no?”

On Halloween night, dressed as a witch, you stand in the backyard of the football house with your friends. The yard is illuminated by jack o’lanterns and fairy lights and Fiona is off snogging the keeper upstairs and you feel warm and safe and happy, despite the autumnal chill in the air. As Fleur tells your small group a story about the weird couple sitting across from you at brunch today, you drop your head back to stare up at the night sky, sprinkled with stars, and the full moon peeking out over the clouds. It feels like you are supposed to be here tonight. You exhale, watching your breath fog with the cold and curl in the air above you.

“I’m going to refill my drink,” you say, smiling at the small group you’ve been standing with. You can feel something budding between Fleur and the pretty girl she’s been chatting to, dressed as Britney Spears, and you want to give them a moment alone. Fleur flashes you a grateful smile as you walk away.

Back inside, you locate the entirely normal kitchen, bright and airy and crowded, with a coffin-shaped window above the sink, and pull open the fridge to grab a beer from the stock inside. When you shut the door, there’s someone standing on the other side.

He’s dressed as Bruce Springsteen, double denim and an American flag bandana around his neck. He’s blonde hair with dark roots, and bright blue eyes. He’s staring right at you, with an unmistakable look of recognition on his face.

“Hi,” he says, stepping forward to lessen the gap between you and him. He smells warm and musky and safe—with a whiff of something like salt air. “Sorry if this is a bit weird, but I’m Niall. Have we—have we met before?”

####

sources for images: 1, 2, 3

#one direction #1dff #one direction fan fiction #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan imagine #niall #niall horan x reader #halloween #thank u to rand for all her help with this as always!!#this is v different for me I hope it's ok!

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Out Tonight (Part 6)

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Nipple Play

<- Part 5

Summary: Backstory, Spanish lessons, and finally some sober sex! 🥳 (This chapter is very NSFW/18+)

For @thatesqcrush’s Kink Bingo challenge! And with this, I finally finish a row!

5,420 words

The twenty-minute coffee date Rafael Barba had been dreading somehow turned into hours without him realizing it. The summer morning passed quickly until the sun was at its zenith above the turtle pond, and all of the work-related responsibilities he would have been grinding himself to death on had slipped his mind as he wandered through the park with your hand in his.

It turned out that you did have a few things in common. You both grew up in the Bronx. Though when you told him where, he snorted and joked, “What is an upstanding young lady from Spuyten Duyvil doing with a boy from the projects?”

Your jaw dropped when he told you what neighborhood he grew up in. It was an area you were familiar with mainly as a place to avoid, especially, god forbid, at night. The clean-cut lawyer in a sharp suit did not look anything like what you’d expect from the poverty he came from. You just assumed his family was wealthy.

“That’s incredible,” you said, a new surge of admiration for him stoking the fire of your attraction. You scooted closer on the shaded bench beneath a tall oak you’d stopped to sit on, your bare leg pressing against his slacks. You still hadn’t kissed, everything just barely skirting the romantic. The touch of his hand shot electricity through your skin, just from his fingers brushing yours. Neither of you wanted to push things too far, too fast, considering the guilt still lingering between you. “You must be a genius.”

Instead of boasting with the sly, cocky grin you had learned was among his favorite facial expressions, he grew serious, all but a trace of a smile leaving his lips. “I just worked hard,” he said.

“Really hard,” you said, knowingly, squeezing his hand. “Even people who work hard, who are smart… it’s almost impossible to escape that kind of poverty. The fact that you did it is…”

His inquisitive eyes, matching the foliage behind him, were strained as if deciding whether to share something or not. But he did, quietly. “I still work hard. Every day. It feels like if I make one false step, everything could fall apart. But, I have enough to support my mother.”

“And an impressive collection of ties,” you chimed.

He smirked, lifting your hand to casually press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. “And suspenders.”

Your pulse raced. Looking up and down this flawlessly stylish man, it all made sense. “Dressed to kill,” you muttered. “You wear it like a disguise.”

He frowned, the warmth leaving his eyes. You had touched a nerve. “Would it be a disguise if you wore it, or just because I’ll always be poor deep down?”

“I didn’t mean—OK, I get how that sounded. I just mean… you are exceptionally attractive. Like, really attractive. I mean, why am I telling you? You know that. Look at you.” You continued the obsequious flattery until a sarcastic smile appeared in the corner of his lips. “You know, actually,” you admitted, “I only grew up in a good neighborhood because my dad re-married rich. The weeks I was with my mom… she worked three jobs just to support me and a crummy apartment. I could never actually count on what the step-family would pay for, so sometimes I rode on boats with rich people, and sometimes I lived off canned pasta. It was weird.”

He looked at you appraisingly as he assimilated this new tidbit of information. “It isn’t easy, straddling two worlds.”

“Except you worked your ass off to break into one, and I ran away into the woods and got really into trees. Trees don’t judge you for not fitting in.”

“I’m sorry for judging you,” he whispered, his voice turning surprisingly tender. He lifted a hand and gently brought it to your cheek. You closed your eyes as it made contact, his palm warm against your skin, the pad of his thumb soft as it began stroking your cheek. You leaned forward, and he closed the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours, slow and sweet. It was chaste at first, and careful, but neither of you wanted to break it, and as it continued, his arms wrapped around the small of your back and your shoulder, drawing you in deeper as his heady scent enveloped you, the taste of coffee on his tongue as his lips parted.

“Barba?”

Rafael practically jumped out of your arms as an inquisitive voice called his name, leaving you kissing the air. The voice belonged to a tall brunette woman pushing a toddler along in a stroller.

“Liv!” he practically shrieked in alarm, straightening himself.

You looked between them and the kid, and felt like such an idiot. “Oh my god, you are cheating!”

Liv gave you a look, and burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry, nothing like that. I’m Sergeant Benson, SVU,” she extended you a firm handshake and explained, “I work with Barba on a lot of cases.” She turned back to Barba with an amused smirk. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date, I just couldn’t believe my eyes. Counselor, I didn’t realize you had a personal life.”

“It’s a new thing I’m trying. How’s Noah?”

“He’s perfect,” she smiled, cooing at the curly-haired child. “He loves the turtles, so we’re going down to the pond. Beautiful day for a nature walk.”

“She knows every tree,” Barba volunteered, puffing his chest out with the same cockiness he used to talk about himself, tipping his head at you. “Go ahead, test her.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Liv said, bemused. She gave a polite nod and a reminder that she still owed Barba a coffee for some legal thing he had come through on (which only gave you a slight pang of jealousy), and then waved goodbye, walking down the path toward the water.

You sat in silence, recovering. Barba was obviously scandalized to have been caught in a compromising position by a colleague, the tips of his ears turning red. You were glad she wasn’t his wife, but didn’t love having to suddenly confront the fact that he had an entire social life you knew absolutely nothing about. It sort of ruined the intimacy of the moment, tearing the cardboard moon out of your sky too soon.

Barba broke the silence first with a low, drawn-out groan. He turned to you, his eyes soft but flashing with passion, taking your hands in his again. “If we start seeing each other… there is a good chance you will get to know Liv in some capacity.” He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, and on the exhale beseeched, “You cannot tell her how we met.”

The earnestness with which he implored you, holding both your hands, made you burst out laughing. He did a poor job hiding his smile as he watched you double over. When you finally contained yourself, you pecked an innocent kiss to his lips. “We can say we met at a bar. We don’t have to mention all the, uh...” Karaoke. Drunken shenanigans. Dubious consent. Whatever you call we-didn’t-have-penis-in-vagina-sex-but-you-fingered-me-until-we-orgasmed. He grimaced with you as you both recalled all of the things you would not be telling anyone about your meet-cute. Then you started remembering his fingers gliding in and out of you, his hungry lips marking up your skin, and a warm shiver ran down your back. He swallowed, seeing the lustful heaviness creep into your eyes and responding with his own.

He nearly kissed you again, wrapping you in a passionate embrace that would have hastened you to a bedroom, but you pulled back. He said “seeing each other.” You thought this was a fun fling with no strings attached, and the idea that he was already thinking about more made your heart sink with guilt. “I should tell you...”

You never got to finish your thought. Liv had only gotten fifty feet when her phone rang. She was yelling into it frantically, demanding answers. Barba’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. Liv stormed back up the path, waving to him. “There’s been a… development,” she said, censoring the case details in your presence. “They need me at the precinct. You’re probably going to want to come, too.”

“I believe I am already being summoned,” he replied, checking his phone.

“Good. I need to call the sitter. Please let everyone know I’m on my way.” She hurried off, and any hint of flirtation was gone from Barba’s eyes as he stood, fully back in cold lawyer mode as he made a phone call, then another to order a Lyft.

He was already walking with quick, purposeful steps toward the nearest exit of the park when he hung up his last call and turned back to you apologetically. You had been trailing behind him, unsure if he wanted you to follow, and didn’t miss that you were an afterthought. But his regret was sincere. And the truth was, you didn’t mind this serious version of Barba at all—the sober Barba who poured his soul into getting justice and would forget a date he had been enjoying the instant duty called—because you’d seen the drunk version who fell apart, sobbing in your arms when he let down the victims. He had a hard side and a soft side, and so far, there was nothing about him that you didn’t like.

Oh god, you had a crush on him.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. It’s an emergency,” he explained, brow furrowed heavily over yearning green eyes.

Oh god, this was only supposed to be a one-night stand. Maybe a few nights, but a stand nonetheless. How dare he look at you like that?

“It’s alright. It sounds important,” you half smiled.

“Can I call you later?” he asked. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and he had none of the confident swagger usually in his voice. It was a small, hopeful sort of question that told you there were real emotional stakes to your answer.

Oh god, did he have a crush on you, too? Did you have a crush on each other? This was terrible!

Drawn in as if by a magnetic pull, you closed the short distance, threaded your hands between his arms and body, and clasped them together behind his back. His lips quirked as his confidence returned. His hands cupped the sides of your face, then his mouth crashed against yours, fired with all of the passion of desire realized and reciprocated, relief, and longing. It was the type of kiss that would have been drawn out and sensual if it hadn’t been condensed by necessity into a hurried goodbye. You were out of breath and overheated when he broke it, seconds later.

“I’ll be waiting,” you breathed. He gave a hungry growl and a sharp, promising stare that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core before running to catch his ride.

***

Barba hated intelligent psychopaths. Even after they’d been put away, there was always some new appeal to fight, a new witness to come forward, some clever misdirection to cast their crimes into doubt. He’d been running around since noon working out deals with witnesses, obtaining warrants, and warning Liv’s detectives that they were being played. Now the sun was hanging low in the sky, and he realized he had never heard Carmen’s futile warning for him to go home already because his secretary didn’t work on weekends when he was pulling overtime. It was just him and his headache.

The time. What time was it?

He sat bolt upright in his leather office chair and groped for his phone. There was a notification from you from an hour ago that he vaguely recalled hearing buzz.

“How’s the emergency?”

He cursed and checked the time. It was getting late. Too late to make a reservation at any of the swankier restaurants he could take you. But he called you anyway, and was delighted when you answered.

“Hey. It’s Barba,” he said.

“I know,” said your amused voice on the other end of the line. “Your contact is in my phone, Sexy Karaoke Lawyer.”

He groaned in a way that was secretly a laugh. “Alright, Lorax. Are you free tonight? I’d like to take you to dinner. Actually, I thought I could make dinner. At my place?”

You gasped with mock scandalization. “Is this a booty call, Mr. Barba?”

He choked. “No. I just—” He stopped stammering when you started cackling like a grinning idiot, and his voice dropped low. “What if it is?”

The sudden shift in confidence caught you off guard, and he heard you swallow. “Then I’ll be there.”

***

It had been ages since he’d had time to make his abuelita’s costillas de puerco recipe. Or rather, it had been ages since he’d made time, considering he hardly had the time to do it now. He rushed through the corner deli at lightning pace to pick up what he needed, and rushed through prep, knowing you’d be over in less than an hour.

He had no idea why he felt such a drive to impress you. Why he needed to see you again so soon when you’d spent hours by his side that morning. The entire short time he had known you had been strange, anxiety-inducing, and guilt-ridden, but instead of hating you, he found himself wanting more.

The truth he didn’t want to admit was, every interaction with you, no matter how awkward, had been underscored by a potent sexual chemistry, and at the moment, he was nothing but a horny teenage boy who wanted to get laid.

That was all. This was some mid-forties hormonal resurgence. Madre de dios, it was a midlife crisis.

Or maybe this was what happened when he stopped getting in his own way. He’d spent years nursing a broken heart, years that turned into decades guarding himself against anyone getting too close. He never thought he’d feel this way again for somebody new. It was too late in life to meet someone who would know him as well as his childhood friends from el barrio, and they were all married by now. But he’d opened himself up just an inch, just for a night, by mistake, and let someone see past the hard, cynical facade, and now he wanted you to know him. He wanted to know you. He wanted to see how this ended. Maybe this was a revelation.

His heart jumped in his chest at the buzz of the door intercom.

***

“Hola, Rafael,” you greeted, and he grinned at the way you pronounced his name with the correct accent. “Oh my gosh, what smells amazing?”

He stood aside and nodded you in. The apartment was tiny, as most city apartments are, but tidy and well decorated. You were immediately drawn to the sturdy dining room table made of solid burl, and admired the natural chaotic pattern of the grain.

“It needs fifteen more minutes,” he said, observing with amusement how you completely ignored the good silver he’d broken out and started stroking the wood.

“What ever shall we do to pass the time?” you pouted innocently. Barba growled low in his throat, cupping a hand around your hip to draw you close, and you responded by pressing your hips flush against his, smiling lustily. Well, you had more or less agreed that dinner was a pretense for a booty call—no reason not to get right to it.

You hadn’t changed, but he was wearing a more casual wine-colored cashmere sweater, and you ran your hand up it, relishing the velvet softness under your palm as well as the shape of his chest. His lips met yours hot and searching, but didn’t stop there. They trailed over the side of your mouth, kissing down your jaw. He pressed wet, hungry kisses along your neck, and you moaned as his tongue lapped over the soft underside of your throat, his hands gliding over your hips. He pulled back by an inch. “Are you sure… you want this?” he murmured.

“God yes,” you moaned with your lips in his perfect salt-and-pepper hair, arousal raising your temperature as your body responded to his touch. “You haven’t been drinking this time?”

“Not a drop,” he replied huskily, somehow making it sound lewd as he resumed kissing the crook of your neck, and over your shoulder. You curled your fingers through his hair, and backed you up until your legs hit the edge of the table, and rested your weight against it, enjoying the feeling of being pinned as you angled your pelvis to grind against his growing erection.

“Oh, Rafa...” you moaned. “Can I call you Rafa?” you asked, not sure if the nickname was too personal. With the emotional baggage of your first night together, you hadn’t been sure if being on a first-name basis was respectful enough.

“You can call me anything you want,” he purred, his teeth gently pinching your shoulder.

You made a deep, chesty noise, sinfully considering that. “Don’t give me such broad permission, or you might regret it… papi.”

He groaned, and you felt his cock kicking against your cunt. Bunching up your skirt over your hips, you rocked your hips against him, panting just from feeling the strength of his arousal through his clothes. “Yes,” he hissed softly, holding you firmly against him as he worked his clothed erection against your panties, growing more excited with every mewl and shudder it drew from your lips. “That night was… moronic… but I remember the way I felt… how much I wanted you.” He turned his head and sucked a light bruise into your neck. “Do you still feel that way?”

You dipped your head to coax him back to your mouth, his pink lips wet with saliva as your tongue tasted them. “I wanted you to fuck me so bad,” you groaned, jerking your hips for emphasis on the word fuck. “But your fingers are very skilled… and your mouth...” You kissed him again, and felt his hand reach between your legs to slide your panties off.

His fingers paused halfway down the elastic. “Is this moving too fast?” he panted, suddenly trying to be reasonable. The kind of thing you would worry about if you were building a long-term relationship.

“Shh,” you hushed him gently. “I don’t want to think about too fast or too slow, or how different our lives are, or what’s going to happen after tonight. We’re just two strangers having fun. Can’t it just be that?”

He kissed you so softly, then. So tenderly that he could only have been subliminally trying to convince you of something more. His heart drummed with possessive affection; he already knew he wanted more than just tonight. At least the primitive, reckless part of him that didn’t overthink and over-plan every decision did. The rational part of him and the part that would say anything to please you came to an accord as he nodded, lips moving against your skin, “It can be.”

You grabbed his wrist and helped him slip your underwear the rest of the way off, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. His fingers didn’t immediately plunge themselves into your drenched folds, and his hips didn’t immediately return to grind against your wetness. His intelligent, cocky green eyes gave you a probing stare.

“Y qué quieres hacer esta noche?” he purred, low and seductive, giving you a choice.

“Oh, papi, me encanta cuándo hablas español. I want you to do anything you want to me. Anything,” you moaned, fairly certain that, with one or two exceptions, you really meant it. This man turned you on in ways you’d never experienced. There was nothing you wouldn’t try if he wanted it, and you knew he’d stop the second you asked, which made you feel bolder.

He chuckled. “Don’t give me such broad permission, dulce naturalista.”

The promise of mischief in his voice made you shiver, your cunt dripping. “Anything, papi. I just… want to know that you want me.”

He hummed. “This dress, this flimsy thing,” he hooked his index fingers through the narrow shoulder straps and tugged. “Did you know I’ve been staring at it all day, thinking about doing this?” He pulled the front down, just by a few inches, and freed your nipples. He dipped his head, and you gasped as he took one in his mouth.

“Oh god, it feels so good,” you whined as he began to suck, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. It was like he had a direct connection to your clit. He wasn’t even touching you there, but a hot pressure began to build between your legs as he devoured your sensitive nipples.

Then he suddenly released, your hard peak popping out of his mouth with a wet sound, and you whined for him not to stop. “Tu no dominas el español, verdad?” he asked.

“Qué?” you blurted, confused, but answering his question by not understanding it.

“I didn’t think so,” he said, a devilish look in his eyes. “You need practice, so I’ve decided I’ll only give you what you want if you say it in Spanish.”

“Pero… Qué pasa si… yo no sé… how to say it in Spanish?” You did want to learn more dirty talk, but this game didn’t seem fair. You wanted him to keep sucking your tits.

“You said I could do anything I wanted...” he reminded you, bringing his hand back to one of your breasts and kneading it tormentingly slowly. “Si no lo sabes, intenta. Practica, practica, practica.”

You wondered if this was some sort of dominance thing, or if he just liked watching you struggle with his native language. It was a bit exciting, though, you had to admit. Your pulse was racing with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment, because you genuinely had no idea how to say what you wanted. “Mis… pechos? Tu lengua. Por favor.” you pointed from his mouth to your breasts.

“Por favor, chupa mis pezones,” he corrected. “Repite.” You repeated it, and before you’d finished the last syllable, he replied, “Con gusto,” and began stimulating your nipples to the point of torture with his nimble lawyer’s tongue.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, your voice high and pleading, “It feels so good.” You bucked your hips into his and curled your fingers around the back of his head trying to force him to keep going, but he pulled back.

“En español,” he chided.

“En serio?!” you complained, but he simply watched you with his eyebrows quirked, waiting. “Me siento bien?” you tried. He smiled approvingly and lowered his sultry mouth to your skin again, flicking your hardened peak while pinching it between his lips. This time he pushed his hips back against yours so you could feel the heat of his erection on your pussy, and it sent new waves of electricity coursing through your body, which was already heaving just with the attention to your breasts. “Por favor, más... Oh god, yes,” you whimpered.

“Qué sabor muy rica, tu piel,” he murmured, muffled in your skin. “You taste delicious.” The vibrations from his speech tore a choked whimper from your lips, and you bucked your hips against his cock.

You bit down on your lower lip, fighting your rising climax even as you lifted one leg, wrapping it over his hip, to hasten it. “I’m gonna—oh god, you’re going to make me come just from this!”

“Voy a venir,” he coached you in a firm, teacher-like voice that nearly made you double over with arousal. “O puedes decir, ‘Me vas a poner a venir.’”

“M-me pon… ah!” he lightly nipped at your sensitive peak, turning the rest of what you were trying to say into helpless babble. “Please, please fuck me… oh god.” Before he could correct you, you remembered what he’d taught you in the bar right before begging you to leave with him so he could fuck your brains out. “Dámelo duro, papi.”

His whole body shuddered as he took in a shaking breath, but sober Barba never lost control until he decided to surrender it. As much as he wanted to fuck you, he was having too much fun teasing you. “You could also say, ‘Quiero que me coges,’” he explained academically, and you growled with frustration, writhing under him, your cunt seeking purchase against his cock. “If you’re going to speak a language, you’ve got to practice it,” he said, his voice far too calm and even for the circumstance, even with its wicked undertone.

“Dámelo! Por favor! Dáme tu pinga!” you begged frantically, rapid-firing off every way to ask for his cock that you could think of. You reached between your bodies and grasped his engorged sex through his tightened pants and stroked him hard from balls to tip. Your efforts were rewarded with an involuntary whine, Barba’s hips jerking forward.

“Me rindo,” he whimpered in surrender. His breath was ragged and he looked ready to fall apart. You purred with victory, but as you slowed the furious pace of your stroking, he recovered enough of his senses to smirk through his lust. “Pero primero, quiero saborearte.” His voice was thick, and his eyes dark as a tropical storm on a Caribbean island. He lifted the leg you’d wrapped around him up onto the table, and knelt beneath you. “Con tu permiso?”

You nodded, gasping sharply even before his tongue made contact with your soaked pussy just from the obscene expression on his face as he opened his mouth and extended the point of his tongue as he slowly leaned toward you. Your hands braced behind you on the table for support. Then you cried out loud when that tongue did hit you, slightly cold from the air, but quickly warming to match you as his mouth closed over your whole cunt. “Ah, que rica,” he sighed into your pussy, lapping at your slippery arousal with broad, languid strokes of his tongue, unhurried, as if he were aiming for no particular goal but to enjoy your flavor. “So wet for papi. Qué buena estudiante eres. Good students should be rewarded.”

He finally stood back up to his full height in front of you and removed his pants and underwear, letting them fall around his ankles, and his cock sprang free. You gaped down at it in awe. “Oh god, look at that cock,” you practically drooled. You automatically reached down and started stroking it, babbling on about what a thick, beautiful cock it was. He was too lost in the touch of your fingers wrapped around his shaft to even complain that it wasn’t Spanish.

“Ah, condoms!” he interjected before pushing himself inside you like every muscle in his body was screaming to do. “I’ve got some in the bedroom.”

You chewed your lip, not sure if this would come off the wrong way since he wanted to be responsible, but you slowly said, “We don’t need to use one if you don’t want. I’m on the pill, and I don’t have any STDs.”

His stormy eyes pierced into you, clearly tempted, but he couldn’t help remarking cynically, “If you give me a disease, I swear...”

“I’m afraid I don’t have my medical records on me, so I understand if you don’t want to take my word for it. I don’t know why I’m blindly trusting you.” That was a lie. Everything about Rafael Barba screamed precision, caution, and consent, and even after such a short time knowing him, you were absolutely certain he would never put you at risk. In fact, there was no way he’d ever have unprotected sex with a stranger.

Except his very next words were, “Fuck it,” and he hooked his arm under your elevated leg, and began rubbing his thick cock through your folds, coating it with your slick arousal. “You are absolutely sure you want this?” he looked at you with soft, understanding eyes, checking for any doubts.

You let out a needy whine, rolling your hips to rub your pussy against the tip of his fat cock. “Te quiero,” you whimpered, intending to say you wanted it, but his cheeks reddened and his heart flipped as you said something better translated as I love you.

You wouldn’t realize your mistake until much later, thinking back on it, or understand why his face was suddenly frozen between tenderness and panic, and then dawning realization, relief, and a small, barely noticeable wince of disappointment.

He entered you slowly, letting you feel every inch of stretch from his cock. Like the rest of his build, it was not the longest you had ever seen, but it was impressively girthy, and each blissful inch he worked you open brought the slightest fraying edge of pain. He knew his size could be a challenge, and was practiced at preparing, and patience. You were already so dripping wet, you didn’t need extra lube, though he had it on standby, and watched you carefully, pausing to let you rest every time he advanced. As he waited, feeling your walls relax to accept him, he ducked his head to your breasts, savoring the helpless squeals you made when he gave attention to what he learned was one of your most sensitive erogenous zones. Every time he flicked his tongue over your nipple or sucked its hardened peak into his mouth, your cunt twitched around him and your back arched to take more of him. It worked so well, he never stopped teasing your breasts, and your silent cries of, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god!” grew in intensity until you were screaming with pleasure, fist clenched in his hair as you held him to your chest, and his balls were pressed tight against your ass.

Panting hard and moaning into your breasts, he began to thrust, slowly at first, but you wrapped your legs around his back and used them as leverage to buck your hips into him, pushing back into each of his thrusts, deepening them and coaxing him to increase his pace. As you angled your hips, he began hitting a deep point inside that made your legs turn to jelly. “Dámelo bien duro,” you tried to say, but it mostly came out as unintelligible gasps and whimpers. His mouth never left your tits and you loved the angle it gave you, being able to watch his face, strained with concentration and clouded with lust, and his tongue working diligently to bring you to a climax that took you off guard with how suddenly it crashed over you. You couldn’t say there was no buildup to it, because you had been in throes since he first pulled down your dress, but he had barely begun to thrust when the heat coiling in your lower back suddenly tightened and snapped, shooting sparks behind your eyelids. “Ah—Rafa!” you wailed, squeezing your fingers in his hair.

He gasped, releasing the globe of your breast from his mouth at the wracking of your body in his arms. Your pussy convulsed, clenching tightly around his cock, coating it in your sweet release, almost too tight for him to thrust through. One more jerk of his hips through your rippling, fluttering muscles and he let out a string of swears, and you felt his abdominal muscles tense up against your belly. He pulled back and thrust into you once more, balls swinging against your ass, and his hot seed flooded you. He panted, trembling, still trying to hold onto you, though halfway sitting on a dining table without knocking off any of the plates was not the most ideal location for post-coital recovery cuddling. He grabbed a few paper napkins from behind you to catch the drippings as he pulled out.

It was over too fast, a testament to how long it had been for him. Both of you, really. But you weren’t disappointed. He made you come almost entirely with that silver tongue of his, and you were still shaking too much to take your weight off the table and put it on your legs.

The timer on the oven rang shrilly, announcing dinner was done.

“After dinner,” he promised, pulling his pants back on. “Quiero más de tu cuerpo.”

You were satisfied, but not yet sated, and looked forward to round two.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @da-po / @madamsnape921 / @charlottegrice / @onerestein

#Rafael Barba x Reader #Rafael Barba #Raúl Esparza #rafael barba x female reader #my writing #thatesqcrush kink bingo #thatesqcrush

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haveanotherkpopblog · 4 years

Text

Super Junior Reacts to Having a Game Night with You

Requested by @heart-bleeding-autism-angel

A/N: I hope you like it. I was so hoping for a SuJu request.

Jungsoo/Leeteuk-

Wanting to have a game night? A sweet concept. Wanting to have a game night with you? A sweeter concept. Inviting his members to join? A stupid decision really. His members were, in the most loving way possible, assholes. However, watching you play with them was funny.

“If you try to hide anymore money, Kyuhyun, I’m locking you outside.”

“HoW dId YoU eVeN sEe?”

Heechul-

Honestly, he couldn’t care less about the game. He’d rather be playing a different type of game with you, but you were insistent on keeping the night PG. He tried for PG-13, but after almost hitting him in the head with the Yahtzee cup, he relented.

“Ha! Yahtzee bitches!”

“Good job Jagi.”

Jonghoon/Yesung-

Maybe he should have agreed to Monopoly. But he knew that would have been a train wreck. However, poker wasn’t going any better. Not only were you surprisingly good at it, you kept using the fact you knew him so well to swindle him out of his good hands. He definitely needed you to teach him some tricks.

“How does losing feel? I wouldn’t know.”

“I love you too Jagi.”

Donghee/Shindong-

You challenged the main dancer of Super Junior to a game of Just Dance? What were you thinking? There’s a whole MV of him slaying the game! However, watching you lose by mere points made his other members laugh, and him chuckle.

“Pick another song!”

“Babe, we’ve already done ten.”

Hyukjae/Eunhyuk-

You two were ridiculous. You were going against each other hard. You stared at each other, eyes hyper-focused. Everyone around you was watching as you glared at each other. How had game-night become so intense? That’s a story too long for this reaction.

“Bingo!”

“Lies!”

Siwon-

He’s so sweet and such a good sport. He’d congratulate you every time you won. And if you lost, he assured you victory next time. He’d be more into watching you play than trying to go against his members, or worse, you.

“Oh yeah. Third time in a row.”

“You’re doing amazing Jagiya.”

Donghae-

Another sweetie. He’d play with you, making cute eyes at you and not really paying attention to the game. He’d be completely enamored with your concentrated power of will look. He’d barely answer his bandmates questions, leaning over to pinch your cheeks.

“Donghae, it’s your turn.”

“Go fish.”

Ryeowook-

He loves you to death, but he loves winning more. When the game starts, all personal feelings are out the window. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, all that matters is winning. And he will win.

“Sorry toots, you lose.”

“How could you Jagi?!”

Kyuhyun-

You both got weirdly into it and what was once fun has turned into a hot mess. You two are bickering because you think the other one is cheating. It turns into a full on interrogation. The others are about two more comments from kicking you two out of the game.

“Just admit you cheated!”

“It’s the Game of Life! You can’t cheat!”

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asarahworld-writes · 4 years

Text

hen night

@torchwoodfanfests Bingo Fest - Under the Influence

Gwen stopped by Toshiko’s desk on her way out that afternoon. “Er, Tosh, I had a question for you.”

Tosh looked up from her monitors. “Of course. How can I help?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you’re busy on Saturday night? Me and the girls are doing my hen night and I was hoping that you’d join us.”

“Oh. Well, that’s actually my night to watch the Rift,” Tosh swivelled back to her monitors, looking as if she was deep in thought.

“The Rift can take of itself for one night. It survived for years before Torchwood existed, one night won’t do much damage.”

They looked up to see Jack at the front of the room.

“You ladies enjoy yourselves. Toshiko, you deserve a night off. Have fun with Gwen and the girls,” Jack winked knowingly before going back towards his office.

“What would you say if I was thinking of asking Ianto along?”

“You want to ask Ianto to your hen night? I’d say it’s your hen, ask who you like.”

“I think he’d enjoy it,” Gwen looked from Jack back to Tosh. “Something a little classy, getting a bit pissed leading to the accidental sharing of ‘secrets’. All in good fun.” The truth was, Gwen didn’t have many people she’d asked to come out. Her mother and soon-to-be mother-in-law (and, oh, that was a nightmare waiting to happen), Rhys’ sister… that was it. With Ianto there, at least Tosh would have someone to talk with as Gwen acted as a buffer between her mother and Rhys’.

Four guests and the bride-to-be. Perhaps if she got them completely pissed there’d be no arguments.

“I’ll make sure he’s free,” Jack laughed. “Gwen, why don’t you come up in, oh, fifteen minutes and ask him?” He turned to leave for the archives, then paused. “On second thought, give me twenty.”

“No thanks, I’d just as soon rather ask him now.” Gwen made a face at Jack and darted past him, shrieking as he reached out to grab her. “Don’t you dare, Jack.”

She was back within the minute.

“Now that that’s sorted, I’m going home. Everything’s been pretty quiet all day, but Rhys’ mam has invited herself for dinner tonight and I can only assume that she’s going to want to go over every wedding detail and try to change anything she think my mother had something to do with.” Gwen rolled her eyes, packing up her workstation. “I’ll see you lot tomorrow, then.”

Saturday. Assuming nothing went horribly wrong, hen night.

The day passed quickly, though the Rift was surprisingly quiet. Before Gwen knew it, it was five o’clock and the day was over.

“We’re just grabbing a cab over and back. We’re getting proper sloshed tonight, so nobody’s driving. Nothing super uppity, your choice of shots and beer. But it should be a good night,” Gwen smiled hopefully.

“It’ll be whatever we make of it, I’m sure.” Tosh said gently.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few hours. Um, it’s nothing fancy, so wear what you like.” Gwen waved as she left the Hub, beaming.

Knowing Gwen, Tosh figured she’d be wearing something practical. She seemed to be the kind of woman who never took her boots off, always prepared. In fact, Tosh was willing to bet that Gwen’s clothing choices for the night would be entirely based around practicality first. Still, she mused, there was no real reason not to dress up. Jack and Owen would be around to cover the Rift if anything happened. Perhaps this was her chance to live that life she’d forgotten about.

After a short, but relaxing, shower, Tosh found herself staring at the closet. It shouldn’t be this difficult to pick an outfit, she was simply going out with her friend. With unpredictable people and raw data she didn’t know how to compute. Hidden behind her computer screens, her laptop, it was easy to focus on the matter at hand, whatever the case may be. Tonight, however, was going to be screenless.

Keep it casual. Jeans, then. A grungy tee shirt instead of a blouse. And her leather jacket. Simple. Comfortable.

Dressed to the nines, indeed. At any rate, whatever she had on would have to do. She was due to meet Ianto in twenty minutes.

Hen night had clearly started early, Tosh thought as she observed Gwen’s party. Her parents were switching between the best of friends and worst enemies faster than she could track, though they seemed to be enjoying themselves. A fourth woman, presumably Gwen’s sister-in-law-to-be, was glued to a phone at the end of the table. And in the middle of it all, was Ianto Jones.

One would have never thought he was going to a hen party, looking at him, unless they thought he was the stripper. Dressed neatly in a three-piece pinstriped suit, Ianto stuck out like a sore thumb from the party next to him.

“Don’t tell me I missed the strip tease,” Tosh said lightly as she slipped into the empty seat next to him.

“Ha ha. Funny, but no, there’s not been a stripper out yet.”

“Might be a situation we’ll need to rectify before the end of the night. Doesn’t really look like the rest of them are up to it and after all, what else is a bachelorette party for?” Of course, never having been to one, she was guessing at what should happen.

“Well, I know that if you phoned Jack, he would be more than happy to spring naked from a giant cake,” Ianto said dryly.

Tosh laughed. “Too bad, I bet it’s too late to arrange for that. Doesn’t that sound like it would shock their mothers?”

“It would definitely surprise Brenda. As for Mary Cooper, well, I think she might enjoy that more than our guest of honour.” Ianto tilted his head towards Gwen’s mother.

“Yes well, you would probably enjoy that most out of all,” Tosh said lightly, hiding a faint smirk.

“That’s entirely coincidental and beside the point,” Ianto said primly. Tosh hummed in response, getting up and heading to the bar to order a drink.

“Oh come off it, he likes you,” Gwen rolled her eyes. “If he doesn’t see anything back, he’s a right prat.”

“He likes me just as much as he likes anyone, which isn’t to say very much,” Tosh shook her head, raising her shot glass. Gwen and Ianto followed suit, the three of them downing their drinks.

“Pfffft. Ianto knows what I’m talking about. At least, he should if he didn’t spend most of his time ogling Jack.”

“I don’t ogle Jack.” Ianto said dryly. “Strictly speaking, there’s nothing there.”

Gwen snorted. “Yeah, and ‘strictly speaking’, there’s no such thing as aliens.” Ianto scowled and looked away. Even as his scowl deepened, his eyes lit up.

“Oh no,” he muttered. Gwen and Tosh looked up and Gwen fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“Not on my bloody hen,” she said quietly. Ianto moved to get up, but Gwen grabbed his hand. “We’re having a ladies’ night. With you. Whatever it is, Jack and Owen can handle it. If he wants extra backup, he can call UNIT.”

“Yeah, that’s likely.” Ianto watched the older man as he made his way around the pub, clearly looking for something.

“Drinking game!” Gwen gathered the party together, blocking Ianto’s view of Jack. She looked at her group – Ianto and Tosh, her mothers, and Rhys’ sister – and tried to think of something that would be suitable. Already, Brenda’s lips were thinning. The woman hated drinking and Gwen could already tell that a drinking game would lead to a row between her and Mary. Still, it might be the only way to keep everyone occupied and away from whatever it was Jack was up to.

Weevils. Of course there were bloody Weevils surrounding the pub she’d picked for her hen.

“Regular formation,” Jack called as he and Owen came up to the hen party. Gwen glared at him, taking a place beside Ianto far away from Jack. It wasn’t his fault the Weevils were around, of course, but she couldn’t help blaming somebody for her ruined night.

“Okay, we’ve got a gas leak out front here. If everyone could please make their way through the back exit, quickly and quietly, we’ll get it sorted.” Already, Ianto was on top of crowd control, evacuating the pub. Gwen’s mother was staring at her as she was forced to leave, trying to ask what the hell sort of special ops dealt with gas leaks. Gwen turned away.

“What exactly is going on here?” Mary Cooper had slipped back into the building, glaring at her daughter.

“That’s exactly the question I was about to ask,” Brenda Williams said from Gwen’s other side, otherwise ignoring Mary.

“Ladies,” Jack smiled widely, holding his arms out. “I am not privy to divulge that information. But I’m afraid that you’re just going to have to trust Gwen – and the rest of us – to do our jobs and keep you safe.” Mary and Brenda – as graciously as they could under the circumstances – accepted the proffered gestures and allowed him to lead them away from the smoking rubble. Owen frowned.

“You lot are in no condition to help with this. Here, take one of these and go straight to bed when you get home.” He gave each of them a tiny pill, advising them not to take it until they were in bed. Gwen pocketed the pill and called a taxi.

The drive home was quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.

{Gwen} Balancing Torchwood with regular life was becoming more and more difficult. True, she had Rhys, but what about everybody else? What happened if they were caught in the middle of something again? She didn’t want to Retcon her family – not even Brenda Williams – if she didn’t have to, and… that was about as far as she could think, given her intoxicated state of mind.

{Tosh} She wondered if Jack would let her bring somebody into her life, the way he’d let Gwen keep Rhys in hers. He and Ianto had each other, after all, and Owen…well, like Gwen had said, Owen was a prat if he didn’t see what was literally right in front of him.

{Ianto} ‘Strictly speaking’, their unlabelled ‘relationship’ needed a label. His entire life was filled with keeping things organized and sorted and to have this major… whatever it was with Jack unlabelled was slowly driving the archivist in him mad. Everything else in his life was sorted, filed, stored away – be it in the Archives or the Tourist Office at the Hub or in his flat. As much as he enjoyed their not-relationship, he felt as though there was a chasm waiting to be crossed, a transition waiting to happen. And he didn’t know if he was ready for that or if he was tired of waiting for it to happen.

#torchwoodbingo2020 #torchwood #tw fanfic #gwen cooper #toshiko sato

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dvp95 · 5 years

Text

hang on just long enough

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e

warnings: none

tags: public sex/blowjob, pwp, porn w/ feelings, that’s all this is

word count: 1,700

summary: Phil is meant to be the impatient one between them. Bingo squares: groping + public sex + 2010 (writer’s choice)

read on ao3 or here!

Phil knows he isn't going to win any awards for patience in the near future - he grazes while he waits for dinner to be ready, jumps in the shower before the water has warmed completely, gives up on games if he isn't having fun - but he's got a leg up on a bored, horny Dan.

In most situations, Dan has the type of handle on his self control that Phil could probably have, if he tried. He just doesn't see the point. Instant gratification is pretty great, and there's no reason to keep doing something that's not fun just because it might get fun later.

In this specific situation, Phil will happily take home the award for patience of a bloody saint.

"Dan," he whispers again, for the fourth time since they sat down.

"What?" Dan responds innocently, also for the fourth time. His hand stops its path up Phil's thigh once again, but it still doesn't retreat.

Phil doesn't know what to say, exactly. He's not sure if Dan is doing this to be a tease or if he's doing this to be a dick. As with most things Dan does, it's more likely some combination of the two. Phil's eyes flicker away from Dan, pointedly looking at their surroundings.

Dan had dragged Phil to the back corner of the bus, which hadn't seemed strange at the time. Now, Phil is wondering if that was calculated.

They don't have a lot of company on this bus, which is nice. It's early in the morning, still dark outside. Way earlier than Phil would have preferred to be up if there hadn't been the promise of a sleepy Dan waiting for him at the train station. There's an elderly couple behind the driver talking to each other quietly and a uni student still in club gear staring blankly out the window a few rows ahead of them.

Nobody is paying any attention to them at all.

While Phil is looking forward, Dan has decided to start moving his hand again. It's definitely intentional, whatever Dan's puppy eyes try to say, Phil just can't figure out what the endgame is here.

"Dan," he says quietly, because maybe the fifth time is the charm. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Dan asks, matching Phil’s volume. The faux innocence gives way to pure, unadulterated cheek. He's dimpling when Phil gives him a Look. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," says Phil. He's already said as much at the station and over a shoddy wifi connection for the past three weeks. He's missed Dan so much it aches in his chest, like he can't breathe properly in the time between Dan's visits.

"Yeah," Dan says. His large, warm palm creeps further up Phil's leg, fingertips brushing Phil's inseam. "But I missed you."

Phil's heart pounds in his ears. As nervous as he is, his body is still reacting to Dan the way it always does, always will. He glances at the student again, who is completely in her own world.

"Dan." It seems like that is all Phil is able to say. "This is so stupid."

"Yeah, and?" Dan huffs a laugh, brushing his lips against Phil's jaw and flexing his big hand and, yeah, now Phil's dick has definitely gotten the memo.

"There're, like, other people here," Phil whispers. He already knows that Dan doesn't care, and the little shrug he gets in response just confirms that.

"They're not looking at us."

"Yeah, but," Phil says, then falters. Dan's palm is pressing against him through his jeans now, the touch familiar and new all at the same time. "But, we'll be at mine in like half an hour. So you could just... wait til we get there."

Dan is usually very good at controlling himself, better than Phil by far. Phil will eat an entire bag of marshmallows while he waits for a pizza delivery and drink his coffee as soon as it hits his mug.

Right now, though, Dan doesn't seem interested in waiting. He's restless from the long, late-night train ride and the evident desire to be touching Phil in any way possible.

"Tell me to stop and I'll stop," says Dan. As much as he's been teasing, there's nothing but sincerity there.

Phil feels a swell of warmth for this beautiful, clingy boy. He makes a big show of sighing before he worms his arm out from between them to pull Dan closer by the waist. He noses at Dan's ear, the metal of his piercing still surprising Phil whenever it touches his skin.

"Just... make it quick," Phil murmurs directly into Dan's ear. He feels Dan shiver, try to squirm away from the feeling instinctively. "Or I'll have an anxiety attack, for sure."

"Oh, will you?" Dan snarks.

Despite the sarcasm, Dan doesn't drag out the teasing any longer. His big brown eyes flicker over the other passengers, the driver, before he folds his lanky body half onto the floor. He has to kneel sideways to fit, his stupidly big feet poking out in the aisle. Phil’s torn between amusement and arousal as Dan starts working his flies.

"Oh," Phil breathes. He didn't expect that.

Dan snorts lightly and shakes his fringe out of his eyes to give Phil a surprisingly fond look. "You'd rather get jizz on the seat? Your jeans?"

"Definitely not," Phil says on a huff of laughter. He slumps a bit lower in the seat and angles himself diagonally to make it easier for Dan to pull his cock out of his pants, and that's a goddamn weird feeling all on its own. Phil is pretty sure his dick has never been out in a public place, doctor's offices and locker rooms notwithstanding.

Luckily, his dick isn't out for long before Dan curls forward and takes it in his big, warm mouth. Phil's eyelids flutter, but he can't close his eyes and get lost in the feeling the way he can when they're all holed up in his bedroom. He bites at his own lip and holds Dan's long hair out of his face for him. He splits his time between looking at Dan and making sure nobody is looking at them.

It's been too long, honestly. At this exact moment in time, Phil doesn't know why they don't spend all their time together with his cock in Dan's talented mouth. He likes it almost as much as Phil does - his eyes have long since fallen shut and he's making tiny muffled noises that Phil wants to care about, but he just can't bring himself to.

Nobody's listening, anyway. The noises that the bus itself is making are louder than Dan, and Phil is keeping his eye out for anyone turning around.

Dan opens his eyes as he takes Phil deeper, and Phil swallows a groan with the ease of someone who has lots of practice keeping quiet. Dan's tongue presses against the underside of Phil's cock with the soft vibration of a moan that doesn't reach Phil's ears. Phil thanks his lucky stars that he's lived in enough thin-walled places to be confident that he won't make any sounds he doesn't want to.

With anyone else, Phil might be embarrassed by how quickly he gets close, but this is Dan. Dan has brought him to the edge a hundred times since that first weekend, knows exactly how to make him fall apart. Besides, they can't exactly take their time right now.

Phil tugs lightly at Dan's hair in warning, and Dan closes his eyes again as he sinks down even further on Phil's cock. He doesn't risk taking it too deep into his throat, not with the noise that usually elicits, but Phil doesn't care. He could probably come even if Dan just sucked slowly on the head of his cock for hours, that's how wrapped around Dan's finger he is.

He tastes copper as he reaches his peak, teeth digging too sharply into his lip, and he can't quite muster up the mental capacity to care.

Dan blows him through it and then lets Phil's cock slip out of his pretty lips with a grin. He gets back into his seat with a little difficulty, the bus seats not really built for people of their height at the best of times. Phil has enough presence of mind to tuck himself back into his boxers and zip his jeans.

The sky outside the bus window is still dark. The dawn hasn't even broken yet, and Phil has already done something he never imagined he would. He wonders if Dan plans to keep this energy all week, because he's not sure his heart can handle that.

"So," Dan says, slow. He's smirking and curling close to Phil's side, so pleased with himself that it's radiating off him in waves.

Phil yawns. Only for Dan would he get out of bed in the early hours of the morning that he normally only sees when he stays up too late watching scary movies. The orgasm has made him even sleepier. "So what?"

It's a little funny how quickly Dan's expression falls into affront. "So...?" he says, pointed.

"I'll get you back at home," says Phil.

"What?" Dan squawks. For the first time, the uni student looks behind her with a perplexed expression. Phil gives her an awkward smile before he turns back to Dan.

"Not like this was my idea," Phil points out. He has to laugh at the abject horror on Dan's face as he realises that Phil really, truly, has no intention of getting him off in a public vehicle. "Don't worry, I'll make it good for you. Maybe after a nap."

Dan scowls and tangles his fingers with Phil's, the grip a bit too tight for it to be a sweet gesture. "Selfish prick."

"Impatient brat," Phil shoots back, and then they're just. Grinning stupidly at each other.

Maybe Phil's worse about waiting for things, generally, but it makes him happy to see how much Dan hates waiting for him, specifically. They don't need to live in the too-long moments between visits much longer and Phil, for one, can't wait.

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words #bingo

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cnrmrphy-blog · 5 years

Text

life as we know it

title: life as we know it paring: (eventual) connor murphy x fem!reader fandom: dear evan hansen warnings: slight cursing summary: a mishap with a printer led to what one would probably call a serendipitous encounter. author’s note: uh, hi! this is the first thing i’ve written in years, holy shit. also, this is 100% going to be a self indulgent series like a sitcom of sorts, i don’t necessarily care enough to think of a legit plot atm. enjoy!

This is bullshit. Absolute, fucking bullshit.

You sped walked through the maze of hallways that all looked the fucking same, cursing the universe and whatever god was in charge of it for everything that had to align to bring you to this moment. It was supposed to be a simple essay.

“Good luck honey! The first day is always the easiest! And it’s senior year! How exciting!”

Yeah, okay. Your mother knew jack shit about high school apparently.

You sighed. It wasn’t her fault. You just can’t find your god forsaken summer assigned essay that you needed for your next class to make a good first impression. Besides, isn’t it a grade or something? Who assigned an essay as a grade before school even started?

You laughed. This was bullshit.

After a few more minutes of walking, you saw a familiar door at the end of the hallway. A little sigh of relief exhaled from your chest.

Ah, gotcha!

You walked into the library and glance around. There was no one in here except two other boys who were talking to each other at the other end of a row of computers, near a printer. You paid them no mind as you chose the farthest computer away from them and sat down. A few clicks of the keyboard and a message on the screen reading that a few cents were going to be taken out of your school account later and you were waiting for your essay to print.

“So! Um, what happened to your arm?”

You looked up. One of the boys, a tall one wearing all black with a messenger bag (with some pretty sick buttons, you weren’t going to lie) slung over his body, shuffled his feet and unsurely pointed at the other boy’s arm. The other boy, wearing a blue polo and khaki pants, fidgeted with his hands and wouldn’t meet the other kid’s eyes. The whiteness of his cast was almost blinding, the poor guy. You bit your lip with sympathy.

“Oh—I, um, fell out of a tree, actually.”

“Fell out of a tree. Well, that’s just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, oh my God.”

“I know.” They both chuckled, but looked like they were at a loss of what to say next.

You cringed a little bit. Those boys are the most awkward people I have ever seen, Jesus Christ.

You didn’t want to eavesdrop. You really didn’t. But they weren’t exactly quiet, and what else were you supposed to do? They’ve piqued your interest.

“Um, no one’s signed your cast.” The boy wearing black vaguely gestured at the other boy’s cast.

“No, I know.” The boy in question seemed to shrink into himself, and it kind of broke your heart.

“Well, I’ll sign it.”

The pang in your heart crawled up your throat. That’s actually really sweet.

It was clear they weren’t friends, but that guy volunteered to sign anyways. Shit, you wouldn’t mind having friends. Maybe you should introduce yourself? Offer to sign the other boy’s cast too? It would be a great ice breaker after all, and they look like they could be your friend, just maybe—

Wait, girl, you gotta focus. Where’s your essay?

Right. You glanced at the printer next to you only to see that it was empty.

...Okay. This is fine.

You glanced at the computer to see the message saying that the printing should be done.

This is 100% fine.

You sat back in your chair, sucking in a breath in order to keep from having a mental breakdown in the middle of the library. You really didn’t need this right now. You really didn’t need this right now.

You helplessly stared at the screen in front of you, panic bubbling from your stomach into your throat. You could try again. Or ask for help. Which would be logical, right? God, why couldn’t things just be easy for you for once?

You looked up at the two boys again, but the mood was not the same as before. There was fear in the boy in the blue polo’s eyes and rage in the other’s.

Uh, okay?

Your eyes took a quick glance down and saw a few sheets of paper crumpled in the tall one’s hands. Oooh no.

“Fuck you!”

Well, that startled you. He rushed out of the library and the other boy started frantically calling his name—Connor?—and ran after him.

Your mind turned off. You weren’t thinking. You definitely weren’t thinking. Because if you were, you would have just let that guy go and ask the librarian for help with your essay. A few cents out of your account didn’t mean anything—it’s literally just a nickel (a goddamn nickel—if your mother saw you right now, she would so yell at you for your lack of common sense).

But where was the fun in common sense?

You grabbed your stuff and rushed out after them. You cursed quietly under your breath because you have no idea where they went, and you realized that there might be a slight flaw in your non-plan.

Just pick a direction! What’s the worst that could happen? If it comes to it you can just tell your teacher that you forgot it at home or something.

So, you went left. You sped walked along the lockers, hoping to at least hear them, or see something…

You turned a corner and saw a flash of a messenger bag with some pretty sick buttons down the hallway. You picked up your pace, your shoes clapping on the ground and your bag uncomfortably thumping against your back. You reached the end of the hallway when you heard a sharp clang echo in your ears.

“Fuck!”

You hesitantly turned the corner to see him cradling his hand (he paints his nails? That’s pretty cool, actually... Wait, did he punch the locker?) close to his chest, all the while clutching a bunch of papers.

Bingo.

“Uh, hey! Connor right?”

He didn’t look too thrilled for you to be there. He looked less than thrilled. Actually, he looked downright furious.

Was now the time for this? Probably not. This was definitely not the time for this.

You got yourself into this mess, girl. Just power through, it’s fine.

“Ah, well, it’s just, uh—Okay so I have to turn in this essay for my english class, which is next period, and like, I had a copy but I can’t find it so I figured I could just print out another one, but it didn’t come out of the printer and, like, you pulled out paper from the only other printer in the library, so… uh…”

Ohmygod, shutupshutupshutUP you dumbass! Just abort mission!

Connor’s face shifted from fury to what looked like incredulousness. Yep, you were well aware you sounded like a lunatic. You 100% were a lunatic—what were you even doing? Who in their right mind would do this?

You took a deep breath and powered through. It was probably fine. “...Sorry. You have my essay. Can I have it back?”

He opened his mouth. Then closed it. He looked like a cross between wanting to beat the shit out of something and wanting to ask what the hell is wrong with you.

You would like to know the answer to that too.

“...You’re new here, aren’t you?” Connor’s eyebrows furrowed, but they didn’t look necessarily angry. Just a little confused.

You weren’t expecting that.

Your shoulders slumped. You were really hoping you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb but you can’t win them all. “Is it that obvious?”

Connor’s features softened slightly. His eyes were still cold and guarded, and his jaw clenched and unclenched as if to hold back whatever sharp words he had on his tongue. But his eyebrows unfurrowed, and he dropped his hands to his sides. He slumped his shoulders too, and he looked defeated.

“Yeah, it is.” He slid down the lockers and sat on the floor. You were still unsure, but you sat next to him.

“Are… you okay?” Maybe your need to go after him wasn’t so much about your stolen essay. He looked so tired…

Connor glanced over at you, then trained his gaze at the wall in front of him. “Nah. Used to it though.”

He unwrinkled the papers and shuffled through them. he pulled out four sheets and handed it over to you, all the while keeping his focus in front of him.

“You’re Y/N?”

You nodded, slowly reaching out to take the papers from him. You didn’t know what to say—there was something obviously wrong… hell, you were there when he had his little outburst in front of the other kid. But you didn’t know him. It wasn’t your place to say anything.

You didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone either.

Surprisingly, Connor spoke again, “I think I’m in that class. I didn’t do the essay.”

“How come?”

He clenched his jaw. “Didn’t want to.”

He glanced at the paper in his hands and tore at it, almost mindlessly. There was a crack in his angry, tough facade (it kind of just occurred to you that it was just that—a facade. He looked more exhausted now than anything.)

You didn’t speak. The only sounds in that hallway in that moment were the crinkles of you trying to smooth out your essay and Connor slowly ripping up the paper that was in his hands. Neither of you said anything, but the silence was welcome.

The bell rang, startling both of you. You glanced over to see a pile that resembled hamster shavings that covered his lap and the floor. A small piece that said Dear Evan stuck out to you.

Both of you stood up as a cacophony of footsteps echoed through the hallway, approaching the two of you. Connor brushed off the remaining slips of paper, which fluttered to the floor.

“So, uh…. You wanna walk together? To class?” He raised a brow at you and your stomach clenched. “You—you said we had it together… It’s cool if you don’t want to!”

Wow, just wow. This is such a great way to make friends. Good job, Y/N. It’s clear he wants to be alone, God.

He looked unsure. “You… probably shouldn’t be seen with me. I wasn’t even planning on staying.”

“What? You’re leaving?” Who in the world was this kid? Why was he acting like he was diseased or something? “You have to at least wait until the second day to skip.”

He cracked a smile at that. It was barely there, just a twitch of the lips, but it was something. “Okay, yeah. Whatever. Let’s go, you probably have no idea where you’re going anyways.”

You failed at holding back a grin that stretched across your face. He’s probably not wrong.

#connor murphy #connor murphy x reader #connor murphy imagine #dear evan hansen #deh #my fics

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katwriting · 5 years

Text

Fic: Sound of your Heart

celebrity AU // chapter 1

When Magnus Bane returns to his favorite coffee shop after weeks of being out of town, he doesn't expect that place to be more packed than usual. He also doesn't expect sharing a table with a stranger and actually having a good time. And most importantly, he doesn't expect that stranger to be surprisingly funny, interesting and kind. But if Magnus learned one thing over the years, it's that life doesn't exactly ask for your opinion.

Word count: 2.7k | Read on AO3 (or continue reading below)

“Thank you, New York City! You guys were amazing, goodnight!”

Turning his back to the roaring crowd, Magnus walked off the stage, pulling out his earpiece as he walked down the steps. Someone handed him a bottle of water, which he gulped down in a matter of seconds before wiping a towel over his sweat drenched face.

Another show done. The first of two at Madison Square Garden, both sold out. And the second-to-last one before his well-deserved break. As Magnus walked through the backstage hallways back to his wardrobe, past posters that of upcoming concerts at this venue and several ones that announced his own two New York shows, he shook his head and couldn’t suppress a smile. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe how fast things had progressed ever since that fateful day about two years ago. How his career had basically sky-rocketed from working as a barista at a café and singing at weddings or company holiday parties to selling out Madison Square Garden two nights in a row.

The two reasons for that unreal twist in his life were already waiting in his dressing room when he got back. Magnus barely had the chance to drop his towel into the hamper in the corner when he was already enveloped in a warm, familiar hug and a kiss was dropped on his cheek, despite his sweaty, slightly disheveled state.

“Magnus Bane, rock star. Look at you,” Catarina said when she let go of him, still holding him at arm’s length and beaming. “Your mother would be so proud.”

Magnus smiled at her and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. Instead, he looked at the second person that had been waiting in the dressing room, who was just getting up from the chair he’d made himself comfortable in. “And what’s your verdict, Ragnor?”

“The show was sold out, the crowd adored you as usual and I’m pretty sure the press will as well,” Ragnor replied, his British accent as heavy as ever. He shrugged and slipped his phone into his back pocket. “I suppose you did alright.”

Magnus grinned and then only too happily accepted a hug from Ragnor as well. As disinterested the reply may have sounded, it was hard to ignore the pride in Ragnor's eyes as he looked at Magnus, trying his best to remain as unfazed as possible.

Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were a married couple of almost ten years and had been ruling the New York music business for just as long. Their record company, Downworld Records, had the most popular artists of the city signed; every time Magnus attempted to count the Grammies, Oscars and Golden Globes those artists had won in total, he ended up with a headache.

Magnus would have never dreamed of getting to know them, let alone signing for their label. But ever since he had, things in his life had taken a U-Turn in the best possible way. With the help of those two heavyweights in the music business he had soon turned from flamboyant, outgoing barista-turned-singer to record-breaking superstar and taken the music world by storm. Magnus couldn't possibly more grateful for their help and support over the years.

With a sigh, Magnus dropped on the couch that Ragnor had just stood up from, grabbing another bottle of water. “So, now that we have the business talk covered, let’s get to the essential stuff,” he said, then took another sip of water. “How’s Chairman?”

Apart from being the most amazing managers that Magnus could have ever dreamed of, Ragnor and Catarina also came with another pretty useful feature: Whenever Magnus went abroad, they took care of his one and only child, a tabby cat called Chairman Meow. When Magnus went on tour or had promo appointments left and right, he left Chairman with the two of them, knowing that he would get his darling kitty back happy and well (and likely a little more overweight than usual).

When he’d taken Chairman to his usual check-up after his world tour last year, the vet hat told him to feed Chairman less, which Magnus had just internally scoffed at. No pet of his would ever be overweight, Chairman was just a little…small for his weight, but fabulously so.

“Oh, he’s great,” Catarina retorted. “Last week when I wasn’t looking, he ate half of the tuna that I wanted to make for dinner.” “- and threw up all over our living room carpet half an hour later,” Ragnor threw in.

Magnus snorted. “Sounds like my son.”

Ragnor rolled his eyes, but smirked. “Damn right he is. That cat is just as extra as you are.”

Magnus just shrugged, getting up again and heading towards the showers. “What can I say, I raised him well.”

+++

Two days later, after sleeping for 12 hours straight and spending an hour in the bathroom to make sure that he didn’t totally like a zombie, Magnus set foot in his favorite place in the world besides the balcony in Catarina’s apartment: Pandemonium, the café he’d worked at before his music career had taken off. The tiny café was wedged in between a Chinese restaurant and a thrift store and there were maybe twenty tables but still, Magnus loved going there. He’d spent many hours there – working, writing songs, trying to make decisions, or simply taking a break from real life. Besides, the place sold the best coffee in Brooklyn, if not even entire New York. And since it was so tiny and kind of an insider tip, he didn’t risk running into fans, reporters or other people who could recognize him there.

Magnus hadn’t been to Pandemonium for a few months now as he had been on tour, but as soon as he stepped through the narrow door and into the cozy atmosphere, he felt himself relax. The off-white brick walls, the many different chairs and couches, none like the other, the scent of freshly roasted coffee beans and the music playing in the background never failed to make him feel like home.

What did, however, very much disturb that feeling of coming home was his first look around the room. More importantly, the realization that the entire place was packed with people. There were young parents trying their best to keep their kids from spilling their coffee, business people typing away on their laptops, their drinks all but forgotten – and then what seemed like a hoard of college kids, taking up the rest of the room.

Magnus sighed. As much as he loved this place for its cozy atmosphere, the limited number of tables and seats did pose as a problem whenever he came here on a particularly busy day.

Nevertheless, he headed for the counter and ordered his coffee to go, already halfway expecting he would have to drink it on the go somewhere. Or alternatively in his own living room under the skeptical gaze that the Chairman seemed to reserve for whenever Magnus went out and didn’t come back with food or at least a treat for his cat.

Thankfully, at least the line at the counter wasn’t all that long so it didn’t take much time for the baristas to make his drink. Paper cup in hand, Magnus turned away from the cash desk, stuffed his wallet back into the inside pocket of his jacket and then scanned the room one more time, hoping against hope that the few minutes he had spent waiting for his coffee would have been enough for an empty table to appear somewhere – or at least one of the several college kids to realize that the Wi-Fi in this place was crappy for a reason and leave. And indeed, just as he scanned the room one last time, a couple who had been sitting at a tiny table in the far corner across the room rose from their seats, took their empty cups and turned to leave.

Bingo.

With quick, resolute steps Magnus navigated his way through the maze of furniture, laptop chargers, messenger bags and brief cases on the floor towards the now empty table and managed to snatch a seat, effectively cutting off two women’s way who had been walking towards the same table. With an (entirely fake) apologetic smile he sat down on one of the chairs and placed his cup on the table, then grabbed the magazine he had been carrying with him and tried to blend out the noise around him.

It worked surprisingly well for a while, despite the buzzing noise around him. He was halfway through a quite interesting piece about an up and coming local fashion designer, when a voice dragged his attention away and back to the real world.

“Excuse me?”

Suppressing a defeated sigh, Magnus put his magazine aside and looked up, already expecting to be met with the expectant and excited face of one of someone who had recognized him and was about to ask for a photo or an autograph. Instead, he looked into hazel eyes, hidden behind thinly framed glasses. They belonged to a guy that seemed to be in his twenties, maybe a few years younger than Magnus. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt underneath a well-worn leather jacket and had a dark brown messenger back slung across his shoulder.

“Can I sit here?” the stranger said, looking around as if he was checking if an empty seat had appeared somewhere, but then shrugged.

"Uh…sure,” Magnus replied, a little taken aback. He uncrossed his legs so the stranger would have some space and took his magazine off the table, making room for his new seat neighbor’s coffee.

The stranger took a seat and placed his mug on the tiny table between them. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t normally do this. But this was literally the only free seat so…"

He shrugged, as if it the entire issue explained itself, and put his messenger bag down on the floor.

“It’s no problem. Actually, I haven't been here in a while. When did this place become so crowded? This used to be an insider tip," Magnus pondered and let his gaze roam through the room once more. Now that the guy sitting across from him had taken up the last empty seat, there was literally no space left.

Alec followed his gaze, then shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I come here every few weeks when I'm in the neighborhood, and I didn't notice anything changing. I guess at some point some of those hipster college kids must have discovered the place and made it their most recent Instagram-worthy coffee place or something."

Magnus huffed out a laugh. From the looks of it, those hipster college kids must have told a bunch of their friends too. “Must have been something like that. Last time I was here, there was maybe one seat taken, not just one empty."

“I know, right?", Alec huffed. "I mean, I’m sure they’re all great kids, but the point of me coming to this particular place was so I can enjoy my lunch break in peace. Not in the company of seventeen thousand undergrads,” the stranger grumbled, packing his laptop back into his bag and pulling out a notebook instead.

This time, Magnus genuinely laughed. “I’ll drink to that.” He picked up his cup and jokingly raised it in his neighbor's direction. He took a sip and then placed the cup on the table again. “I’m Magnus, by the way,” he added, holding out his hand a little awkwardly as the stranger was currently focused on a folder he had taken out of his bag.

Clearly startled, the guy looked up from his notes. “Huh? Oh…yeah, hi. I’m Alec,” he said, quickly taking Magnus’ hand and shaking it, almost knocking over his coffee in the process.

Magnus smirked. “Nice to meet you, Alec.”

He was just about to ask Alec what job he was working that his lunch break had led him to a tiny coffee place in Brooklyn, when a woman who had been sitting a few tables over got up and left. Alec picked up on that, watched her leave and then turned back towards Magnus, frowning.

"I should probably…you know," Alec said, gesturing towards the now unoccupied table across the room.

“Oh, don’t bother. I could use some company.”

A surprised smirk ran over Alec's features. "Okay."

Over the course of the next half hour or so, Magnus learned that breaking with his habits from time to time wasn't that bad of an idea. Alec turned out to be quite decent company. He was more on the introverted side, a lot more reserved than Magnus, that much Magnus could tell. But when he did say something, it was either funny, smart beyond his ears or sarcastic to a T. From crowded coffee shops and the general unpleasantness of undergrad students their conversation soon moved on to more personal topics. Magnus learned that Alec worked in his parents’ publishing company and was being groomed to take over as CEO one day, which he described as rewarding but also quite challenging from time to time. Magnus, in return, told him some of the stories he always told people when they asked him to tell them a little about himself – how he’d always been fascinated by music, how Queen had been his favorite band when he was a kid and Freddie Mercury still was one of his biggest idols, whether it came to music or life in general.

Lucky for Magnus, their conversation always shifted to a different topic before they could get to what he did for a living. That was, until Alec straightforward asked.

“You said you like music a lot. Do you work in music as well?”

Internally, Magnus let out a bunch of curses, most of which Catarina would have murdered him for in cold blood if he ever used them in public. Externally, he resolved to something a little less scandal-inducing. Smirking to cover up the shock on his face, he took a sip from his coffee which was barely more than lukewarm at that point but perfectly served as a measure to buy him some time. Time that he used to think and come up with a perfectly fine explanation.

“I do, actually,” he said, “I work for a record label here in New York. It's called Downworld Records."

Technically, that wasn’t even a lie – he did have a contract with Cat and Ragnor's label after all. Besides, not telling strangers everything about himself right away was not lying, right? It was just being responsible, thank you very much. However, considering Alec’s reaction, Magnus might as well have told him the whole truth straight away.

Alec nodded, but other than that seemed pretty unfazed by Magnus’ reply. “Never heard of it. But I don’t really listen to a lot of music and at work we focus on books, so I guess that’s no surprise.”

Magnus blinked. “You don’t?”

Alec shook his head and grabbed his own mug. “Not really. I mean, I do like instrumental pieces or some classic rock if the mood strikes. But other than that, I guess I prefer books to records.”

Magnus smirked and relaxed back into his seat. “Instrumental stuff and classic rock, huh? Well aren’t you something else, Alec.”

Their conversation then shifted to less potentially cover-blowing topics for Magnus. They kept on talking for another while, until Magnus excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned, ready to hear more about that hilarious story of Alec's siblings, he startled, then did a double take just to be sure he hadn't walked to the wrong table. But he hadn't – Alec was no longer there. Alec's jacket and bag were gone and their table abandoned, save for a slip of paper tucked under the half-finished cappuccino Magnus had gotten only a few minutes ago. When Magnus picked up the little note, he found just a few words scribbled onto it in a barely readable handwriting.

Emergency call, had to run. Was good chatting with you, I really enjoyed having some company. A.

Magnus turned the sheet around, feeling a little disappointed when he found it empty. He sighed. “Me too, Alec. What a shame that you didn’t leave me your number.”

Smirking, he put the sheet into his bag, then picked up his stuff and headed towards the exit. The little break at the café had been undoubtedly fun, but now he had a cat to get home to.

#malec #malec fic #malec fanfiction #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic #shadowhunters fanfic #multi-chaptered #celebrity au #magnus bane #alec lightwood #katwriting

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sushiobsessedwriter · 6 years

Text

He Admits His Feelings -Akatsuki

Pein: Pein was stumped. There you were, as beautiful as usual and smiling at something he said and he was sure you just asked him something but the blank space that was once his brain refused to cooperate. He opened his mouth to answer but no sound occurred which caused a concerned look to come across your face. "Pein?" He opened his mouth again but only a sigh escaped as he stared at you. You made your way from your seat opposite him to lean against the desk next to his thigh. "Pein, talk to me." You rested your hand on his shoulder and leaned closer to him to let him know you were there for him. His eyes locked with yours and before he knew what was happening he was leaning closer to you. "Y/N," he whispered, "I need to tell you something." "Of course, go ahead." You leaned closer to him as well and made sure he had your full attention. The two of you had been so busy with work that you decided to take a day off which actually led to the both you ending up in his office anyway. You went out for lunch earlier but something had gone wrong with Kisame's mission so you both rushed back. "I was displeased with our interruption earlier." You felt relieved that it wasn't something more serious so you chuckled and said, "yeah, so was I." "I was especially displeased as I planned on telling you something rather important." Now you were curious, "and what's that?" "I-" He stopped short as you stared at him expectantly. His heart began to race and he thought he was going to go into cardiac arrest right then and there. "Pein, are you alright?" Your expectant look was replaced by another concerned one. He pressed his fingers to his temple and moved ever closer to you. "I like you, Y/N, I like you very much." Your face flushed as you repeated his earlier actions by opening your mouth but emitting no sound. Pein's facial expression turned blank as he stared at you. Perhaps he shouldn't have said anything, but you could at least give him something in the form of words. "Pein," you breathed, "do you know how long I've been waiting for you to say that?" His eyes widened and you'd never seen Pein look so gobsmacked in your life. You grinned widely at your Leader and he soon pulled you onto his lap with glee. You snuggled into his side and you both got back to work.

Itachi: Unsurprisingly, the both of you were reading together but this time under a tree. You two were pressed against each other side-by-side engrossed in your books, at least you were. It wasn't until you felt Itachi shift for the 8th time in a row that you bookmarked your book and turned your attention to the Uchiha. "I'm sorry Y/N, I just cannot seem to get comfortable." Itachi shifted again to make his point but he wouldn't look at you as he spoke. His hair covered the side of his face so you couldn't see the bright blush on his face or his dilated pupils. He wanted to be the perfect gentleman for you but the thoughts that seemed to have consumed his mind recently were anything but gentlemanly. He wanted to move further from you without it being obvious but the more he thought about why he was moving away from you the more uncomfortable he got, thus making him shift more than 8 times. You chuckled and stated, "you're acting awfully weird today, Itachi." Your eyes returned to your book but you felt eyes on your face causing you to raise an eyebrow. You pretended to read as you waited for Itachi to say or do something. You hoped he wasn't in some sort or trouble, well, more trouble than usual. "Y/N?" You lifted your eyes to his with your eyebrow practically in your hairline. When you saw the serious glint in his eyes you shut your book and turned to face him completely. "I believe I am in love with you." "You believe you're..." You trailed off with your mouth open slightly. The look in his eyes told you he was completely truthful but the words that accompanied that look took you a minute to process. "Well, okay then," you smiled softly at him, "I suppose I can tell you 'I love you' now." Itachi smiled at you and cupped your cheek with his cold hand. You both pressed your foreheads together and simply basked in each others company. Kisame: You and Kisame had gone out for ice cream as the both of you had been craving the cold delicacy. It was Kisame's treat which made you smile. As usual there was a small blush on his face when he looked at you but the smile on your face made him never want to look away. "Hey Kisa?" He hummed in response, "do you think we're cute together?" He nearly dropped his ice cream. His eyes bugged out of his head as his blush increased. You said the statement so innocently he wasn't sure you knew what you asked him.

"W-well, s-s-sure. I mean, you're cute..."

You couldn't hide the grin from your lips as you turned to face him. You noted the blush on his face and giggled.

"You think I'm cute?"

He removed his eyes from you and stared at the blue sky. Why was he telling you this now? He'd kept his feelings from you for a while and made no plans to tell you, but, when you looked at him with that smile and those beautiful eyes... Well, he imitated a puddle of water.

"Kisa, are you alright?"

He jumped out of his skin as your hand landed on his back. He gulped and nodded, causing your smile to return.

"I'm-"

He stopped short and mentally prepared for what he was about to do. He looked at the floor and entwined your fingers through his. He played his your hands for a second, composing himself. His eyes soon met your curious ones and he pulled you closer to him.

"I do think we're cute together, I also think we'd be ten times cuter if we were an actual couple."

This time it was your eyes that bugged out of your head. You blinked wildly up at him but as he pressed his forehead against yours you felt at ease.

"Well then why don't you ask me on a date, Kisame?"

"I thought I already did?"

He smirked at you and all you could think was: 'you smooth fucker.'

Hidan:

It was surprisingly quiet in the hideout, meaning you and Hidan were either out or asleep. It was the former, but it most definitely not quiet. The two of you needed to let off some steam after a mission gone wrong, so you bith decided to do some training. The profanities that flew through the air were impressive. It was his turn to try and hit you but you were too quick on your feet, practically a blur as you ran through the trees. However, that grace soon ended when your foot caught on a knot in one of the branches and you lost your balance. In a panic, you grabbed Hidan's cloak to catch yourself but he went down with you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and waited impact. Your cloak fluttered around you and Hidan's arm was suddenly around you. The two of you twisted and you soon felt the hard thud of hitting the ground but.... you opened your eyes to see Hidan beneath you. Your eyes widened as you stared down at the immortal. He groaned underneath you and opened his eyes to fix you with a glare. You only sat there with your eyes wide and hands pressed against his chest.

"Wh-"

He continued to glare as you attempted to ask him the numerous questions running through your mind. He rolled his eyes and thudded his head back against the ground with another groan.

"Hidan... What the hell were you thinking?!"

He stared up at the treeline but answered, "I wasn't fucking thinking." You went to ask him what he meant when he continued, "I saw you fall and then I was fucking falling with you but all I could think about was how you were fucking going to hit the ground and get fucking hurt. It's not like I wanted that to happen, so I fucking improvised."

You smiled down at him and pressed your hands in the dirt next to his face. Your face hovered over his, forcing him to look in your eyes.

"You didn't want me to get hurt?"

"Shut the fuck up."

His face flared as he avoided eye contact. In an act of bravery you kissed his nose and made an attempt to get up. In a flash his arms tightened around your body and his face was pressed in the crook of your neck.

"I fucking love you, okay?"

You couldn't help the grin that took over as you heard those words.

"Well you already know I'm in love with you so there's no point in me saying it again," Hidan fell back, his eyes filled with shock and confusion, "who did you think I was talking about that night?"

It took Hidan a moment to process what you said and before you knew what was happening he was laughing and smiling up at you.

Kakuzu:

You and Kakuzu just captured a large bounty after a couple of days of tracking her across the Land of Fire. You were both pleased with your job and made your way inside the BCO. You both sauntered in and Kakuzu placed the body on the counter. You looked smug enough for the both of you but you knew Kakuzu had a smirk beneath his mask.

The receptionist looked at the two of you and rolled his eyes. He checked the body and its identity before putting it in the back.

He retured with the money which Kakuzu counted with ease. His smirk fell as he double-checked the amount.

"This is not the agreed amount."

The man shrugged and returned to his desk so you took the money from Kakuzu to count it yourself and scowled when you found your partner to be correct. You stomped over to the receptionist and slammed the money where the body had been.

"We want the correct amount, either you miscounted or you're trying to rob us of our money; I seriously hope it's the former."

He shrugged again, not looking at you as he flipped through the bingo book. You growled and hauled yourself onto the counter and grbbaed his shirt collar. His eyes held fear as you practically glared into his soul.

"Either you give us the rest of the money or I'll tear off your balls and feed them to you."

He frantically nodded and scurried away once you let him go. He returned seconds later with the remaining money and both you and Kakuzu made your way outside.

"I love you you know."

Kakuzu said it so casually that he was confused when you stopped in your tracks. You were staring at him incrediously but he shrugged it off and continued walking, knowing youwould follow eventually.

"Hey!" You ran up next to him, "did you mean what you said?"

"I have no reason to lie, Y/N."

You nodded, shoved your hands in your pocket and said, "Good, because I love you too."

Sasori:

It was rare that Sasori emerged from his workshop on his day off but that morning he decided it would be nice to have breakfast with you, a fact you were not aware of so when you walked into Sasori's room yawning, you were surprised not to see him in there. You lazily walked around the hideout looking for the red head but found no sign of him... Until you reached the kitchen. His back faced you and his sweats hung low on his hips and for some reason he was shirtless. You assumed there was nobody else in the hideout, either that or Sasori had gone absolutely crazy.

"Sasori?"

He slowly turned his head to face you and locked eyes. You sent him a sleepy grin and walked to where he stood.

"You look cute when you have just woken up."

You flushed at his words but smiled. You peeked over his shoulder to see a couple of pancakes being cooked. Suddenly, you realised just how hungry you were but kept your mouth shut as you watched him flip each pancake in turn. You hesitantly pressed your chin to his shoulder, causing him to tense under your touch. You practically bolted from his body and flushed a deep red.

"What are you doing, Y/N?"

You attempted to stutter out a response but only air puffed out. You weren't quite sure where to look so you settled on your slipper-clad feet with a pout. Sasori was then in front of you, his bare feet toe-toe with you. A moment passed before he lifted your chin to look at him.

"You don't have to be afraid to touch me, Y/N. With the way I feel about you I enjoy your touch very much."

It took you a minute to catch up with what he said and once you did, your eyes widened considerably. You lifted your hand to sheepishly touch his cheek which caused him to grace you with a small smile.

"Well I'll be damned," you giggled, "I thought I would have been the first one to admit how I felt."

It was Sasori's turn to look shocked which only made you giggle more.

Deidara:

You and Deidara barely argued, a few disagreements maybe, but never full blown yelling matches. However, what was supposed to be a quick mission turned into the two of you standing at a crossroads screaming at each other over one thing: who left the pack full of food back at the campsite??

"You cannot seriously be blaming me?!" You screeched.

"Well it wasn't my pack to look after, un."

You folded your arms across your chest and turned your head to the side. The indignant look on your face said it all but it was Deidara's fault that you had forgotten the pack. One of his explosions had gone ary causing 90% of his shirt to be burned away thus leaving the blonde practically shirtless. That then lead to your flustered state and therefore you forgetting the pack... You weren't going to tell him that though.

"You forgot it, un, you can go back and get it,un!"

You sent him a simple, "no," and started walking back to the hideout.

Deidara groaned and trudged after you. You felt his eyes on the back of your head and you resist the urge to turn around and confront him.

"Remind me why I love you, un."

With wide eyes you whirled around and stopped his walking form with a hand to his chest.

"What did you just say?"

Deidara puffed out his chest and flushed a bright red.

"Pfft, I didn't say anything,un."

"Dei," you drew out his name as you locked eyes with his.

"I-I-I love you, un."

You flushed at his confession but entwined your hand with his and smiled up at him.

"I love you too, Dei."

Tobi:

You knew it was dangerous, the mission just seemed too good to be true and you were beyond pissed at yourself for not realising that sooner. The orange-masked man lay in your arms, his breathing shallow and blood soaking through his shirt.

"Tobi don't you dare die on me."

Your hands were pressed down on his wound, doing your best to stop the bleeding. Tears streamed down your face but you paid them no mind as you struggled to keep the blood in its place.

"Y/N-chan," Tobi coughed, "p-please don't cry."

"How can you ask me that when your bleeding out?!"

You were becoming hysterical but you didn't care. The man you cared for was going to die in your arms as you waited for the damned backup you called for moments ago.

"Y/N..."

Tobi's hand cupped your cheek as you continued to cry. Your breathing practically mirrored his as you felt the panic bubble in your chest.

"I hate seeing you cry, Y/N."

You tried to laugh for his sake but it only came out as a choked sob.

"Is this where we confess our undying love for each other?"

Tobi chuckled beneath you which ended in a body-wracking cough. You pressed harder onto his wound but breathed a sigh of relief as you heard Deidara's voice calling your name. You called back to him and grinned down at the masked man.

"Tobi loves you, Y/N."

You blinked down at him, and laughed loudly, your chest lighter than it had been. You kissed the top of his mask and breathed another sigh.

"I love you too Tobi."

Zetsu:

You smiled to yourself as you basked in the sunlight. You accompanied Zetsu as he tended his garden so you sat at the edge of said garden. Your head was tilted back, your hair hanging behind you, the heat from the sun making your cheeks warm.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

"Yeah, she's fucking hot."

You chuckled to yourself; you were genuinely surprised he had not learned that you could often hear the conversations he had with himself. You blew out air as you continued to listen to him have what seemed to be a pleasant conversation.

"Do you think we should tell her?"

"Tell her what?"

You could practically hear white-Zetsu roll his eyes.

"Tell her that we love her of course."

Your entire body tensed and your eyes flew open. He didn't seem to notice as he debated telling you such vital information. You pulled at the grass beneath you as you sat forward. He loved you? You couldn't help but grin.

"Y/N?"

You looked up to find Zetsu blocking the sunshine and looking at you with his head tilted to the side. You copied his action and allowed him to pull you to your feet.

"We want to tell you something."

"For the record I think this is a piss-poor idea."

"WE just wanted to tell you that..." He trailed off, waiting for his black side to fill in the blank and by the mildly nervous look on his face you knew it was a big deal.

"Love.... You."

You grinned wildly and flung your arms around him as best you could with his flytrap. He hugged you back, a large grin on both side's faces.

"I thought you were going to keep that all to yourself," you giggled.

He pulled back and looked at you with wide eyes.

"You knew?"

You shrugged and smirked at him.

---

If you like this then please buy me a coffee.

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btsstan4life · 6 years

Text

It’s Always the Quiet Ones

Genre: Fluff? Normal?

Pairings: N/A

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,764

Shy. Quiet. Introverted.

All of these words had become very familiar to you over the span of your adult life. Everyone always managed to point out that you were quiet and spoke lightly in most situations, and yet here you were on stage with some of the most famous idols in Korea, about to rap along to one of the fastest raps they’ve done.

When you’d woken up this morning, it was not even slightly how you pictured your day going. I mean, no one expects to meet their idols, much less go to an interactive fan sign and get the chance to sing karaoke with them. But as if fate was smiling on you, a few days ago you had won the fansign lottery and were able to go to a BTS fansign with your best friend, and it was supposed to be very interactive for the fans.

You’d stood in line for about half an hour waiting to get into the venue, and that was only the beginning of the waiting you were going to endure today, though you really found it worth the time. Finally getting to your seats, you sat with you friend and relished in knowing how close you were to the boys. It was truly a once in a lifetime opportunity and you were basically shaking in your seat.

Finally, after half hour of waiting, the crowd cheered as music played and each of the members of BTS filed onto the stage, each waving and smiling as they stood in front of the table that would later be the place you’d get to have your CD signed. You took special notice of each member standing on the stage, trying to engrave this day into your brain.

First in line was Min Yoongi, known in BTS as Suga. He was holding a microphone in his hands, as you knew each member would, and smiling shyly at the cheers of ARMY. He was dressed more simple than the other boys, wearing a loose-fitting black sweater and dark jeans that contrasted his bleached blonde hair, and yet you knew he put effort to make sure he looked nice, which warmed your heart.

Next was Jung Hoseok, known as J-hope. He was smiling brightly and making hearts with his hands as he stood to face the crowd, which made you laugh at the sight. Unlike Yoongi, he was dressed in a striped shirt and black jeans with a small black hat covering most of his brown locks beneath it. He also had a small red bag with him that almost looked like a fanny pack, but you didn’t mind it as he somehow made it really cute.

Third in the line up was Park Jimin, whose eyes were scrunched together while he laughed and smiled to the fans. His smooth hair was a sandy brown color currently, and had been styled in a fluffy sort of manner to give him a cute puppy like feature, which you couldn’t complain about. He wore a plain black t-shirt adorned with a jean jacket and similar colored jean pants that left you stunned at how much you could love jean on one person.

In the center of the group stood the proud and handsome leader, Kim Namjoon, or better known as RM. He stood taller than the others, waving to people as he smiled slightly. His hair was an ash grey color, and it complimented his baby pink button-down shirt and jean pants, which he had rolled into capris. He also wore a large pair of fake glasses, that only made him appear cuter than before.

Next to RM stood Kim Seokjin, who was blowing kisses out to the crowd, creating more cries of joy than you thought possible. In addition to his microphone, Jin also carried an ARMY bomb with him as he entered, clearly showing it off as he shook it around. His smooth hair was a soft brown, which only drew more attention to the pink ARMY shirt he wore and his smooth leather pants that almost seemed a size too small.

Second to last was Jeon Jungkook, who was smiling softly and waving while avoiding Jin’s ARMY bomb before he got smacked. Jungkook seemed to be a bit shy when he came out and chose to let his hyungs have the spotlight instead, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t notice him. He wore a white button down shirt that he had tucked into his jeans, and a beanie on his head that almost covered his pinkish red hair, but thankfully he left just enough to show off the beautiful color.

Finally was Kim Taehyung, known by his stage name V, who was giving his famous wide box smile as he threw his arm around the younger male next to him and made hearts with his free hand. He was dressed up the most for the group, choosing to wear a designer plaid button down that he tucked into his dark jeans. His dark brown hair was also styled to have volume, but he pushed it back with a Gucci headband, showing his love for the brand as he typically did.

There they were. The seven men who had unknowingly changed your life.

And before you knew it, the fan meet had begun. At first, time seemed to fly by as the members talked to the group of people who called out questions or responses to the boys, and you began to get nervous for the signing process. However, thing quickly took a turn when Jimin took his mic and began to speak.

“Everyone… This may seem a bit weird but we want to try something different today.” Jimin began, gaining a loud cheer from the crowd that still remained unaware of the plans.

“We always want to be closer to our ARMY,” Hobi continued where Jimin went silent, “and we figured what better way than to have little games and events we hold at these fansigns!”

“So, as the first game, how about we all do some karaoke!” Jungkook cheered, getting various yells in return.

“What do we think ARMY?” Namjoon cheered, holding out his mic to the cheering group of fans.

You froze in your spot. Karaoke? These talented and amazing boys expected to hear their fans sing in front of them and be judged by professionals? That was insane!

And yet, just as you thought this, hundreds of hands flew into the air, waiting to be picked to sing in front of BTS. The boys laughed at the response, hushing the sounds and Yoongi rose his mic.

“Now we figured that many people would be excited at this and there isn’t really a fair way to pick people for this, so each member will instead draw numbers that match a seat for each of you out there, and then if you’re drawn you can come up and sing for us!” Yoongi spoke, explaining what they had planned, Many of the people seemed disappointed at this, but it made sense.

“Also, as to not get into any legal trouble, we’re going to be playing karaoke versions of our own songs, and the member that draws the number will pick the song. This was it’s also a small challenge for you ARMY! Are we ready!?!” Jin spoke loudly, shaking his ARMY bomb again.

The boys played a game of rock paper scissors to decide who got to pick a number first, and in a similar sense to bingo, there were papers that had each seat number in a hat that they drew from. You sat quietly and prayed that your name wouldn’t be drawn.

Looking back to the small stage, you watched as Jungkook cheered after beating his hyungs at the small game. A member of the staff walked to the young man and held out the hat, which Jungkook then drew from. He presented a small piece of paper and began to unfold it, stopping halfway and teasing the crowd. After many complaints for him to hurry, he finally finished unfolding it and looked over the number.

“Lucky seat number 116! You’re the first up!” Jungkook called out in happiness. In a seat just a few rows back, you heard a girl cheer softly and stand up. Once staff confirmed her seat number by her ticket information, she was walked to the stage where each of the boys shook her hand and stood around her.

“Now, as Jungkook is the one who drew the number, he’ll decide the snippet of the song you’ll do. What will it be?” Jimin ooed, bringing a bit of suspense to the game. You thought to yourself that if they planned to do this then they had already picked out songs in advance and had the tracks ready, so it was going to be luck based off which member drew the number. Jungkook looked like he thought for a moment before picking the song Run, and he spoke to the fan explaining where to start and what was going to happen.

And from then on the chaos ensued. Each member chose a seat from the hat one by one until only Yoongi was left, and each of the fans had come up to the stage to meet their idols and sing a snippet of the song chosen for them, some of which failed it miserably but still tried, and others who had been surprisingly good at the vocals and raps. Finally, Yoongi was up, and you took a breath of relief that you had avoided being drawn.

“Seat number 79!” Yoongi called and the boys all looked around and clapped for the next up. You froze realizing that you had taken your breath of relief to soon. That… that was your seat!

“Right here!” your friend cheered as she pointed to you, yelling to the security guards stationed to check the seat ticket numbers. The man came over to you as you slowly handed him the ticket you had, shaking softly. You would need to go on stage…. With BTS…. and SING! You could faint at the thought of it. The guard nodded after he checked your information, escorting you to the stage where the members all smiled at you.

And it was at this exact moment you swore that your soul left your body.

You stood on the stage next to Yoongi, who smiled comfortably at you, which only raised your nerves more. The other members all smiled at you as Yoongi held the mic up to talk.

“Welcome lucky ARMY! What’s your name?” he asked, holding out the mic to you.

“Oh… Umm… (Y/N)...” you shyly said.

“No need to be shy (Y/N). We want you to be able to have fun with this.” you heard Jungkook’s voice come in over the loudspeakers as you blushed.

“So, what’s the song that Yoongi hyung is picking?” Jimin spoke, looking over at his hyung. Yoongi smirked and looked over at you.

“Going a little older. Cypher pt. 2. Starting with my rap.”

If you thought that your soul had left at just your seat being called, you were wrong. This moment was truly stealing your soul, along with your thoughts, your memories, and all your remembrance of the lyrics to Cypher pt. 2. What even was a Cypher? Who is BTS?

“(Y/N)? Are you alright? If you don’t think you can handle it we understand. I mean… not to doubt you, but you don’t look like the rapping type.” you heard Namjoon’s voice break through the thoughts in your head and turned to look at him, noticing all of BTS staring your way. Oh no… they’re looking at me. I can’t think when they do this…

“I… I can try…” you mumbled, trying not to stumble with your words.

At this moment, when you assumed the staff was setting up the track and having it prepared for you, you noticed people in the crowd staring up at you.

“There’s no way she can do this…”

“She’s way to shy. She probably can’t even rap.”

You chose to ignore their words as you notice Yoongi hold out a mic to you. You smile and take it graciously, hearing the music begin in the background. You noticed J-Hope begin his hook, leading you into your start point.

“Nugu ttaemune? Jeihop ttaemune

Nugu ttaemune? Raemmon ttaemune

Dasi nugu ttaemune Syuga ttaemune

Uri sesi moyeoseo sae sidaereul oechyeo

Jeihop ttaemune

Nugu ttaemune? Raemmon ttaemune

Dasi nugu ttaemune Syuga ttaemune

I beat wie daeum tajaga raebeul hae”

You took a deep breath and began your rap, closing your eyes and imagining you were singing in the car to calm your nerves

“Nae domein dopeman.com maikeuro yeoreot honnaetji

Eonhaengeun jokswae gateo nae joemyeongeun hyeoro pokaeng

Sinangsimi gadeukan deoge neon taesaengbuteo geomna motae

I biteu wieseo eomsal burimyeon neon geunyang jotoehae

Hipap kkondaedeul moge himdeureo gan geot jom bose

Niga jihaeseo nol ttae BTS jisangeseo none

Bamsae jam peojilleo jan neoe bihae i'm workerholic shopperholic

Ni fen boda maneun pen gwasobi hamyeo all in chamyeon goal in.”

You opened your eyes at this point, looking out to the group of people in front of you with shocked expressions on their faces. Yes… you had actually been studying the raps in BTS for a while in hopes that you would be able to sing at the speed they did, and it was a pure coincidence that it was a Cypher picked, but you were fully ready to take it on. Taking a deep breath at the pause, you prepared yourself for the next part before the fast rap.

“Goal in i'm ballin ni raep deureumyeon to ssollim

Ni yeochindo hollineun nae moksorin jom kkollim

Jageopsil nae noriteogo pateuneoneun pen jongi

Howiga gwolliin jul aneun neohuin soki maikeureul naeryeo nokil

Naega haeramyeon neoneun dal naega tteul ttaemyeon jinikka

Hipap jinpummyeongpum saekkideura geopum wieseo naeryeowa

Ya i gaegujaengideura gaegujin ni raebeun geunyang sinse taryeong

Niga gidaryeoon sigan swida oryeom niga gara hawai jibe garyeom”

Taking another deep breath here, you prepared yourself for the fast rap that Yoongi did, knowing fully well that you’d need every bit of air. Sparing a quick glance over at the members you were met with more surprised faces at your rap, and you could tell they were anticipating the next part. Best not to let down your idols right?

“Naega eodikkaji gana bwara sseogeun ppuril ssak da gara

Eopeo modu hanpan yesanghaji mothan paran

Noryeok eopsi hantanman haedaemyeo maksang

Kkore eumak handapsigo nol ttae alba jarina

Deo arabwara neoui jjalgo ganeudaran

Keorieoroneun hana mana getjiman kkok saranama

Kkujunhi jjuk sseogeo ama nideul kkoripyoneun ama

Chueo gateun insaeng neohui raebeun anabada

Akkyeo sseugo nanwo sseun flowreul badasseugo tto geugeol dasi sseuneun neo

Hey beat jjok pallin jul areo neo 24madie neoneun jari pyeogo ala nuwo

Ni deongchie bihae raebeun ganyalpeo ni bumocheoreom neol bol ttae mada mam apeo

Nan ni eumagui keorieo dongmaege machimpyoreul geueo”

You finished the song, panting at the sheer amount of air needed to push out the lyrics that you just did. You knew you had missed a little bit of the lyrics here and there as you needed to breathe in, and it made you embarrassed to know you messed up in front of BTS themselves, but you were happy with your performance all the same.

And then there was an almost eerie silence. You looked over at BTs, blushing more as you noticed their expressions. Most were shocked at your ability, and a few were simply smiling wide looking at you. You bowed to them slightly, holding out your mic and giving a small apology for your errors in the rap.

“Are you… apologizing?” Yoongi asked, reaching out to hold your hand, forcing you to keep a hold on your mic and look up at him. “That was nearly perfect (Y/N). I’m rather impressed. I know that many rappers can’t keep up with my speed of rap, and to do it with limited breathing is even harder, but you managed well. With a little more practice, maybe you’d even perfect it.”

Your eyes grew wide, shaking your head at his response and bowing again. He was simply being to nice to you.

“Let’s hear it for (Y/N) everyone! Congratulations on that amazing performance!” you heard Jin say, noticing other members also congratulate you and hug you before you went back to your seat.

And for the third time in the span of that day, you swore your soul had left your body and you were dying in that spot.

~~~~~~~~

So.... here’s another story! As I promised, I was working and I’m trying very hard to get things out around my busy schedule and unplanned sickness. Anyway, my laptop hates Tumblr with a passion and it is refusing to let me edit anything or type without loading and taking 8 years, so I'm not going to update my Masterlist right away but I hope that whoever requested this can find it and is happy with it. I'm sorry I'm so slow with my writing. I love you all! 💜

P.S.: shoutouts as normal. @yoongi-sugaglider for being my brains and helping me figure out my life among my mental breakdowns and sicknesses. She's a true homie and I recommend that you all send her Yoongi related gifs and pictures to make her suffer help show her love!

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spacegate · 6 years

Text

TRUST CH 13

An Undertale Fanfiction

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / AO3 LINK / TV TROPES / FF.NET Characters: Sans, Grillby, Papyrus, Royal Doggies, Gaster, Asgore, OCs Setting: Baby Blaster AU Contains: SAD CHILDREN. Mentions of child abuse. SOME REALLY MESSED UP THINGS, BODY HORROR. Synopsis: The final battle is here. WARNING: DEPICTIONS OF INJURIES AND VIOLENCE. ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT :D

The ambient sound of magic hummed in the air as blue and white bones flew forward with deadly precision.

The King waved his hand and a searing wall of flames erupted from the walkways to counteract the bones. The bones hit the wall and sizzled, exploding in motes of white and blue magic. Grillby and Gnash huddled behind the wall of flames until the King parted it with a wave of his paw.

“Give up Gaster! It's not too late!” Asgore tried one last plea.

Gaster only sneered and readied another volley of attacks. Rings of hands formed, each clutching a long bone club. He would NOT go down without a fight. He has a duty to monsterkind....but these fools are in the way!

King Asgore brought his trident in front of him and turned to Grillby. “Go! Get your child!”

Gnash readied his sword. “We'll cover you!”

Grillby nodded and picked his way through the catwalks. Gaster turned his head to look at Grillby, intent on going after him, but then met a faceful of sword. He had to summon a vertical row of bones to block the sword, lest he literally loses his head. He scowled at the Fish monster before him.

[Captain Gnash blocks the way!]

“You're going to have to get through me first, you bastard!” Gnash growled and began a relentless assault, slashing and parrying with his sword. Gaster was forced to be on the defensive, twisting and ducking out of the way. One of his blasters surged forward to flank the Captain, but was blocked by a trident.

[King Asgore blocks the way!]

Asgore felt sick fighting these....blasters? They were clearly young, and alive. He used his trident to throw the blaster away from the fight with a roar. The blaster cried out as it went flying end over end in the air, drawing it's sibling's attention. It's sibling really didn't like that, opening its maw and began to gather magic within it. The King pulled Gnash away just in time, as a white hot beam of light struck the catwalk and burned a hole through the metal where they once stood. It was a reminder not to underestimate the scientist.

They had no time to rest as Gaster went on the attack again, summoning rings of bones to assault them. King and Captain fought side by side, doing their best to keep the scientist in one place. They had to keep his attention! Despite Gaster being surprisingly good at combat, it was still a two against one battle. The other blaster regained it's composure and attempted to enter the fray again, but was smacked away yet again.

{“USELESS”} Gaster thought to himself, as he watched one blaster comfort the other far away from the battle. No matter how much he tried he could not completely remove free will. Once struck, children tend not to keep fighting. Despite their master's call, they were quite content to stay far away from the fight.

Meanwhile, Grillby ducked through the stray bones flying debris as he ran to the command console. He didn't have much time before Gaster would be upon him. The fact that he could teleport added to his sense of urgency. Grillby stole a look back to see his King and the Captain harassing Gaster. It seems that Gaster has no choice but to focus on the fight, one false move and he would be dust. He turned away just as Asgore began flinging fire at the scientist, hell bent on burning him to ashes.

That didn't matter now. What mattered now was his son. He ducked under a stray bone and slid down the catwalk, slamming into the large computer console in the middle of the CORE. He grunted, doing his best to catch his breath as he spotted Sans.

Sans still remained unresponsive, just staring off into the distance with those horrible wires shoved deep into his right eye socket. He dared not burn away the metal strips bolting the tiny pup to the console, the super heated metal could hurt him. Grillby looked frantically around for tools. Bingo! Gaster it seems, is sloppy, or was interrupted too fast. The tool box was still there. Grillby quickly grabbed a pair of pliers and cut the wires snaking their way into his Son's skull. He would leave them in there for a doctor to remove, but cutting the wires will at least free him.

“Sans? Can you hear me?” Grillby took up a power drill next, adjusting it to unscrew the bolts.

Sans remained unresponsive and Grillby reined in his urge to cry at the sight. He doubled his effort in unbolting his restraints as he could. He almost dropped the drill when the whole walkway system rattled and buckled from the force of an attack, forcing him to the ground. He moved his head just in time to see a wave of white bones slam into the metal walkways heading right towards him! He rolled out of the way as the bones glanced by.

He heard Gaster's gasp and there was a smell of burning bones. Seems like the King has more than punished the doctor for that move, allowing Grillby to continue freeing his son. The sound of rattling metal and shouts of battle was more than distracting, but he did his best to ignore it.

Finally, the last bolt became undone and Sans slumped to the floor, caught in one of Grillby's hands. “Sans? Sans...I'm here. I'm here.” He scooped up the tiny pup to his chest and hugged him close. He knew that Sans was alive, but he had yet to show any sign of consciousness. It was like he was a computer without a plug. Completely shut down. He continued to whisper gently to Sans as he looked around for the fastest escape route.

{“NnnggAAH!!”} Gaster managed to knock back both Gnash and Asgore. With the precious few seconds of breathing room, he shouted towards his creation.

{“001! ATTACK!”}

Sans jerked in his father's arms stiffly, and then sank his teeth deep into the fiery forearm. Grillby hissed in pain, trying again to rein in his heat so Sans wouldn't get burned. Sans fought like an animal possessed, shrieking and kicking and biting until he managed to break free from his father's grasp. He hit the floor not too gently, but rose quickly, his eye sockets blanck.

Tear were dripping down Sans's face as he growled and assumed an attack position.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!!” Grillby roared. This was horrible....Sans was obviously in there somewhere, watching, but unable to do anything. It made his core feel like ice at the horror of it all.

{“He is MY creation, he obeys ME!”} Gaster's eye lights flashed blue as he reached a hand out.

Ping!

Asgore and Gnash groaned as suddenly immense pressure was placed on them, only to be lifted up and slammed hard into the metal catwalk, buckling it. Blue magic is quite powerful, able to lift the king and guardsman with ease. Their souls were trapped in the magic.

The metal in the facility began to groan from stress, and a few panels of the walls rattled off their hinges and fell to the lava below.

{“001, KILL THE FIRE ELEMENTAL.”}

Sans jerked, and then his bottom jaw bisected as a thrum of magic began to build in his rib-cage. The tears continued and his bones rattled from the force of the command. He couldn't break free. He could only watch from the inside as he turned his head to his adopted father.....and FIRED.

Grillby wasn't a Major General for no reason. He dodged out of the way, but already Sans was charging up another attack. He couldn't harm his child, but he also couldn't allow him to keep attacking like he was. Soon, the whole walkway system would collapse into the lava below! For now he could only duck and weave from one attack after another.

Gaster opened his mouth to issue another command, but got a fireball to the face. He shrieked as he was burned, losing his grip of blue magic on the two combatant's souls. He didn't have time to look before Gnash punched him so hard in the face, it broke his jaw. { “NNG!!”}

The scientist fell back, clutching his broken face. Pieces of chipped bone and dust fluttered to the catwalk. With the sharp sound of ripping fabric, he vanished too reappear behind Asgore and Gnash. Before they could turn around to attack him, Gaster viciously locked them in blue magic and attempted to throw them over the side of the railing. Asgore and Gnash grabbed a grip on the railing just in time to prevent being thrown to their deaths, but Gaster kept pushing with his blue magic. Every second was an intense struggle as the pressure continued to push.

{“001. LOCK TARGET, AND FIRE.”} Gaster shouted, his words slurred by his broken jaw. All his concentration went into pouring magic into his blue attack. Asgore being able to resist was no surprise, but Gnash hung on as well with fierce determination.

Sans abruptly stopped his attack just as he was about to corner Grillby. He turned around until he faced the struggle on the nearby catwalk. He was ordered to lock target and fire, but Gaster neglected to mention WHICH target to fire upon. His jaws built up with bright blue and white energy, humming and crackling until it released with an earsplitting CRACK!

Imagine Gaster's surprise when the beam of light hit him square on the chest, burning and shattering the bone beneath. The sheer momentum of the blast pushed him over the side of the railing. Stunned, he tried to reach out for anything that could save him, but there was none.

He was F A L L I N G.

With a sickening flash of multi-color fire, the scientist was consumed in the lava of his creation. Soon not even his dust was left, roasting in the intense heat.

Gaster was no more.

Sans slumped over, unconscious once more. Grillby quickly scooped him up as Asgore and Gnash pulled themselves back up to safety. The creaking and rattling of the warped and damaged metal picked up in pitch as the catwalks began to rumble. The computer began to list a repeating string of error messages, sparking and sizzling out as circuits were fried, one by one. A heavy sent of ozone began to build up in the hot air, humming and shimmering.

The blasters, sensing danger, panicked and vanished in a sharp flash of white.

“QUICK! WE MUST GET OUT OF HERE!” Asgore pointed to the exit. Grillby didn't need to be told twice, holding Sans close to his chest as he bolted just behind Gnash. All the while debris and metal began to fall from the rafters above as the facility began to shake. They all sprinted to the doorway, but suddenly there was a loud BOOM. Grillby felt something hit him from behind, and then everything went dark.

get | up

you | have | to | get | up

your| son | needs | you

Grillby groaned as an intense pain blossomed in his head, silencing his inner voice. He struggled to open his eyes. The room twisted and spun in his blurry vision, giving him an intense feeling of vertigo. When he realized that he wasn't dead, he knew he had made it into the outer rooms of the CORE. Through the rubble behind him, the CORE behind him crackled and burned. The sound of it stung his head and increased the pain he was feeling. What in the world hit him?

He blinked and struggled not to slip into the darkness again as he looked around. Gnash was slumped against one of the walls and The King was lying not too far away. All of them seemed to be unconscious from the force of the blast. Debris and pieces of concrete littered shrapnel all over the flooring and thick, heavy industrial dust obscured his ability to see further. His whole body stung from the backlash of magic, his flames were nearly dark red. He was burning out, being snuffed by the thick dust and smoke.

Something was missing.

Sans!

He gasped and gripped the shattered flooring around him, struggling to rise. He couldn't call out, but he wearily began to crawl, searching for his child. It was slow, and laborious, but he finally found the pup. The right side of his skull was nearly smashed in and many of his bones were broken. He laid there, limply, taking ragged breaths.

Deep anger burned within him, but was quickly dulled buy pain and exhaustion. He couldn't make it outside to get help, but he would do his best to comfort his child.

Grillby could see his vision going dark again as he used the last bit of strength to crawl to Sans. He curled around Sans as protective as he could, holding one of the paws on his unbroken forelimb. He hoped, it would provide him a little bit of comfort and warmth.

He could swear he heard voices just as his vision went black, and he slipped away into unconsciousness once again.

Grillby was at first, aware of sounds. He heard voices, foot steps, and the crackling of his own flame, but he could not see. He tried moving around until he heard a familiar voice.

“Take it easy there Grillby.”

His sluggish mind struggled to process the voice. It was...Frank's? What is FRANK doing here in the CORE? He forced his eyes open with a wince, the room spun and blurred until it finally became still and focused again. He was...in a hospital? He looked down to see that he was in something akin to a bathtub almost, a shallow charmed 'bed'. The bottom was littered with burning wood and embers, no doubt the doctors wished to keep his flame fed.

“You were hit fairly hard with parts of the CORE.” Frank causally tossed another piece of wood into the bed. Grillby's flames devoured it immediately, slowly bringing his color back to a bright orange. “King Asgore and Captain Gnash only suffered minor scrapes and bruising.”

Grillby jerked to attention. “What about Sans?” He put his hand on the rim of the bed, attempting to rise. Frank frowned in response, but made no attempt to stop him.

“He's in the bed over here.” Frank gestured to a bed pushed close enough to the metal bed to be seen, but not catch on fire.

Grillby's flame seized up when he saw Sans. He was lying in bed, one half of his head was bandaged up. One of his forelegs was sticking out of the covers, wrapped up tight in a cast. There was a thin IV line of healing magic feeling into the little pup. He was bundled in warm blankets, and a few wires ran to a machine that measured his HP and magic levels. All Sans seemed to do was breathe, but he was breathing easier at least, and didn't seem to be in any pain. Of course, Frank brought Papyrus along, who was sleeping next to his older brother.

Frank answered Grillby's unspoken question. “He will heal, no doubt about that. He may end up being blind on the right side, but they'll do everything they can to save his vision. He's going to need a while to heal.”

“He cannot stay here.” Grillby wheezed. His continued attempts to get up kept ending in failure. “You know as well as I do that he was medically abused. If he wakes up here...”

“It's why they placed him in a medical coma.” Frank held up his hands to reassure to distraught father. “He needs a few days here, as well as you, to heal. Then he will be sent home with you, with me checking up on his healing often.”

Grillby sighed in relief. That was one problem taken care of. “How is Papyrus?”

“He's fine, he got along well with my daughter. He's just been staying in bed with Sans. Bless him, he believes that hugs will heal him.”

“It's more true than you think.” Grillby at least managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. “What happened at the CORE?”

“That, I can answer.” Came a voice from the doorway.

King Asgore went to enter the room, ducking and moving sideways so he could get his horns in. He no longer wore his armor and cape, but was instead in just simple pants and a shirt. He looked to be fine, except for a few minor bandages on his arms and snout. Gnash followed, a bandage wrapped around the top of his head.

“I'll take my leave then, rest up Grillby.” Frank smiled at Grillby, and with one quick smooch with his husband, he disappeared into the bustle of the Hospital.

For a while there was an awkward silence as the king and guardsman looked over to the injured pup.

“Oh dear....will he...” Asgore was almost afraid to answer the question.

“He will heal.” Grillby answered simply. “He will be fine.”

“He's a tough one, that's for sure.” Gnash added. “I saw what he did to Gaster, that took at lot of guts.”

“Yes, but how will he feel about it when he wakes up. He killed Gaster. It was more than justifiable, but he's just a child...?” Grillby couldn't begin to imagine what mental state his son will be in when he wakes up.

“I don't know,” Asgore added in. “But he will be fine, with a father like you. In fact, I have something for you, if you feel well enough to take it.”

“Of course, your majesty.” Grillby sat up a little straighter as the King walked before him. Asgore handed him a piece of parchment, in gilded leaf and signed with the royal seal. Grillby's eyes widened when he realized what he was holding.

It was essentially a document granting Sans and Papyrus Monster-hood and all the protections thereof. It also designated Grillby as their sole parental guardian. There would be no fears of them being taken away. No fears that they would be treated badly because of the tragic circumstances of their birth. They were now, fully Monsters.

“All the paperwork has already been completed.” King Asgore spoke with a smile. “We have the finest therapists on standby, to help them once they decide to ask for it.”

“...Thank you...” Grillby whispered, setting the precious document on a side table. “This means a lot, to me and the boys...”

But then, Grillby remembered something. “What about the ones without bodies? The ones that fought in the CORE?”

“We don't know.” Gnash piped up. “They just...vanished. The guard haven't seen them return to any of the tubes at the lab, so they can be anywhere. At least....they are away from Gaster.”

There was a solemn silence. “The only thing we can do, is wait for them to show themselves.”

“I'm afraid that's all we can do, is wait.” The King sighed and trudged over to Sans's bed. Papyrus opened his eye-sockets when he heard footsteps approaching. He squinted upward, as he puzzled over the fuzzy new person.

“Abah?” Papyrus gurgled a question that only he could understand.

“I must apologize, to the both of you.” The King spoke, regret on his face. “If I had kept a closer eye on my royal scientist, none of this would have happened to the both of you, and the countless victims of the labs. I swear to you, that it will not happen again and you both shall be cared for by Monsterkind.”

Papyrus tilted his head, puzzling over the words.

“YEE.” He chirped as quiet as he could and then went back to cuddling his injured brother.

“Papyrus forgives you.” Grillby couldn't help but smile. “You should not blame yourself for the actions of others.”

“Yes, but I feel responsible.” The King sighed.

“Not to interrupt, but we have work to do. Things to clean up and announcements to be made. No doubt everyone wants to know what the hell happened to the CORE.” Gnash pointed out. “They'll need the King to settle any fears the citizens may have.”

“Duty calls then, I suppose.” Asgore looked to Grillby one last time. “Heal up, you and the boys. I will always be available should you need me.”

“Thank you.” Grillby nodded.

Both the Captain and the King exited the room, shutting the door behind them. No doubt, they had a lot of fallout and problems to deal with. Grillby was just happy that he and his kids were alive. Gaster was gone, and he would never bother anyone again. No doubt, Sans would be set back in his recovery, but Grillby is a patient person.

Perhaps, everything will be okay.

#keetah writes #trust #undertale #babyblaster au #gasterblaster au #fanfic #sans #grillby #asgore #oc #one chapter left!!!#get rekt scrub

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